My uncle died of long haul covid last year too, lungs just never came back. Reading that she kept going 73 years in that iron lung and still painted, still had her dogs, it wrecked me a little. 78 years old and still here to tell her own story.
Their story
Martha Lillard was an Oklahoma polio survivor who spent more than seven decades depending on an iron lung, and who, after the death of Paul Alexander in March 2024, became the last known person in the United States still relying on one of the machines. Paralyzed from the neck down…
Martha Lillard was an Oklahoma polio survivor who spent more than seven decades depending on an iron lung, and who, after the death of Paul Alexander in March 2024, became the last known person in the United States still relying on one of the machines. Paralyzed from the neck down by polio at the age of five, a year before the Salk vaccine arrived, she outlived doctors' predictions by almost six decades. She painted, wrote poems, composed music for the left hand on the piano, volunteered for the local Humane Society and a crisis phone line, drove a specially adapted car, and spoke to reporters about the danger of letting polio return.
Martha Ann Lillard was born in Shawnee, Oklahoma, on June 8, 1948, to Thomas M. Lillard and Gloria June (Green) Lillard. She celebrated her fifth birthday on June 8, 1953, with a party at an amusement park. About nine days later she woke with a sore throat and a pain in her neck, and her family took her to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with polio. Her sister later said Martha could not lift her head off the pillow that morning and knew at once what it was, because she had heard so much about the disease. Spanish-language outlets reported that after four days she fell unconscious, paralyzed. She spent six months in the hospital inside an iron lung, a negative pressure ventilator that breathed for her. "When I was first put into it, it was such a relief," she told NBC News in 2013.
With physical, occupational and water therapy she regained the use of her legs and partial use of her left arm, which she could move only from side to side at her waist. She went to Jefferson Grade School for an hour or two a day, was tutored the rest of the time, and attended Shawnee High School through a school-to-home phone system that connected her to classrooms by intercom. She became a member of the National Honor Society. Her family refused to let the machine shrink her world: her father phoned hotels to find ones with doors wide enough for the iron lung so they could take road trips to Missouri with a custom trailer, relatives built a device that let her open the iron lung and get in and out on her own, and a car was rebuilt so she could steer with the wheel in her lap and work the turn signals with her feet.
For most of her adult life she lived independently in Shawnee, sleeping in the iron lung every night. She tried modern positive pressure ventilators but said they inflamed her airways and left her less rested. When her machine began to fail in the 1990s, she called hospitals and museums looking for an old one and finally bought a 1940s iron lung from a man in Utah. Friends patched its fan belt motor with car parts. She stockpiled the neck collars that sealed the chamber, and in a 2021 Radio Diaries story for NPR's All Things Considered said that running out of them was "the most scary thing in my life right now." During one ice storm her generator failed and she was trapped in the machine without heat; she told herself out loud, "I'm not going to die," until she reached 911.
She was a member of Emmanuel Episcopal Church, volunteered for many years with the Pottawatomie County Humane Society, helped at a local daycare center and coordinated volunteers for Shawnee's crisis phone line. She loved beagles and cross-posted rescue dogs on Facebook. She painted detailed landscapes, watched old Hollywood movies and asked her Alexa endless questions. Her first husband was Ray Stapp, whom she met in 1989 and lived with for 28 years until he moved into a nursing home. After the September 11 attacks she went online to understand what had happened and met Baha Salh, a man from Mallawi, Egypt, in a chat room. They corresponded for more than 20 years, and once he finally obtained a visa they married in February 2026. "They were really soul mates," her sister Cindy McVey said.
She caught Covid twice during the pandemic; even before that, her lungs worked at less than a quarter of normal capacity. In her last five years she could not leave home, and for the final two she was in the iron lung nearly 24 hours a day. Martha Lillard died in Shawnee on June 26, 2026, at the age of 78. Her own obituary, which she wrote and updated, says she "died of long-haul Covid 19"; her death certificate listed chronic pulmonary failure and post-polio syndrome. Services were held at Resthaven Memorial Cemetery on June 29, 2026. KFOR first reported her death on July 8, and days later her sister spoke to the Associated Press. "They told her she wasn't supposed to live past 20 years old," McVey said. "She had the enthusiasm and the drive to continue living and make the best of her life."
Biography adapted from https://www.countywidenews.com/obituaries/martha-ann-lillard; https://apnews.com/article/iron-lung-last-patient-died-polio-41e5b4da4f4e710344dd0872d7fcf987; https://www.nbcnews.com/health/health-news/.
In their own words
“It's what sustains me. It's what heals me. It's what allows me to breathe the next day. I look at it as a friend, as a very dear friend.”
On her iron lung, Radio Diaries, NPR, 2021
“It's like being buried alive almost, you know. It's so scary.”
On being trapped during an ice storm power outage, Radio Diaries, 2021
“When I was first put into it, it was such a relief. It makes all the difference when you're not breathing.”
NBC News, 2013
“I think the word is to get your child vaccinated. Why would we let somebody have to go back through that again?”
NBC News, 2013
“There's much more to see if you really look for it.”
Radio Diaries, NPR, 2021
“I ask 'Why' all the time. I don't get any answers. After you ask so many times and you don't get answers, you just go on.”
NBC News, 2013
“She was an avid Beagle lover and assisted in animal rescue as a cross poster on Facebook.”
Her self-written obituary, 2026

sorry about your uncle, that's so hard