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Medical Horrors Halloween Party


October 27, 2004

Come claim your shoes, cowgirl. I feel somewhat shameful about the length of time that has elapsed since I last posted on this site. However, before you judge as I would, let me say that this lack of output was not due to sloth or incarceration; the past week was entirely consumed by the planning (and well, let's be honest: the OBSESSING) of the Halloween party that went down at my place last Saturday. I think it was pretty successful. If you came, I hope you had fun...unless if you were that random girl who wouldn't FUCKING LEAVE. Stop making out on my couch. Your friends left hours ago; no one even knows who you are. Eventually, you went home barefoot with that big guy in the little hat. I know, because I have your shoes. Remember those? They're some smokin' hot $14.99 snakeskin-look Payless specials.

There was also the matter of the rotten aborted fetuses on my bedroom floor. But we'll get to that in a minute.

Precious! I can't say it enough: Halloween is my favorite time of year. It's the time when, thankfully, I don't have to explain the syringe collection, the giant neon green "Sterilization" sign hanging over the entertainment center, the prosthetic limbs or the child-sized polio braces that function much like decorative urns and candles do in more traditional interior design scheme. Some people collect Precious Moments figurines or sexual partners; I like antique surgical equipment. When it came time to choose a theme for the party, this hobby made it a no-brainer. Medical Horrors it was! (Oh, Dan wanted me to be sure to mention that he was the one who came up with the idea... I hope you're happy, dude.)

No, mommy, no!  Not the drill again! In addition to the medical instruments and books about Bloodstain Pattern Analysis lying around, further inspiration was drawn from my recent visit to the Surgical Sciences Museum in How to get away with murder. Chicago. The Museum allows photography so long as the photos are for your own use. As would be expected, the coolest stuff is locked beneath glass; I doubt the Museum staff would want an aspiring eighth grade dentist to yank out his friend's molar with an 18th century tooth extractor on a school field trip. Even though the glass creates an unfortunate glare when you attempt a picture, I still managed to get tons of great shots of trepanning drills (a hole in skull is the best way to alleviate demon possession), ancient surgical kits and this convenient "how-to amputate a leg in five steps" diagram.

Amputation in Five Acts
Oh look, I think he's smiling at you!

Now that there was a proper theme, it was time to buckle down and transform the house into a respite for the medically maimed and victims of Surgeons Gone Wild! The logical first stop was the World Wide Web. In addition to 1.9 million "bukkake" sites (oh, you're so not getting a picture...sorry), the web serves as a handy portal to over 60,000 destinations for "discount medical supplies." Upon choosing a few that boldly screamed FREE SHIPPING, I got down to business.
  • (1) case -- 100-count 4.5 oz sterile specimen cups
  • (1) case -- 75 count Vial 40 DRAM Push N Turn Amber Vials with Caps
  • (1) two-gallon portable sharps disposal container
  • (6) bags of various IV solutions ranging from 500 to 1500 ml
  • (3) rectal thermometers (only .68 each!)
  • (6) rolls of non-sterile gauze
  • (I can't remember how many) plastic syringes (NO, THERE WEREN'T NEEDLES...are you kidding? I'm not crazy. My friends bleed liquor.)

I also procured an assortment of forceps, scissors, more gauze and a box of 50 surgical masks. I have most of the stuff I order on the web delivered to Dan's office. His co-workers are already used to watching him open boxes containing prosthetic legs and old bottles that used to contain medicinal heroin...why disappoint? All this doesn't even begin to touch on the goods we scored from various nurse and doctor relatives and friends. Something about opening up a box full of (unused) colostomy bags filled me with a virginal sense of joy that I'd never quite experienced as an actual virgin. I never did get that IV pole...but then, you can't always get what you want. Maybe if I'm a good girl I'll get one for Christmas.

The overtaxed sack. As I've mentioned before, I have access to a pretty fucking awesome color plotter at my office. Since this Friday is my last day (YAY!), I had no qualms about squandering the company's money, paper or trust. Then again, I'd never had qualms, regardless of my employment status. Sheet after beautiful sheet poured from the machine under my watchful eye (the other eye was busy watching the door for any signs of boss intrusion). Even though I'd already given notice and they couldn't do much by way of disciplinary action, I had little desire to explain why there was a 24 x 36 inch image of a man with elephantiasis of the scrotum printing on the company plotter at noon on a Tuesday. The same can be said about the rectal exam diagram, The Enemy is Syphilis! poster and of course, the Five Step Amputation Above the Knee.

(By the way: my new job ALSO has a plotter. The legacy shall continue.)

I can stop using Percocet any time I want. There wasn't much going on at work and I took the liberty of making and printing my own labels for various analgesic and anti-psychotic medications. This is where the 75 amber vials came into play. It's too bad that I didn't have real Darvocet, Percocet, Haldol, Elavil, Rohypnol, Ritalin, Thorazine, Vicodin, Valium, Oxcontin, Depakote or Klonopin to give to my guests. Instead I filled the pill bottles with Good n Plentys and Smarties, both which taste like ass.

