08/16/2026
Post-Polio Traumatic Stress: When the Body Remembers What We Survived
A Personal Reflection on Polio, Trauma, Survival, and Post-Polio Syndrome
By Kenneth Fuller
I have been thinking about something that is difficult to name.
Not because I don’t know what happened to me.
I do.
I have simply spent much of my life surviving it.
I was six monghs old when polio entered my life. I was hospitalized at age three, and my mother abandoned me there for a man. At three years old, I did not have the language to understand what was happening. I only knew that I was sick, that I was in a hospital, and that my mother—the person a child expects to be there—was gone.
That was the beginning.
But it was not the end of the trauma.
As I grew up- an adopted child, I experienced sexual abuse, physical and disciplinary violence, racism, and violent attacks by white men during my developing years. I was called a bastard every day. I was raised over a bar in a rooming house.
I learned very early that the world could be dangerous.
I also learned that I had to survive it.
And I did.
I survived polio. But I also survived what came with it.
When we talk about polio survivors, we often talk about the physical consequences: paralysis, weakness, braces, surgeries, rehabilitation, altered gait, pain, fatigue, respiratory problems, and eventually, for many of us, post-polio syndrome.
Those things are real.
But there is another story.
It is the psychological story.
Historical research on the polio epidemics has documented the psychological trauma associated with sudden paralysis, hospitalization, treatment, rehabilitation, and the social expectations placed upon polio patients. One researcher examining the polio epidemics of the mid-20th century concluded that the experience itself could be psychologically traumatic and noted that many survivors’ narratives testify to the psychological burden of both acute polio and rehabilitation. (PubMed)
That matters to me because I was not an adult when polio happened.
I was a little boy.
And a little boy experiencing paralysis, hospitalization, separation, fear, medical intervention and uncertainty does not process those experiences the way an adult does.
The experience becomes part of the developing person.
Then life keeps happening
For some of us, polio was only the first trauma.
We grew up.
We went to school.
We learned how to walk, or walk differently.
We learned how to compensate.
We learned how to hide pain.
We learned how to be strong.
We learned how to prove ourselves.
Some of us learned not to ask for help.
Some of us learned that being vulnerable could be dangerous.
Some of us became extraordinarily independent because dependence had become associated with fear, abandonment, humiliation or helplessness.
And some of us experienced other forms of violence and discrimination along the way.
In my case, polio was followed by other experiences that wounded me deeply.
I don’t share that for sympathy.
I share it because I have begun to understand that survival does not mean that trauma did not happen.
It means that we found ways to keep going.
Then came the second battle
Many polio survivors know the experience I am talking about.
We survived the initial disease.
Then we spent decades building lives.
We worked.
We loved.
We raised families.
We created.
We traveled.
We became productive members of society.
We adapted our bodies and our lives to the consequences of polio.
And eventually, sometimes decades later, something began to change.
The weakness returned.
The fatigue became different.
The pain increased.
Walking became harder.
Endurance decreased.
Things that had once been manageable became difficult or impossible.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention describes post-polio syndrome as a condition that can affect survivors decades after their original infection. It commonly involves new muscle weakness, mental and physical fatigue, and joint pain, and can interfere with independent functioning. (CDC)
This is where the physical story and the psychological story can intersect.
Because when your body begins failing in ways that remind you of what happened when you were a child, you may not experience that simply as another medical problem.
You may experience it as a return.
“The second disability”
There is a phrase in the post-polio literature that has stayed with me:
“second disability.”
In a paper published in 1985, psychologist Robert Frick examined the psychological consequences of post-polio sequelae. He described survivors experiencing new symptoms as though they were becoming disabled for a second time by the same disease.
He also argued that these new symptoms could be psychologically traumatic because they were unexpected, their causes were poorly understood, and survivors often encountered a lack of knowledge and understanding within the medical community. (PubMed)
Think about that.
We spent years learning how to live with polio.
