Lindsey Graham

Imagine it's April 24th, 1955, in Pocatello, Idaho.

You and your seven-year-old daughter Susan are sitting in an exam room at her pediatrician's office.

The room smells of rubbing alcohol and floor polish.

You hold your daughter next to you, her face drawn, her arm hanging uselessly by her side.

And at last, the doctor enters the room, his gaze fixed on his clipboard.

All right, let's see, when did this start?

You take a deep breath and run your fingers through Susan's hair, trying to stay calm for her sake.

Yesterday, it began with a little neck stiffness, but by nighttime, she had a fever.

When she woke up this morning, she couldn't move her left arm.

Is this what I think it is?

Does she have polio?

The doctor examines her quietly, moving her head, tapping her knees, testing her grip.

You try to read his face, but it stays blank.

That certainly seems that way, but we'll have to do a spinal tap to confirm.

But how could this happen?

She was vaccinated for polio only a few days ago, just this past Monday.

Was there something wrong with the vaccine?

I followed last year's field trials closely.

The vaccine is safe.

It may not be perfect, but it's not dangerous.