Re: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it
REMEMBERING THE KILLER FLU
By Elaine Hale Jones Editor's Introduction: skipped due to length
exert as follows
MONTROSE ? American servicemen called it the three-day fever or "Purple Death." The French called it "Purulent Bronchitis." The Italians referred to it as "Sand Fly Fever," the Germans, "Flanders Fever." By the time WWI was drawing to a close, the virus known as the 1918 influenza, a.k.a. the Spanish flu (Spain was the first country to widely report the epidemic), had circled the entire globe in four short months.
Despite its name, some researchers believe the Spanish flu originated in the United States, in particular, from overcrowded and unsanitary conditions at Ft. Riley, Kan., where soldiers were training for the last wave of support overseas during WWI. Once the soldiers disembarked in Europe, the virus exploded. Second and third waves of the Spanish flu hit the U.S. during the cold-weather months of 1918-1919.
Historical records dating from the 1700s show that every 10 to 40 years, the world suffers a global flu pandemic, the result of a major virus mutation. The virus, known as H1N1, was especially vicious and cruel. It started simply with a sore throat, chills and fever. But from there, it turned deadly. Most victims died very quickly; within two to three days of showing symptoms, their lungs filling with blood or other fluids, starving the body of oxygen. Unlike many other strains that typically affect the elderly or those with compromised immune systems, the 1918 flu targeted young healthy people, including children.
Death was by slow suffocation. Mahogany-colored spots appeared on the cheekbones; within hours these patients turned bluish-black due to the lack of oxygen. When triaging scores of new patients, nurses checked the patients' feet first. Those with black feet were considered beyond help and carted off to die.
Images of victims being "carted off" are still vivid memories for longtime Montrose resident Ralph Brown. He was only 7 years old when the epidemic struck, but like many others of his generation, the 1918 flu left a lasting impression.
"We were living in Golden, Colo. at the time," he said. "I remember one day the ?Black Maria? (a type of wagon used to collect bodies) backed up to our door. My mother ran from room to room to see if we were all still alive. She then told the driver to check next door. As it turned out, our neighbors had lost their little girl."
"Everyone died too fast," Brown remarked, adding that a Dr. Garvin was one of the best doctors around at the time. "He went night and day treating the sick. He tried his best to get people who were not feeling well to take it easy. I remember he warned two young men about going back to work in the hay fields. They went ahead anyway. The next day they were dead."
"My family was very fortunate (not to lose anyone during the 1918 flu)," he said. "My grandfather even made a special trip to visit us from Oklahoma because he thought we were going to die."
The influenza in the Uncompahgre Valley followed on the heals of a serious typhoid epidemic 10 years earlier. Both epidemics stretched local medical resources, placing family members, nurses and doctors side by side to save lives in the community.
Nurse Anna Doretta Fender was well-known in early-day Montrose for her humanitarian efforts in the field of medicine. Seeing a desperate need for a centralized hospital, Fender and her husband and mother-in-law established St. Luke's Hospital at the corner of Cascade Avenue and South Second Street in 1916. Two years after St. Luke's was established, Montrose fell victim to the epidemic that was sweeping across the nation. The influenza claimed two or three deaths daily for weeks in the Uncompahgre Valley.
During this time, the files of the Montrose Daily Press reveal that Fender made a "superhuman" effort to care for the sick and dying. Her work during this trying period endeared her to members of hundreds of local families. Two annexes to St. Luke's Hospital were also established, one on the north side and one on the west side. In the event the facility filled up, patients were cared for at the local Catholic Church.
The 1918 flu claimed the lives of 62 Montrose residents.
In stark contrast, the town of Gunnison escaped without a death.
In a passage from the book, "The Great Influenza," author John M. Barry described one of the most aggressive efforts to halt the spread of the flu.
