Author: Emily Baughman, Museum Blog
Published by Emily Baughman
Beauty is pain. Whether you’ve scored a nasty cut while shaving or destroyed your feet breaking in a pair of heels, everyone has flirted with danger in the name of becoming “more beautiful”. Dangerous beauty trends have come and, more importantly, gone throughout the years. From fad diets to bizarre make-up choices, few trends were as dangerous as x-ray treatments. Before we knew about the dangerous side effects, x-rays were an enormous fad, hailed as a solution for everything, including removal of unwanted hair. Especially for women, x-ray use in the name of beauty led to a grim conclusion. Gruesome side effects stuck around for much longer than the trend.
The discovery of x-rays shook the scientific community, but no one could have foreseen what it would do to the budding beauty industry. In 1895, Wilhelm Conrad Röntgen accidentally discovered x-rays while studying light in Germany (Chodos & Ouellette 2001). This discovery forever changed our understanding of light, and x-ray radiation research emerged as the new wild west. It didn’t take long for medicine to crave a piece of the x-ray pie. Medical researchers looked into using these electromagnetic waves for everything from diagnostic techniques to cures (Collins 2007). Only a year after the discovery, Leopold Freund began his research on x-rays and hair (Collins 2007). His work attempted to use x-rays to treat hypertrichosis, a skin disorder that causes excessive hair growth (Collins 2007). Freund discovered that when an area was treated with x-rays, the hair would eventually fall out. Hair removal was becoming not only important for these patients but for society at large as the 1900s rolled in.
As hemlines began to rise in the United States, razor companies started marketing their products towards women. Strappy dresses left shoulders and armpits exposed and clever advertising led to women shaving regularly for the first time in modern America (Women’s Museum of California 2017). Women have shaved their bodies on and off throughout history since ancient Egypt, but this was the beginning of it coming into fashion in the modern US (Women’s Museum of California 2017). During both World Wars, leg shaving grew sharply in popularity due to a push to save nylon for the war effort (Women’s Museum of California 2017). Women would shave to get the same smooth look of nylon stockings, while still being able to show they had bare legs as a sign of patriotism.
As many shavers would agree, hair removal isn’t a sprint but a marathon. Shaving is time-consuming, tedious, and rushing through the process can lead to a bloody conclusion. Plus, the results rarely stay for long. Some men shave in the morning only to have a 5 o’clock shadow by lunch. And many women know the pain of shaving just to have a slight breeze bring every prickly hair back. As the annoyances that came along with shaving added up, many knew there had to be a more permanent solution to hair removal. X-rays were the key. While it’s odd to think of today, x-rays became a fad after their discovery. They were hugely popular and were used for everything from shoe fitting to artistic photography. After the discovery that x-ray exposure could lead to hair loss, the treatment was marketed as an easy and long-term solution to shaving (Cleveland 1948). Largely marketed towards women, the beauty treatment took off. It was praised as a modern solution to the “ancient” problem of female body hair that had been plaguing the western public for a few decades. While the gift of hindsight makes us all cringe at this dangerous idea, x-ray hair removal was hugely popular and women poured into salons and doctors’ offices requesting to be parted from their unsightly hair (Cleveland 1948).
An advertisement for Tricho Hair Removal System. The woman in the ad’s drawing is holding her face up to a large x-ray machine to remove her facial hair. From Collins, Paul. “Histories: The Perils of X-Ray Hair Removal.” New Scientist, 5 Sept. 2007, www.newscientist.com/article/mg19526202-100-histories-the-perils-of-x-ray-hair-removal/.
After the dangers of long term exposure to radiation came to light, x-ray hair removal was officially taken off the market in 1946 (Herzig 1999). However, the ban didn’t stop some women from visiting back alley salons to get these dangerous treatments (Herzig 1999). A year later, the Journal of the American Medical Association published a study that described in horrific detail the cancers caused by radiation treatments (Herzig 1999). But that still didn’t stop some users. While most women understood the dangers of these potentially lethal x-rays, some continued to get treatments for years after until the practice finally fell out of fashion. The effects of radiation stayed around for longer than the fad. Cancer research in the 1970s uncovered that 35% of radiation-based cancers in women were connected to x-ray hair removal (Herzig 1999). While these patients were willing participants in controversial methods, they were also victims of a societal beauty standard that pushed them to such dangerous lengths.
