The Bulletin: A meaning making mechanism for British polio disabled people

Posted on 28th July 202428th July 2024 by Lee Coppack | Leave a comment

Polio is highly culturally evocative – vaccines on sugar lumps, children in callipers and lifetimes in iron-lung respirators. The Bulletin, published by The British Polio Fellowship, provides an additional perspective. It gives an insight into how polio-disabled people understood and wished to represent themselves. Charlotte Stobart explains.

In 1939, Patricia Carey, who contracted polio in India as a child, and Frederic Morena, a stage actor who contracted polio at 42 and was subsequently wheelchair bound, founded the Infantile Paralysis Fellowship as an advocacy and self-help society.

This organisation, which became the British Polio Fellowship, initially attempted to address both the physical and social limitations of polio-disability, focusing on mutual support and personal development. From its inception, the Fellowship published a bimonthly newsletter for members.

The first major British polio epidemic came in 1947, and outbreaks of polio (nicknamed the ‘summer scourge’) occurred regularly until the 1956 advent of the Salk Vaccine. The number of cases came down, but the disease left many people with lifelong disabilities. Many developed post-polio syndrome, sometimes as much as 40 years after the original infection.

Young men with polio disability are part of a regional water polo team

A regional water polo team. Young men with characteristic polio-disability. The Bulletin, May 1969, p. 8, The British Polio Fellowship Archive

By 1965, the fellowship had around 12,000 members to whom it circulated the newsletter, called the Bulletin. This was a bottom-up, collective project, and the polio-disabled readership provided the bulk of copy and photographs (including of sports days, holidays and weddings). Similarly, patients at the Spinal Injuries Unit at Stoke Mandeville Hospital in Buckinghamshire, wrote and edited their own community building publication, The Cord, from 1947.

Active and positive

The Bulletin consciously and consistently portrayed polio-disabled people enjoying a range of experiences, triumphing over polio and over societal assumptions about the limitations of disabled people. It challenged dominant sociocultural narratives of loss and trauma, and provided polio-disabled people with representational agency and a positive sense of identity and community.

The iconic ‘Action for the Crippled Child’ charity collection boxes of the 1960s showed a young boy with his crutches and callipers. He is despondent, evoking charitable pity (and hopefully, donations). Conversely, editions of The Bulletin from the 1960s used pictures of a group of young men on crutches playing football, a team of water polo players with characteristic signs of polio paralysis in their asymmetric legs and a man in a wheelchair being lifted (somewhat inexplicably) by crane onto a ship.

Through the 1960s, understandings of polio shifted as the public health threat waned. As their numbers and cultural purchase naturally decreased, polio-disabled people were increasingly overlooked by mass-media, and polio itself became increasingly regarded as a phenomenon of the past or other global regions.

Thanks in no small part to the work of the British Polio Fellowship and The Bulletin, the polio-disabled identity developed positive connotations: determination, hard-work and tenacity. The Bulletin allowed British polio-disabled people to continue to assert their presence and identity and raise funds for assistive technologies, activities and residential homes for their ageing cohort. The British Polio Fellowship continues to publish The Bulletin to this day, advocating for the 47,000 people in Britian still living with the late effects of polio.

Charlotte Stobart is an MA student of History of Technology, Science, and Medicine at the University of Manchester.

References and further reading

The British Polio Fellowship: https://www.britishpolio.org.uk/

The Bulletin Archive- stored at the British Polio Fellowship Office in CP House, Otterspool Way, Watford WD25 8HR.

Brady, Sam, The Cord, https://www.paralympicheritage.org.uk/blog/the-cord-journal-for-paraplegics, National Paralympic Heritage Trust, 20 July, 2020.

Couser, Thomas, “Disability, Life Narrative, and Representation.” PMLA 120:2 (2005): 602–6

Williams, Gareth, Paralysed with Fear: The Story of Polio. London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2013

‘Wilson’s balls’: TB treatment in the 1940s-1950s

Posted on 23rd February 202323rd February 2023 by Lee Coppack | 2 Comments

A chance encounter with a jam jar of what appeared to be old ping pong balls in the (currently closed) Bakelite Museum in Somerset, set Christine Gowing on a fascinating journey to discover their link to pulmonary tuberculosis.