Then, after decades of stability, the disease’s consequences begin demanding something new from us.
We have to adapt again.
We may need a cane.
Then crutches.
Then a scooter.
Perhaps a wheelchair.
We may have to reconsider work, travel, exercise, relationships, sexuality, independence and the simple things we once did without thinking.
That isn’t merely physical.
It can be an assault on identity.
When the body remembers
This is where I began asking myself a question:
Can the physical experience of post-polio syndrome reactivate emotional experiences associated with the original polio trauma?
I am not saying that “post-polio traumatic stress disorder” is an established medical diagnosis.
It isn’t.
PTSD is a specific psychiatric diagnosis with defined criteria involving trauma exposure and patterns of intrusive symptoms, avoidance, changes in thoughts and mood, and changes in arousal or reactivity. (PTSD.va)
But trauma is bigger than a diagnostic label.
And the possibility that old trauma can be reactivated by new experiences is not unreasonable.
For some survivors, new weakness may remind us of the weakness we experienced as children.
A hospital may bring back memories.
A medical procedure may trigger feelings of helplessness.
A loss of mobility may bring back the fear of being dependent.
A physician who does not understand PPS may reproduce the feeling of not being believed or understood.
And the loss of physical ability can force us to confront something we may have spent decades trying not to think about:
Our bodies were never quite finished with polio.
Some of us are carrying more than one trauma
This is particularly important for survivors whose childhoods included other forms of abuse, neglect, violence or discrimination.
I am one of those people.
My story did not consist of polio alone.
There was abandonment.
There was sexual abuse.
There was physical violence.
There was racial violence.
There was humiliation.
There was poverty.
There was being called a bastard.
There was learning very young that safety could disappear.
So when I think about post-polio syndrome, I cannot separate the neurological experience from the human experience.
My body has a history.
And so does my nervous system.
That doesn’t mean every polio survivor has PTSD.
It doesn’t mean every difficult emotion associated with PPS is psychological trauma.
It certainly doesn’t mean that PPS is “all in our heads.”
Quite the opposite.
PPS is a real neurological condition.
Research describes new weakness, fatigue, pain, decreased endurance and other physical consequences that can emerge after years of neurological stability. (PubMed Central (PMC))
But a real neurological illness can also have psychological consequences.
Those two truths do not contradict each other.
We need to talk about the psychological side of PPS
A 2021 review in Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation Clinics of North America specifically examined psychological approaches and outcomes for polio survivors. The authors noted that psychological issues associated with acute polio, rehabilitation experiences and PPS have been recognized for decades and argued for what they called polio-informed psychological treatment. (PubMed)
That phrase is important.
Polio-informed.
Because a therapist who understands trauma but knows nothing about polio may miss part of the story.
A neurologist who understands PPS but doesn’t understand trauma may miss another part.
A rehabilitation professional may understand mobility but not the grief associated with losing abilities we fought so hard to gain.
And a survivor may walk into a medical office carrying an entire lifetime that isn’t visible on the examination table.
We have survived before
There is something else I want to say to my fellow survivors.
We have evidence that we know how to survive.
We already did something extraordinary.
We survived a disease that could kill us or leave us permanently disabled.
Many of us then spent decades learning how to live productive, meaningful lives.
We adapted.
We reinvented ourselves.
We learned new ways to move.
We found work.
We found love.
We raised children.
We created art.
We built businesses.
We served our communities.
We traveled.
We lived.
And now we are being asked to adapt again.
That can hurt.
It can make us angry.
It can frighten us.
It can bring grief.
It can make us feel betrayed by our own bodies.
It can make us mourn the person we were before the latest decline.
None of that makes us weak.
Perhaps the question isn’t “What’s wrong with me?”
Perhaps the better question is:
“What have I survived, and what is my body and mind asking me to understand now?”
That is a very different question.
It doesn’t deny the neurological reality of PPS.
It doesn’t turn everything into psychology.
It doesn’t require us to diagnose ourselves.
