We’ve officially entered the season of sniffles, coughs and sickness galore. In my little family of three, we are fortunate not to have any autoimmune disorders, chronic illnesses or other things that can severely complicate any sicknesses that we do pick up. Usually, they come and go — annoying, but forgettable.
At least, until my 7-month-old got respiratory syncytial virus (RSV). RSV is a common respiratory virus that affects the nose, throat and lungs. For most people, RSV feels similar to the common cold. For vulnerable groups like infants or adults over 65, RSV can be complicated, ugly and deadly. Luckily, my daughter was just old and healthy enough that she didn’t have life-threatening or long-lasting symptoms. The impact it had on me, however, is a different story.
With one simple call from the doctor confirming that she had RSV, I was instantly transported back to March 2005, when my healthy, two-month-old baby brother also contracted RSV. In his case, RSV became very dangerous very quickly. As I looked at my daughter while talking to the doctor, I saw my little brother go from pink and flushed to pale and barely responsive. Every time my daughter coughed, I heard my brother’s fragile breath — struggling, but persistent. When I checked on our daughter late at night to make sure she was breathing well, I saw my brother, tubes up his nose keeping him alive. As she crawled around the floor, loving life despite her sickness, I remembered my mom rolling around my infant brother’s oxygen tank with him — so small compared to the canister keeping him alive — in her arms.
Three weeks after my baby’s symptoms faded, I still watched and listened, making sure that nothing lingered, that she was safe. Until RSV was brought back into my life, I didn’t know how severely my brother’s sickness had impacted me. Even though he recovered and grew up healthy and happy, I carried a scar from what he, and my parents, went through. It made me think: Do we realize the extent of the mental and emotional toll that sickness takes on us? Our bodies and our brains do; they remember, and they do what is necessary to protect us.
For me, that protection has come in the form of needing to give every sickness its due diligence and researching ways to protect the people I love from sicknesses that can hurt them. The year after my daughter got sick, RSV vaccines were approved for pregnant women and adults over 65, with RSV antibodies available for infants. At that point, no one in my home was in an at-risk age group and we didn’t need the vaccine; people around me, however, did. My grandparents were at risk, along with the precious, irreplaceable newborns of friends and coworkers. Some of them chose the vaccine, and others didn’t. For each one of them, I trust that they made that choice based on what was right for them and that they took steps to keep their circle healthy.
Every year, I’ve become increasingly conscious that other people out there feel like I do; we hope that others can make informed decisions, based on research and science, for their health without being belittled or bullied. We hope that fewer people will experience the fear of a simple sickness threatening the life of someone they love. For me, making sure that those things happen looks like staying up to date on recommended immunizations, staying home when I’m sick (even if it doesn’t seem bad or contagious) and finding ways to support others who can’t afford the time it costs to be sick.
No, we aren’t responsible for other people’s health, and it isn’t our job to keep them from getting sick. But the beautiful thing about humanity is that humanity cares. So this winter, let’s care. As winter brings more cases of the flu, RSV and other sicknesses, give the benefit of the doubt. Be considerate and aware that others might be more worried about those common illnesses than you are. Please consider getting vaccinated if you haven’t already, as we each do what we can to stay safe and stay healthy.