"You'd never make it there, Julia." That's what my father told my mother after returning from Kalispell, a rural town in Montana, in a frigid January in 1973. He had been interviewing for a job and was thinking of moving the family to Montana from Southern California.

Who knew he would die in his sleep two weeks later, leaving my mother, a polio survivor in full leg braces and crutches, to raise three kids and care for her elderly mother by herself? And who knew that nine years later my mother would go ahead and move the family to Kalispell, where she would live to be 93?

Contrary to my father's prediction, my mother thrived in the rugged environment of Kalispell, chopping firewood for the wood-burning stove from her wheelchair and cultivating a garden as though she lived in the tropics. She grew many of her plants from seeds indoors, eventually transferring them to planters on her deck overlooking the beautiful Stillwater River. She won prizes for her roses and vegetables at Montana's state fairs.

My mother contracted polio in 1951, at age 31, after vacationing with my father in San Francisco. She underwent intensive rehabilitation for nine months at White Memorial Hospital in Los Angeles, which included hydrotherapy and applying hot packs to her stiff limbs. It was her physical therapist, Joyce McGinnis, who had the greatest impact on her life. When my mom's doctor wanted to discharge her in a wheelchair, Joyce stood behind him, shaking her head no. "If you go to a chair from the start, that's where you'll stay," she said. My mother trusted Joyce's judgment. If Joyce thought my mom could do something, my mom usually thought so, too.

Under Joyce's supervision, my mother practiced going up the hospital stairs backwards on full leg braces and crutches. Joyce even challenged her to ride the streetcars alone so that, as Joyce said, "you know you can." She knew my mother was returning to the demands of a busy life with a husband and a 4-year-old.

Once a year after that, my mother would meet with Dr. Jacqueline Perry, a polio expert at Rancho Los Amigos Hospital in Downey, CA. Like many polio survivors, my mother began to experience more fatigue and muscle weakness as time went on and was eventually diagnosed with post-polio syndrome. At the onset of any new symptom, she would check in with Dr. Perry and the Rancho Los Amigos polio clinic.

As her disease took more of a toll she had to scale back her activity, but she continued to look for or invent adaptive measures, such as platforms for getting into and out of her car and elevated toilet seats. Along the way, my mother educated her doctors in Kalispell about polio since few had ever cared for a patient like her.

My mother had a profound effect on everyone who knew her. Her positive attitude, perseverance, and deep faith allowed for a capable, independent life nearly to the end. As her daughter, I never thought of my mom as disabled until very late in her life, when she became blind from macular degeneration. She taught me when to fight and when to accept change—and inspired me and many others along the way.

Patricia Nahring Williams is a retired oncology nurse who has volunteered for 22 years with a large social service agency in California. Recently widowed, she enjoys writing, exploring her genealogy, and spending time with Lexie, her golden retriever.