Pubdate: Tue, 01 Jun 1999
Source: Herald, The (WA)
Copyright: 1999 The Daily Herald Co.
Contact:  http://www.heraldnet.com/
Author: Kristi O'Harran, Kristi's Notebook

RADIUM-POISONED WOMAN DESERVES TO BE FREE OF PAIN

Tucking a car into the garage, turning on the ignition and sucking
deep breaths until carbon monoxide sapped life from her lungs sounded
good to Jerri Christopherson.

Ah, the sweet release of the grave.

I couldn't fault her emotions. The Camano Island woman has suffered
indescribable pain for more than 40 years. At some point, it's a
no-brainer that she would believe only death could end stabbing
headaches that make her curl on the ground and scream.

She's been tossed from doctor to doctor like a dinghy in a hurricane
with no consensus formed about what causes her disabilities. They've
mentioned a cornucopia of ailments including chronic fatigue syndrome,
lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia, immunodeficiency diseases,
cerebral meningitis, multiple sclerosis and chemical
sensitivity.

She is sick and she hurts. She has been bedridden for 12
years.

The day I visited, Christopherson, 53, used dozens of Band-Aids to
cover lesions that spouted blood for no apparent reason. It took her
two hours to put on her blouse. She was clinging to hope that the next
doctor she saw might offer some relief.

A copper bracelet on her wrist -- considered by some to have healing
properties -- seemed as effective as pitting a pea shooter against
Tyrannosaurus rex.

"I've suffered an entire lifetime," Christopherson said. "Nobody
should be treated like that."

For those of us who have never felt such misery, it's impossible to
walk in her shoes decade after decade, sensing not only the disabling
cycle of disease, but also the additional heartbreaking indifference
of medical professionals she has consulted.

A major validation came April 26 in The Herald when an article
("Critics urge an alert for radium therapy") confirmed what she has
always known. The article reported that from the 1940s to the
mid-1960s, it was common practice in civilian and military medicine to
use nasal applicators containing 50 milligrams of radium to shrink
tissues at the entrance of the eustachian tubes.

When Christopherson was 8 years old, radium was shoved up her nose to
fight ear infections.

A child's memory captures vivid images. Year after year, no one
believed she was put in a bunker-type room to have wire inserted in
her nose. During the application, adults peered at her through a
peephole as she was imprisoned in a dank cell.

When Christopherson saw the article about radium, initial euphoria
dissolved into anger. It did happen to her. Why didn't anyone believe
her? Why did they do that to children?

She may not meet a large group of fellow sufferers.

I think most of them are dead, she said.

There is a group in Oregon addressing nasal radium irradiation. On a
Web site for the National Association of Atomic Veterans, discussions
center on military personnel given nasal radium to shrink adenoids.

I didn't need further research. I grew up knowing my Grandma Julia had
been burned internally by radium. Grandma had cancer so they inserted
a radium capsule in her belly. It destroyed the cancer and,
inadvertently, other vital organs. She was left with extensive scar
tissue and anguish.

What must it be like to live like that? I could only cringe in
sympathy as I read letters to editors Christopherson has written about
the need for adequate pain relief.

There were years when she found the strength to maneuver. Though she
never felt well, she raised a family, owned a business and attended
college. When she couldn't make it to classes, fellow students brought
lecture tapes. She wondered if stomachaches and nausea meant she was
poisoned. In her 20s, she lost most of the hearing in one ear and
found no medication in the world was strong enough to stop the throb
in her head.

"I always knew something was wrong," she said. "You couldn't run or
hit a ball like other kids. I even told my grandmother to autopsy my
brain when I died."

She begged one doctor to shoot Novocain under her skull.

When she gets to the end of her emotional rope, she calls a Christian
television station for prayer. Her only acquaintances on Camano Island
are paramedics who respond to 911 emergencies. Christopherson said she
has asked churches if kindly members might drop by to chat, but her
doorbell is silent.

Her husband Jim, who works at Boeing, is her support system. He's
missed months of work to nurse her at home.

I want to end this column with a turn-around image because
Christopherson and I shared an upbeat afternoon. She has beautiful
dark eyes that glisten with merriment. She described herself as
basically a happy person while she fiddled with gauze on a festering
sore.

Hard as it was for her to stand, she insisted on walking me to the
door.

She needs legislation that will allow doctors to prescribe effective
and adequate pain medication. They simply must take action. Jerri
Christopherson and others like her should live in a world where
suicidal thoughts are squelched by laughter that doesn't hurt.
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