In 1945, someone died every ten minutes from pulmonary tuberculosis (TB) in the United States. Nearly 50 years previously, French surgeon Théodore Tuffier had opined that not only collapsing the lung would help but that physically maintaining the collapse with a substance was crucial to resting the lung, so that it had a chance to recover from the tuberculous infection. The procedure became known as plombage.

In the intervening period, a range of procedures and cures was attempted, but a prolonged stay in a sanatorium became the best available therapy. Plombage experiments were performed with a variety of materials, but none really worked. That is, until plastics were introduced which coincided with the particularly enterprising spirit of a young American

Dr David A Wilson Kind permission of Dr Robert Wilson

David A Wilson was a member of the surgery house staff at Duke University Hospital, North Carolina in the 1940s. He had, himself, suffered with TB for a year during his medical training. Maybe that experience motivated him to persevere with researching ways to sustain the collapse of a TB-affected lung, following thoracotomy, in an attempt to treat the disease.

Lucite (polymethylmethacrylate) had recently been developed and, following trials with other materials, Wilson experimented with producing spheres made of the acrylic to pack into the patient’s chest cavity. As well as its strength, biocompatibility and resistance to water, Lucite’s ability to be shaped into complex curves made it an ideal material for plombage. Supporting Wilson’s pioneering procedure, the university laboratory technicians at Duke set to work developing one-inch spheres – and trials began.

The procedure was successful and its practice quickly spread, soon hitting the headlines as an effective TB treatment. A small firm in New Jersey, Nichols Products, which produced plastic novelties, took over production of the Lucite balls in 1946. Archived records show that the balls were despatched widely throughout the United States and overseas, as Lucite plombage became increasingly adopted worldwide as a treatment for TB, until it became eclipsed by the use of modern antibiotics.

This innovative and audacious procedure was not without occasional side effects, however, such as the migration of the Lucite balls. A BMJ report in 2011 described a 76-year old woman who ‘presented with axillary squeaking on moving her left arm which she noticed during a yoga class. Her chest radiograph showed multiple rounded left upper zone lucencies.’ One of the balls had escaped.

It may have been a short-lived therapeutic success, but many patients such as this lived into their old age, free of TB, with what had become known as ‘Wilson’s balls’ in their chests.

Moreover, the significance of this procedure is not only its focus on a mid-twentieth century intervention for tuberculosis, but an illustration of the intersection of healthcare, new plastic technology and industry as a feature of post-World War Two medicine.

A Nichols propelling pencil Author’s own photo

My research journey took me from Somerset to the United States where I met Dr Wilson’s son, visited Duke University and the site of the factory in Moorestown, NJ, where Edgar Nichols, an inventor and multiple patent-holder, mass produced the Lucite balls. The building is now derelict, but in the 1940s and 1950s the factory had produced a range of early plastic novelties, such as the one in the photo above: a propelling pencil with, curiously, a Lucite ball at one end for use as a magnifier and telephone dialling tool.

Christine Gowing has an MA and a PhD in the history of medicine. A full article with more detail of this pioneering procedure, Lucite plombage, was originally published in the journal of the Plastics Historical Society, ‘Plastiquarian’, December 2022.

One-way systems to keep patients separate

Posted on 17th August 202217th August 2022 by Lee Coppack | Leave a comment

Eastern Dispensary, Bath Photo: William Rogers, britishlistedbuildings.co.uk

The Corona virus pandemic prevention measures were not the first one-way system in British health care, as William Evans explains.

One feature of the measures imposed or encouraged by the UK government to stop Corona virus spreading was one-way systems for human traffic. In premises such as doctor’s surgeries, one-way systems aimed to reduce close contact between people and avoid transmission of the virus.

One-way systems are not new. We are familiar with them in the management of road traffic. Although fewer accidents and a reduction in personal injuries are some results, the main aims are to relieve traffic congestion and reduce conflict among road users. Another example comes from the household goods sector. The retailer Ikea makes customers follow a prescribed route through its stores. In this case, the aim is not safety, but more sales by bringing to customers’ attention all the goods offered, not just those the customer may be interested in.

