We are living in mostly new times and new circumstances with the coronavirus outbreak of 2020.  As news flashes arrive by the hour, we find ourselves trying to cope with a very different world, unthinkable some weeks ago, and one that changes by the day. However, in the past 82 years I have had to undergo several epidemics in my lifetime and have had some initial experience of them.

Polio Epidemic, Melbourne 1937

The first epidemic was the year of my birth, 1937, in Melbourne. During the late 1930s there had been a number of outbreaks of poliomyelitis (polio) and they would continue into the early 1940s. There was no vaccine at the time and the outcome of infection was often permanent paralysis.

Polio is a highly infectious disease caused by a virus. The virus usually was first spread through infected faeces, particularly in areas with poor sanitation (not uncommon in the 1930s). It could quickly invade the water supply or the food chain. It was highly contagious. It disrupted the nervous system of those infected and could cause total paralysis in a matter of hours. The infection was mainly limited to children (and to my recall, mainly boys, but this might not be verified). Because of its close link to poor sanitation, it was considered in Melbourne of the 1930s to be a rather shameful disease and restricted to the lower classes. This was not always the fact, and upper-class Melbourne also was affected.

When I was born in November 1937, Melbourne was in shut-down for children because of the current polio epidemic. Schools were closed and children were banned from the streets; they were strictly confined to home. My mother had to face a daily household of three boisterous primary school boys and a new baby. The boys were bored. My brothers had invented a crude communication system, with empty jam tins connected by wire across the road in several directions, to contact nearby children in the street. They had a very basic Morse-code to send messages back and forth to each other to break the monotony. I do not know if there was any idea of home-schooling in those days. I doubt it.

One of the immediate problems was that, after my birth, I had not been baptized. According to strict Catholic teaching, that meant that, should I die, I would not go to heaven but to Limbo, a place mainly for unbaptised children where they would be happy enough (there would be no fire!!) but separated from family and God forever. Catholic parents had a horror of this happening to a newborn and some went to extraordinary lengths to have a child baptized on the very day of birth. Later on, my mother would tell me that, despite being a solid Catholic, she did not believe in Limbo and, despite what I might learn in school, I was to remember that it did not exist. She could not believe that a Good God would permanently separate a baby from its parents (who presumably would eventually reach heaven and have no contact with Limbo and their dead child). I was told to tell the teaching Brother whatever he wanted, but secretly to follow her directions. I did and, of course, in recent times the Catholic Church has admitted that Limbo was a mistake. After some weeks at home, I was put into a pram, covered over, and my mother and a friend ('Aunty' Mary Nolan) quickly took back streets to the church where the priest did his job. No-one was in the church apart from those three. In absentia, Sheila Kenny, my cousin, was nominated as my god-mother. She had just turned 14 and was just eligible according to Church law. I never had a god-father (and, in fact, in the turmoil of the time I was never given a second name); I was named 'Brian'; 'Robert' was a new one given to me when I entered a monastery at 17). I was brought home, baptized and a Christian, to my adoring brothers.

When I was closer to one year old, I became agile and, with the help of my brothers, was able to pull myself up and take a few steps. Everyone was happy about this, particularly my brothers. However, I soon stopped 'walking' and became limp when put on the floor. As explained above, the polio infection affected the nervous system and caused paralysis which ended, most often, in serious and life-long disability. The first symptom of polio, in fact, was often paralysis of the limbs. A doctor was called, and he was worried and decided to carry out some more investigations. However, before that was concluded, I revived my interest in walking and performed as before. Presumably, I was never infected.

Little Addendum

When my eldest brother Maurice was 14, World War II broke out. There was much talk about joining up, about the possible Japanese invasion of Australia, about Hitler and world domination, about defending Australia. Schoolboys were turned off their studies; it seemed there were more important issues. For secondary school Maurice had gone to the Christian Brothers, first at Clifton Hill and then at Parade College. He hated the brutality and injustice of the Brothers. When he was 16, he tried to join up in the army by falsifying his age, but my father went and dragged him out of the training camp. When he joined up again at 17 (once more falsifying his age), my parents decided that it was useless to try and prevent him. Almost immediately he was en route to Darwin as all reserves were required, due to the threat of a Japanese invasion. My mother saw him off by troop train. She recalled that he and his mates were skylarking, while the mothers were in tears. But the skylarking did not last. He was an aircraft gunner and saw action in Darwin. Then, inexplicably he came down with polio. He was put into Darwin Hospital and was there (partially paralysed) when, on an infamous day, the Japanese bombed the clearly-designated Hospital. When the bombing began, nurses rushed to the patients. They could only put them under their wire beds for safety. The two men on either side of Maurice were killed. He survived.

