Harvey W. Schroer

Harvey W. Schroer Gains Admiration of Many in His Fight to Regain Normalcy Following Polio Attack; Was Former Employee of St. Marys Woolen Mfg. Co.

On October 19, 1949 Harvey W. Schroer, R. R. 1, Botkins, an employee of the St. Marys, Ohio Woolen Mill, was stricken with Polio. That’s more than ten months ago. During those months he has gained the admiration of literally hundreds of people. On October 20, 1949, at a quarter till 12, he told his foreman at the Woolen Mill that he would not be back to work that afternoon, but that he would be back “tomorrow morning”. Harvey now is wondering what date-line that particular tomorrow will bear. But let Harvey Schroer tell his story. It may do you good. He is still a young man, age 29, has a charming wife (Agnes Jung Schroer of New Bremen, whom he married Dec. 8, 1941) and an adorable little son, WAYNE, who will be 3 in December, and a most wholesome and admirable spirit over against the affliction that came upon him like a bolt out of the blue.

“It was on October 19, 1949. When I got up that morning I was dizzy and was running a temperature. I went to work as usual, but I kept feeling worse. But I finished the day. When I came home I wanted to help my father (Chris B. Schroer) load corn in the field. But when I stooped down to pick up corn I found that I was top-heavy and had to watch that I didn’t keel over. So I decided to go to our doctor that night. He examined me, concluded that I had virus flu and gave me medicine accordingly. He thought I would be OK the next morning. But I wasn’t OK. I went to work, could hardly drag myself along and at quarter till 12 I reluctantly told the foreman I couldn’t work that afternoon. I held off telling him because I had not missed any time since working there. My foreman said—“Come back in the morning.” Well—that morning hasn’t come yet and I wonder when it will be. That afternoon I went back to the doctor. He told me to rest up the rest of the day. I kept getting worse. My brother Emil Schroer took me to the doctor and I was given penicillin. My brother Emil’s son had had polio, was taken to the hospital the last day of July last year, and we all felt badly about that. My brother was suspicious and frankly asked the doctor—“DOES HARVEY HAVE POLIO?” The doctor said he didn’t think so. That was on Friday. On Saturday I was definitely worse. My brother took me back to the doctor and I asked “Are you sure it isn’t Polio?” His answer was—I HOPE NOT. But the high temperature and dizziness bears watching. If you should notice your muscles stiffening, let me know at once.

About 3:30 that Sunday morning I was in such misery that I got up and sat in an easy chair. Then I noticed my neck getting stiff. My wife called the doctor and he arranged for a room at Memorial hospital. By 5 a. m. I was in the hospital. They put me to bed and at once took a spine test. An intern by the name of Wolfe took the test. (He is now Dr. Wolfe of New Knoxville). Well, that test established definitely that I had Polio. That noon after I had eaten, I wanted to crumple my paper napkin, but found that I couldn’t. That Sunday nite I found that I couldn’t even get my arms to the plate to feed myself. So the nurse fed me. Then, for the 48 days that I spent in the hospital, from Oct. 23 to Dec. 9, the nurses fed me for every meal. Now the misery really started. I had terrific back pains. They gave me hypodermics, but they lasted only about an hour. For a full month I lay flat on my back. That was the only way I could stand it. The first time they raised me up I screamed for pain and begged them to let me lie there. I lost 40 pounds in two weeks. I was helpless as a baby. They had to feed me and take care of me in just every way, just like an infant. It was a most embarrassing ordeal.”

