Amplify: Everyone should be concerned about long lineups of sick children at hospital ERs

This is the weekly Amplify newsletter, where you can be inspired and challenged by the voices, opinions and insights of women at The Globe and Mail.

Kristy Kirkup is a political reporter at The Globe and Mail.

This is a special edition of Amplify, brought to you from a vehicle in my driveway.

I’ve been on parental leave from The Globe since June, when my second daughter was born, but I put my hand up to write this because reporting, in many ways, is how I make sense of the world.

Right now, however, I am struggling to understand why people seem to be turning away from the advice of public health officials during what’s being described as a pediatric health crisis, as children’s hospitals overflow with kids struggling to breathe.

At the moment, my four month old, who has been sick for weeks with respiratory syncytial virus (RSV), is finally asleep in the back seat. There’s no way I’m going to risk waking her by moving her into the house, so here I sit, angrily typing away between sips of coffee.

I’m not going to get into why children across North America are being hit so hard right now with RSV and flu (and let’s not forget, COVID-19). But, as the mom of two young kids, this is what I will say: It does not appear many people, outside of a vocal group of concerned health experts, seem that worried about the long lineup of babies and children at hospital ERs.

This despite what doctors have made clear: What’s going on right now is a five-alarm fire. Melanie Bechard, a pediatric ER doctor at the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario (CHEO) in Ottawa, where I live, captured the feeling on Twitter recently when she wrote: “When adult ICUs and EDs were at risk of being overwhelmed, we shut down the world to flatten the curve. When pediatric ICUs and EDs are overwhelmed, public life continues like nothing’s happening. I’d be heartbroken if I wasn’t so angry.”

I am no stranger to little kids getting sick. I also have an almost five year old and we’ve been perpetually ill since she started daycare. But my baby’s recent RSV is something on a whole different level. I’m pretty sure I have aged immeasurably from the helplessness that came with it.

My baby, three months old at the time, got RSV in October, which developed into bronchiolitis (inflammation of the lungs). After three weeks, a trip to the hospital and several doctor visits, I finally thought she had recovered. But two weeks ago, the barking cough came back with a vengeance. That’s when my dread really started to bake in, while so many people carry on as if everything is fine.

Nighttime at my home is spent monitoring the breathing patterns of an infant, and whether we may have to go back to the hospital. On one recent evening, there was a symphony of loud, laboured coughing. My older child, who is believed to have asthma, also chimed in with her own coughing attacks.

I know our family is far from alone and so many are much worse off (like this child, who had pneumonia and spent an agonizing 40 hours in an Ontario ER). But doctors have said loud and clear that the confluence of RSV, flu and COVID-19 will make for a particularly punishing season. They have also made it known that lives are at stake. (Tragically, and every parent’s worst nightmare, we know one child has already died of the flu in eastern Ontario.)

CHEO president and CEO Alex Munter posted on Twitter earlier in November that seven children had to be resuscitated at the hospital over two days. Just sit with that fact for a second. (The hospital also took the unprecedented step of opening a second pediatric ICU.)

Health officials at the highest levels have urged a return to masking and other preventive measures, such as being up to date on vaccines. But step into any public place and you’ll see this message, at least when it comes to masks, is simply not resonating. Even in indoor spaces dedicated to children – the very people we need to help protect right now – I’m one of a few parents masking.

I get it. You’re over it, I’m over it. We are all over it. Do you actually think I want to worry about this anymore? Or to beg a junior kindergartener to wear a mask so we aren’t back at the hospital with her sister? (Spoiler alert: I don’t.)

As Allison Hanes wrote in the Montreal Gazette: “Nobody misses covering our faces … It was a pandemic-related nuisance we were relieved to see lifted. But what do we owe our children – who sacrificed their schooling, their extracurricular activities and in some cases their mental health during earlier lockdowns? They also wore masks at school, as much for the sake of teachers and staff as for their own safety.”

So I am asking us all to do one simple thing: follow the preventative measures that doctors are recommending, for our kids’ sake. Please don’t roll your eyes. Please don’t tune out, even if it all feels too hard to even contemplate at this point.

The health of our kids depends on us caring. My kids, and everyone else’s kids, really need your help. I’m begging you.

What else we’re thinking about:

I have taken a strong liking to a self-described foul-mouthed mom on Instagram named Caitlin Murray who uses the handle @bigtimeadulting. She is the mother of a child who has survived cancer, along with two others. Her posts are filled with humour and honesty about parenting and just being a human being. One of her recent posts took on a more serious tone and described the pain that can come from the gap between what you thought something would look like and feel like, and how it actually unfolds. She was referring to her son turning nine and the three years he spent undergoing cancer treatments. Also, she ends every post with the tag line of “get yourself a snack.” I concur that this is pretty good advice, regardless of who you are.

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