To Stand on My Own

by Barbara Haworth-Attard

  Edmund and I were talking through the porch window. Mother still won’t let him come near me despite Dr. Frasier saying I wasn’t contagious anymore. I asked him if he got in trouble about the pool and he said yes. Dad had given him a stern talking-to and Edmund can’t go anywhere except to Grandpa’s to weed his garden for the rest of the summer. Then I asked him why Bessie hadn’t come to stand on the street and wave to me. He said that Bessie wasn’t allowed to come on our street or to play with him anymore because I have germs. I don’t know why Ann is being so nice when Bessie and I were so mean to her and said she had germs. Now I’m the one with germs. I feel really bad now. Maybe this is why I got sick. Because I was mean to Ann.

  Tuesday, August 24, 1937, afternoon

  Edmund is acting really strange, like he is scared of me. So I finally asked him what was wrong. He said I didn’t seem like me anymore. That we can’t play or climb trees or ride our bicycles. I told him not to be silly, it was still me. Except my voice wobbled when I said that and I don’t think either of us believed me. Edmund said that after I went in the hospital Mother washed my entire room down from ceiling to floor and washed all my clothes, and had Dad burn some of my toys to keep the polio from spreading. I wondered why my bedroom looked barer.

  I asked Grandpa about Mr. Roosevelt and he told me the place that the president bought for people with polio is called Warm Springs. It’s in Georgia in the United States. Grandpa said he’d bring the atlas over so I could see where it is. But it is nice to know that someone with polio is now the president of the entire United States. I wonder if Prime Minister Mackenzie King had polio. I’ll have to ask Grandpa.

  Tuesday, August 24, 1937

  Or maybe Wednesday, August 25

  It’s the middle of the night but I can’t sleep. Mother leaves a light on in the hall for me because a couple of times I woke up yelling, scared I was still in the hospital. I am thinking about how Edmund said I couldn’t climb trees anymore. He’s right. I’ll never climb another tree in my whole life. I wasn’t supposed to climb them in the first place, as Mother said girls didn’t climb trees, but I did. I tried to remember how it felt to put my foot against the rough bark, grab a branch and swing myself up and how I’d sit high above the street in the V of a tree trunk and be hidden by yellow-green leaves and feel away from the world. I’ll never feel that again.

  Grandpa says Canada’s prime minister never had polio. Grandpa brought me a newspaper article about Amelia Earhart. She flew right across the Atlantic Ocean all by herself. I wonder why she wanted to do that.

  Wednesday, August 25, 1937

  James came home from Alberta today. He brought home his own suitcase and another one of Grandma Robertson’s, full of vegetables, fresh bread and other food. Dad said that he guessed his mother thought we were starving here in Saskatchewan. Mother said we almost were and that she was glad of the vegetables. That made Dad blow up. He said he was working as much as he could and that we were doing better than most people. Mother started to cry and said she knew that, it was just at times she couldn’t see her way to the next day. Mother went into her bedroom and didn’t come out. James and Edmund and me were quiet all day. Dad helped put me to bed. Now I’m scared that we’re poor and we’ll starve.

  James has gotten much bigger. Mother says farm work has made him grow up really fast. Not his brain though, because he asked me if I was still writing in that secret diary of mine and then he grinned. I know he’s just teasing, but when I’m sleeping I’ll make sure I hide it beneath my pillow so he can’t get it! At least James doesn’t seem afraid of me. He still treats me the same.

  School is supposed to start next week, but some schools are pushing the first day back to the second week of September because of the polio epidemic. Edmund has his fingers crossed that our school will be one of those delayed. James goes to high school so they don’t delay anything there, except some boys don’t start until late October, after the harvest is in.

  Thursday, August 26, 1937

  I wrote a thank-you note to Ann for the bookmark and then a letter to Bessie that I gave to Edmund to deliver. In my letter I asked Bessie to come and talk to me through the porch window. I hope she comes.

  I’m very tired of lying down or being propped up all the time. I keep sliding down, and I can’t pull myself back up. I hate my splints! I hate a lot of things today.