A few final touches included shower curtains and sheets smeared and splattered with blood, a severed arm here, a bloody saw there. The décor was set.

DAN LOVES HIS GIANT STRAP-ON. With all the preparation on the house, I had spent precious little time thinking about my actual costume. I was too preoccupied with finding a good recipe for "urine punch" (recipe included at end of article) to expend the effort I normally put into an outfit. In a pinch it's always easy to go as a Beat Up and/or Raped [fill in the blank]. This time around it was Beat Up and/or Raped Nurse. Even though it's pretty lame, Beat Up and/or Raped Nurse nicely complimented Dan's interpretation of Sexual Harassment Doctor. His stance is that given all the "medical horrors" out there, nothing is more horrible than a doctor with a bonor. Initially, he was a bit unsure how to create an erection of threatening proportions beneath his scrubs and lab coat. The only solution was to buy a GIANT STRAP-ON. YES, DAN PURCHASED AND OWNS HIS VERY OWN, VERY LARGE, VERY PURPLE DILDO AND HARNESS. Neither of us could have foreseen the day we ended up at Good Vibrations politely listening to advice from a sales clerk on which harness would best fit my boyfriend. It goes to show there's a first time for everything. I always thought he was overreacting by insisting that his picture never appear on the web. Now that HE OWNS HIS OWN STRAP-ON, I feel a bit more sympathetic to his wishes. However, that won't stop me from displaying the STRAP-ON here.

Damn, that felt good. It was finally party time and guests began to arrive. Bob the Back Alley Abortion Doctor was among the first. Bob was armed with a pail of fresh fetuses that had already enjoyed a quick jab and thrust of his trusty coat hanger and tong. Before I knew what was happening, I was bent over the banister while my uterus was scraped clean. Once you get an abortion, you'll never go back to using vinegar -- talk about a fresh feeling! After little "Dusty" was forcibly extracted from my body, I asked Bob if I could hold her in my arms...if only to experience that one fleeting moment of love between a mother and a bloody, not-yet-formed baby. As I peered into Dusty's lack of face, I swore that I saw something that sort of looked like a mouth kind of do something that vaguely resembled a smile. But then, it could have been her skull caving in. Shrug. I tossed her into the bucket.

Nurse, bring me the scalpel.  Right away, doctor. Other medically maimed persons included an electrician who'd suffered a traumatic accident involving water, a light socket and a fork; a random assortment of cross dressed nurses; and a boy scout whose skull was pierced with tree branches and foliage after a desperate near-encounter with Mr. Billingworth, the "overly friendly" Leader of Troop 153. Lastly, Clevis (husband) and Cubana ("wife") narrowly escaped from the torrents of yet another Florida hurricane. (The fact that Florida has been hit with no less than eighteen major storms in the past few months has to be a sign that the Lord Almighty might want to finally rid Himself of the Serial Killer State. Or maybe it's just Jeb Bush that He's targeting.)

Urine: So sterile and refreshing! The urine punch served from the biohazard sharps container went over well, as did the specimen cups. We used a special "enema syringe" to extract and squirt the punch into each cup. Have you ever had the pleasure of sipping your favorite cocktail or cabernet varietal from a vessel normally reserved for collecting pee pee? The screw top lid enables you to carry your drink from room to room without spilling a drop; meanwhile the sticker label indicates that this is your sample and yours alone.

Bob and his Back Alley Abortions. Hmmm, what else...oh, yeah, Dominic, I mean BACK ALLEY BOB, left his pail of rotting abortions in my bedroom. No one could figure out where that ghastly smell was coming from. It cleared the kitchen and probably drove more than one person to evacuate. It took awhile to locate the source of the stink. Even though the bedroom was "off-limits" to the general riff raff, I still found the spilled bucket of chicken livers and blood (I mean ABORTIONS) pooling on my floor. Wood is porous, you know. I probably have disease breeding between the wooden slats. Then again, there's probablly disease breeding everywhere in my house...do you know how hard it is to keep this place clean with two little monster dogs/fecal machines running around?

All in all, I think it went alright. Send me an email if you happen to need any syringes or surgical masks...I have plenty to spare. Now I still have the task of figuring out what to be for "actual" Halloween. I guess I could smear myself with leftover chicken livers and wear some fancy Payless pumps. I guarantee that one else would have the same costume -- and that's what's important.

Lisa's Urine Punch

(1) 64 oz jug Apple Juice
(1) 2-liter 7-Up (or Sprite if you're loyal to the Coca-Cola Co.)
(2) cups lemonade
(2) TBSP lime juice
A few drops of yellow food coloring.
Vodka...however much seems right to you. I am partial to the pour, mix and taste method.

Serve chilled in a specimen cup and enjoy!

-lisa
 
Copyright 2017 Daniel S. Fettinger and Lisa Warner, all rights reserved.