By Rhonda Bartle

When June Opie sailed from New Zealand to England in 1957, she was described by her fellow passengers as 'aggressively healthy.'  Yet within a month she was lying in an iron lung, paralysed except for a single eye-lid. Undaunted, she began her slow recovery from polio, fighting to move just the little finger of one hand.  Two years later, using crutches, she walked onto the deck of a different ship, bound for home.

In an interview with The Evening Post before she died, June Opie spoke passionately of her early life in the sleepy seaside township of Mokau, an hour's drive north of New Plymouth. The river, beach and delta had been a kids' paradise. 

'We boated and swam and grew up very strong mentally and physically.  Father taught us. We had the river, the ocean and a huge outcrop of a reef which thrust itself out into the ocean.' 

Opie's father had been badly wounded at Gallipoli.  'He was a returned serviceman with an inadequate pension.  He helped in the building of roads and bridges.  That's how we got to Mokau.  He went as a bridge builder and the bridge took five and a half years to build.  We had a wild life there.'

That bridge, which was once a Taranaki icon, has since been replaced by a new, curved one. Opie's mother was warm and hospitable, and the Opie house was always open to anyone who called.

Memories of this distant life sustained Opie in a faraway London hospital ward where she was treated for poliomyelitis, a disease that attacks the cells in the spine. The extent of permanent paralysis after the inflammation dies down depends entirely on how many cells are damaged. 

In Opie's case, she couldn't even breathe on her own. She would spend 10 weeks in an 'iron lung' - a machine that breathed for her. 'When I was in the lung I drew on the river, the trees and all those things of the wild forest.  I thought of them constantly.'

At the time, the word polio struck terror into the hearts of most people, and many families knew someone who had been left with withered limbs as a result. Polio is caused by a tiny virus which is passed through hand to mouth contact or on food. 

New Zealand had seen severe polio epidemics in 1924, 1936 and 1947. In 1948, schools were shut nationwide for several weeks and there were 187 cases in Taranaki alone.

The usual procedure was quarantine, followed by the common but misguided practice of immobilising patients.  Kept still for months meant they often lost the chance of regaining the use of their limbs as muscles wasted away before new nerve pathways grew.  Opie likened this to an electric jug being switched off at the wall. 

Though London doctors considered 'letting her go' not only did she survive but she wrote a book about her experiences that inspired people around the world. Over My Dead Body was an uplifting read and testimony to a young Mokau girl's indomitable grit and courage.  It was hailed as a best seller after winning world wide acclaim.

'It reads more like a triumphant chant than a song of woe,' wrote one reviewer.

'You'll find it as fascinating as any novel, be cheered by a splendid victory of mind over body and humbled at the cheerfulness displayed in the face of adversity,' wrote another.

'...one of the most thrilling, revitalising books I have ever read' said the reviewer for Daily Express.

According to Opie, it was simply a way to say thank you to the people who helped her during her illness. She was once quoted as saying, 'A senior pathologist told me years afterwards that he looked at me, wondered what sort of life I would ever lead and considered just pulling the plug on the life support system.  I'm very conscious of the fact that through their unfailing diligence, the staff of St Mary's Hospital gave me a second chance in life.  I didn't want to write a book just about myself.  Over My Dead Body was intended as a thank you from my heart to those people.

'I've always felt a responsibility to them to do something worthwhile with my life after leaving hospital.  It's not a matter of indebtedness; it's more like being their representative and not wanting to let them down.'

Though Opie eventually managed to walk out of St Mary's hospital using only crutches, she would have to battle a lifetime of social prejudices and bureaucratic restrictions due to her disability. 

But her fighting spirit endured, and she travelled the world 'in a nomadic way,' taking more than a few tumbles.  'Yes, I've sometimes found myself stranded in remote places.  I've fallen into a few rivers and rolled down a few hills, but I've profited from my mistakes, I think.  I was born with the gift - or the curse - of curiosity.'

And she found alternate ways to complete her university studies, leading to work as a speech therapist, clinical psychologist, writer, broadcaster and critic.

Someone who well remembers Opie's spirit is Joan Mountford of Feilding, who grew up with the Opie children on the banks of the Mokau River.  Now into her 90s, Joan says that at the age of 11, June took great delight in swimming the wide, swiftly flowing channel.

'Anyone who can get across there safely…I got swept under the piles of the bridge and Esme (June's sister) saved me,' Joan says. 'She was a girl of great spirit. Everything was a challenge and she met every challenge.'

June Opie fought for the rights and welfare of disabled people, and her aim was always 'for all of us to make our way in ordinary society.  Goodness knows, I've been helped enough.' She won fame as a lecturer and speaker, and was the founder of June Opie Rose Trust. A university fellowship named after her operates in Australia, Canada and New Zealand.  

Still with the trademark blue eyes and braided hair, she launched a second book in 1996.  Over My Dead Body, Forty Years On is the account of her life after returning to New Zealand in 1959.

Born in Mokau in 1926, she died of cancer in Sydney, Australia in 1999, aged 73.

'I can never get the blood of the wild Mokau River out of my veins.'