GIVEN THE SAME CIRCUMSTANCES, WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?
In 1990, shortly before traveling to China to begin my Great Wall journey, I read an emotionally-charged article in the Houston Post. I copied the article, tucked it in my purse, and re-read the disturbing story… numerous times.
The newspaper article touched my heart. A child of the fifties, I lived the fear associated with polio and with the national warnings to: avoid crowds, public swimming pools, movie theaters…all the crowded places where the polio virus could pass from one stranger to another. I was aware of polio’s symptoms: “Seek medical attention immediately if you experience any or all of the following: A violent headache, high and persistent fever, breathing difficulties, painful muscles, or numbness in any area of the body.”
Yesterday, hidden in a long-forgotten folder, I found the now-fragile article. Reading it again, 29 years later, I knew it was time to write about Alta Jeanne Drake, the polio survivor who lived in an iron lung for 39 years, before being shot to death by her father.
An only child, Jeanne Drake graduated from Southern Methodist University in 1950 with majors in History and Religion. Six months later, she married. Her happy world suddenly crumbled when, early in 1951, she was attacked by the polio virus. Within hours, she suffered complete paralysis. For the next 39 years, An Iron Lung served as Jeanne's permanent home.
Loss became her constant companion when, in 1956, just one week before Christmas, her husband left her. That was also the time Jeanne’s mother learned she was going blind and, ten years later, died.
Jeanne’s father immediately took over as his daughter’s most-devoted caregiver. Although two well-paid attendants lived in the guest quarters behind the main house, Jeanne's father, Ammy Drake, moved his bed into his daughter's room--three feet from her Iron Lung-- to care for her day and night.
Together, the father and daughter spent hours watching TV programs, listening to “talking” books, and discussing current events. They enjoyed visits from friends, many who attended various churches nearby.
For years, Jeanne used a mouth stick to type letters to friends, strangers, acquaintances, using a typewriter--mounted on a shelf above her head—which she lowered by blowing into a sensitized-switch attached to her Iron Lung. But….shortly before she died, her health had begun to decline and typing—something she loved---became impossible.
Early that July morning in 1990, a caretaker found the bodies of Jeanne and her father. The 61 year old polio survivor’s Iron Lung—her home for 39 years--- was open, unplugged, and deadly quiet. Jeannie was lying on her back in her usual position, with both eyes closed…as if in a deep sleep. She’d been shot twice in the chest.
Three feet away from the Iron Lung, resting in his favorite armchair, was Jeanne’s father…shot in the head with a 52 caliber revolver. The note clutched in his hand said “I couldn’t take care of her anymore. There was no one around who would care for her or love her like me….her father.”
Investigators soon learned that Jeanne’s 92-year-old father had been told---one week earlier—that his lymphatic cancer had spread from his throat to his lungs…and he had only weeks to live.
Several of Jeanne’s church friends were convinced that the actions taken that July day…were the right actions. Jeanne would have been completely alone without her father. In fact, one said that Jeanne’s fear of being alone and institutionalized, probably led her to devise the killing/suicide.
So, for all Jeanne's loving friends.....everything is normal again. They are happy knowing that Jeanne and her loving parents are together…with no-more pain, no-more sickness, and no-more need for an Iron Lung.
Who could ask for anything more?