'Sister Kenny'

Australia, 1893.

When the saddle on my horse slipped, I plunged to the ground. I was determined not to cry, but the pain in my wrist was awful. I struggled to my feet, tethered my horse and limped for home.

My mother took a quick peek at the throbbing wrist and called my father to fetch our buggy. Mother could nurse us through any illness, but a broken bone needed a doctor's care.

We were soon bumping along the rough-and-tumble road of the Australian Outback. It was 40 miles to the hospital in Toowoomba. As I lay in the buggy, I glanced at the trees overhead, where the koalas chomped on eucalyptus leaves. Once, Father had to stop as a mother kangaroo, her baby peeking out of her mama's pocket, hopped in front of the buggy, startling the horses.

My arm was a swollen mess when we finally got there. Dr. Aeneas McDonnell's handlebar moustache kept tickling my cheek as he leaned over to cast my wrist.

The good doctor invited me to stay with him and his family while my wrist healed. I peeked into his library and saw volumes of medical books. I gently touched their pages and gazed with fascination at the skeleton hanging by a cord in the corner. When he said I could read his books, I felt he had opened the door to a great adventure. I was only 13, but as I carefully studied book after book, I realized what it was that I wanted to be.

When I was a grown woman and first donned my nurse's uniform, complete with a cap, I smiled at myself in the mirror. I had found my calling. I was proud and happy. But even so, I never realized that it would be I who would help stamp out one of the worst children's diseases that ever was.

One of my first patients was an Aborigine chief. I watched as he painfully hobbled through the rough Australian terrain toward me. He had lost most of one leg. After awhile, I gained his confidence and told him that I could get him a wooden peg leg. He agreed. They called him Waddee Mundooee (wood foot). He began to call me "White Fella Mary."

In what would turn out to be my most important case, I was called to administer to a 3-year-old child. Her name was Amy and I would never forget her. She was screaming and in horrible pain. The problem was in her legs. I needed guidance. So I sent word to my life long friend and advisor, Dr. McDonnell. His answer stunned me: Infantile paralysis and no known treatment.

But I would not give up. I remembered that heat helped to relax muscles. I tore soft wool into strips, soaked them in hot water and put them on Amy's leg. At first, the strips burned, but then, as the heat penetrated, it eased the pain. After the packs, I massaged her tiny leg and eventually, gently began to move it.

Polio or infantile paralysis, as it was called, was a terrible disease in these long ago days. And it was spreading. I developed a treatment of heat, massage, and exercise that was quite successful. I was mocked by most of the doctors, as they treated polio by placing the damaged limbs in stiff, unmovable casts. This often leads to permanent paralysis.

I challenged them to see the patients I had treated who had recovered the use of their limbs. At last, my treatment was accepted.

In 1950, I was named the most admired woman in America.

Addendum: Her name was Sister Kenny and she dreamed of a cure for polio. Dr. Jonas Salk developed his vaccine against polio less than two years after her death. (A vaccine is a scientific preparation that is injected into the bloodstream to prevent a certain disease.) This scientific breakthrough removed the threat of this dread disease from the civilized world.

Special thanks to Aileen Holmes for her illustration. To see more of her work, visit aileenholmes.com.

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