Everyone feels the pressure of impossible beauty standards, whether you shave or not. While women face pressure to be hairless, men face the opposite problem. Many men are shamed for losing hair or for not being able to grow any to begin with. We’re all pressured to be something we are not. What people do or don’t do with their hair has shifted throughout the decades, similar to fashion. While there still is pressure being put on people, self-expression seems to be one of the biggest beauty trends out there. Hopefully, these trends of healthy self-acceptance stick around much longer than any of the toxic trends of the past.
Works Cited:
Cleveland, D E H. “The removal of superfluous hair by X-rays.” Canadian Medical Association Journal vol. 59,4 (1948): 374-7.
Collins, Paul. “Histories: The Perils of X-Ray Hair Removal.” New Scientist, 5 Sept. 2007, www.newscientist.com/article/mg19526202-100-histories-the-perils-of-x-ray-hair-removal/.
Herzig, Rebecca. “Removing Roots: ‘North American Hiroshima Maidens’ and the X Ray.” Technology and Culture, vol. 40, no. 4, 1999, pp. 723–745. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/25147409.
“November 8, 1895: Roentgen’s Discovery of X-Rays.” Edited by Alan Chodos and Jennifer Ouellette, APS News, American Physical Society, Nov. 2001, www.aps.org/publications/apsnews/200111/history.cfm.
Women’s Museum of California. “The History of Female Hair Removal.” Women’s Museum of California, 22 Nov. 2017, womensmuseum.wordpress.com/2017/11/22/the-history-of-female-hair-removal/.
Emily Baughman is the current Spring 2020 Education Intern at the International Museum of Surgical Science. She is in her senior year finishing a biology major at Elmhurst College. She enjoys creating artwork inspired by her love of science and medicine.
Author: Erin Newton, Library, Museum Blog
Published by Erin Newton
While surgical textbooks and treatise on diseases can tell us much about the history of medicine, it is important to remember that the men and women who labored in medicine—as doctors, surgeons, nurses and midwives—are as much a historical object as the procedures and theories of the body. In addition to the biographies and memorials, which offer an official and structured look at human lives and experiences, historians often use letters and personal writing as a means of historical analysis. Letters can represent a slice of daily life; they can be used to raise disputes or resolve tensions. They can narrate experiences; they can instruct others. [1] Moreover, in a library full of the of the life works of thousands of men and women across the centuries, it can be a refreshing change to examine aspects of life through the handwritten words of an individual, especially one whose own trials and suffering in a changing era of medicine shaped not only her own perspective on health and illness, but has impacted each interaction between medical practitioners and patients in the years since.
“Florence Nightingale at approximately 40 years old.” Henry Hering. Florence Nightingale. Circa 1860. Collection National Portrait Gallery, London.
Florence Nightingale (1820-1910) was an English nurse and social reformer who shaped modern nursing practice. As an army nurse serving in the Crimean War (1853-56), she was derisive of the conditions found in the battlefield camps, which were filthy and inadequately supplied as well as often overcrowded with injured soldiers. Nightingale organized the nurses under her charge to clean the wards and set standards for cleanliness through regular bathing and constant replenishing of fresh bandages. She also emphasized the need for clean air and good food as a part of proper healing. Her habit of walking around the wards at night, checking the wounded soldiers and earning her the title “Lady with the Lamp.” [2] After returning from the war, she wrote Notes on Nursing: What It Is and What It Is Not (1859), which contained practical advice for nurses at home and in hospitals as well. Nightingale went on to found a nursing school and throughout the rest of her life worked as a social activist for the poor and for women in British society.
Historical lamp used in hospitals. Vapo-Cresoline vaporizer, also known as a “Sick Room Lamp,” 1890. Collection of the International Museum of Surgical Science.
The letters left in the Museum’s collection, curated by Max Thorek himself, present a very different side of Nightingale,as a woman whose chronic battle with depression and brucellosis (a bacterial infection that causes fevers and intense swelling and pain in the joints) made her feel like she was on the cusp of death at several points in her life. [3] Writing to her friend Mrs. Truelove in 1860, she writes, “I wish I were likely ever to be well enough to see you again. Will you do me the favor of accepting some little works of mine, as a small proof of the pleasure your letter has given me.” [4] Despite the fact that she would live another fifty years, it is clear that Nightingale despaired her illness, a recurring theme in her personal letters to friends and relatives. Considering that the likely source of her illness was her time in the Ottoman Empire—the very place where she made a name for herself—her daily struggle with her own health doubtless played an important part in her view of the role of nurses in prioritizing the mental health of patients. Indeed, in Notes on Nursing, she includes an entire section on visiting with patients, including specific recommendations for communicating with them.
