The International Museum of Surgical Science is located along Lake Shore Drive, just across from Lake Michigan, in the Gold Coast neighborhood of lovely Chicago. The museum is housed in what was once the residence of Eleanor Robinson Countiss, the daughter of a Diamond Match Executive. Obviously, Daddy wanted "only the best" for his little girl. Of course, when the house was constructed in 1917, nobody could foresee that one day all manner of surgical implement would be stored in these hallowed halls. But that's exactly what happened when the building fell into the surgeon's hands of Dr. Max Thorek and the International College of Surgeons in 1950. The museum opened in 1954 and continues to this day.

I visited the museum on April 7, 2004 and found it to make for a very interesting stroll. A bit lowkey on the morbidity scale, but there is still enough to keep the morbid mind happy. Here's a snippet of what I saw...

As you approach the building, the first notable sight is this cool sculpture by French artist Edouard Chaissing entitled "Hope and Help" which depicts a physician propping up a sickly patient. Too bad they don't sell reproductions of it at the gift shop...	Another shot of the entrance to the museum. The building was modelled after Le Petit Trianon at Versailles, incidentally. I'm sure that means something to someone!	One of the best things about the museum is the wonderful collection of large-scale medical paintings, most of which are very morbid in nature. Many of them, like this one, are by Gregorio Calvi di Bergolo and were painted in 1953. This one is called "Life, Labor, Study, Charity, Death" and symbolizes the five phases of life. This one is pretty cool, but they get much, much better, as you'll see.	There is also a fascinating collection of medical antiquities on display, including this Peruvian stone which has a very anatomically detailed etching of a heart on it. One wonders how they acquired the hearts to study... Or at least, I do!
There are also some nice reproductions of vintage doctor/dentist offices. Here's a well-done old dentist office. I'd really rather not get any closer, if that's okay with you...	Here's a reproduction of a 19th century apothecary which was created from two pharmacies originally located in upstate New York and Iowa. Ooooh, I LOVE vintage pharmacies!! Just reading the labels on the medication can be ever so much fun!!!	Another shot of the pharmacy.	Even the pharmacist is well-done in this fine museum. Look at him - doesn't he look like he's in the process of misprescribing laudanum for quinine right now?
There are some nice displays that you can get up close and personal with, such as this collection of pill boxes. Can you guess which one caught my attention?	Yep, you guessed it!! The "Blue Ointment" box has a particular allure, don't you think? I wish I could have one of those at home too...	Here's some of the fun-filled medicine boxes. Oh, be still my arcane morbid heart!! Such great fun: "Blood Medicine," "Jerome's New Discovery For Liver, Kidneys, Stomach and Bowels," "Wheeler's Nerve Vita-Lixer". So much quackery, so little time!	Okay, now that we've seen the pharmacy, it's time to indulge in a gallery of some of the marvelous morbid artwork. The one in the foreground is a depiction of "Primitive Trephining" in prehistoric Peru.
Here is one of the galleries of historic medical paintings.	And some more.	Most of these murals were painted in 1953 by Gregorio Calvi di Bergolo to illustrate the historical achievements in surgery and medicine. Here's a close-up of one of my favorites as the learned doctor and his students discuss a particularly pale corpse. (It's entitled "Anatomy Lesson".)	Here, it appears that a group of doctors are discussing the particulars of a nasty case of consumption, or something. It seems that death is entering the room, doesn't it? Or is that just me again? (Actually, it's entitled "Ephraim McDowell" and dpicts Mr. McDowell domstrating the technique of ovariotomy. I like my version better.)
Damned flash disrupted the beauty of this snippet of a composition, which, if I were the artist, I would entitle, "Raw Meat". (It's actually called "Anesthesia".)	And then there's my personal favorite - the old-fashioned amputation! I would love to have a copy of this one in my household - wouldn't you? ("Early Amputation")	After leaving the murals, I was instantly engrossed by this vintage iron lung, which is used to illustrate the damage that polio used to wreak on the populace prior to immunization programs.	Can you imagine having to eek out an existence in one of these? What would one do to pass the time??? I don't even want to consider it...
