Brendan reached the age of 9 months. What a wonderful time it was for us. He was starting to learn to walk, was becoming sociable and interested in other people, and had evolved a little vocabulary of about 5 or 6 words. He was very active, perpetually happy, loved everyone
and everything, and had an endearing interest in his ever expanding world. I can't remember a moment when he was grouchy, nasty, or difficult. Food was something to be explored and enjoyed, teething wasn't an issue at the time, he had a good sleeping routine, and we had not a problem in the world with him. He was a fun baby and a joy to have around. Even Aidan loved every minute of playing with him. I was still with my now ex-husband at the time, and all seemed well.
I took the boys to a playhouse cafe for a fun day out. Every time we went there, they thoroughly enjoyed themselves, interacted with other kids, and eventually played themselves to exhaustion. This time however, I encountered an arrogant mother with no regard for anyone but herself, and because of her attitude I had to take my children to a nearby park to play - but it was too late.
This mother had a child who was very obviously ill. His little face was pale, his nose was runny and green, and he just sat in the middle of the ball pit looking miserable and uncomfortable, occasionally coughing in a way that almost sounded like a death rattle. Meanwhile, Mum sat reading the latest fashion magazine and gossiping to someone on her mobile phone, sipping her latte. I did not want my kids catching whatever horrid illness this child had, so I encouraged them to stay away from the child and play in a different area, but of course this was nigh impossible. I politely expressed my concern to the sick child's mother about his condition, and her response was a rather irritated and snappy, "Don't worry about him, it's just a harmless little cold." At that, I just shook my head, gathered my kids, and went to the park.
Two days later, on the Friday morning, both of my boys starting showing symptoms of having a cold. It started with a runny nose, a slight fever, and they were off their food but wanted to drink heaps. I didn't take them to playgroup as I normally would, as I didn't want to be responsible for any more children getting ill. I didn't worry about it too much and figured that if they got worse I would take them to the doctor on Monday.
By Saturday morning they were both quite ill. I made up sick beds in the loungeroom so that I could keep an eye on them, they spent the whole day resting on their beds and quietly watching their kid's videos. They were not interested in food, wanted heaps of fluid, and had no interest what-so-ever in playing. By Saturday late afternoon they were in and out of sleep and I was getting very concerned. I phoned for a locum doctor to make a house call.
The doctor finally arrived at about 10pm. He diagnosed both boys as having bronchiolitis. Aidan was bordering on pneumonia, and I was given enough antibiotics to get them through until I could get to a chemist with the prescription for more in the morning. I slept in the loungeroom with them that night, and did everything exactly as the doctor prescribed. The next day, my first action was to send my hubby off to a chemist to get the antibiotics. As the day went on, Aidan showed no improvement, but he didn't get any worse. Brendan's condition was gradually worsening, so I phoned the doctor again that night. He told me to keep up what I was doing and to keep a close eye on the breathing of both children all through the night. If they started having trouble breathing I was to get them to hospital.
I was told I was crazy when I explained to my hubby that I was not going to bed that night, that instead I would stay awake and watch over the children throughout the night. I asked if he would take over in the morning so I could sleep knowing someone was watching the children. He agreed, but thought I was over-reacting. He believed that the children would be fine and would sleep okay through the night. I refused to budge on my decision, I believed that I knew better. I am so glad I did.
4am Sunday morning, I was sitting quietly in the loungeroom reading a book. Aidan was on his sick bed on one side of me, and Brendan was asleep on the other side of me. Both had been so peacefull all night, I started to wonder if my husband was right. I was exhausted, but I was determined to carry through with my plan. I could hear the boys breathing softly on each side of me in time with each other. I stopped reading and listened to their breathing, amused by their coordination. Aidan in, Brendan out, Aidan out, Brendan in, Aidan in... Aidan out... !!! Brendan stopped breathing!!!
I picked him up, checked his airway and gave him 1 quick breath... 2 breaths... he breathed in and started to cry. It was a cry that did not sound real. With every breath it sounded like he was breathing through bagpipes full of water. I woke my husband and phoned for a taxi to get Brendan to hospital. In the taxi on the way there, I needed to breathe for him for a minute or two, but we got there okay.
I will continue this story in another advice later on, covering Brendan's stay in hospital and how we coped with that experience. For now, please take good note of the following advice:
Had my training in first aid and resuscitation not been as advanced as it was, I would not have hesitated to call an ambulance - and I'd recommend that anyone else in the same situation do exactly that.
If your child is sick, and a stranger expresses their concern, please listen to what they have to say. If your child has a diagnosed condition that you are aware of, just politely explain the situation. Otherwise, take in what the person is saying as they may actually have a better knowledge of what might be wrong, and you may find that their concerns are warrented.
If you child is ill with anything contageous, please isolate your child until the contageous period has passed. What may seem like a harmless little cold to your child could kill someone else's child.
(August 2007) (
