By: Deni McKenzie

My story began in 1946 three months after I turned six in Hawthorn. Our garden, both back and front, was huge; we had Fairview Park where we played. There was no overcrowding. I was at a Catholic school just up the road. To the best of my knowledge, no one from that school got polio.

My first horrific memory is that of our family doctor approaching with a huge syringe and needle to insert into my back to test for polio. My mother had to sit on the top part of me, whilst the doctor sat on the lower section in order to insert the needle. Unsurprisingly, I became very needle-phobic. The diagnosis was polio – my left leg and spine were affected.

I was then taken to Fairfield Infectious Diseases Hospital, where I was in a ward with 15 or so, along with a mother (of many children) in an iron lung. I believe I was the only child in the ward, and we were not allowed visitors. It was dreadful. The nurses would show me a bunch of flowers or a food basket that someone sent, but that was the last of it… I never saw them again.

While in the hospital, I had to keep my feet on a white board that was on the end of the bed. If it fell down, it had meant I’d moved and I’d get smacked. Two nurses, once a day (I think) would come to my bedside. They would stand on each side of me, take my opposite limb and crossing them, and each would pull. I defy any able-bodied person not to feel pain from doing that, but of course, as a polio-affected child, I cried. I was, therefore smacked.

This went on for 21 days until someone decided I could go home. It wasn’t the longest stay in hospital in the scheme of things, but it was the worst.

As an adult, I now appreciate what my mother did after I returned home. She bought a second-hand scooter. I had to place my right leg on the board and use my left leg to push myself along.

This was followed shortly after by getting a bike (a second-hand adult bike – I couldn’t sit on the seat and peddle!) and later getting roller skates. All these activities no doubt helped my recovery more than realised at the time. I was an extremely active child and also had learnt to swim. This ability came to the fore after my next operation.

The polio, apparently, had only caused scoliosis and an inability to touch my toes… meaning I’d get into trouble with my teachers during early morning gym exercises – which were mandatory in those days. This latter ‘affliction’ was resolved when at 12, I was diagnosed with a slipped epiphysis, and my doctor inserted a 3 1/2 in screw in my left hip. Our neighbour had a pool, and he kindly let me swim in it after the operation – almost the first hydrotherapy – only we didn’t realise! There is no doubt that the polio pulled the epiphysis out. The screw is still there (I’m 86).

The upshot was that when I was 60, and having a slightly shorter left leg, my right hip needed replacing. The surgeon at the Mater was a ‘cowboy’ and it had to be re-done 2 years later. The surgeon at St. V’s was also a ‘cowboy’ and it wasn’t until 2015 that I had a successful replacement in Tamworth.

I have been diagnosed with COPD – I put that down to being brought up in a smoking household, and also smoking myself until I was 50, however, it could well be an added symptom of post-polio.