It simply allows us to recognize that our physical history and our emotional history are connected.
For me, that realization has been important.
I don’t need to call myself broken.
I don’t need to call myself crazy.
I don’t need to prove that I am strong every minute of every day.
I can acknowledge that the little three-year-old boy who was left in a hospital went through something terrifying.
I can acknowledge what happened to that boy afterward.
And I can acknowledge that the man he became is still carrying the consequences of those experiences.
That is not weakness.
That is truth.
Positive People Survive
Maybe that is ultimately what I want to say to everyone in Positive People Survive PPS.
We are not simply people who had polio.
We are people who survived polio.
And some of us survived much more than polio.
We survived childhood.
We survived abandonment.
We survived abuse.
We survived racism.
We survived violence.
We survived medical procedures.
We survived disability.
We survived people’s ignorance.
We survived being underestimated.
We survived the loss of abilities.
And now, many of us are learning how to survive the next chapter.
That doesn’t mean pretending everything is positive.
Positive People Survive does not mean nothing hurts.
It means that pain does not get the final word.
It means that survival is not something that happened once, when we recovered from acute polio.
For some of us, survival has been a lifelong practice.
And perhaps this is one more thing we need to give ourselves permission to say:
I survived what happened to me.
I am still affected by what happened to me.
And I am still here.
Those three statements can all be true at the same time.
A final thought
I don’t know whether “post-polio traumatic stress” will ever become an officially recognized diagnosis.
Maybe it shouldn’t.
Perhaps the term is simply a way for survivors to begin a conversation that medicine has not adequately named.
But I do believe this:
When a person has survived polio, childhood trauma, disability, violence, discrimination and decades of adaptation—and then experiences a renewed loss of physical function—the psychological dimension deserves to be taken seriously.
We deserve physicians who understand that.
We deserve psychologists who understand that.
We deserve rehabilitation professionals who understand that.
And most importantly, we deserve to understand it ourselves.
Because sometimes healing begins not with fixing what is broken, but with finally recognizing everything we survived.
Positive People Survive.
And I am one of them.
- Ken
⸻
Selected References
1. Frick, R. B. “Post-polio sequelae and the psychology of second disability.” Rehabilitation Psychology, 1985. The paper specifically discusses the psychological trauma associated with new post-polio symptoms and the experience of becoming disabled a second time. (PubMed)
2. Gawne, A. C., & Halstead, L. S. “Post-polio syndrome: Pathophysiology and clinical management.” The broader post-polio literature documents the emergence of new weakness, fatigue, pain and functional limitations after a prolonged period of stability.
3. Rennebohm, R. M. “Psychological trauma and its treatment in the polio epidemics.” This historical analysis examines sudden paralysis, hospitalization, treatment, rehabilitation and the psychological burden experienced by polio patients and survivors. (PubMed)
4. Duncan, A., et al. “Growing older with post-polio syndrome: Social and quality-of-life implications.” Qualitative research with polio survivors documents the effects of PPS on mobility, strength, independence, social participation and quality of life. (PubMed Central (PMC))
5. Psychiatric Approaches and Outcomes. Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation Clinics of North America, 2021. Review of psychological issues among polio survivors and the case for polio-informed psychological treatment addressing both acute polio/rehabilitation trauma and PPS. (PubMed)
6. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). Clinical information on poliomyelitis and post-polio syndrome. CDC notes that PPS can emerge 15–40 years after the original infection and can involve new weakness, mental and physical fatigue, and joint pain. (CDC)
7. U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, National Center for PTSD. DSM-5/DSM-5-TR overview of PTSD criteria, including trauma exposure, intrusion, avoidance, negative alterations in cognition/mood, and arousal/reactivity. (PTSD.va)
Editorial note: “Post-Polio Traumatic Stress” is used here as a descriptive concept and survivor-centered framework, not as a claim that “Post-Polio Traumatic Stress Disorder” is an established psychiatric diagnosis.
