Bordwell, Esther - Washington County

General Comments:

It was August, 1954, a year in which every parent feared polio. I was waiting with my 2-year-old daughter, Millie, to see Dr. Nemmers in his office in Washington. A few days ago he had given Millie a shot for tonsillitis, but she wasn't recovering. She didn't eat or sleep well, was very fretful, and wanted to be carried from place to place. I explained the situation to the doctor when he came into the room. He gave me a strange look, which I interpreted to mean, “You have spoiled that child.”

Then he said, “Give her to me, and sit down over there.”

Millie started crying loudly, but I followed the doctor's instructions. He put her on the floor in a standing position, and told her to walk to me. She took one step, and started to fall. Dr. Nemmers caught her and placed her in my arms.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “She may have polio. I'm sending you to Iowa City right away. The Sister Kenny Foundation has set up a clinic there in University Hospital.”

Fear gripped my heart. I called my husband, and we were soon on our way. Millie fell asleep as we drove. I kept thinking of Willard Larsen, our neighbor's son, who was at the hospital in an iron lung, probably fighting for his life against polio.

When we arrived at the hospital, the doctors checked Millie carefully, in spite of her crying. Later they gave us the bad news--good news report. Yes, she had polio, but it was a light case. She was past the acute stage, and didn't need to be hospitalized. Their recommendation: rest, massage for her legs, and warm baths 3 or 4 times a day. The doctor said, “Don't push the walking. She will do it when she's ready. One more thing: all your other family members need gamma globulin shots as soon as possible. We will see Millie again in a few weeks, or sooner if needed.”

We returned home, grateful for their help and advice. The next day, we took Rick, 8, and John, 6, for the shots. They were more painful than any I had ever experienced. I was given a larger than average dose because I was 6 months pregnant. My husband had an extra amount because of his weight. At home again, the pain lingered. We sat or lay around feeling sorry for ourselves. Actually, we were thankful that there was something available that might prevent us from getting the disease. (We did not get sick.)

Millie made slow progress toward recovery. She enjoyed the baths, and napped during part of the day. Nights were the worst. She often woke crying with pain in her legs. I would get a hot water bottle, and bring her into bed with me to massage her legs. Once we heard an owl hooting in a tree just outside the window. I said, “Let's be real quiet. Maybe he will call us again.”

She stopped crying, and in a few minutes was asleep. That owl was very cooperative, and hooted for us many more times.

We took Millie around the house in a stroller. Later, her grandparents brought her a wooden “wonder horse” to ride. At first she just sat on it, then tried to bounce a bit. As strength returned to her legs, she became more confident. In six weeks she was walking! I don't remember just what we did to celebrate her first steps. I do know that we breathed a prayer of thankfulness.

One added note. We never received a bill from the Sister Kenny Foundation.

Fifty-three years after her illness, Millie is a healthy adult, with no lingering side effects from polio. Our friend, Willard Larsen, also recovered from his illness.

I am so thankful for both the Salk and Sabin vaccines. The fear of polio is gone at last!

(written, April, 2007, by Millie's mother, Esther Bordwell)