  Friday, August 27, 1937

  Edmund said that Bessie’s mother wouldn’t touch the letter. Ann was down near the river and took my thank-you note. Bessie and her mother are silly. Besides, I’m not contagious anymore. I haven’t been contagious for a long time, but no one believes that. Finally today, Mother let Edmund come onto the porch. (I think it was because Bessie wouldn’t take my note and she knew I felt bad.) We played Fish and Snap all afternoon. It’s hard to play lying down, but I can only sit up for a few minutes before my back starts to hurt. I let Edmund win twice to make up for me having told about the pool and getting him in trouble. After that I played like normal. I didn’t want Edmund thinking he was smarter than me just because I got sick. Suddenly Edmund said he bet I got sick so I wouldn’t have to do chores. At first I was really mad, and then I realized he was trying to get comfortable with me like we used to be, so I just beat him at three Fish games in a row so he’d be sorry for saying that!

  Saturday, August 28, 1937

  Dad only works a half day on Saturday. When he got home, I heard him tell Mother that I should sit outside a little while to get some fresh air (fresher than the air in the porch), but Mother said I was not to be excited. Then Dad said that he didn’t think a few birds chirping would excite me.

  Mother started to cry and said that Dad doesn’t understand how much work it is taking care of me. Her saying that made me feel awful, so I started crying, too.

  James stuck his head into the porch and saw me and said, “Why are you crying, Pipsqueak?”

  I told him all about how I’m a bother for Mother. He said not to worry, and that Mother was just letting off a bit of steam. I still feel bad, though. I can’t help Mother dust or sweep or set the table. I make a lot of work for her because I can’t get up to get anything I need myself. Mother has been so upset lately. I really hate polio!

  Sunday, August 29, 1937

  Today Dad carried two chairs outside and put me in one and my legs in their splints on another. He tied me around the waist with a sash from a dress of Mother’s (I hope she’s doesn’t get mad that he used it) so I wouldn’t fall off. This is the first time I’ve sat up for any length of time. I’m glad I was tied in because I was surprised how difficult it was to keep my balance until he tied me. Then he took the rest of our chairs and he and James placed the kitchen table outside in the middle of the back lawn. Then he told Mother to sit down. At first she told him not to be so silly and what would the neighbours think with our kitchen table outside and her sitting down and not being at church on a Sunday. Dad said they’d think what a nice man he was to treat his wife so well. Then he and Edmund and James made us lunch with tomatoes and onions and cheese and bread. Dad even said, “Olive have some cheese, please,” like old times, and Mother actually laughed. Mother is really quite beautiful.

  I could only sit for about twenty minutes, then Dad got a blanket and pillow and put them on the grass so I could lie down. That’s the longest I ever sat.

  Monday, August 30, 1937

  Last night I dreamed I could walk. I walked out of our house and down the street. I waved at Grandpa, who was sitting on his front porch, but I didn’t stop. I wanted to keep walking because it felt so wonderful. So now I think that even though my legs don’t work, my brain remembers how to walk. At least in my dreams. I thought it might have forgotten.

  September 1937

  Wednesday, September 1, 1937

  Our school start wasn’t delayed. Edmund was pretty gloomy about going and I told him I wouldn’t be gloomy at all if I could walk to school. He didn’t believe me. He said I was a lucky duck because I got
to stay home. But I’m not a lucky duck. I miss Bessie and my other friends and I would have been going into Grade Seven if I hadn’t gotten sick.

  It’s very quiet today because everyone is in school. Grandpa said all the schools in Toronto were delayed, as the polio epidemic is quite bad there. It seems to be lessening here. I was reading my Heidi book again. I wonder if Clara had polio. I can’t think of another reason why she can’t walk.

  It rained all day. The first decent rain in months. Grandpa and Dad and James were to go to the Kiwanis Park to see the dedication of the Vimy Memorial Bandstand, but it rained too hard and the dedication was cancelled. The farmers will be happy to get that rain, though.

