The Limited Perspective of a Bedridden Girl

Her view out one bedroom window was the trunk of a large maple tree. The other window displayed the side of the neighbor’s house. She was nine years old when confined to bed for more than the entire summer. Lots of books and a bedpan were her constant companions. 

It was a miserable time for my sister Laurel, who had contracted rheumatic fever for the second time. The first time was when she was in second grade. This time she was in fourth grade and it was worse. She and I talked about this recently while reminiscing summers past.

Rheumatic fever, like a lot of long forgotten diseases, is not very prevalent anymore. Antibiotics and vaccines have all but eliminated many of them. But in the early 1950s, rheumatic fever was still a fairly common and serious disease. It generally affects children between the ages of five and 15 and starts with strep throat or scarlet fever that isn’t properly treated. Then, for some, the immune system improperly responds to the earlier infection leading to inflammation and rheumatic fever.

It has many symptoms including joint pain and a low-grade fever. But the real danger with rheumatic fever is that it can cause permanent damage to the heart, including damaged heart valves and heart failure.

Laurel developed strep throat the first time in early spring 1952. Since rheumatic fever can be genetic, it must have alarmed our father Juneau because he had rheumatic fever when he was 15. In fact, his doctor at the time told him directly that he had developed heart damage and should never plan to get married because he wouldn’t live long. Nice thing to say to a teenager.

But he did get married, raised a family of five kids and was a teacher for more than 40 years. By managing to not overexert his heart he lived to age 75.

Laurel doesn’t remember much about the first time she had the disease. Once diagnosed, she had to stay in the hospital for a number of days with mother Bea visiting as often as she could.

“Mom brought me comic books to read and told me she couldn’t stay all day and night,” Laurel said, “because I had two younger brothers and Dad at home that she had to feed and take care of. So she asked if I wanted to be my own babysitter and she’d pay me five cents a day. I quickly accepted.”

She was treated with sulfa drugs, the early version of antibiotics. When she got out of the hospital she had to remain cloistered in her one-window upstairs bedroom. Because of her achy joints, she couldn’t walk. “To get downstairs I slid on my butt,” she said.

Those who have had rheumatic fever are more likely to get it again. And, sure enough, two years later the process was similar – strep throat and a low-grade fever in early spring. Her doctor put her on sulfa drugs again.

“But when I started feeling a little better,” Laurel said, “Mom thought I’d be fine so threw away the rest of the medication.” The symptoms returned and she began what would be eight months in bed. It was many years later that Mom admitted to Laurel that she should not have discarded the medication.

They decided to see a different doctor who immediately put her on penicillin. This time she was moved to Mom and Dad’s bedroom just off the kitchen, the room with the windows that revealed the lone tree and a neighbor’s wall. That room made it easier for Mom and Laurel could hear what was going on. But the room was hot and had just one small fan.

“I couldn’t get up at all. It was a miserable time, hot summertime!” she recalled. “Someone taught me how to make potholders with a small loom, so Mom had potholders to use for years. Someone else sent my name to the Twin Cities newspapers, requesting cards and letters be sent to me – a fun windfall.”

On rare occasions someone would spell Mom for a while. Mom bought a box of Bible verses on small cards and each day Laurel would draw one out and read it. She had a tutor for a while before she could go back to school. House calls were still done in those days so a doctor and nurse took blood tests frequently.

One Sunday the whole family gathered in the living room to watch a popular TV show. Dad took pity on Laurel by putting blankets in a wagon and pulled her out to watch it with them.

“For sure, it was the highlight of my week. Unfortunately, when it was over and I was back in bed, Mom took my temperature and it had spiked a little. So that put an end to my TV watching.”

She recovered without the heart issues that Dad had developed. Fifth grade had already started but first she needed to learn to walk again which involved a lot of leg and ankle exercises. She also needed special shoes prescribed by a podiatrist.

“When they arrived in the wrong size the podiatrist said, ‘Well, they should work anyway.’ Dad was furious. I hadn’t walked in eight months and needed those expensive shoes,” Laurel said. She wore them anyway.

I was born a few months after Laurel had recovered. As she explained it, I was overdue so the folks decided to take the family on a drive on bumpy country roads to visit some friends. Maybe that would encourage me to join the world. One of the girls in the family they visited had rheumatic fever but Laurel instantly noticed something different.

“They had a hospital bed pushed up to a large picture window in their living room where she could look out and see birds and other animals.”