"Get up"

by Harold M. Updike

In 1953, before my third year of college started, I had a month off and went home to Ithaca. I was living with my grandparents.

In the night I had to go to the bathroom - or so I thought. I got up and went to the head of the stairs, took one step, and fell down about 40 stairs.

When I landed in the living room, my grandfather was awake, and he rather crossly said, "Get up."

I said, "I can't." I think he thought I was pulling his leg, but I couldn't get up.

He lifted me up and put me on the couch, and the next morning the diagnosis was made: poliomyelitis. I was paralyzed on both sides.

I knew about polio from my nursing studies. I had a long talk with the good Lord, and together we got through it. I do walk with a limp. I use a cane too.

I didn't get back to school on time. When I did, they all knew about it, of course. Sometimes it might take me almost half a period to get to my next class.

My teachers always understood, but I was still expected to do all the work. I graduated with honors, which meant a lot to me.