I just had my second birthday. I'm sure my mom was thinking, "Here we go again, the terrible two's!" After living through it with my older brother, who could blame her. Just kidding. Had to get a dig in at the big brother, you know how it is! Anyway, it was a warm October day. It's what we call in the Midwest an Indian Summer Day. Mom had taken us for a little walk. Like most two year olds, everything went into my mouth along with my fingers. I had found an enchanting piece of used gum on the ground and immediately picked it up. My precious mommy, slapped it out of my hands and probably told me how nasty it was and so I then just put my fingers in my mouth. Well that's life for an average two-year-old and possibly the action that caused the most inconceivable reaction.
Next morning, bright and early, my older brother and best friend in the world came to get me up so we could go downstairs and have breakfast. That was our routine, only this particular morning I was not cooperating with him. As a four year old, this was very perplexing. He decided to bring mom in on it or just plain tattle. So she took him by the hand and they were off to investigate the situation. What she found had to have made her heart sink. For lying in the bed, was her precious baby girl, not able to move an inch or cry a tear.
She lifted me up and carried me down the stairs. I was a rag doll. She called our Dr. and he said he would be there soon. Yes, you heard me all you young people. The Dr. was going to come to the house. Just like Little House on the Prairie but you didn't need to send Pa. A simple phone call would do. Due to the polio epidemic the Dr. didn't make it there till evening. I was taken to the hospital and put in quarantine and not even my mother was allowed in. After a spinal tap, which I don't remember, thank goodness, their fears were confirmed. It was polio.
It was an old Catholic hospital. The nurses were Nuns, all in full habit. My mom rode the bus to the hospital everyday in hopes that she would be able to see her baby girl that day. But each day she was turned away. "No, not yet, maybe tomorrow." Finally she just couldn't take one more rejection. I wonder if she feared that I was even still alive and they were all too afraid to tell her the truth. So, she began to cry. An elderly nun, took compassion on her and said "Come with me". She took her to a window that led out onto the roof. The picture I have in my head of this old nun and my mom crawling out a window of this old hospital onto the roof, just makes me giggle. Standing on this roof, my mom looked through my window. She saw me and I saw her for the first time. Her heart rejoiced and my heart cried out, for the first time. I had made a sound. It was time to celebrate. So began the long recovery.
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