My mother’s generation lived in fear of diseases we have the privilege to forget. She graduated from nursing school 60 years ago, in an era when people died each day from diseases that today are physicians have never seen.
Like many from her generation, she is haunted by a sound she will never forget, the sound of an iron lung pushing life into patients crippled from polio who could not breathe on their own. It was a time when polio could not be prevented and the fear of paralysis and death haunted the country.
On April 12, 1955, church bells rang out, kids were let out of school, people danced in the streets. It was great news: Salk’s polio vaccine worked! Fifty years later, as my mother strolled through the National Museum of American History’s polio exhibit, she shared with me the stories of patients as we gazed together at artifacts from those harrowing days.
I was raised understanding the value of prevention and the gift of immunization. In the 70’s, you would find flu vaccine in our kitchen refrigerator, safely stored until the family lined-up for our fall ritual. Dad was always first, reminding the rest of us that needles were nothing to fear. It was a house with limited resources, yet there was always money for immunization. My mother never wanted to see her children suffer the fate she witnessed every day in the pediatric ward of her hospital.
I was reminded once again of these memories as I read the news of the H1N1 vaccine surplus. The good news is that we have enough; the scientists and companies did their part and now it’s our turn. The latest estimate from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is that 1 in 5 Americans are vaccinated against swine flu. We can do better than this. Immunization clinics are in abundance and the vaccine is available through pharmacies and in many grocery stores. In many cases, it’s literally just around the corner. Whether near or far, it’s worth the effort to find a clinic and get immunized.
I am lucky. I was raised in a home that understood prevention starts with each one of us. That prevention is a decision that must be prioritized against competing interests. Yes, my immunization card is up to date and I am grateful. Many are not as fortunate. But I have a nurse to thank for this, a nurse who witnessed the tide of history change in her lifetime and ensured her children were protected. This nurse, my mother, still hears in her mind the sounds of an era long forgotten, an era whose lessons are still relevant today. We will always face the challenge of communicable disease and if we are lucky, scientists will discover new vaccines. In the mean time, we should value the ones we have, knowing that prevention is gift not to be taken for granted.
