Three times a week after school, I hobbled out to Cottage Grove from Mendel on crutches. I always got a seat on the streetcar at 111th Street. The Red Rocket went without a transfer all the way to 29th Street. The ride was long, but I had to continue with physical therapy at Michael Reese. All the way up to 63rd Street things were familiar because Mom had taken us shopping to the Sears and Hillman’s at 63rd & Halsted. North of 63rd Street, however, Cottage Grove Avenue became interesting. The neighborhoods progressed from poor to more poor. The store fronts told the story. In the better sections there were a variety of businesses; TV shops, cleaners, butchers, bakeries, flower shops, you name it and you could find it on Cottage Grove in each neighborhood along the way. By 43rd Street the buildings were older, dirtier, the businesses were fewer and those that were there were different. Night clubs, taverns, storefront churches, groceries and drugstores. What impressed me most was the up-keep on the buildings – there was none. Some of the old frame buildings had boards missing or they were loose and hanging. The paint wore away years ago, and the wood was grey from weather. Many windows had boards nailed on, others had metal guards. There were people everywhere, just hanging around. The further north I traveled, the people on the car changed from white to black. By the time I got off at 29th I was the only white left.
I never felt unsafe at any point of those trips. The neck brace and crutches gave me a pathetic look and kept me safe. That section of Cottage Grove was truly what I call a ghetto. So many poor people all living in very crowded spaces with landlords that didn’t care to spend money on upkeep of the buildings.
The three block walk to the hospital after the long ride was a welcome relief. I arrived at the Physical Therapy Department at 3:45 p.m. for my 4:00 appointment. Once in the PT area, I stuffed my duffel bag, crutches, and brace into a locker and donned an Indian style loin cloth for the session.
Each treatment was the same. Walk the parallel bars without crutches, do leg exercises, then follow-up with neck stretches and neck exercise. The therapist always took over my neck. At times, it felt like she twisted my head backwards.. The drill lasted 30-45 minutes and then it was time to go.
On the trip home, I pulled on the handhold and pushed against my crutches to hike up the high steps into a crowded rush-hour Rocket. I learned quickly to take any seat that was available. Many times I stood all the way to 79th Street before a seat became free.
One day I stepped into a very crowded car and squeezed my self away from the entrance to give room for more people to get on. A little white-haired black lady looked up at me and offered me her seat. She looked exhausted and tired. I thanked her but refused. At age fifteen I wasn’t about to take a seat from a senior citizen. That incident repeated itself many times over the course of eight months that I commuted on the Rocket.
The therapy continued throughout the spring and the summer. By the time of my release from Michael Reese Physical Therapy, I was very glad. During that summer I began to lift weights at home to build up my arms and legs. My gym was the back yard. I dressed in swim trunks and looked like the guy who got sand kicked in his face in the Charles Atlas adds. I lifted weights.
By the time school started in the fall, I talked my way into using just one crutch. The therapist didn’t think my hip was strong enough to get off the crutch completely. After only a few steps my hip swung out to the side and I fell into a limp. Eventually, I got rid of the collar, wearing it only when I felt tired.
My physical condition was 1000% better by the time school started at the end of August. The summer of PT and weight lifting did wonders for my muscles. At the same time I was still growing in height.
A feeble smile returned to my face.
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Filed under: Biography, family, health care, Jun-e-or, Memories, Society | Tagged: Black, Burnside, Cervical collar, Charles Atlas, Chicago, Cottage Grove Avenue, Crutch, Ghetto, Mendel CHS, Michael Reese Hospital, Physical therapy, Polio, Poverty, Red Rocket, Slum, Streetcar, Television | Leave a comment »