"In early October, far in advance of any cases of influenza, Gunnison, Colorado and most neighboring towns issued a closing order and a ban on public gatherings. Then Gunnison decided to isolate itself entirely. Gunnison lawmen blocked all through roads. Train conductors warned all passengers that if they stepped foot on the platform in Gunnison to stretch their legs, they would be arrested and quarantined for five days. Two Nebraskans trying simply to drive through to a town in the next county ran the blockade and were thrown into jail. Meanwhile, the nearby town of Sargents (located on the west side of Monarch Pass) suffered six deaths in a single day--out of a total population of 130.
"After weeks of dying and with the war over (WWI), the Gunnison News-Chronicle, unlike virtually every other newspaper in the country, played no games and warned, 'This disease is no joke to be made light of, but a terrible calamity.'"
"Gunnison essentially shut down its borders.You could leave town, but you couldn't come back in," Dr. Ted Dickinson, retired Montrose surgeon, said of the story. "In general quarantines don't work very well, but in this case, extreme efforts paid off."
In the nearby San Juan Mountains, the influenza crept into the most isolated mining camps. Reports of the deadly virus first surfaced in the town of Ouray in October 1918.
In an effort to stop the spread of influenza, the Ouray City Council undertook drastic measures to help protect residents. A "shot gun quarantine" was enforced by guards to keep miners from crossing over the mountains from Silverton and Telluride. A barricade was set up across the main road leading into Ouray, and travelers arriving by train were also checked at the depot.
By December of 1918, however, the flu had spread throughout the town. Local hotels, such as the St. Elmo and Western, served as extra hospital wards for dozens of stricken miners brought down from the mountains. In January, 1919, the quarantine was lifted on the town of Ouray, but people continued to be cautious about being out in public. The neighboring mining town of Telluride had also lifted its quarantine regulations, but when a public dance brought 50 new cases of the flu, Ouray, in turn, banned all local dances. A new outbreak of influenza occurred a year later in January, 1920, with 15 new cases reported. A total of 15 people died in Ouray from influenza.
One of the hardest hit towns was Silverton. Situated at 9,318 feet above sea level with an average snowfall of 200 inches, the high mountain community was frequently isolated from the outside world for days on end. Nonetheless, town officials closed businesses before a single case of the flu had even surfaced.
But the virus found its way in, with a vengeance. High altitude and pneumonia were already a lethal combination for townspeople; the addition of the influenza virus was a death sentence for hundreds. On Oct. 26, 1918, the town reported 52 deaths in 10 days and 500 cases of influenza. In one single week in Silverton, 125 people died. Newspaper headlines declared that there were not enough grave diggers or nurses to go around.
The flu also raged among the Southern Ute tribe at Ignacio in the southern part of the state; 100 cases were reported among the 400 Native Americans with 12 deaths recorded.
While the deadly flu epidemic occurred over eight decades ago, the 1918 flu still evokes haunting memories of a sudden and merciless killer, one that raises serious questions and issues today.
"I think we can expect another epidemic that will ravage people at some point in the future," Dr. Dickinson stated. "It may not be the bird flu, but there will be a time when a virus mutates (like the one that caused the 1918 flu). Today's worldwide transportation system will make it even harder to stop an epidemic."
"Unfortunately," Dickinson explained, "it takes up to a year to develop flu vaccines because the virus is grown in eggs. In the future, flu vaccines may be developed must faster using tissue cultures, but that takes money. The government is also stockpiling the drug Tamiflu, but we don't know just how effective that will be to stop a future outbreak."
"We should remain alert (to the possibility of a future epidemic)," he advised. "People need to continue to get their annual flu shots."
Nature's antiseptic
Most people recognize the clusters of blueberry-type berries found on growing on the prolific juniper trees in our area. These berries are the primary ingredient in the making of gin. However, the juniper tree has another less known use as an antiseptic. Fragrant juniper incense was used during the 1918 flu epidemic as an aerial antiseptic in hospitals. Similarly, hanging a bunch of juniper over the doorway was said to chase illness from the household.
http://www.montrosepress.com/articles/2006/02/13/local_news/1.txt
sPMi3cp5HYJ:www.rockymountainnews.com/drmn/local/article/0,1299,DRMN_15_4267849,00.html+Gunnison+1918+flu&hl=en&gl=us&ct=clnk&cd=1
