Powerful, Raw, Extraordinary Emotion

Just when we think we’ve maxed out on emotion, along comes an interview that blows us away. Such was the case on Monday, when, during an all-day shoot, we filmed a woman who went to Wallum Lake in the early 1950s as a young teenager. Here was this happy, normal young girl who developed a bad cough, which intensified as she began coughing up blood. Sent to a general hospital, where leprosy was a possible diagnosis, Barbara was terrified. If it was leprosy, would her skin begin to flake off? Would she lose limbs? I remember my own childhood, in the 1960s, when I, too (without symptoms, just healthy paranoia), was horrified at the thought of a disease that would basically rot you into the grave.

In Barbara’s case, TB was diagnosed. So highly contagious, and she was not allowed to go home to say goodbye to her sisters or see her house or have one last look at her bedroom -- but was sent directly to Zambarano. Her dad, wanting to be nice, told her that she would probably be there for only about two weeks. That was scary, but at least there would be light at the end of the tunnel. And then, waiting alone in an examining room behind a curtain, she overheard a doctor tell her parents that she would likely be there for two years or more. Barbara freaked out, and tried to run away. They caught her, of course. Things only got worse from there, with her roommate dying and taken away under a sheet in the middle of the night, and more, much more, that we will use in OTL.

But as we have found time and again, from the midst of this horrible disease and these often-horrible circumstances, come stories of triumph and love. In Barbara’s case, it was Ralphie, a fellow TB patient about her age, handsome… and she soon had a crush. And Ralphie for her. They met only every few weeks in the auditorium, while watching movies -- but a kindly nurse let them sit together (defying the rules of girls on one side, boys on the other) and there they sat, holding hands and whispering sweet things to each other. Ah, love.

This is only a glimpse into the interview, which, as noted, blew Dave and me away. So far away that we took no notes, as we usually do, and have assigned a member of the crew to get us a transcript ASAP. I will savor every word.

We had two other good interviews on Monday and with so many great stories now we are nearing the end of principal photography.

A last note, regarding the aforementioned ghosts: The central steam tunnel was flooded after a heavy rain, meaning we had to find another way to get into the Danford building. We did get in. And then, after our last interview, as Dave and I were alone (or so we assumed), the sun setting, we heard whispers… probably just the steam pipes, right? What were they saying? Have we outworn our welcome? Do we know them too well? Methinks not, it was probably just a bad ghost day. Our commitment to them is that we will tell their stories, and the stories of the many others, the former patients of Wallum Lake. And we’ll do it with dignity and class, and powerful emotion.

-- Wayne