Do, you who are about the sick or who visit the sick, try and give them pleasure, remember to tell them what will do so. How often in such visits the sick person has to do the whole conversation, exerting his own imagination and memory, while you would take the visitor, absorbed in his own anxieties, making no effort of memory or imagination, for the sick person. […] I do not say, don’t tell him your anxieties—I believe it is good for him and good for you too; but if you tell him what is anxious, surely you can remember to tell him what is pleasant too. [5]
The importance of the spirit to the health of the body is clear to Nightingale, and it is reinforced in her personal communication as she demonstrates through the cheer that she gets from the letters of others.
Letters from Nightingale to one of her closest friends, Mrs. Truelove, expressing her gratitude for their friendship. Florence Nightingale. A.L.S. to Mrs. Truelove. 1½ pp, 8vo, w. Addressed envelope. (London) November 5, 1860. Collection of the International Museum of Surgical Science.
However, despite this suffering, Nightingale was not without a sense of humor. During her time in Balaklava, she found herself in the position of attempting to book passage on a ship for a Newfoundland dog “of huge size.” [6] As she explains, “His master (one of those many Medical Officers, who have persecuted my work and maligned my name) was ordered home In charge of sick, & left his dog in charge of me, who am the “Refuge for Orphans & the Asylum for the Widdy”, charging me to send him the dog. The dog cannot write. Is there a Quarter-Master General for dogs?” [6]
Personal letters can serve an important role in the construction of historical narrative, but they can also give us insight into those who inspire and influence us. The letters of Florence Nightingale, handwritten and preserved through the museum, show that a woman who is now renowned as a figurehead in nursing was also a woman whose own ups and downs were not unlike what most of us experience on a daily basis. They remind us that she truly lived.
Notes:
[1] For more on the use of letters in historical and literary analysis, see David Barton and Nigel Hall, “Introduction,” in Letter Writing As a Social Practice (Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2000) and Bruce Redford, The Converse of the Pen: Acts of Intimacy in the Eighteenth-Century Familiar Letter, A Chicago Original Paperback (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986).
[2] Encyclopedia Britannica. “Florence Nightingale | Biography & Facts.” Accessed March 11, 2020. https://www.britannica.com/biography/Florence-Nightingale.
[3] For more on brucellosis, see Mayo Clinic. “Brucellosis – Symptoms and Causes.” Accessed March 11, 2020. https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/brucellosis/symptoms-causes/syc-20351738.
[4] Florence Nightingale. A.L.S. to Mrs. Truelove. 1½ pp, 8vo, w. Addressed envelope. (London) November 5, 1860. Collection of the International Museum of Surgical Science.
[5] Florence Nightingale Notes on Nursing: What It Is, and What It Is Not, 2005. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17366.
[6] Florence Nightingale. A.L.S. to Col. Pross of 93 Highlanders 3 pp. 8vo. (with address on the verso). Balaklava, June 18, 1856. Collection of the International Museum of Surgical Science.
Erin M. Newton is a current Library Collections Intern at the International Museum of Surgical Science. She is a Ph.D. Candidate in History at the University of Chicago and is preparing to go to Japan to do research for her dissertation, which examines the medicalization of touch in Japanese nursing throughout the twentieth century. She is also interested in gender and narrating the histories of women in medicine.
Author: Lillian Climo, Museum Blog
Published by Education Intern, Lillian Climo
Patent medicine trading card. Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup, c. 1887. Miami University Libraries Digital Collections. Advertisement for “Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup”, from 1887. The syrup is advertised as a cure for teething and shows a mother administering the medicine to her infant in a peaceful outdoor setting.
Patent medicines were sold as over the counter medications often using ingredients that we know today to be harmful (such as opioids or alcohol). One such example was Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup, which was developed in 1845 by Jeremiah Curtis and Benjamin A. Perkins (Wood Library Museum). The medicine was advertised mainly as a cure for infant teething but was also used to cure common colds, the flu, and colic (Howard). The remedy was named after Curtis’ mother-in-law, a woman called Charlotte N. Winslow, who apparently created this recipe while working as an infant nurse. The two main ingredients used in Mrs. Winslow’s were morphine and alcohol (Wood Library Museum). As a result, Mrs. Winslow’s could cause addiction, comas, or even death in very young children (Christen and Christen).