My parents, surely in a moment of madness, decided that they would go to Darwin to be with him, and to take me with them. I would still have been about five. I can remember being taken into some musty office in the city where a chap took details. We returned to him and received a number of long train tickets and I was told that one was mine. My parents prepared me by saying that we would be sleeping and eating on the train for days. It was going to be a great adventure for me. Thinking back, taking a five-year-old into a war zone was crazy. I suppose we were due to go Melbourne-Albury, Albury-Sydney, Sydney-Brisbane and then bus from Brisbane to Darwin. However, the trip never eventuated. News arrived that Maurice was already embarked on a hospital train and on his way south to Melbourne. I recall him being around the house in his uniform and limping. The effects of polio on him were not permanent; the effects on his psyche lasted longer.

Scarlet Fever Epidemic, Melbourne 1943

In 1943, when I was six, there was a scarlet fever epidemic in Melbourne. This was a bacterial illness characterized by a distinctive rash made up of tiny red spots over the entire body. The early symptoms were a sore throat and the rash, both caused by a toxin from the bacteria.
Once again, there was no vaccine. Quarantine was the only viable option. Eventually penicillin and antibiotics would be able to prevent complications (kidney disease, rheumatic heart disease, arthritis). In the early twentieth century it was one of the leading causes of children's death. It is still found in parts of the world.

Fairfield Infectious Diseases Hospital was made the receiving hospital for quarantining new cases in Victoria. My 13-year-old brother, Michael, fell foul and was rushed to Fairfield. The quarantine there was six weeks. There were to be no visitors (and no provision for phoning, not generally in use at that time) and nothing taken in with a patient could be taken out. Any books or clothing would be destroyed prior to departure. Immediately after his admission, we had grim-looking health inspectors come to the house. They examined the rooms, the gully-trap, the toilet and elsewhere - to the chagrin of my mother who felt her home maintenance was being questioned. They reported there was no immediate evidence for a source of the bacteria. They then set off some fumigation 'bombs' in several rooms, which stank the house out for a long time. They were supposed to clear the house of any bacteria.

I remember we got letters from Michael, marked that they had been sterilized before being forwarded to us. He was happy and, because of the sore throats, they were being given ice-cream daily. I thought this would be a great life. Eventually, Michael came home to my great joy - we were very close, and I had never had to do without him before. He had great stories to tell. He told us that he used to go for walks with another patient and they found a building that looked interesting. They found a way in and there, stretched out on a table was a dead body. It was the hospital morgue. They left quicker than they came in.

A matter of weeks after Michael had returned, my brother Kevin also came down with scarlet fever and was taken to the same Fairfield hospital for the six weeks' quarantine. He would have been about 16 or 17. He asked if he could take some study books in with him - and eventually take them out with him. Having finished Year 12, Kevin's study books had to do with a traineeship with the PMG (Postmaster General's Department), the equivalent of Telstra. They arranged that the books would be fumigated before he left. Kevin spent long hours on his books in Fairfield and, on coming out and sitting the exams, he topped his course. Again, the inspectors came to our house. I remember them in their white coats and the further apprehension of my mother. My father scoured the house prior to their arrival, and I can remember him specifically scrubbing the gully trap. Once again, the house was given a good bill of health, and the dreaded fumigation 'bombs' were lit inside.

With two of my three brothers infected, my mother was scared for me, then aged 5. She prepared me to spend six weeks with no contact with her and the family. In various ways she made sure that I would be self-sufficient, although I rather looked forward to ice-cream each day. Because of war restrictions, it was not available on the open market. But it did not come to pass.

That was the end of our contact with the scarlet fever epidemic in Melbourne, but it lived on in our memories forever.

Polio Epidemic, Melbourne 1950

The next epidemic I experienced was in 1950. Once again it was a polio epidemic in Melbourne. I was then in Year 8. Fear spread among us school children, by far the main victims. I remember every day there would be a list of new victims on the front page of the paper and reports of deaths. There were also photos in the papers of boys (never photos of girls) in plaster casts and some in iron lungs. Iron lungs were elongated boxes in which the patient would be enclosed to the neck. The patient had nothing showing apart from the head and could only read via a mirror above the head. The box could be raised to clean the rest of the body, but its main purpose was to allow a pump to cause the body to breathe. When pressure was applied the lungs breathed in; when pressure was released the lungs expelled air. It was a primitive device, but it worked. Children lived in them for years and would have died without them.

Schools were not closed, but all gatherings of children - sports days and so on - were banned. The atmosphere was very like today's coronavirus panic.

