RSV
Respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) infection is a viral disease of the lungs. It is one of the most important causes of lower respiratory tract illness in infants and young children.
RSV is spread by contact with droplets from the nose or throat of an infected person
Respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) infection is one of the most important causes of lower respiratory illness in infants and young children.
Illness usually starts within 3 to 5 days of infection.
Approximately 80,000 children are hospitalized with these infections each year.
In the United States, approximately 50% of infants and young children become infected with RSV each winter season. RSV causes about 90,000 hospitalizations and 4,500 deaths per year in children under age 5 years.
So many statistics. So many facts...what is left out is the emotional turmoil that is involved when your daughter becomes infected with it. At first I thought it was only a cold. She had just had her chicken pox vaccines, as well as three other shots, and since she always had gotten a fever after her other immunizations, I wasn't really worried.
Then her fever escalated from 99.2 to 103.5. I called the nurse, and they said it was probably just because of her shots. Almost as an afterthought, the nurse told me that I should keep an eye on her, and to call if the fever went any higher. The next day my sweet baby developed a cough. After that she began to stop eating...and nothing seemed to get better. I wanted to take her to the doctor, but there was one obstacle, and this one person refused to comply with that one wish. It was an issue of pride, I believe.
Finally, in a desperate move, I demanded that the baby be taken to the doctor, or I would go against wishes, and take her myself.
They took her in while I was at school. She didn't come out.
My sweet love had an extremely low oxygen count, and something in the x-rays showed some danger, not to mention the fluctuating fever, that hadn't broken in three and a half days. The doctor rushed my baby to the hospital, and she has now been there for two days.
In all the fact sheets about RSV, it is never mentioned, not even once, the near tangible pain you feel when a tube is stuck down your sweet innocent baby's throat, and amid the hum of the suctioning machine, you can hear her gasps, and moans of pain.
It is never mentioned the shiver of horror that runs down your spine while you watch them insert needle after needle into her soft now pale, skin, the sorrow you feel as she clings to you in a way that she hasn't done since she was a newborn. It never mentioned the helplessness that you feel as you watch her lay on the plastic mattress in the metal crib, her eyes, slitted, and dark against the paleness of her face.
They say "at least one more day" but the look on their faces tells me that it will be longer. They bring Pedialyte to me, so that I can feed her, and the salt smell of the fluid mixes with the medicinal smell that had sunk into my baby's skin.
Above the rocking chair, where I sit and rock my little bundle, a machine tracks her heart rate, and oxygen level. It beeps on occasion, but never loud enough to wake my sleeping beauty. For that, at least, I am grateful.
I sit, and rock, and hold her, and though my arm has fallen asleep, I don't move, so that I don't awaken her. The clock above the cabinents reads 2:30, and I stare out at the dark, watching the glisten of snow falling in the streetlamps. Everything is so quiet out there, and so peaceful.
No, she wont be home today, but maybe, just maybe, she will be home by Christmas, and I can give her that silky soft bear that I know she will love.
Ianna, I love you.