Paul Alexander’s story is one of extraordinary resilience and determination. Struck by polio at just six years old, Paul spent nearly his entire life inside an iron lung—a mechanical respirator from the 1920s—and was one of the last people on Earth still using the device.
Despite being confined to the machine for most of his life, Paul refused to let his condition define him. “I won’t let anyone impose limits on what I can do,” he once said. “My life is incredible.”
It all began in a Dallas suburb in 1952. A lively, healthy six-year-old at the time, Paul suddenly felt ill and told his mother something was wrong. What started as a simple complaint soon turned into something far more serious. His condition rapidly deteriorated—within days, he couldn’t hold anything, swallow, or even breathe.
His parents rushed him to the hospital, where he joined rows of children suffering from the same terrifying symptoms. At the height of the polio epidemic in the U.S., thousands of families were facing the same nightmare. That year alone, nearly 58,000 people—mostly children—were infected. Over 3,000 died.
Initially, doctors believed Paul had already passed. But a second opinion changed everything. Another doctor performed an emergency tracheotomy, and Paul was placed into an iron lung. When he regained consciousness three days later, he found himself surrounded by other children, all encased in the same humming metal tubes. He couldn’t move or speak, and at first, he thought he might be dead.
The iron lung, first developed in 1928, works by creating negative pressure to pull air into the lungs—a lifeline for those whose muscles had been paralyzed by polio. Paul would remain in this machine for 18 months following his diagnosis.
But while many in his position might have lost hope, Paul’s drive only grew stronger. Doctors often said he wouldn’t make it through the day—but Paul was determined to prove them wrong.
By 1954, he was well enough to return home, though life outside the hospital was not easy. “People weren’t very accepting of me back then,” he later said.
Still, with the help of a dedicated therapist named Mrs. Sullivan, Paul learned to adapt. She challenged him to master a breathing technique called “frog breathing” that would allow him to spend short periods outside the iron lung. She even promised him a puppy if he succeeded. After months of effort, he did it.
Paul’s ambitions didn’t stop there. At 21, he graduated from high school with honors—without ever attending in person. After overcoming multiple rejections, he was accepted into Southern Methodist University and later graduated from law school at the University of Texas at Austin.
“They didn’t want to take me,” he remembered. “They said I was too disabled and unvaccinated. But I didn’t give up.” Eventually, he became a practicing attorney in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. “And I was a pretty damn good one, too,” he once said with pride.
Even after retiring from law, Paul remained active—writing a memoir using a pen attached to a stick. Over the years, he became something of a technological icon, as one of the few people still reliant on the outdated iron lung. Though modern ventilators were available, Paul preferred the machine that had sustained him for so long.
When his iron lung began to fail in 2017, Paul turned to YouTube for help. His appeal sparked a wave of support from fans of vintage technology and fellow polio survivors. Spare parts were tracked down in garages, barns, and junkyards across the country—just enough to keep his machine running.
“I’ve taken it everywhere,” he said. “I’ve gone to college with it, lived in a dorm. That really surprised people.”
Paul once said the key to his remarkable life was simple: “I never gave up. I wanted to achieve what they said I couldn’t. And I did.”
Polio has been eradicated in the U.S. since 1979, though rare vaccine-derived cases still occur. For Paul, however, the disease never left. Yet he never let it stop him from living.
In March 2024, Paul Alexander passed away. He was remembered not for the machine he lived in, but for the man he was: determined, passionate, and full of life.
His brother Philip described Paul as warm, funny, and deeply human. “To me, he was just a regular brother,” he told the BBC. “We laughed, argued, went to concerts. He was just… Paul.”
Even as his physical body remained limited, Paul found ways to lead a boundless life—proving that courage, purpose, and heart matter far more than circumstance.
