Post-polio, post Disneyland

1954. One year before Disneyland opened its doors. One year before the Salk vaccine. The year I had polio. By most standards, I was very, very lucky; I had a mild case of the disease; when I was ten, I wore a brace for about a year and a half; I was in physical therapy most of my childhood; I had surgery in high school, but it all seemed worth it. The curve in my spine straightened, my leg lengthened and its muscles did not atrophy. I know how much worse it could have been. I am now dealing with the sequelae of that viral infection, a condition called post-polio. A few years ago, a myelogram showed that the polio had had a "shotgun" effect on my spinal cord. Instead of a single devastated limb, the polio attacked enervation to muscle fibers throughout my body, with my right leg being the only limb to show immediate damage. Healthy muscle fibers have been picking up the slack for nonresponsive ones for fifty years, and they are now starting to give up the ghost themselves. I have lost, by latest estimate, 40% of the upper body strength I had just 15 years ago. My hand strength is diminishing at an alarming rate. My legs are in decent shape but easily fatigable, and my general energy level is lower, exhaustible, and slow to replenish. I really put my deficient body to the test this month with our family trip to Disneyland. With my dream vacation came four days of heavy duty walking and standing, plus travel by various modes, none of which love my body. I was smart and careful. I paced myself through the mall, the zoo, Disneyland, and California Adventure. I was slow but engaged, and took someone's arm whenever I needed to. I took it especially easy the last day in Anaheim, Dave and I sitting with the baby so the others could ride as many rides as possible, but even then I knew I was reaching the end of my energy reserves. It's funny, I can feel the energy seeping out of me like I have sprung a slow leak, and if I push myself too hard, I literally come to a stop. It's a nasty and indescribabe sensation and I take pains to avoid it. Still, with all my carefulness, I was limping severely, a sure sign of fatigue, by the time we got home, and was unable to walk at all the two days following the kids' departure. I am fine now, and proud that I did as well as I did, but I am also a bit nostalgic for the youth and energy I saw in my children and grandchildren. Even as a child, there were limits to my stamina. I would run and do all the normal kid stuff and then crash, seemingly needing to be inert to give my body time to replenish it's spent stores. No one made any concessions to the polio when I was a kid, but I must make concessions now, because I am not one. In a bittersweet sort of way, it seems that Disneyland and polio are bookends, in a way, to my life so far.