My Beautiful, Unassuming, Unsung Hero
Remembering My Mother by Laura Vittorioso
Laura and her Mother on her Wedding Day - 1976
This Mother’s Day I’m remembering my mother; a beautiful, delicate unassuming person who brought me through my initial bout with Polio and the resulting rehabilitation and surgeries. Mothers of Polio survivors are the unsung heroes of that time. They were the ones who performed the required stretching of paralyzed limbs, put the casts on our legs at night to stabilize paralyzed limbs, taught us how to put on our braces, how to walk again, carried us up and down stairs and all the while encouraging us.
An active toddler, I was 20 months old when I got sick in July, 1953. My mother had gone to the hospital to have her 3rd child. My older brother stayed with my grandparents and I went to stay at my aunt's house in Revere, MA. Although I have no memory of it, my aunt took me and my cousins to Revere Beach. My cousin and I came down with the "summer gripe" (also known as the summer “flu”). A few weeks later, I stopped walking and resumed crawling. That was the red flag to my mother. The family doctor was called and came to the house. He suspected Polio. I was immediately taken to Boston's Children's Hospital for a spinal tap which confirmed it. According to relatives (other than my parents), I was placed in an iron lung for a short period (probably as a precaution). Both legs were completely and permanently paralyzed. I was confined to the Polio ward at Boston Children's for the initial recovery. My parents were not allowed to visit and never spoke about what happened while I was there. It must have been very difficult for both of them.
It was never clear if my cousin, who was just six months older than me, actually had Polio, although there was some talk about a weak leg that did resolve. At 71, he doesn’t appear to have any late effects of Polio. I was close to 3 when I was sent to the New England Sanitorium to learn how to walk with braces and crutches. I was there for about 6 months. I never walked while I was there - I think I was just too traumatized being away from my mother. But once home and after a time, I did eventually start walking with those braces and crutches.
My mother dealt with my paralysis in a matter-of-fact, somewhat “hands-off” approach. Not that she didn’t worry a great deal about me, but she left me alone to figure things out. When it was time for me to start learning how to walk with braces and crutches, she didn’t nag, she would lay the braces beside me each morning and then left me to either put them on or not. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t reprimand me, but instead said, “Maybe tomorrow.”
She allowed me the freedom to go out and play with my older brother and the other kids on the street. If they teased me or stole my doll, she didn’t run interference, but would calmly tell me to go back out and settle it myself. I remember one time the kids were playing kick ball and I wanted to play, but the other kids shunned me away saying, “You can’t play, you’re crippled.” I ran home crying to my mother and she consoled me and then said, “Now go back out and show them how you can play.”
When it was time to register me for kindergarten, my mother was told the school could not accept me unless I could go to the bathroom and put on my coat and boots by myself. My mother said, “Not to worry, Laura can that and more.” She was then told the school couldn’t be responsible if I fell, but my mother wasn’t deterred, she said, “Her older brother Michael (who was six) will walk her to and from school and stay by her side going up and down the stairs.” Michael was a character always telling a joke or being funny. One time when I was going down the stairs at school, I must have been in first grade, I got laughing so hard I fell down the remaining 3-4 stairs. I was fine, but Mike got reprimanded by the teachers. It was a lot of responsibility for a young child.
In those days there was no ADA. Those severely disabled from Polio were sent to special schools. My mother realized how upset I would be to be sent away again, so every effort was made to keep me home and in public school. Fortunately I was able to manage the stairs and the short walk to our neighborhood school. Because of multiple surgeries, I lost a lot of my 7th and 8th year. My mother recognized how much I had lost and allowed me a great deal of freedom to go out by myself and socialize with friends. She always supported me emotionally (and reprimanded me when needed). Always encouraging me to be my best and work toward my goals. There was a time in my late teens/early twenties when I became very discouraged with roadblocks that were preventing me from obtaining my career goals. It was my mother who gave me a pep talk in her gentle, but firm way to not give up. I could accomplish my goals if I just stayed on track.
When I was finally able to purchase a car and have it outfitted with hand controls it was my mother who rode with me while I had my permit. I was taking night classes at the time and my mother would go with me to the classes so I could get the driving practice. She would wait for me in the college library while I was in class. This was a big commitment of her time and the drive to the college at night on country roads was not always easy, but she did it for me. She sacrificed her time so that I could continue my college education.
My mother was my best friend and confidant. Our bond created because of Polio was very strong. She was the one who saw me through my most difficult times. I think many Polio survivors would agree. Sadly she developed Alzheimer’s disease at age 68. Over time she forgot I was her daughter, but she always seemed to know I was someone she was close to. We listened to music together and went for rides to get an ice cream cone, a favorite activity. I was glad that in the end I could be the one supporting her as she had done for me all of my life. She died peacefully at age 79.
Note: Laura had polio at 20 months old. "I was told as a young child by the physical therapists that I would have to work harder and be better than those who were not disabled. 'The world doesn’t owe you a living' I was told. It was an either/or situation. You either worked hard to achieve some type of normalcy or you were left behind to stay at home and not participate in society.
“I never wanted to be my disability; I wanted to be like everyone else. I went about my life as if I wasn’t disabled; however, it would trip me up every so often as a reminder. Now it is a constant reminder. I have to make decisions every day about what I can and cannot take on. Many of the ailments I’ve been dealing with for the past twenty years, I attributed to 'getting older with polio'. My primary care doctors didn’t seem to understand my symptoms either, often sending me for repeat sessions of physical therapy for the purpose of muscle 'strengthening' to build up my weakening muscles. PT always left me feeling more fatigued and spent. Instinctively I’ve realized over the years that I can no longer do what I used to do; that I need to slow down because of the muscle pain and fatigue. But this (Post-Polio Syndrome) is difficult for us who have built our lives on over doing to compensate for our disability.“