There is a historic precedent for a one-way system in a medical context from the Eastern Dispensary in Cleveland Place East, Bath. Opened in 1845, it was designed by the local architect, Henry Edmund Goodridge (1797-1864). The external design is neo-classical: the entrance at the front through a portico with columns and a pediment. Inside, the design was innovative. On entering, patients were directed into one of two waiting rooms at either side of the building (one for women, one for men?). In each waiting room, the patients sat on, and moved along, benches. The first bench was attached to the left side wall, the next one to the right, and so on.

As a result, patients moved along the benches in queue until they were summoned to rooms at the back of the building where they were seen by an apothecary or surgeon or went into a dressing room. They then left the building by a back door from the room where they were seen or treated.

Plan of the dispensary The Builder, (1849) 160

The purpose of that layout may have had much to do with keeping order in what could otherwise have been a melee, but no doubt it also helped to limit the transmission of infectious or contagious diseases. Goodridge’s radical design was commended by The Builder magazine as a model for future dispensaries. It would be interesting to know whether his Bath layout was followed elsewhere.

After it ceased being used as a dispensary, the building housed various activities: in the 1910s, for example, colleges and pharmacies. It is now a bistro.

References

Plan of the dispensary: Bath & NE Somerset Council Archives, 0033

The Builder, (1849) 160; https://archive.org/details/gri_33125006201806/page/160/mode/2up?view=theater

Michael Forsyth, Bath, in the Pevsner Architectural Guides series, Yale UP 2003

For Goodridge: HM Colvin, A biographical dictionary of British architects 1600-1840, Yale UP 1997

For dispensaries: Michael Whitfield, The dispensaries: healthcare for the poor before the NHS, Author House 2006

William Evans is treasurer of Avon Local History & Archaeology, the umbrella group for local history in the Bristol and Bath area.

Poems and Pandemics in the Plague Village

Posted on 26th May 202026th May 2020 by Edward Wawrzynczak | Leave a comment

Simon Armitage’s newly released poem, ‘Lockdown‘, recalls the Eyam plague of 1665/6, effectively evoking feelings that reverberate in our current situation, and remind us that we are not the first to find ourselves in such a position.

Elizabeth Hancock drags the body of a family member to the Riley graves. She lost her husband and all six children during the outbrak. Illustration from The Brave Men of Eyam by E.N. Hoare published by SPCK, 1881.

In Lockdown, the Poet Laureate touches on some of the most notable features of the story. ‘Thimbles brimmed with vinegar wine’, for example, refers to the practice of Eyam’s residents leaving coins in holes in the rock at the parish boundary. These would be exchanged for vital supplies by the neighbouring villagers, hinting at an understanding of antisepsis not widely acknowledged to be present at that time.

We find new resonance in the story of Emmott Sydall and Rowland Torre, betrothed lovers who found themselves on either side of the cordon sanitaire, seeing each other only from a distance until Emmott failed to appear one day, having tragically succumbed to the plague.

Such stories of ordinary individuals were passed down in the oral tradition, and whilst making it more difficult for historians to corroborate beyond births, marriages and deaths, this adds a somewhat mystical glow to this period.

Indeed, one of the key reasons the Eyam plague may stick in our consciousness more than the countless other local outbreaks of disease over the centuries, is the fascinating cocktail of physical reminders of the plague story around the village, combined with these legends of individual suffering.

Perhaps the Eyam plague is also memorable due to its particularly high death rate. As referenced in the poem, the village tailor received a parcel of cloth from London, believed to contain fleas carrying the plague. Certainly, the tailor’s assistant George Viccars, became the first victim in September 1665.

There was a steady rate of transmission, which slowed over the Winter, but exploded the following Summer, finally petering out in the Autumn of 1666. By then, around one-third of the villagers (260) were dead.

The ‘crisis mortality rate’ in Eyam has been estimated at twice that of the London outbreak, occurring at the same time. Whole families were wiped out, helpless to prevent the rampage of the infection.

