Gradually, the 15 minutes became 20, and 20 became 30, and then you could come out of the iron lung and sit in the chair. They used to come and say, ‘You can come out for a little while,’ and I used to sit up perhaps to have a cup of tea, but then they would have to keep an eye on me because my fingers would go blue and in about 15 minutes I would have to go back in again. I am still friends with one of the nurses on the unit when I was in there. The doctors were normally quite austere people but he was nice, and it was a small unit … a nice little unit with about six beds and only one iron lung. To me that was like it just wasn't a doctor. Dr Small, in his 70s, was quite a modern doctor: he was in jeans and without a white coat. At Oxford I do recall Dr Spalding and Dr Small. The fact that you can't breathe is neither here nor there. While vaguely recollecting the ambulance and the siren going, I didn't really believe I was so sick because I was not in pain you associate being really ill with pain. It is a pity that when I was in the Royal Berkshire I can't remember Dr Price and the intensive care staff, because from the minute I arrived I really did not come round until I was in Oxford. They had a rubber seal so you could open them on the down breath and put a hand in, to do physiotherapy or anything inside. The iron lung had port holes on the side which came in useful for physiotherapy. Coughing was a bit more difficult because you don't cough in rhythm with the iron lung. You just wait until it's breathing out and then you swallow. You can eat in the iron lung because your head is outside but the rest of your body is inside, although since you are flat on your back you really need to be careful when you swallow you have to swallow in rhythm with the machine because it's pulling your diaphragm in and then pushing it out again. Like: … breathing, bump breathing, bump … It was not quite like a smooth breath. And of course you get the vibration underneath. The mechanics are underneath the machine so you're laying on the pump. You would lay on it and get pushed inside. The bit that you lay on actually pulls out like a tray. There was a frame over the top where they could put a book or a newspaper, but you had to have someone to turn the pages so not much point really you would usually just shut your eyes and go to sleep, it was quite relaxing. There was a mirror in front of you so that you could see what was going on behind. It was restful because there wasn't much for you to do in the iron lung. But the relief of not having a respirator on my mouth and just laying flat on my back with the breathing taken over was quite relaxing. Then they said they were going to put me into an iron lung and I went ‘Oh!!!’ I did not know what an iron lung was, and had never seen one. But by the time I got to about 10, I was ‘normal’ apart from the fact that my back had started to curve: my spine was curved, but it did not stop me doing anything. When I went back to school for half-days I had to be taken in a wheel-chair. I did not have callipers or anything like that but I was too weak down the left side. I was sent home still unable to walk fully. I remember being pushed out of the veranda windows in the bed in February. At that time it was thought a good idea to put patients out in the cold. After that I cannot remember the details but I was taken to Oxford, I think it was to the Churchill. I know my parents spent Christmas Day with me. I was in hospital over Christmas which I remember quite fondly because it was quite fun really, although I couldn't sit up. The doctor came and I was taken to the Royal Berkshire Hospital. It then transpired that I was paralysed down the left side. I remember not feeling very well and not being able to get out of bed. I developed polio in 1949 when I was about 7 years old.
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