St. Anthony's Fire

Most of us have heard of St. Elmo's fire - a bright blue or violet glow emitted from tall, sharply pointed objects like spires, lightning rods or ship masts. (St. Elmo is the patron saint of sailors.) But have you ever heard of St. Anthony's Fire? Ignis sacer (Holy fire)? How about Erysipelas? 
The photo above is of the leg of someone with erysipelas. My mother was hospitalized for more than a week with it when she was 28-years-old. Her legs were affected. I imagine they looked something like this - maybe even worse. At the time it was believed she may have gotten infected by the streptococcus bacteria from our pigs. Called erysipeloid in animals, it can be transmitted to humans through breaks in the skin.

I was four and a half and my little sister, Betty, was two and a half when Mom was taken to the hospital in Clarinda. Either the decision to hospitalize her was sudden or she was too ill to pack clothes for Betty and me before leaving us with Grandpa and Grandma Ridnour the middle of March, 1948. Older brother Ronald was in school so he stayed home with Dad.

Going through some boxes of old pictures, etc., I found a letter Grandma Delphia sent to Mom at the time. I love the cut-work R on the stationary; wouldn't mind having some like that myself.
The letter reads: Dear Ruthie, We are having a lovely morning. Sun is shining fine. Ramona is watching for Delbert so we can send this with him.
Our roads are sure muddy. The girls are fine. Betty Ruth says 'Mama's in Hosfital'. I made them each a new dress. Think likely roads will soon be so can get some of their clothes down." After a few more lines she finishes with: We'll be down if you aren't home by time roads get so we can come. Hope you are. So bye for now. As ever, Mom."
On the opposite page: "Dear Mama - I am fine. How are you? We are coming down when mud dries up a little. By (or bye?) Ramona." Grandma had to have helped me write that. The last line: "Wanted Betty Ruth to write but she said no."

Along with the letter there were three penny postcards. One from her sister, Evelyn, who lamented she didn't have a fancy card to send. She also commented on the bad roads as well as mentioning several of her in-laws who were ill - one with mumps - another who was home from the hospital but who had to go back to the doc every day for a penicillin shot. "Helen has another week in hospital yet. Don't know what all you people mean by getting sick at the same time. Of course you didn't do it on purpose, did you? Ha!"
The other two postcards were from Mom's friend and neighbor, Mildred Kapple, herself in the hospital in Omaha. She wrote: It is too bad we can't be together so we could run the nurses out. Ha!" And, "Wish I could talk to you. I feel pretty strong so maybe seeing you soon."
Mildred's illness was not one that could be cured. She died a year and a half later just after her 31st birthday. I grew up hearing about Mom's hospitalization, but I never realized how serious it was. If it hadn't been for the push to mass produce penicillin in order to save soldier's lives during WWII, Mom's outcome could have been quite different.

She could have died from Erysipelas as did Great Britain's Queen Anne in 1714; King George III's daughter, Princess Amelia in 1810 (aged 27); English author, Charles Lamb, 1834; Ann Rogers Clark, mother of General George Rogers Clark and Captain William Clark, 1799. As well as the outlaw Doc Middleton, (caught stealing horses in Iowa in 1877); George Herbert, 5th Earl of Carnarvon, - one of the victims of King Tut's Curse; and many, many others including the St. Anthony of St. Anthony's Fire.