  Thursday, September 2, 1937

  Grandpa said that he is going to be my teacher and I will be ready for Grade Seven and maybe even Grade Eight as soon as I am strong enough to go back to school. Mother looked sad when he said that and I know it’s because she thinks I’ll never be able to go to school. I can’t even go to the bathroom myself! I told Mother I didn’t want to use the chamber pot anymore because it reminded me of the hospital, so now Dad or Grandpa have to carry me and sit me on the toilet. Mother usually stays with me and holds me on the toilet so I don’t topple off. But I do have to use the chamber pot if Dad or Grandpa aren’t here to carry me, as I’m too heavy for Mother to lift. I have no privacy anymore! I feel like a baby having my Mother in the bathroom with me!

  My arms are too tired to write more.

  Thursday, September 2, 1937, evening

  Going back to Grandpa being my teacher, he said we (I think he means ME) are going to study Arithmetic, Geography, History, Literature, Science and Spelling. Mother thought we should also study penmanship but Grandpa said penmanship is a waste of good learning time. I wish Miss Martin, my teacher from last year, thought that way. She was forever telling me how bad my penmanship was and would make me stay in at recess to practise. Instead I could have been outside learning new skipping rhymes.

  Friday, September 3, 1937

  Grandpa and Mother had a dreadful fight this morning. Grandpa gave me some Arithmetic questions and then he went to talk to Mother. As I was on the porch, I overheard them. He has been reading about a woman in Australia whose name is Sister Kenny. She’s a nursing sister. (That’s a nurse, not a nun. We call our nurses nurses here in Canada, but in Australia and England they call them sisters. I don’t know why.) Anyway, Sister Kenny is treating polio patients by taking the splints off their limbs and massaging their legs and putting hot wet blankets over them to get the muscles working again. The hot wet blankets are supposed to relax the muscles. Grandpa says that in his opinion Sister Kenny knows more about treating polio than any of those doctors who say she is nuts. Mother says those doctors have a lot more training than an uppity nurse from Australia. Grandpa said that it doesn’t appear to be doing me much good lying around all the time with my legs in splints. Then he stomped out without looking at my Arithmetic answers. Mother banged the pots around in the kitchen for a while like she does whenever she’s mad. Our pots must all be dented by now.

  When Dad came home from work, Mother got all mad again telling Dad what Grandpa had said.

  Saturday, September 4, 1937

  I am very excited because I am to have a guest today. Mother has brushed my hair very nicely and put a fresh dress on me. Mother won’t tell me who it is, but I bet it is Bessie. I’m waiting for her right now!

  Saturday, September 4, 1937, after supper

  My guest wasn’t Bessie, but Ann. At first I was very disappointed, but I tried not to show it because I didn’t want to hurt Ann’s feelings. Ann said her mother didn’t think I was contagious anymore and that both she and her mother thought I could do with some company. Ann said her mother has been ill with “expecting” for the past six months and cannot get out of bed. They arrived here two years ago from Poland and have had a hard time of it as they didn’t speak English when they arrived. Ann has three older brothers. The youngest, Yanni, who she said is sixteen, walked her over to our house. She hopes the new baby is a girl. I told her I knew what she meant, because I have two brothers and they are a nuisance.

  Ann showed me where Poland was on James’s globe. I told Ann that Grandpa had come from England and showed her where that was on the globe. With her mother ill, Ann has to do all the housework, but her mother and father want her to go to school to get a good education so she usually does her schoolwork late at night. She says she’s tired a lot of the time. Then she showed me how to do tatting. You do it with a small shuttle and a ball of cotton thread. She worked on a piece of lace while visiting with me and I watched, but next time Ann comes to visit, she promised I could try to do it myself.

  When Mother heard that Ann sometimes unravels her finished work because she doesn’t have any more thread, but wants to try new patterns, Mother disappeared for a little bit, then came back with two new white balls of cotton thread. She said they were left over from Grandma Baldwin’s crocheting. As Grandma’s dead now, she doesn’t need them. Mother also has some put aside for me, she said. Ann was so delighted she thanked Mother about a hundred times.

