I was too young to remember when my cousin Lois came down with polio. I was just an infant when she became the second victim of the 1948 Los Angeles polio epidemic. She survived, walked with a limp, but her hair turned snow white.
She was well enough two years later to go door-to-door collecting for the March of Dimes. One woman asked to see her credentials. Lois had never heard that word before, so she showed the woman her tracheotomy scar. The woman gave her a contribution and called the LA Times. Lois was on the front page the next day.
Lois died last year, suffering post-polio syndrome and COPD.
I remember my Mom and Dad talked about whether they should volunteer me to be a Polio Pioneer. We lived in Pittsburgh, and there were going to be tests of a vaccine in schools in the East End of the city.
I remember the day a doctor and nurse came into my first grade classroom. with equipment including a bunsen burner.
"There will be no crying," said our teacher Mrs Cutler, "You are not kindergarten babies any more. No crying."
There was none, as they called us to the teacher's desk, one by one, row by row. Amazing to us today, they reused the needles, sterilizing them with the flame of the burner.
And I will never forget going home for lunch on April 12, 1955. We were all told to watch the News at Noon, for there would be an important announcement. The man came on the TV and said the vaccine was safe and effective. I was sitting on the living room floor, watching, and sipping some tomato and rice soup. I will never, ever forget how Mom leaned over, sat down, and hugged me, crying. "Oh, the children," she said over and over. "The poor children!"
I read in the newspaper today that Dr Sidney Busis died last week. He was 97. While Jonas Salk and Julius Youngner and the others were in the basement of the Municipal Hospital developing the live vaccine, Dr Busis was working 16 hour days, often 7 days a week during summer polio epidemics. Dr. Busis was on the third floor, performing tracheotomies on young victims who were struggling to survive.
Dr Busis, who is among the many Pittsburghers featured in this documentary, had four young sons. He made certain to change his shower after work and put on a change of clothes after leaving the hospital, in the hope that his four boys not be needlessly exposed to the polio virus.
Sidney Busis was a cousin of mine. When I was young, he would make house calls to see me when I was sick. I knew him when I was a young man, but he never once mentioned to me that he worked with Jonas Salk. He never bragged.
The great thing about this documentary is that it features many people - doctors, researchers, polio survivors, parents, all kinds of people who did their part in helping to conquer this terrible plague.
Salk is a hero among many heroes.
She was well enough two years later to go door-to-door collecting for the March of Dimes. One woman asked to see her credentials. Lois had never heard that word before, so she showed the woman her tracheotomy scar. The woman gave her a contribution and called the LA Times. Lois was on the front page the next day.
Lois died last year, suffering post-polio syndrome and COPD.
I remember my Mom and Dad talked about whether they should volunteer me to be a Polio Pioneer. We lived in Pittsburgh, and there were going to be tests of a vaccine in schools in the East End of the city.
I remember the day a doctor and nurse came into my first grade classroom. with equipment including a bunsen burner.
"There will be no crying," said our teacher Mrs Cutler, "You are not kindergarten babies any more. No crying."
There was none, as they called us to the teacher's desk, one by one, row by row. Amazing to us today, they reused the needles, sterilizing them with the flame of the burner.
And I will never forget going home for lunch on April 12, 1955. We were all told to watch the News at Noon, for there would be an important announcement. The man came on the TV and said the vaccine was safe and effective. I was sitting on the living room floor, watching, and sipping some tomato and rice soup. I will never, ever forget how Mom leaned over, sat down, and hugged me, crying. "Oh, the children," she said over and over. "The poor children!"
I read in the newspaper today that Dr Sidney Busis died last week. He was 97. While Jonas Salk and Julius Youngner and the others were in the basement of the Municipal Hospital developing the live vaccine, Dr Busis was working 16 hour days, often 7 days a week during summer polio epidemics. Dr. Busis was on the third floor, performing tracheotomies on young victims who were struggling to survive.
Dr Busis, who is among the many Pittsburghers featured in this documentary, had four young sons. He made certain to change his shower after work and put on a change of clothes after leaving the hospital, in the hope that his four boys not be needlessly exposed to the polio virus.
Sidney Busis was a cousin of mine. When I was young, he would make house calls to see me when I was sick. I knew him when I was a young man, but he never once mentioned to me that he worked with Jonas Salk. He never bragged.
The great thing about this documentary is that it features many people - doctors, researchers, polio survivors, parents, all kinds of people who did their part in helping to conquer this terrible plague.
Salk is a hero among many heroes.
