Michelle Provan and her dad, Robert, who died in 2006 from pulmonary complications stemming from postpolio syndrome.

My dad's battle with Polio

By Michelle Provan

During the 50’s, shortly after World War II, polio
had a rampant outbreak in Chicago. I remember
my dad, Robert Provan, telling the story of how
he went to play at Evergreen Park, taking a sip
of cool water from a drinking fountain, and believ-
ing that is where he caught the deadly disease at
age five.

He was diagnosed with the worst type of polio. It
instantly affected his entire body, and he was para-
lyzed from the neck down. He also spent time in an
iron lung. My grandparents tried a couple of special-
ists to no avail. In fact, they were told to institution-
alize him, a practice that was common during this
time. They were told, “He is a burden to the family,
and he belongs in an institute. Just let him die.”

Luckily, my grandparents searched even harder for
someone to take on my father’s care, and they
found Dr. Charles Pease at Chicago Children’s
Memorial (now known as Ann & Robert H. Lurie
Children’s Hospital). My father’s condition was
grim, but Dr. Pease believed in an approach that
had a zero tolerance for coddling. His goal for my
dad was to make him independent and self-reliant.
So, the surgeries began. For five years, my dad
continued to fight the effects of the disease.

Though much of his early childhood was in a hos-
pital, he made the most of his time—even some-
times causing mischief with other boys and in-
nocently terrorizing the nurses.

Robert Provan and a very young Michelle.

For five years, Dr. Pease did some incredible
things. He was able to perform surgeries to
help my dad. He used a muscle from my dad’s
leg to pull his ribcage into alignment so he could
breathe. He gained the ability to move, but then
he lost ability in his left foot. So Dr. Pease trans-
planted muscles from his foot and ankle. His right
leg was shorter than his left, so to stimulate growth
he grafted a piece of ivory to the bone.

Closing in on age 10, the doctors were very concern-
ed about my dad’s survival. They had given him only
a year or two to live, even after all of the treatment.
Dr. Pease discussed a risky operation in which he in-
tended to fuse most of my dad’s vertebrae in order
to secure his spine. After my grandparents approved
of the operation, Dr. Pease asked my dad for his per-
mission. He told my dad there was a 50/50 chance
that the procedure would fail and kill him. My dad
agreed, knowing at age 10, that he may never make
it off the operating table. During the operation, my
dad flat lined for a few minutes. They brought him
back, and then finally, a breakthrough as the
surgery was successful.

“We are made to care for one another. We fill
our lives with meaning by caring for someone
else. Love until it hurts.”

Dr. Pease didn’t stop innovative treatment until the
day my dad walked out of the hospital. My dad lived
an exceptionally successful life. He went through pub-
lic school where he excelled and served as student
body president for two years. He graduated from the
University of Texas law school.

Robert J. Provan as an attorney. His lawsuit against HMOs on behalf of patients with disabilities was the first of its kind.

He became General Counsel of Stephen F Austin University, then General Counsel of the Texas State System, and an Assistant Attorney General of Texas. He eventually opened his own law firm in order to defend disabled patients and their doctors. He was the first lawyer to sue HMOs for denying care to sick patients in order to make a profit and he won. That case changed the way insurance companies managed their enrollees and saved hundreds, possibly thousands of lives.

Today, Bob Provan’s legacy lives on. His winning case is now studied at law schools including Harvard Law School. He was featured on the cover of Wall Street Journal and Austin American Statesman. A mini-documentary aired on A&E’s Investigative Reports about the case.
Today, in Pflugerville, Texas, a school,
Provan Opportunity Center, operates
to serve children who need social, emo-
tional, and academic support.

In his 40s, my dad was diagnosed with post-
polio syndrome. That placed a long-term
strain on his physical resilience and his bat-
tle to deal with the effects of polio as well
as the strain of the law case. At age 61 he
died from pulmonary complications, an effect
of post-polio, on 6 July, 2006. He is buried in-
der a large oak tree at Lindale City Cemetery.

Polio eradication is something I hope to see
accomplished in my lifetime. For all of you who work
toward this fight, keep fighting. The world needs you.
And from the bottom of my heart, from someone who h
as seen the effects of polio first-hand, I thank you.
My dad often said, “We are made to care for one an-
other. We fill our lives with meaning by caring for some-
one else. Love until it hurts.”

You are fighters, and you are heroes – just like my dad.

Editor’s note: This is part of a series of posts from polio eradication volunteers, Rotary staff, and survivors in honor of World Polio Day 24 October. What is your club doing to observe the day? Learn what other clubs are doing, register your event, and tune in to our live streamed event 24 October.