During the mid to late 1800s, there were a number of genuinely harmful soothing syrups advertised to parents as completely safe for their infants. While Mrs. Winslow’s was one of the most famous, selling over 1.5 million bottles a year by 1868, (Wood Library Museum), similar and equally dangerous medicines were available across the world. For example, “Harrop’s Soothing Syrup” was documented in 1875 by a British doctor for falsely advertising how safe it was. Dr. Joseph Morris explained that doctors often met mothers who had administered the remedy to their children unaware of what was actually in the syrup. In one instance Morris’ records involved a mother who explained that the advertisement for Harrop’s assured many times that the medication was safe for infants (Morris). The explanation for how to administer proper doses was not in any of the pamphlets that the mother had carefully read. Rather, this information was almost hidden in the packaging, found on a small piece of paper folded into the bottle. As a result of the syrup’s high concentration of morphine, her child eventually died of an opiate overdose. Dr. Morris used this case to argue that these types of soothing syrups should never be available to children so young (Morris).
Patent medicine trading card. Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup, c. 1886. Miami University Libraries – Digital Collections. A second advertisement for “Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup” from 1886. In this image, a mother sits in bed with her two children while reading advertising for the syrup. The actual medicine is on the bedside table and has either just been given to the children or is about to be given to the children.
Mrs. Winslow’s was infamous in the U.S. for cases very similar to those documented by Dr. Morris. The advertising and packaging of the medicine were likely intentionally misleading. Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup often showed an idealized image of a mother and child, projecting an idea of safety (Howard). Additionally, through much of the 1800s, labels were not required to fully disclose the ingredients in these types of medication (Wood Library Museum). Beyond labeling that hid the dangerous elements of the syrup, the suggested dosage was ridiculously high stating that children older than six months should take a teaspoon of Mrs. Winslow’s up to four times a day (Strongman). It was for this reason that the syrup was nicknamed “the baby killer” as even one teaspoon could kill the average infant (Strongman). However, because the syrup was not often believed to be the cause of death, there are no statistics for how many children died as a result of it. Some accounts have claimed that the number may be in the thousands (Strongman).
The deaths caused by Mrs. Winslow’s are sometimes cited as a reason why the Pure Food and Drug Act (a predecessor to the FDA) was enacted (Howard). This Act which passed in 1906, prohibited the sale of poisonous medication and forced drugs to label their ingredients. However, there was still limited knowledge around how harmful certain drugs were and thus, cocaine and opium were permitted with proper labeling (Howard). Additionally, Mrs. Winslow’s was forced to remove the term “soothing” from their name, and morphine was eventually taken out of the recipe (Strongman). As the years went on, the popularity and general trust in Mrs. Winslow’s severely declined. Five years after the Pure Food and Drug Act was passed, the American Medical Association stated that the medication was unsafe and illegitimate. Still, there are cases of Mrs. Winslow’s being sold up until the 1930s (Wood Library Museum.).
Works Cited:
Christen, AG, and JA Christen. “Sozodont Powder Dentifrice and Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup: Dental Nostrums. Christen AG1, Christen JA.” Journal of the History of Dentistry, Nov. 2000, pp. 99–105.
Howard, Sherrel G. Drugs of Abuse: Pharmacology and Molecular Mechanisms. Wiley, 2014.
Morris, Joseph. “The Use of ‘Soothing Syrups.’” The British Medical Journal, 30 Oct. 1875.
Wood Library Museum. “Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup.” Wood Library Museum, 2019, www.woodlibrarymuseum.org/museum/item/529/mrs.-winslow%27s-soothing-syrup
Strongman, Alysha. “Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup: The Baby Killer.” Museum of Health Care Blog, 28 July 2017, museumofhealthcare.wordpress.com/2017/07/28/mrs-winslows-soothing-syrup-the-baby-killer/.
Lillian Climo was the Fall 2019 Education Intern at the International Museum of Surgical Science. She studies Printmedia and Visual and Critical Studies at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Her interests include the history of women in medicine and the study of art objects.
Author: Jackie Guataquira, Museum Blog
Published by Education Intern, Jackie Guataquira
Over the past twelve weeks, I’ve been continuously reflecting on my time here at IMSS, keeping a journal to do so. The experiences I’ve had and the knowledge and skills I’ve gained over the course of my internship so far have genuinely been very valuable.
