Diphtheria
Aug. 3rd, 2010 07:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fleaJonquil posted today about the resurgence of pertussis in California, due to non-vaccinators. Since we've been vaccinating for so long, a lot of people have forgotten how terrible many of the formerly common childhood illnesses can be. Here's a passage from a family memoir about how my grandfather's cousin Mary nearly died of diphtheria. It's worth bearing in mind that this family (with 7 children) is upper-class; they have live-in servants and Grandfather is a federal judge. The poor would have had such an illness much worse.
"Cousin John Wishart (a cousin of Grandfather Acheson's) remained our doctor until the only really serious illness any of us ever had in childhood nearly brought Mary's life to an end when she was seven years old. She came down with diphtheria shortly before Christmas. I think it was not so diagnosed at first, for on Saturday night Kate and I went to dancing school as usual. But when Molly came for us, to our great surprise she took us to Grandfather's house instead of our own. There we found Adeline already established, and there we three stayed for weeks while the rest of the family, Father excepted, remained in quarantine. How he came to be allowed to go to work from a quarantined house I do not know.
The doctor came to Grandfather's house and gave each of the three Spencer girls each a shot of antitoxin, which I think was new at that time. It made us so stiff that we could hardly get up the next morning, but our brief misery was as nothing to the misery the family was enduring at home. The twins developed chicken pox and were put to bed and cared for by Mollie. The trained nurse brought in to take care of Mary promptly came down with diphtheria herself and departed, and Mother, shut away from the family in Mary's room, had to nurse a child who became sicker and sicker. Cousin John, I think, finally suggested that a younger man be called in consultation, and Ogden Edwards, then a promising young doctor at the beginning of his career, took over. Diphtheria was a prime killer of children in those days, and poor little Mary had nearly reached her end. Her fingers were cold and bloodless, her lips were blue, her nose was pinched, and she was gasping for breath when Dr. Edwards after several futile attempts finally succeeded in dropping a tube down her throat and getting air into her lungs.
I remember vividly that night when death seemed about to strike our family for the first time. Though no-one had told me how serious Mary's condition was, I must have felt the tension in the air, for when we three girls, all together in the guest room, went to bed, I began to cry, and soon Adeline and Kate raised their voices too in lamentation. It was the first time sorrow had touched us. When morning came and with it the news that Mary was better, even the little ten year old who had started the concerted weeping felt the relief of her elders.
The convalescence was long and slow. From it Mary emerged shot full of hypodermic punctures, her voice curiously husky, with appetite and energy unimpaired."
From The Spencers of Amberson Avenue: A Turn of the Century Memoir, p. 70-72, by Ethel Spencer, my first cousin twice removed.
"Cousin John Wishart (a cousin of Grandfather Acheson's) remained our doctor until the only really serious illness any of us ever had in childhood nearly brought Mary's life to an end when she was seven years old. She came down with diphtheria shortly before Christmas. I think it was not so diagnosed at first, for on Saturday night Kate and I went to dancing school as usual. But when Molly came for us, to our great surprise she took us to Grandfather's house instead of our own. There we found Adeline already established, and there we three stayed for weeks while the rest of the family, Father excepted, remained in quarantine. How he came to be allowed to go to work from a quarantined house I do not know.
The doctor came to Grandfather's house and gave each of the three Spencer girls each a shot of antitoxin, which I think was new at that time. It made us so stiff that we could hardly get up the next morning, but our brief misery was as nothing to the misery the family was enduring at home. The twins developed chicken pox and were put to bed and cared for by Mollie. The trained nurse brought in to take care of Mary promptly came down with diphtheria herself and departed, and Mother, shut away from the family in Mary's room, had to nurse a child who became sicker and sicker. Cousin John, I think, finally suggested that a younger man be called in consultation, and Ogden Edwards, then a promising young doctor at the beginning of his career, took over. Diphtheria was a prime killer of children in those days, and poor little Mary had nearly reached her end. Her fingers were cold and bloodless, her lips were blue, her nose was pinched, and she was gasping for breath when Dr. Edwards after several futile attempts finally succeeded in dropping a tube down her throat and getting air into her lungs.
I remember vividly that night when death seemed about to strike our family for the first time. Though no-one had told me how serious Mary's condition was, I must have felt the tension in the air, for when we three girls, all together in the guest room, went to bed, I began to cry, and soon Adeline and Kate raised their voices too in lamentation. It was the first time sorrow had touched us. When morning came and with it the news that Mary was better, even the little ten year old who had started the concerted weeping felt the relief of her elders.
The convalescence was long and slow. From it Mary emerged shot full of hypodermic punctures, her voice curiously husky, with appetite and energy unimpaired."
From The Spencers of Amberson Avenue: A Turn of the Century Memoir, p. 70-72, by Ethel Spencer, my first cousin twice removed.