They lived on one of the poorer streets of town and the row houses stood in a sad state of disrepair. The young man opened a door and led the doctor up a rickety staircase. At the end of the hall, stacks of newspapers were piled up – saved to stuff the building’s cracks and holes. A rough barricade against the cold drafts of the approaching winter.  

Another door and they entered a small apartment. The dishes were piled up in the sink, dirty laundry was overflowing its basket and food had been left out on the counter – all confirming that the woman of the house was not well.  

“In here.” Jonah reached for the nob of the door which hid the apartment’s other room. “I’ve been keeping the lights off, Doc, they hurt her head.”

“I can manage with a lamp, if you have one.”

Jonah nodded. “I’ll get it.”

Turning the handle, Dr. Krzyżanowska let himself into the dark room. It was a small space – just enough to fit the bed, with a small walkway round it. Under the covers, lay a young woman sleeping fitfully. Every few moments, her head tossed on the pillow.

He picked up her hand and felt for a pulse. “Hetta, I’m Dr. Krzyżanowska. I’ve come to help.” Her hand was hot and when he felt her forehead, he found this warmer still.

Then Jonah entered with a lighted lamp revealing her face, which was flushed and wet with sweat. As the light fell on her closed eyes, she moaned and turned away. The doctor gently turned her face back toward him.

There it was – the telltale, dull red rash.  

A Spreading Disease

The first world war raged in Europe, claiming thousands of lives. But the warfare was not the only threat. Another enemy, an invisible one, flourished in the cold and dirty conditions. Carried from house to house and street to street by rodents and fleas, the Typhus epidemic quickly took hold in the slums of Poland.

A throbbing headache, a high fever, a red rash. The dreaded symptoms of the seemingly unstoppable disease.

Everyone who could avoid the affected districts did, leaving the sick to care for themselves and in many cases to perish alone. In Warsaw, Poland even the doctors stayed clear. Afraid of contracting the disease themselves, they refused to care for the infected population.

Treat the sick, they could lose their lives. For what? To care for people who would likely die anyways?

It wasn’t worth the risk.  

Only One Man Was Willing to Help

None of the doctors in Warsaw would take Typhus patients. None, except Dr. Stanislaw Krzyżanowska.

When his collogues announced their resolve, Dr. Krzyzanowska was horrified. He pleaded with them to reconsider. They were doctors – they had vowed to care for the sick at any time, any cost, any risk. Hadn’t they?

The other doctors disagreed. It wasn’t worth it. They’d be putting the rest of the population in danger, not to mention themselves and their families.

Stanislaw Krzyzanowska saw not the risk, he saw people who needed his help. So he went alone into the lines of contaminated row houses, knelt by the beds of feverish patients, and worked day and night to stop the rising tide of casualties.

It Cost Him Much

His fellow doctors thought him foolish. His regular patients ceased to call for him. His wife questioned his priorities – if he died who would care for his family? Didn’t he care about them?

Dr. Krzyzanowska once told his daughter, Irena, “If you see someone drowning, you jump in to save them whether you know how to swim or not.” It was on this principal, that he went. Putting his all on the line to help those who needed him.

The predictions were right. The doctor contracted Typhus from his patients and died in February of 1917. Leaving behind him a widow and a fatherless little girl.

But his efforts were not in vain. Many had been saved through the doctor’s selfless work. A large percentage of these were Jews and the Jewish community came together to provide for the needs of the doctor’s family. They never went without.

When Irena grew old enough to go to college, the tuition was payed for by those her father had given his life to save.

The Same Was Done For You

Another man risked entering contaminated quarters. Another physician subjected himself to a deadly disease. He did so for you and I.

Jesus came down from heaven and gave His life to battle sin – to heal us. He looked not at the cost, but at those who needed His help. Let us never forget what He sacrificed on our account!

“For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:7-8, NKJV)

In Christ

Quiana

*Information about Dr. Krzyzanowska came from https://irenasendler.org/ (a website made in his daughter’s honour).