I recently revisited a draft of the first social media post I wrote and noticed how much I’ve improved since the beginning of my internship. When I began, I was still finding my voice for social media-specific writing. I found that I was so used to academic writing that I really had to keep in mind how to adjust my writing style from that of graduate-level research. I began to focus on how I could disseminate the interesting information I learned through my research in a digestible and captivating manner to the Museum’s Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter followers.
I noticed it becoming easier over time; I’ve been able to synthesize facts about the Museum’s objects or notable historical figures in the fields of science and medicine to be attention-grabbing yet informative to those scrolling through their social media feeds.
The research I was conducting wasn’t solely for the purpose of informing the public on a digital platform, but also for sharing with actual Museum visitors through tours. While I have given tours in the past at a previous art gallery internship, this was the first time I was essentially designing a tour from scratch. A few weeks in, I was deciding what my framework would be, and I began by asking myself a few questions—what objects and topics within the Museum was I excited about? How could I take that excitement and allow it to fuel me in creating a tour that guests would leave not only having had an educational experience but also an enjoyable time?
The x-ray room was one of the first exhibits that caught my attention as I made my way through the Museum, taking notes on what my tour could include. Baffled by the fact that x-ray machines were once used as novelty items, I used the X-Ray Shoe Fitter as the foundation, wanting to focus on medical inventions over the last few centuries; I added other objects into the mix, such as the Iron Lung, which is popular among visitors.
After my first few tours, as well as having the opportunity to shadow tours given by others, I realized ways I could expand upon the initial framework of my tour—rather than limiting myself to talking about medical inventions, I decided to expand to the idea of the evolution of medical technology and practices, highlighting the notion that with time we either see facets of the medical field continuously evolve for the benefit of society, or disappear completely.
I began to ruminate on the question “in 10 to 20 years, what are things in our lives that we’ll realize are actually harmful? What will we see phased out in our lifetimes?” I was inspired by a podcast episode of This American Life that I listened to in 2013 that has stuck with me since, titled “Use Only as Directed;” with this in mind, I found a way to incorporate the Pain Management exhibit room into my tour. The episode focuses on acetaminophen, the active ingredient in Tylenol, which is described as “one of the country’s most popular over-the-counter painkillers” (Glass, 2013). This common pain killer also happens to kill the most people, according to government data (Glass, 2013). We once saw heroin marketed in Sears, Roebuck, and Co. catalogs, which is now known to be a Schedule I drug, so to wrap up my tour I like to ask what visitors think might significantly evolve between now and 20 years in the future, or what we may even realize is actually dangerous and will be pulled off the market.
One of the most gratifying aspects of the internship has been the exchanges that have taken place with visiting guests. I’ve had fun and thought-provoking conversations with people of all ages, especially while I’ve facilitated drop-in education programs. In one of my journal reflections, I wrote that I really love leading younger kids through the activities because their interactions are always so genuine.
When it came time to begin formulating the capstone to my internship, which is to design a drop-in educational activity of my own, I kept a few things in mind: that I would want it to be a fun experience for people of all ages, and that I’d like participants to have a physical take away from the experience.
The history behind the discovery of radium and its former uses has been something I’ve been drawn to over the course of my internship, and it even came up in podcasts I’ve listened to on my own time (check out the podcast My Favorite Murder’s episode 190: “Lick the Clock”). After its discovery, it was popularly used in paint used on watches and compasses, and even as an ingestible medical treatment. I thought this would be a compelling piece of history that ties in the work of Marie Curie as the co-discoverer of the element, as well as an instance of something that is no longer used today, since it was later realized to be extremely toxic.
For my drop-in educational activity, I decided to guide participants through making a paper watch with neon green paper for the face, meant to imitate a radium-painted watch, to allow for a conversation to take place in which historical information about radium could be shared in an engaging way.
Every aspect of the internship, from conducting research to designing tours and an educational program, has built off one another, and I feel more equipped to move forward in my art education graduate program at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. This semester has been busy, with working full time, graduate school, and an internship, but I’m glad to have had this opportunity in my first semester as a graduate student, setting me up for success in my continued educational endeavors.
References:
Glass, I. (Host). (2013, September 20). Use only as directed [Audio Podcast]. Retrieved from https://www.thisamericanlife.org/505/use-only-as-directed.