There's also a room full of life-sized sculptures of the founders of modern medicine. The only one that I found particularly entrancing was this one of Vesalius (1514-1564)... for obvious reasons.	This was definitely my favorite room in the mansion - the wonderfully ornate library! Of course, it's decked-up with an extensive collection of vintage medical textbooks. Oh, what a lovely time I would have in this reading room!	Here's a view of the other side of the library.	Here's another lovely mural in the hall, this one depicting a c-section. I suspect one of the first ever, although I didn't bother to record the details of this picture or its author.
Another great thing about the museum is the collection of medical equipment. Here's a cabinet full of trephining equipment (ie. drilling a hole in the skull to reduce pressure on the brain, or just for the heck of it).	Here's some more lovely artwork - this one seems to be showing how ether was administered as an early anesthetic for early surgeries, and how early surgeries attracted perverts of all ages. (Anything to see under a woman's dress, don't you know.)	Here's another similar masterpiece, showing the use of chloroform. Notice how when a man is having the surgery, there aren't nearly as many men standing around watching? I rest my case...	The museum also has a nice reproduction of this Rembrandt masterpiece entitled "Anatomy Lesson".
This display illustrates how chloroform inhalers were used: "A layer of gauze was placed over the inhaler and clamped in place. The anesthetists placed several drops of chloroform on to the gauze. The mask was then placed over the patient's face. The patient was asked to inhale deeply." And, hopefully, they survived this inexact science!	Of course, I had to take a picture of this drawing which shows a man with a rather prodigious case of elephantiasis of the testicles.	There are some examples of early x-rays hanging about as well, such as this child's x-ray taken by Chicago's own x-ray pioneer Emil Grubbé in 1910.	I found the x-ray equipment displays to be particularly interesting. Here's a case full of early x-ray tubes and plates.
Here's one of my favorite bits of medical insanity - the x-ray shoe fitter! Yes, back in the '40's and '50's the shoe-fitting x-ray unit was a common shoe store sales promotion device. Ah, the fun we used to have with radiation before we knew better! (More info on this device is available here.)	Here are a couple more early x-rays.	This creepy looking device is an early x-ray machine - specifically, a Wantz Interrupterless X-ray Transformer which was used by Dr. Emil Grubbé in 1907. Wouldn't this be a nifty conversation piece in the living room?	Another shot of the Wantz Interrupterless X-ray Transformer, taken from the side. "Oooh, I wonder what this knob does??"
There is also a delightful collection of ancient Peruvian skulls that depict the art of "trephination" - drilling holes in the skull - in graphic detail, along with some of the trephining instruments. Amazingly enough, healing of the skull shows that people actually survived this ancient surgery.	I found this collection of gallstones, kidney stones, bladder stones, etc. to be quite fascinating as well. Who would think that they could be so pretty? Some of them look more like pearls than anything produced from a human body.	Among the eclectic collections in the museum is this copy of Napoleon's death mask in a suitably regal case.	These wicked looking things are actually vaginal speculums and catheters from the Roman era. Pretty nifty looking instruments, but I'm sure glad I didn't have them used on me!
Here are more ancient Roman surgical instruments.	They also have some nasty looking amputation equipment, like this saw which probably dates from the 19th century. I wonder how many limbs this thing severed?	This is a very nice amputation set from the 1800-1850 era. Again, imagine the stories that the saw could tell...	I took a particular liking to these before and after images of girls suffering from osteological deformities, which purport to show the miraculous results of using the "bone crusher" treatment.
And here is the "bone crusher" itself: "Osteoclasts, or bone crushers, were used during the early 1900s to produce intentional fractures in the limbs of children with birth deformities. The bone crusher applied pressure to the deformed bones, fracturing them in a controlled manner and then reset the fractured bones allowing them to heal correctly." Oh, my limbs ache just thinking of it!!!	And where there are bone crushers, there must surely be artificial limbs! A nice assortment of them, in fact.	Another view of the assorted limbs.	And with one last loving look at a surgical kit, it was time to bid the museum adieu.