  I showed Ann my Heidi book. Ann has trouble reading English, so I read part of it to her. She said she loved stories. Mother brought in some lemonade for us. Ann said she liked my hair in a bob — Mother keeps it trimmed now — and that she wished she could cut hers, too. I told her Mother would cut it for her next time she visited me. Mother wasn’t too happy when I told her what I had promised. She said she couldn’t touch Ann’s hair without Mrs. Lute’s permission.

  Yanni arrived to walk Ann home again. Earlier I said that Ann doesn’t have running water in their house. I’ll try to explain this better in the next few entries, but I’m too tired now, so it will have to wait.

  Sunday, September 5, 1937

  Aunt Ella came over to see Mother today. It was raining so I was up in my bed instead of on the porch couch. Mother didn’t want me to get chilled from the damp. Mind you, Uncle Tom and Dad sat on the porch and they didn’t get chilled. Jean didn’t come because Aunt Ella wanted to see how the patient (that’s what she called me) was doing before she’d allow Jean to visit me. I didn’t mind, as Jean is a bit snooty and brags all the time about her new clothes. It’s boring, though, being upstairs in bed and not being able to hear anything. So I had Edmund sit halfway up the stairs, out of sight, and tell me everything that Mother and Aunt Ella said, especially if it was about me.

  Aunt Ella told Mother that under no circumstances should I let Grandpa take off my splints because some woman from Australia had “high-fah-lutin’ ” ideas. That was the last thing Aunt Ella should have said. Mother doesn’t like being bossed around by Aunt Ella, because Aunt Ella used to boss her around all the time when they were little. That’s all I heard because Edmund got bored and went to be with Dad and Uncle Tom. Uncle Tom came right into my bedroom to say hello, but Aunt Ella stayed in the doorway and yelled at Uncle Tom to not get any germs on him. Dad said not to worry, as he hadn’t noticed any of my germs on himself and he was with me lots. After our company left, Dad said why not let Grandpa try a different treatment because Dad couldn’t see any improvement in my legs with the splints on. Mother just sighed. I’m so sorry to be such a burden to her. I just want my legs to walk again!

  Monday, September 6, 1937

  Grandpa made me write an essay this morning on the new king and his family. There are two princesses now, too, Elizabeth and Margaret Rose. Elizabeth is older. There was a picture of them in the newspaper and they look just like any other ordinary girls, except they are princesses. Grandpa told me to write what I thought their lives were like as princesses. I told him I thought they would probably have ice cream every day for supper and sleep in towers and not have to do any chores. Grandpa said I should think a little more about the responsibilities that go along with leading a country, even if you are just a princess. I bet they have to learn all the names of the English kings!

  While I did that,
Grandpa put a wool blanket in the bathtub, boiled some water on the stove downstairs and poured it over the blanket. I couldn’t see him do this, but I knew because Mother kept asking him what he was doing and he would explain. Then Grandpa and Mother (she wasn’t too happy) took off my splints, put me in the bathtub and wrapped the hot blanket over my legs. It felt wonderful. My legs ache all the time and the hot blankets took the ache away for the first time since I got polio. Then Grandpa put me back in bed and he and Mother rubbed my legs before they put the splints back on. I immediately fell asleep because my legs didn’t hurt at all.

  Tuesday, September 7, 1937

  Ann came to visit me today after school. She walked home with Edmund and her brother Yanni, though he didn’t come in. He told Ann he’d pick her up later. She had a note from her mother saying it was fine for Ann to have her hair cut. Mother looked a bit put out at first, but then she said, very well, and washed Ann’s hair. Mother cut Ann’s hair on the porch so Ann and I could talk while she did it. Ann is a year older than me but is a lot smaller. Mother said that Ann would be doing her, Mother, a favour if she’d take my old clothes off her hands, as they were too small for me and there was no one to hand them down to. Mother put them in a package before Yanni arrived to walk her home.