Sister Kenny (right) applying hot packs, 1943
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“[Sister Kenny] looked me right in the eye and
said, ‘I’m here to try to help you. But, before I can help
you, I’ve got to hurt you.’”
—Edmund Sass, 1996 |
Elizabeth Kenny, or Sister Kenny, as nurses were called in Australia,
came to the United States in 1940. Her methods of hot-pack applications,
stretching, and muscle massage were unconventional and controversial,
but eventually became part of standard care for polio. |
“I had no idea how painful the treatment could
be. I’d fight to control myself, but inevitably I’d end up
screaming…. She would actually pull up the pectoral muscles, getting
her thumb underneath and tormenting and pulling, stretching them to their
limit, and then beyond. I knew it was for my own good, but I dreaded
each visit…. And oddly enough, as much as it hurt during the treatment,
afterward I seemed better.”
—Larry Alexander, 1954 |
Left: Spinal fusion surgery performed at Rancho Los
Amigos, 1955 Courtesy of Rancho Los Amigos National Rehabilitation Center
Right: Boy in cast and crutches after surgery to fuse the bones in his foot
and lengthen his Achilles tendon, 1948 Courtesy of Jack Warner
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“The morning of my operation, I felt brave going
in. While I was under anesthesia, the surgeons took out sections of bone
from my arms and legs and put the pieces on my lower spine, where it
curved. The curvature of my spine, called scoliosis, makes it hard for
me to breathe and impossible to sit up straight. The surgeons also put
an iron rod down my spine to straighten it, in hopes that I could sit
up enough to use a wheelchair.
When I came out of surgery, seeing stars on the acoustic ceiling
tiles, I wondered if I was dead. My right leg was in a cast, and I
was in terrible pain; it felt as if the bones had been beaten to powder.
Everything hurt, especially when I was lifted. Back in the little kids’ room,
I felt miserable, and time passed very slowly.”
—Mark O’Brien, 2003
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