There were a few cases of polio at our school. They were hushed up and the children just disappeared; no one could talk about them. One of the Brothers told us that the best defence against polio was wearing our scapulars. These were two small pieces of cloth with two cords attached which were put over the shoulders. They were supposed to represent the habit worn by holy monks in the past. Their main feature, as far as we were concerned, was that, if the wearer died, they would go straight to heaven. However, this surety could not be abused. A Brother told us of a boy, who had grievously sinned and who lay dying. Just as he was passing on, he screamed 'they're burning me' as he tossed off his scapulars and died (presumably he went to Hell). In those days God could not be fooled by a pair of scapulars.

But there was something more than scapulars. An urban myth said that a piece of camphor worn around the neck would kill the polio virus before it could enter the body. The mother of one of my friends had made a little sack of camphor with a loop around the neck for her son. She graciously made one for me as well. My friend was not a Catholic and knew nothing of scapulars. So, I had the double preventative of scapulars and camphor. I felt safe and I did not catch polio (proving perhaps the efficacy of the two preventatives!?).

After 1950, I did not hear of polio very much. In 1955 an Australian doctor, Jonas Salk, produced a vaccine for it. It was the first, but was followed by an oral vaccine in the 1960s by Albert Sabin. Sabin's vaccine replaced that of Salk. So ended the polio era in the world. Almost 1000 deaths had been claimed in Australia from the 1940s to the 1950s from its ravages. Due to the vaccine, polio has now been eliminated from most of the world. The only countries where it is still endemic are Nigeria, Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Cholera Epidemic, Jerusalem 1965

My life thereafter was tranquil as far as public disease was concerned. In 1965 I went to Jerusalem to study at the École Biblique, a French biblical institute. Jerusalem then partly belonged to the Kingdom of Jordan and was officially at war with modern Israel a couple of hundred metres away. Jerusalem has been split down the middle after a war between the Israelis and Arab countries. The eastern section was occupied by Jordan, the western part by Israel. There was a dividing No Man's Land between the two. Crossing from one to the other, via what was called the Mandelbaum Gate in Jerusalem, was difficult, particularly if you wanted to return.

Jordanian Jerusalem was a typical Arab city. Arabic was the lingua franca, although English was readily understood by the educated. Sewerage was primitive in most parts and food handling left much to be desired. Only well-water was safe to drink. Some months after I arrived, a cholera epidemic broke out in Jordanian Jerusalem. Cholera is caused by bacteria which bring on an acute diarrheal infection that can quickly dehydrate a person and sometimes cause death. Soon, cars with loudspeakers were travelling the streets of Jordanian Jerusalem with the message that everyone had to show up the next day at several venues for vaccination. All foreigners had to bring their passports. Several of us from the École Biblique turned up together at a soccer field nearby. There was pandemonium. They had transported Bedouin Arabs from the nearby fields into the city and the whole area was thronged with Arabs of all kinds. There were hundreds of them. We had to go to booths and, in the case of foreigners, present our passports to be stamped (why?) and then we were ushered into the soccer field.

Situated around the soccer field were perhaps twenty doctors of various nationalities, all male. Arabs, male and female, were fighting to get close to any one of them. Each doctor was armed with a syringe and a wad of cotton wool with alcohol. These syringes were of such a size as I have never seen before or since. They had a gigantic barrel (presumably full of vaccine), perhaps the size of the centre-piece of a toilet roll. The task was to find a doctor with less 'patients' clambering around him and present a bare arm. He gave a jab to arms here, there, everywhere and then wiped the needle with the cotton wool, proceeding to the next arm. Each of the doctors only had a single needle to vaccinate his cohort.

After being vaccinated, I was able to wander off. No-one checked whether you had received a jab. What of the cholera? There was more chance of catching a myriad other bacteria and virus diseases from the dirty needles. I did not catch cholera and I did not catch any of the many other possible diseases from dirty needles. After some time, the cholera epidemic receded, although it was always hovering in the background.

Life in Jerusalem in those days was also punctuated by local breakouts of dysentery and intestinal worms in the École Biblique. I weathered them and became remarkably slim as a result. Some of my friends there had to be hospitalized and put on IV drips.

Today

And so we come to 2020 and the coronavirus. I have never seen anything like this. None of the other brushes with epidemics have prepared me for today. It is as I imagine people once lived and feared during the Black Death in Europe. The Black Death was a pandemic of bubonic plague that devastated Europe in the mid-1300s. It arrived in Europe when a fleet of twelve ships from the Black Sea area arrived in the Sicilian port of Messina. When docked, it was found that most of the sailors were dead or were dying from black boils. Over the next five years, there were to be twenty million victims.

For myself, I am prepared for whatever happens. But I worry desperately about my family and friends.

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