r/Asthma • u/glass14onionx • 59m ago
Venting (ha) for my little love
I’m an attorney specializing in air pollution law and the parent of a severe asthmatic. And I need to clear the air.
After three inpatient stays at 2 years old, the doctors upped my child’s diagnosis from RAD to asthma. She has since been admitted several more times. She has regular maintenance inhalers she takes daily in addition to an aggressive “sick” plan and fast-acting inhaler that we’ve been directed to use more or less any time someone on the bus sneezes.
Her tonsils and adenoids are coming out in a couple weeks. The frightening part for me about this generally-very-routine procedure is the reason they’re doing it: leaving any stone unturned in tackling her asthma is a matter of life or death. Large tonsils and adenoids are often self correcting because kids grow into them, and hers are only moderately enlarged. But her sleep study—performed while she was healthy—showed regular dips to 80% oxygen, so the doctors are taking a noodle-at-the-wall approach to help her breathe. The surgery is expected to generate minor-to-medium improvement but still considered worth the risk.
As a 3-year-old with “pediatric patient in status asthmaticus” all over her health record, she’ll be inpatient for at least an overnight after the procedure, and then I need to keep her home for two weeks.
And I’m scared. And I’m tired from being scared. Tonsillectomies are supposed to mean ice cream and movies, but I’m afraid to even let her sleep. 80% while she’s healthy?! And now her throat will be swollen?! I’ve had to hold her while PICU doctors suctioned her lungs, and the image of her face will never ever leave me. I actually sleep better in hospital cribs—cold metal, wires everywhere, toddler-length, and not exactly weight-rated for an adult—because I know she is getting oxygen and being monitored by professionals. I am so, so afraid for my baby. Now I’ll have her at home with the dust and whatever else while her little throat is raw and swollen. And the procedure is not even a tin bullet, let alone silver one. They just need to do anything, no matter how small, to help her breathe on her own.
Let me pile it on, dear Internet. My career is in air pollution control. Last autumn, my office worked through the entirety of the longest government shutdown in United States history so we could aggressively gut air pollution laws. While other federal employees were furloughed, I had to take leave and pause my air toxics deregulatory assignments so I could bring my asthmatic toddler to the pulmonologist. The cognitive dissonance was… vexing. I resigned from my dream job in the office I had previously thought was the best-positioned in the country to improve our nation’s air—the air my baby breathes—because I was batting for the team batting against what I hold most dear.
No one could safely breathe in DC last week: the air quality index was 250. I kept my daughter home and she still had difficulty breathing indoors. My little girl can’t catch a break.
I’m so tired of the public not taking air quality seriously. Just because asthma is common doesn’t mean it doesn’t deserve our attention… to the contrary, because it’s so common, it needs our attention. It’s serious.
To the parents out there of children with respiratory issues: I see you, I support you, and I’m doing what I can to help you breathe easier.