When we pulled up to the imposing iron gates of the Gillis W. Long Hansen’s Disease Center, also known as the Louisiana Leper Home in Carville, my husband brought our rental car to a stop. The once-grand plantation had given way to a barbed-wire fence and a stark reminder that even beauty can be suffocating. As we approached the broad face of the 1930s federal building that served as Carville’s hospital, I couldn't read my father's expression. He was gazing down at our two-year-old daughter, guiding her up the concrete steps.
"It smells different," he said, his words laced with a mix of sadness and nostalgia. For him, this place represented a bittersweet homecoming – one that I had eagerly anticipated as research for my novel "King of the Armadillos." My father's experience here had been nothing short of remarkable, marked by both resilience and defiance in the face of overwhelming adversity.
As we walked through the now-converted military conference accommodation where we were staying, I couldn't help but feel a sense of disconnection from this place. Founded on an abandoned sugar plantation back in 1894, Carville was initially designed to be a hospital – not exactly what one would expect from a leprosarium. But beneath its ornate facades and manicured lawns lay the dark history of a disease that had been stigmatized for far too long.
My father's arrival at Carville in 1954 marked the beginning of an extraordinary journey, one that would be defined by both hardship and triumph. Diagnosed with Hansen’s Disease at the tender age of 16, he was sent to this very place – a federal quarantine zone – where he would spend nine long years. Yet even as his physical health struggled, my father's spirit remained unbroken.
It was here that he met Stanley Stein, a former pharmacist from Texas who had founded The STAR, Carville’s patient-run magazine, in 1931. Together, they worked tirelessly to humanize the disease and challenge the stigma surrounding it – an effort that would ultimately lead to significant changes in how Hansen’s Disease was perceived by the public.
Today, as we walked through the grounds of this place that had once felt like a prison, I realized just how much my father's experience here had shaped me. His story is one of resilience and defiance in the face of overwhelming adversity – a testament to the human spirit's capacity for hope, even in the darkest of times.
Looking back, it was clear that Carville would always be with us – a reminder of the journey that had brought my father home again, this time as family. Without Carville, my dad wouldn't be the man he is today – and I certainly wouldn't be who I am either.
"It smells different," he said, his words laced with a mix of sadness and nostalgia. For him, this place represented a bittersweet homecoming – one that I had eagerly anticipated as research for my novel "King of the Armadillos." My father's experience here had been nothing short of remarkable, marked by both resilience and defiance in the face of overwhelming adversity.
As we walked through the now-converted military conference accommodation where we were staying, I couldn't help but feel a sense of disconnection from this place. Founded on an abandoned sugar plantation back in 1894, Carville was initially designed to be a hospital – not exactly what one would expect from a leprosarium. But beneath its ornate facades and manicured lawns lay the dark history of a disease that had been stigmatized for far too long.
My father's arrival at Carville in 1954 marked the beginning of an extraordinary journey, one that would be defined by both hardship and triumph. Diagnosed with Hansen’s Disease at the tender age of 16, he was sent to this very place – a federal quarantine zone – where he would spend nine long years. Yet even as his physical health struggled, my father's spirit remained unbroken.
It was here that he met Stanley Stein, a former pharmacist from Texas who had founded The STAR, Carville’s patient-run magazine, in 1931. Together, they worked tirelessly to humanize the disease and challenge the stigma surrounding it – an effort that would ultimately lead to significant changes in how Hansen’s Disease was perceived by the public.
Today, as we walked through the grounds of this place that had once felt like a prison, I realized just how much my father's experience here had shaped me. His story is one of resilience and defiance in the face of overwhelming adversity – a testament to the human spirit's capacity for hope, even in the darkest of times.
Looking back, it was clear that Carville would always be with us – a reminder of the journey that had brought my father home again, this time as family. Without Carville, my dad wouldn't be the man he is today – and I certainly wouldn't be who I am either.
so they're finally letting people in to visit... like it's a big deal or something. I mean, I get it, it's a historic place and all that jazz 
. But come on, a barbed-wire fence? That's just tacky. And those iron gates? Give me a break 
. Can't they at least add some decorum to the whole thing? I'm surprised they didn't put up a "please don't take selfies in front of the actual hospital" sign 
. Anyway, it's nice that they're keeping the history alive and all... but let's be real, it's just a place where people went to die 
.
. Like, I get that this place has history and all, but Carville being converted into a military conference accommodation just feels like a watered-down attempt to erase the dark past, you know what I mean? It's like they're trying to sanitize the disease and its effects on people's lives.
. But hey, at least it's sparking some conversation, right? 
. The contrast between the grandeur of the building and the stark reality of what was happening here is just heartbreaking. My dad's experience must have been so tough, being sent away at 16 with a disease that was (and still kinda is) stigmatized 
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. It's amazing what one person can do to make a difference in people's perceptions. And it's so cool that The STAR, the patient-run magazine, was started here back in 1931 
.
), I'm totally inspired by my dad's resilience and defiance in the face of adversity. His story is a testament to the human spirit's capacity for hope, even in the darkest of times 
.
The history there is truly heartbreaking, but at the same time, so inspiring 
I mean, can you even imagine living with Hansen's Disease back in the 50s? 
My hubby brought our kiddo to meet his dad who had spent years here as a kid and it was amazing to see how much resilience he had 
My dad's story is really making me want to write my own book about overcoming adversity 
. My dad said it smells different in there, which is wild 
. It's like... a double-edged sword, right? On one hand, it's heartbreaking to think about what people went through 
and i'm totally obsessed with his little nose and floppy ears it's like he's wearing a built-in superhero cape lol anyway did u know that puppies can hear sounds up to 40k Hz while humans can only hear up to 20k Hz? crazy, right? and btw have u ever tried making your own dog treats from scratch? i just made a batch of peanut butter biscuits and they're literally the best thing since sliced bread 
but still feels like a prison. all these grand buildings and manicured lawns hiding this dark history of stigmatization 
can imagine how hard that must've been on him. its crazy how somethin thats supposed to be educational can feel like a heavy burden too 
. They weren't just locked up here to rot, they were getting medical care and trying to overcome the disease.
. People need to stop stigmatizing these types of diseases and start educating themselves about them 
. It's not that hard to learn, you know? 
i can see why your novel "King of the Armadillos" is all about it 
i mean, my dad's story is definitely one for the ages and i'm so glad he got to share his experience with you 
. anyway, i'm glad they're doing tours and stuff now so people can learn from history 
. Anyone else been to Carville?
. It's like, we've been taught this sanitized version of history in school and on TV, but now we're getting to see the real deal - all the ugliness and pain along with the triumphs 
️
. It's clear that Carville had a huge impact on my dad and me, it's like our family history is tied to this place forever 
.