“On Wednesday of Thanksgiving week they brought me home on a stretcher, and took me back again on Friday. When they brought me into the house, Wayne (his son) didn’t even remember me. He looked at me, but didn’t know me. When I held out the teddy bear to him his eyes opened wide, a big smile spread over his face and he cried—“DADDY!” Well—I was home for Thanksgiving, could sit up in bed only a few minutes at a time, just long enough to eat a few mouth-fuls, and then they had to lay me down again. When they brought me home to stay on December 9, I couldn’t walk, couldn’t even raise myself up in bed, couldn’t dress myself or feed myself alone. I was like a wet dish rag. I would collapse and stay where they put me. I had just started to feed myself a little. I couldn’t hold a glass, but by putting two fingers through the handle of a tin cup, I was able to drink by myself. I would fall headlong when I attempted to walk. We rented a “walker” from the hospital. This is literally a pair of “crutches on wheels.” I had that 3 months. But we sent it back as soon as I could get along without it. Then I started walking with a cane, and soon tried walking without it. By May I discarded the cane also, using it only when I walk in public. My brother installed a pully above my bed. We would tie a rope to one of my legs and arms. By working arm and leg together, I was able to raise them both, but without the pully and rope I could raise neither.”

Red letter days were when the “walker” was returned to the hospital, when the cane was discarded, when he climbed steps by himself, when he could get up off the floor by himself (after he had tumbled head-long,) when he could lie out on the lawn in the sun, when he could follow the power lawn mower (sometimes it runs away from him and he may tumble head-long), but his wife keeps watch over him, and shuts it off, when he could go to and into the barn alone, and above all—when he and his wife could go to church together for the first time since last October. This was on Sunday, June 8. He has missed church only once since then and that was because of a minor illness. He has shelled corn by the bushels full with a hand sheller, some if it for neighbors. He turns the corn sheller daily for exercise and must have about 20 bushels of shelled corn in his brooder house right now.

Life at the Harvey Schroer home is congenial and good-humored. Their son Wayne is the light of the home. “And Agnes—O she’s a peach. She’s been splendid, wonderful, patient, understanding and good natured through this all.” At this point Harvey told of an experience of this Spring. “Agnes was sweeping out the brooder house. I was standing by, helplessly. There were some empty bags in a barrel and when she took one of the bags out she yelled bloody murder. There was a mouse in the barrel, and she’s terribly afraid of mice. Well, she dropped the bag and came out of the brooder house. Then I persuaded her to set the barrel on edge and roll it out. That she did. Now she lifted out the bag again, a mouse hung to it, and started running toward me. I tried to stamp on it, but my reflexes were too slow and I missed it but I fell down head-long. The mouse ran happily and hurriedly away, thanks to my polio, and we both got a good laugh out of it. But my wife simply couldn’t get me up. She finally went to the house and got a chair. With the help of Agnes, and by holding on to the chair, I was finally able to get on my feet again. My wife has had to feed me, dress me, help me out of bed, and into bed, off the floor, and just everything imaginable. She deserves lots and lots of credit. And little Wayne, he falls down and comes up smiling. That’s what I have made it my business to do. People sometimes say—“O, just keep on smiling and trying!” Brother that’s what I have been doing, and how! It’s because I have kept exercising and using my muscles and limbs that I have progressed as far as I have. Sometimes people ask—“How can you keep it up?” Well, the true answer is, -- I HAVE TO!

Today Harvey Schroer can partly dress himself, can walk without crutches or cane, can feed himself, can climb steps if he holds on to the railing, his right arm is about 75% normal, although his wrist and fingers are still weak, he is gradually regaining the use of his left arm. He firmly believes that if his present rate of improvement continues he will be able to go back to work about a year from now. He goes to the hospital for treatments one day a week, receives muscle massages once a week, and receives daily prescribed home treatment at the hands of his wife. “She massages my muscles with baby oil.”

In July 1949, when his brother Emil’s son came down with Polio, an insurance saleslady approached them regarding a family Polio Insurance Policy. The price was $10.00 for two years. “For the sake of Wayne, we took that policy. I never dreamed of getting polio myself. That policy has been a life saver, financially, taking care of all hospital bills, treatments, equipment, and medicine.”

“But we can never repay our many many friends who have helped us, befriended us, stood by us and encouraged us during these past 10 months. Why, they even came and helped Agnes plant our garden. Last winter we had company practically every afternoon and evening, for all of which we are deeply grateful. Our experience has taught us the truth of the Biblical statement—“It is more blessed to give than to receive!” How I long for the day when I can again give, help, be useful,--instead of having to receive, to be helped, to be waited upon.”