Monday, May 12, 2008
Where's the virile firefighter who's supposed to cut off my clothes?
Apr 7, 2000 | There are many good reasons to volunteer as a "victim/actor" at a mock chemical weapons attack. There are the free doughnuts. There are the virile and omnipotent firefighters who cut your clothing off and carry you to safety and more doughnuts. There is the knowledge that your efforts are helping to prepare emergency personnel in the event that such a heinous thing should ever occur.
Having spent last Friday morning acting the part of a sarin nerve gas victim at the Henry J. Kaiser Arena in Oakland, Calif., I am here to tell you that should such a heinous thing ever occur, the citizens of Oakland are in a bit of trouble. It was called a disaster-preparedness exercise, but as far as most of us could tell, it was the exercise that was a disaster, minus most of the preparedness.
Disaster-preparedness drills happen all the time -- earthquake, terrorist attack, plane crash, biological weapons; you name it, they prepare for it. The American Red Cross sets up a lot of them. If you, too, would like to be a victim/actor, they'd love to hear from you. They usually have to badger their own volunteers into action. Student paramedics and high school kids also get pressed into duty a lot. I seemed to be the only one there for the fun of it, and now I know why.
My fellow victims and I were playing the part of pharmaceutical sales reps at a convention. Upon arriving at 7 a.m., we were directed to the moulage room. "Moulage" is a term for makeup used to simulate accident gore. "Moulage" also happens to be the term used by Kegeling inventor Arnold Kegel for his plaster-of-Paris vagina models, which he created to demonstrate the effects of diligent Kegeling. Apparently "moulage" is French for something moist and anatomical that you don't want to talk about over breakfast.
The basic sarin moulage package was whiteface with some blue face paint blended in, as though one of the effects of sarin was to render its victims indistinguishable from "Braveheart" extras. Those of us designated as trauma victims got to have additional trauma moulage items, such as lacerations and special-effects blood dripping from our noses and mouths. We played the starring roles, the conventioneers who were not only downed by the gas but also injured by the explosion that delivered it.
My trauma moulage amounted to a "fist-size bruise" on my neck. I was happy with my bruise until I glanced over and saw the woman next to me having the end of a plastic bone taped to her arm and slathered with stage blood, so that it looked as though it had broken loose from its moorings and poked through her flesh. I had gore envy. I wanted a protruding bone. The moulage lady patiently explained that there was a shortage of plastic bones. They were actually ballpoint pens in the shape of bones -- freebies from an osteoporosis drug manufacturer, the sort of thing a pharmaceutical conventioneer might bring home if a bomb didn't explode and blast his belongings helter-skelter across the room.
After moulage, the Domestic Preparedness team handed out our "symptomology badges." Mine included shortness of breath, sweating, nausea and muscular twitching. This is what happens to you if you're exposed to sarin gas. Conveniently enough, this is also what happens to you if you have stage fright, lack acting experience and are expected to perform the role of a dying pharmaceutical sales rep.
People were walking around, preparing for their roles as best they could. This would prove difficult for some of the victim/actors, for instance, the ones whose symptom badges included diarrhea or excessive drooling or the woman who got "speaks Spanish only and unable to talk." The scene was like something from a first-year ESL class. "I'm sweating heavily," said a smiling man to his wife. "I'm anxious and combative," she replied cheerfully.
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