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All Of a Sudden....
I'm Handicapped
By Roger Sklar
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One summer's day in
1931 when I was 4, I woke up with a headache, a fever, and a stiff
neck and told my mother that I couldn't move my left arm. She
panicked. Kids all over New York City were coming down with
Infantile Paralysis and it looked like I might be among that
number. Some were even dying.
The doctor came--they did that in those days--confirmed my
mother's fears and then started taking steps to burn all my toys.
It was clear that I was the central figure in a Plague House.
My memory of my Polio experience begins several months later. My
mother would remove a heavy brace from my arm and very slowly
would lead me through a series of exercises where I would raise my
left arm from my side to straight up over my head while she sang
the music to "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" with her own words,
"Going, Going, Going Up." When I wasn't exercising, the brace kept
my arm half-raised like a small, left-handed Hitler flipping an
informal salute to his captains. I remember the brace was very
heavy, and without it my arm felt unnaturally light, but I made it
work, and within a year I had thrown the brace away, 'cured'.
I didn't think much about polio after that, except to wonder
occasionally why I was such a terrible athlete; by far the worst
on the block. I had full range of motion in all my limbs but there
was something missing: it was as if I just wasn't firing on all
cylinders. When we chose up sides I was the last one chosen, and
usually ended up the one nobody wanted; so I would get a book,
find a secluded spot and spend the afternoon reading. I became a
very smart kid with a strong dislike for sports.
When I was 24 and living away on my own, I had a girl friend who
was a med student. She was intrigued with my left arm which
exhibited tremors when I held it outstretched. She eventually
became a Neurologist, and I wonder if she ever realized she was
looking at an early 1950s case of Post Polio Syndrome. I was in my
40's when this problem with my left arm began interfering with my
activities for daily living. The headlights of my car were turned
on by a 'pull-switch' on the left side of the dashboard. I
couldn't extend my arm far enough to reach it. Worried, I went to
my doctor. He laughed and said it was 'functional' and I should
forget it. La-de-da.
I found out that 'functional' meant it just didn't work right. Why
it didn't work right was anybody's guess. I was in my 5Os and
working with the mentally challenged at Maine's Pineland Center
when one of my charges had a fit of temper and put his hand
through a window cutting it badly, necessitating outside visits to
achiripodist.
At this doctor's office I met a woman in a walker. She had had
polio as a child but had recovered enough to become a track star
in college. Now, her legs were almost useless and the prognosis
was a wheel chair.
And that's when I found out there was a thing called Post Polio
Syndrome and that I had it.
Now I am 75. My left arm is pretty useless. My right arm, which
wasn't affected still works, but gets tired very easily. I haven't
been able to skip downstairs in about 15 years. I have to be
helped in and out of a boat. I sing in a chorus and this year they
bought me a special chair that attaches to the risers because I
can't stand up for more than an hour.
And that's the story of my Post Polio Syndrome. Frankly, I'm not
sure if I don't have other conditions besides it, but I'm going to
find out.
INDEX
By Roger Sklar 2003 |
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