Whilst this surge may simply have reflected the exponential nature of the spread within a non-immune population, it has also been suggested that the disease switched from the flea-borne bubonic type to the much more infectious pneumonic transmission.

Rev William Mompesson (right) converses with a parishioner. Illustration from The Brave Men of Eyam by E.N. Hoare published by SPCK, 1881.

Lastly, the image of the Rector, William Mompesson, leading his parishioners in their self-sacrifice, including through the death of his wife, has created a strong narrative of stoical heroism.

This was irresistible, in particular, to the Victorians seeking to retrospectively chronicle the events of 1665/6 with little written information to go on, save a few of Mompesson’s surviving letters.

What now of the plague village? Once again, Eyam is under lockdown. Public gatherings are prohibited, churches and inns are closed, and there is anxiety and uncertainty. On the other hand, supplies from neighbouring villagers have been replaced by those from supermarket delivery vehicles, and the Priests making the decisions, by Public Health officials.

Nevertheless, the community spirit has kicked in with local support schemes in operation, and, spontaneously, numerous villagers have remarked on the renewed empathy they have for their 17^th century counterparts.

‘Plague Sunday’, which is celebrated in the village on the last Sunday of August, will certainly have added poignancy this year. Indeed, the Plague Sunday procession ends at Cucklet Delph, a natural amphitheatre used by Mompesson to address the village rather than cram everyone into the church.

This year, using this venue may well once again be for the reason of public safety rather than historical re-enactment.

Words by Dr William Parker, Eyam, Derbyshire

Sources/Further Reading

Clifford J (1989). Eyam Plague 1665-1666, self-published.

Mead R (1720) A Discourse on the Plague, Miller & Brindley. Available at http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32171/32171-h/32171-h.htm

Massad E et al (2004) The Eyam plague revisited: did the village isolation change transmission from fleas to pulmonary? Med Hypotheses 63:911-5.

Race P (1995) Some further consideration on the plague in Eyam, 1665/6. Available at http://www.localpopulationstudies.org.uk/PDF/LPS54/LPS54_1995_56-65.pdf

Wallis P (2005) A Dreadful Heritage: Interpreting Epidemic Disease at Eyam, 1666-2000. Available at http://eprints.lse.ac.uk/22546/1/0205Wallis.pdf

Wood W (1842). The History and Antiquities of Eyam, Whitaker & Company.

Herd Immunity – what’s in a name?

Posted on 29th March 202029th March 2020 by Edward Wawrzynczak | Leave a comment

“Herd immunity” recently made a controversial appearance in the context of the current COVID-19 pandemic. What does the phrase mean, where did it come from, and how helpful is it today?

As of March 2020, the OED defines it as, “resistance to the spread of a contagious disease within a population that results if a sufficiently high proportion of individuals are immune to the disease, typically as a result of having been vaccinated against it”.

The earliest use of the phrase can be traced to a 1917 report from the US Bureau of Animal Industry that dealt with a cattle infection causing death of unborn calves. A cow that had aborted was likely to become immune, and calves born and raised in such an affected herd were tolerant to the disease. The authors concluded that “a herd immunity seems to have developed as the result of both keeping the aborting cows and raising the calves”.

However, the senior author, Dr Adolph Eichhorn, Chief of the Pathological Division, made no reference to herd immunity in a monograph to which he contributed a major section on biological therapeutics just two years later. His biologically apt coinage does seem to have been picked up in US agricultural circles, but it was not universally adopted, with “immunity of the herd” being used instead.

The concept of herd immunity next appeared in British bacteriologist William Topley’s epidemiological studies of bacterial infection, which examined the resistance of a population of mice after immunising animals with suspensions of bacteria. He used “herd-resistance” to describe the natural resistance of individuals within a population. And he discussed the implications of his work with the “mouse herd” for the “human herd”.

The human herd entered this experimental realm at about the same time. In 1922, Surgeon-Commander Sheldon Dudley studied a diphtheria epidemic at Greenwich Hospital School. He found that the longer boys had been resident the greater the proportion who were immune, and that increases in immunity correlated with each outbreak. He extended such studies to other infectious diseases and used herd immunity to explain his findings.

