This chapter looks at politically defiant women’s theatre and performance in Argentina from the 1960s onward though the concept of the skin. It pays special attention to the varying ways in which women in theater and performance have engaged with the ever-pressing and pervasive issues of gender-based violence, power, the body, family, memory, and resistance. Drawing upon Griselda Gambaro’s visionary Información para extranjeros (1971/1987), we suggest multidirectional dialogues with the process of state-led terror and forced disappearance perpetrated during the 1976–83 military dictatorship. While discussing varying traditions of contestation and rebellion across feminist theater and performance, we build this dermography of contemporary women’s theatre and performance in which Piel de Lava (Skin of Lava) is not only the name of a group but the symbol of a new form of politically committed, “post-traumatic” feminist performance. In those terms, the chapter discusses some of the most audacious and innovative recent feminist pieces, including Lola Arias’ installations suggesting implicated forms of spectatorship, Romina Paula’s singular approach to motherhood through desiring mothers and dissident daughters, as well as the alternative forms of staging gender disobedience proposed by Albertina Carri and Analía Couceyro in their rereading of Tadeys (2019).

This chapter distinguishes two ways in which the Middle Ages conceived the relationship between human and nonhuman creatures. The first, according to which humans are a unique kind of animal (in the Latin word’s sense of “living being”), is available primarily to the learned, whereas the second, widely attested in lay usage and practice, concerns the difference (or lack of it) between humans and “beasts.” The chapter explores the complication of both relationships in the French and English romances of William of Palermo (late twelfth-/early thirteenth-century and mid-fourteenth-century, respectively), in which one aristocratic protagonist is turned into a werewolf and others disguise themselves in the skins of bear or deer. Human exceptionalism appears to condition the story’s coding of social dysfunction as animalization, but the romances equally show medieval aristocratic and chivalric identity embracing its proximity to “beasts,” for example, in the notion of sovereignty, in the symbolic languages of heraldry and dreams, and in moments of explicit self-identification. The chapter concludes by arguing that the way these romances build their fiction with reference to animals is materialized in the manuscript books that transmit them, made up as they are of parchment pages, that is, of processed animal skins.

description, overview, and treatment guidelines for chemotherapy extravasation in cancer patients

description, overview, and treatment guidelines for chemotherapy extravasation in cancer patients

This chapter explores the different kinds of sutures available, as well as some additional methods of skin closure. Surgical sutures are a medical device used to hold body tissue together following injury or surgery. There is evidence of suture use going back thousands of years. The application of a suture generally involves using a needle with an attached length of suture thread. Suture thread can be made from numerous materials. The original sutures were made from biological materials, such as catgut, cotton, and silk. Today, most sutures are made of synthetic polymer fibers, with silk being the only biological material still in use.

Chapter 2 discusses the scribes’ handling of damage and irregularity in parchment in manuscripts of English literature. It sets out how damage and irregularity arose and describes the methods scribes used to repair or counteract those features of parchment. From these methods, the author infers that scribes ignored and even obscured the organic oddity and damage in parchment, instead hylomorphically pursuing an idea of the page more perfect and more rectilinear than was the matter on which they imposed it, and in some cases worried about disruptions to the text’s appearance and reception. Rather than engage with the agency of their materials, they imposed on them immaterial ideas about the book and the use of its texts.

In this chapter, we discuss the existential concerns of the great Maestro Ludwig van Beethoven and how he was able to compose musical masterpieces while confronting severe hearing loss. We also describe age-related changes in vision, smell, taste, skin sensation, proprioception, and balance. Age-related cognitive changes such as attention, processing, learning, and memory are presented. Finally, a resolution is offered as to how Beethoven still composed with hearing loss.

This chapter discusses the perception of commanders and surgeons of their black soldiers from 1795 to c. 1830. In an era so dominated by slavery, it is unusual to find so many positive reports about black men. Commanders generally thought them to be ideal soldiers – brave, committed and obedient, while their usefulness in battle was proved again and again. Even more important were the innate and permanent medical differences reported by regimental surgeons. Black skin, it was thought, afforded black soldiers special protection against tropical illness and healed far more rapidly than white skin, effectively functioning as a form of natural armour. The stamina and hardiness of West India Regiment soldiers enabled them to undertake marches in tropical heat without flagging. They also possessed hyper-attuned senses that made them ideal for tracking the enemy in difficult jungle terrain, more accurate with a rifle and better able to hear instructions conveyed via bugles and drums on the battlefield. By almost every measure commanders thought the West India Regiment soldier was an improvement on the white soldier, but the lasting legacy was a rich literature authored by army surgeons claiming that black and white bodies were fundamentally different.

Some of the most outward signs of ageing are mediated through the skin. This chapter concentrates on how skin care products chimed with understandings of what could be achieved by way of rejuvenation. Using a diverse range of sources, including advertising material which appeared in household magazines and newspapers, the company records of Boots, market research surveys, and ephemera relating to the products themselves, this chapter triangulates the myriad claims about what skin care products could achieve against prevailing social concerns with ageing, knowledge about the skin and conceptions of beauty. The principal argument is that through the twentieth century youthful skin became deeply entwined with a particular form of beauty: the two became inseparable and skincare preparations appealed to those who sought to increase both their attractiveness and youthfulness.

This chapter introduces the concept of rejuvenation as both a literal reversing of the ageing process and an attempt to appear younger. It demarcates rejuvenation from longevity – the former pertaining to a state of youth, the latter simply to extended lifespan – and identifies the relevant themes in the secondary literature of historical and sociological research. The search for rejuvenation – whether the mythical elixir of life to achieve eternal youth or everyday creams designed to keep the features looking young – was not an exclusively twentieth-century phenomenon, yet a combination of social, medical, cultural and economic factors resulted in an explosion of interest in anti-ageing in the period immediately following World War One. The first global conflict gave new impetus to efforts promoting strength and vitality in men, and fertility and attractiveness in women. Keeping the population healthy and economically productive was an essential feature of post–World War One western society.