24
NEW YORK CITY
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1926
Elsa couldn’t remember the last time she’d called in sick for work. But even before Ivy insisted she see a doctor today, she’d already decided to do so. Just because she’d had a terrible experience with Dr. Stanhope didn’t mean she didn’t need help after inhaling smoke and overexerting herself.
“Miss Reisner, is it? Am I saying that correctly?” Dr. Clay must see more than twenty patients a day at this walk-in clinic. The fact that he still cared enough to pronounce her name correctly made her hopeful he’d pay attention to other details, too.
“That’s right.” Elsa’s throat still hurt, but not nearly as much as it had last night.
He scanned the notes the nurse had taken from Elsa moments ago, then looked her in the eyes. “Please tell me why you’re here, and what I can do for you.”
She licked her dry lips and briefly told him what had happened last night.
Dr. Clay turned to the water cooler in the corner of his office and gave her a glass to drink. “It says here you had polio as a child, with lasting effects on your leg and lungs.”
“Yes.” She sipped the cool water. “That’s one of the reasons I thought I should come in. I didn’t know if inhaling smoke might have made my lungs worse.”
He nodded. “It’s always wise to get checked out. Do your airways feel tight and swollen?”
She shook her head. She had only breathed in smoke for less than five minutes, although at the time it felt much longer.
“Let’s take a listen.” He used his stethoscope and asked her a series of questions.
“The good news is that the smoke inhalation wasn’t prolonged or severe enough to warrant treatment, other than fresh air, plenty of fluids, and as much rest as your body calls for,” he declared. “But let’s talk about those other symptoms you mentioned. Your polio symptoms became worse this summer? Please tell me more.”
She swallowed. This wasn’t why she’d come, but she could really use a second opinion. “Do you think it’s all in my head?”
Dr. Clay’s eyebrows knit together. “I have no reason to believe that. In fact, I’ve seen this before in other patients. I’d like to hear your story and see how it compares to theirs. I’m collecting data on this previously unstudied phenomenon.”
Elsa’s jaw dropped open in shock. Mastering her composure, she quickly closed it again. She would never wish this condition on anyone else. But the idea that she wasn’t alone in it brought an unlooked-for reassurance, somehow.
She told him everything. He took notes, asked questions, nodded, and generally made her feel heard and seen. “What do you think?” she asked at the end of it. “Am I like the others you know?”
“In what you have described, you’re more alike than different.”
Her heart beat faster. She wondered if she might ever meet these other patients. Would she recognize them by their limp if she saw them by chance on the street? Would the doctor consentto put them in touch with each other or perhaps facilitate some kind of group discussion? But those questions could wait.
Elsa took another drink of water, then asked the one that could not. “What will become of us?”
Dr. Clay set his clipboard and notebook aside. “I wish I could give you a clear answer. But we’re now noticing a pattern emerging among some of our patients. It’s too soon to be able to chart a trajectory.”
“But you must have noticed something, anything, that you can share with me. Is what I’m experiencing a stage, or will this become normal? Will I—” She swallowed the catch in her throat. Her hand rested on her left knee, the hard edges of the leg brace sharp beneath her palm. “Will I get worse? Will I eventually need a brace for the other leg and crutches?”
The lines on his brow bespoke compassion. “I understand the compulsion to know what lies ahead. What we plan for, we can prepare for, yes? That’s the idea, anyway. I’m sorry I cannot give you that. All I can offer is what I’ve seen in other patients whose cases are similar to yours.”
She nodded. “Yes. Tell me.”
“One of them has become far less mobile. He uses braces on both legs now and crutches since neither knee bends freely.”
Tears welled in Elsa’s eyes, not just from fear for herself but from genuine sadness for the other person. She could imagine what he was going through and figured not many other people truly could.
“But another patient is more like you. She has grown weaker but, so far, has not needed additional braces or crutches. In fact, she has held steady like this for three years.”
Hope sparked. “Is it possible she could stay like she is forever? Could she even improve?”
A small smile touched the doctor’s face. “As I said, at this point, we really don’t know. I’ve only been tracking these patients forthree years, myself. I can’t say she won’t eventually get worse. But neither can I rule out the possibility of improvement.”
