Many years ago, three members of our family developed tuberculosis in varying forms. The illness of one followed rather closely upon the other, until sorrow, despair, and hopelessness were expressed on every side. Two of the members were under medical treatment from the inception of the disease to the time of their passing away. The other case, my own, was diagnosed by three physicians as tuberculosis of the hip, and strenuous treatment recommended.
I rebelled strongly against this sentence to inactivity and helplessness; against the prospect of always limping, even if the action of the germs could be checked; and, most of all against the thought of being a burden and care to others. There seemed nothing to do but submit, however; and I wore a plaster cast, which was soon changed for a steel splint reaching from shoulder to ankle. Medicine was also administered, and an iron was hung from one foot to keep the joint separated.
This method of treatment had been followed less than one month when the physician was asked to allow me to be removed to a city about thirty miles away. After due deliberation this proposal was agreed to; and I was placed on a cot and put in the baggage car of the passenger train. Through some misunderstanding my friends missed the train, and I was taken to their home in an express wagon. Although the parents, who scarcely knew me, were alarmed and surprised at the proceeding, they welcomed and cared for me as if I were one of their own.
