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Denis Thorpe's best photograph: a brave boy's vaccination

‘His stoic expression took me back to my own childhood when I had diphtheria. It made me weep’

I was five when diphtheria visited us in Mansfield. I remember lying on a sofa sweating as a doctor swabbed the back of my throat, my parents’ anxious faces looking down at me. There had been thousands of deaths from the disease – this was before a vaccination, before the NHS.

I was taken to the local isolation hospital. My parents had no phone: a friend of theirs would cycle up to the hospital gates and read the daily bulletin board, which gave the condition of patients. Eventually, my parents were allowed to come into the hospital grounds and I was taken to a window on the second-floor ward to wave to them. I was lucky and recovered, and was able to come home just before my sixth birthday. Years later, I came across the letter my parents were sent by the hospital when I was discharged: “The child should sleep in a room not occupied by other children … the towels, cups, spoons, forks used by the patient should be kept separate and distinct from those used by other members of the family for a week at least and then boiled before use by anyone else … they should not visit other houses or entertain friends for two weeks following discharge … they should not attend any school for a period of two weeks.”

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from Culture | The Guardian https://ift.tt/3gdVObZ

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