In 1928, all boys in the school were actively immunised against diphtheria. The most senior became immune (Schick-test negative) twice as quickly as the most junior, suggesting prior exposure to the disease (see Figure). These results paralleled earlier work in animals, except for the fact that “a herd of human boys were used in lieu of the guinea-pigs”.

Dudley was unapologetic for using the prefix herd to denote the properties of a community, pointing out that psychologists had earlier popularized the phrase “herd instinct”. Besides, on evolutionary grounds, there was “little fundamental difference between a herd of deer, a herd of swine, and a herd of Homo sapiens”.

Notions of herd immunity have become more sophisticated in recent decades owing to the increased importance of vaccination. Today’s NHS website defines the benefits thus: “If enough people are vaccinated, it’s harder for the disease to spread to those people who cannot have vaccines. For example, people who are ill or have a weakened immune system”.

The reader is also directed to more information and an animation on the website of the Oxford Vaccine Group’s Vaccine Knowledge Project . This site suggests that a better name for herd immunity is “herd protection” because it helps to protect those especially vulnerable to infectious diseases. “Community immunity” appears as an alternative.

Conveying the value of herd protection or community immunity to the public will be critical in successful vaccination against COVID-19. One must worry that the lazy use of a century-old phraseology rooted in the farm, mouse lab and human guinea-pigs, as well as a contemporary profusion of alternative terms, may prove more of a hindrance than a help.

Words by Edward Wawrzynczak

Sources used:

Horton, R. (2020) Offline: COVID-19 – a reckoning. Lancet, 395, 935.
https://public.oed.com/updates/new-words-list-march-2020/.
Eichhorn, A. & Potter, G.M. Contagious Abortion of Cattle. In: Farmer’s Bulletin 790, Washington DC: United States Department of Agriculture, 1917.
Winslow, K. & Eichhorn, A. Veterinary Materia Medica and Therapeutics, Eighth Edition. Chicago: American Veterinary Publishing Co, 1919, pp.525-563.
Beechy, L.P. (1920) Abortion disease in cattle. Bulletin of the Ohio State University Agricultural College Extension Service. Vol. XVI, No. 1.
Smith, T., Little Further studies on the etiological role of Vibrio fetus. J Exp Med, 32, 683-689, R.B. &Taylor, M.S. (1920).
Topley, W.W.C. & Wilson, G.S. (1923) The spread of bacterial infection. The problem of herd-immunity. J Hyg, 21, 243-9.
Topley, W.W.C. Wilson, J. & Lewis, E.R. (1925) Immunisation and selection as factors in herd-resistance. J Hyg, 23, 421-436.
Greenwood, M. & Topley, W.W.C. (1925) A further contribution to the experimental study of epidemiology. J Hyg, 24, 45-110.
Dudley, S.F. (1922) The relation of natural diphtheria antitoxin in the blood of man to previous infection with diphtheria bacilli. Brit J Exp Pathol, 3, 204-209.
Dudley, S.F. The Spread of Droplet Infection in Semi-isolated Communities. Medical Research Council, Special Report Series, No.111, London: HMSO, 1926.
Anon. (1927) The spread of infection in schools and ships. BMJ, 1(3443), 34, 1 Jan.
Dudley, S.F. (1928) Natural and artificial stimuli in the production of human diphtheria antitoxin. Brit J Exp Pathol, 9, 290-298.
Dudley, S.F. (1929) Herds and individuals. J R Army Med Corps, 53, 9-25.
Fine, P., Eames, K. & Heymann, D.L. (2011) “Herd immunity”: a rough guide. Clin Infect Dis, 52, 911-916.
https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/vaccinations/why-vaccination-is-safe-and-important/.
https://vk.ovg.ox.ac.uk/vk/herd-immunity.
Betsch, C. et al. (2017) On the benefits of explaining herd immunity in vaccine advocacy. Nat Hum Behav, 1, 0056.
Hakim, H. et al. (2019) Interventions to help people understand community immunity: a systematic review. Vaccine, 37, 235-247.