JOHN & MAGGIE PRESTWICH
An article written in 1980
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Monday November 24th 1980 is a very special day for John
Prestwich for not only is it his 42nd birthday, it will also be
the 25th anniversary of an incident which, within a period of
2-3 days, completely changed the course of his life.
John was an only child, born in Oldham, Lancashire, and at an
early age he moved with his parents to the south coast of
England where he was to spend his childhood and adolescence. It
was here that he acquired his great love for the sea, and as a
young lad he could be seen scampering down to the shore straight
after school to sail his small boat along the coast. It
therefore came as no surprise to his friends to learn that at
the age of 14 he was to enter Naval College. Two years later, on
his 16th birthday, he set sail from Liverpool as a deck boy in
the Merchant Navy to “see the world”. Then exactly one year
later – on his 3rd trip and during the week of his 17th
birthday, it all suddenly came to a devastating end. Whilst his
ship was docked at Corpus Christi, Texas, USA, he was taken
seriously ill with poliomyelitis and from that day onwards he
was never able to move again – he was totally paralysed below
his chin and totally dependent on a ventilator to keep him
alive. For several months he remained, desperately ill, in an
iron lung at the Memorial Hospital, unable to move and unable to
breathe. His mother flew over from England to be with him, but
was only able to do so after experiencing a great deal of
frustration caused by government ‘red tape’. It was only through
the eventual intervention of the Daily Mirror newspaper that she
was able to fly out to be with her son. Although totally
inexperienced in the nursing field, the shortage of nursing
staff in the hospital was so severe that day after day she would
take the afternoon shift to nurse him.
By March 1956 John’s condition had stabilised enough for him to
return to England, but he was still very ill. There was a
problem with flying him back to the UK – commercial aircraft
would not take him as they didn’t allow the transportation of
the necessary batteries that were needed to keep the iron lung
operating. John’s mother had been befriended by an American lady
who, when she heard of the problem said not to worry – she had
contacts in ‘high places’. Thus it was soon arranged for the
American Airforce to fly John to Heathrow Airport, London. From
there he was taken to the Fever Unit at the Royal Free Hospital,
Hampstead – the nearest unit to his parents’ home which was now
in London. He remained very ill for the first two years and was
so thin that he was covered back and front with pressure sores.
After the first two years had passed he was gradually able to
take an interest in life again. He was still totally and
completely paralysed below his chin and in constant need of the
iron lung to maintain his breathing. When the iron lung was
opened for nursing purposes, he learnt to use positive pressure
through a mouthpiece connected to a pump to maintain his
breathing – air was literally pushed intermittently into his
lungs. Daily his paralysed limbs would be exercised by a
physiotherapist and it was during one of these sessions that he
was to learn of the full extent of his fate. No-one had ever
told him that his paralysis was permanent and that he would
never move again or breathe independently, so one day he asked
the physiotherapist which part of him would start moving first
when recovery took place. The look of horror on her face made
him realise that he had embarrassed her beyond words and he
wondered how he could have been so stupid to ask and not to
realise his fate. The physiotherapist quickly made an excuse to
finish his treatment and the subject was never mentioned - by
anyone – ever again. |