Jackie Guataquira was the Fall 2019 Education Intern at the International Museum of Surgical Science. She is a designer and youth arts educator based in Chicago. She has an educational background in graphic design and museum and exhibition studies and is currently attending the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, pursuing a master’s in Art Education. She has gained a passion for design and the arts, youth education, and community work through her educational and professional experiences.
Author: Emily Baughman, Museum Blog
Published by Emily Baughman
While I’ve been reflecting on my time as an education intern, I’ve been struggling with what I’ve wanted to say. When I started my internship a few months ago I could have never predicted where I ended up. I started by studying medical history and ended up living in a future chapter of it.
I had never worked in a museum before, but I’ve loved them for years. There’s something so inherently fascinating to me about walking through a building with 100-year-old masterpieces, actual bone saws, or 68 million-year-old dinosaur bones. People get curious when they’re in a museum and that’s what I love about them. This is why I wanted to intern at the International Museum of Surgical Science. I wanted to work on growing my skills in writing and public speaking, but more importantly, I wanted to get people curious about the medical history I loved learning about.
To me, art and science combine together to create the best environment for growing curiosity. While artifacts show the reality of the past, artwork makes history feel alive. While shadowing tours during my internship, I noticed that artwork often led to the most visceral reactions from visitors. Watching people’s faces cringe while looking at a painting of an amputation is truly priceless. While many already know that anesthesia and cleanliness are incredibly important to modern surgeries, confronting the reality of the world before these practices were adopted helps form a new appreciation for them. You can show the surgical saws and describe the techniques of the past, but seeing it all in action changes everything. Seeing something in a museum makes history come to life more than a textbook ever could.
During my own first practice tour, my voice was horribly shaky. Public speaking has never been my forte and the mix of nerves and excitement made it difficult to get through. It seemed like an impossible feat but it became easier with time. While my confidence as a speaker grew, I began to realize how much my background in biology had shifted my vocabulary. The use of jargon really runs wild in science. Getting out of that academic head space helped me to focus on clarity and how to be engaging. Science, art, and history all tell a story. Weaving a story together breeds more curiosity than lecturing about terminology. As I began to start to grow as a speaker, everything got a lot harder.
Eventually, we all began to live in medical history after coronavirus changed everything. Shifting to working online forced me to shift my focus on digital communication and writing. I quickly began to realize that writing to both educate and entertain is difficult. I have a tendency to write academically because that was the only experience I had. It was a welcome challenge to play with shifting my voice while writing. Working on developing my writing style was difficult, but working from home allowed me to incorporate my art into my writing. I adore art. While I made biology my focus in college, art always remained a part of my life and my education. Going to lab with paint on my pants was an unorthodox way to get a biology degree, but art and science always felt like a natural combination to me. This opportunity allowed me to marry my two loves together through researching, writing, and creating visuals for social media posts. While I’ve been painting and drawing for years, digital art is a newer medium for me. Creating social media posts with both a written and visual aspect pushed me to work out both of those creative muscles and grow my communication skills.
As the time for my final project rolled around, the sad reality that the museum would not be able to open back up before the end of my internship became impossible to ignore. This greatly affected the type of educational activity I could make. Because I wouldn’t be able to interact with visitors, I worked on creating a print-out activity based on my love for bacteria. Loving bacteria may seem a bit weird, but they do a lot of good in the world. Bacteria help digest food, clean wastewater, and produce insulin to just name a few. Tangents about bacteria aside, I really enjoyed working on creating each little bacteria buddy as part of the activity. As I was creating my project, I was given the opportunity to create artwork for other at-home educational activities for the museum. Creating drawings for the at-home activities was one of my favorite projects I worked on as an intern. I could have never predicted that project back on the first day.
Being able to adapt is one of the most important lessons I took away from this experience. The International Museum of Surgical Science really embodies this idea of adapting both through their exhibits and their actions as a community. Medicine has been adapting since the dawn of humanity and will continue to do so. The last few months were jam-packed between finishing my biology degree and completing my internship in a new digital space. While a little unorthodox due to circumstance, each part of this internship set me up for success and helped me to grow. My confidence has grown exponentially since I started as an intern and I’m proud to carry it forward to the next endeavor.
Emily Baughman is the current Spring 2020 Education Intern at the International Museum of Surgical Science. She is in her senior year finishing a biology major at Elmhurst College. She enjoys creating artwork inspired by her love of science and medicine.
