I think it was one of the books that made its way to our home via those colourful and enticing Scholastic catalogues that they distributed at Junior School. I don’t remember choosing it or buying it, but I remember sitting on the futon on our upstairs landing and reading the true story of Balto in one sitting. Maybe its the double-whammy of brave animals and sick children, but something about the story has always moved me in a way I can’t logically explain. Just thinking about it can make me well up; I can’t recount the story out loud without a lump forming in my throat.
Balto was a huskie dog, a lead dog for a sledging team. In the deepest Alaskan winter, an outbreak of the deadly infection diphtheria broke out in the remote town of Nome. Diptheria is a particularly nasty breed of throat infection – its toxins cause a web-like membrane to form across the throat, covering the airway, choking and suffocating the victim to death. Diptheria is now included in the childhood vaccination programme in the UK, but even back in the bad old days, a potentially life-saving antitoxin was available. But the antitoxin batch in Nome was long expired, and insufficient in any case. The cases, and mortalities stacked up. The infection was spreading, and children were dying. As word of the outbreak spread, antitoxin stocks were released from the Anchorage, but in the harsh winter the only safe way to transport them to Nome in time to save lives was by dog-sledge, in a feat known as the Nome Serum Run. I forget how many brave teams formed the chain that was planned to race the antitoxin across the state. Balto was the lead dog of one of these teams. They set out in the midst of a terrible storm, so severe that their driver, Gunnar Kaasen, was at times unable to see any of the dogs. Navigational and logistical difficulties led them to complete not only their own leg, but also the following two legs of the trip, in almost complete darkness and in agonising cold. The dogs, led by Balto, battled on until they reached Nome, where their frost-bitten and snow-blinded driver is said to have uttered the words “Damn fine dog,” before collapsing in the snow. The antitoxin was delivered, lives were saved. Balto became a national hero. His statue still stands in New York’s Central Park.
We can’t be sure if the child in the isolation room had diphtheria, though the signs all pointed towards it. We can’t know for sure because the (relatively simple) lab tests needed to confirm the diagnosis weren’t available. Neither was antitoxin. Neither was money to send for antitoxin. Or money to send him to another hospital- for an expert opinion, for supportive care, for a cure, for hope. He died, of a vaccine-preventable, treatable infectious disease, in the year 2013.
Where's Viv? 