February 23rd 2024.
In December, my son William had been coughing so hard that he even brought up his breakfast. As I sat reading the news, I couldn't help but give a nod of satisfaction. You see, I had been closely following the progress of Martha's rule, which ensures that seriously ill patients have easy access to a second opinion if their condition worsens. And now, I was pleased to see that it was finally being implemented in 100 hospitals in England.
But while this was definitely a step in the right direction, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. It was disheartening to think that we were living in a time where such rules had to be put in place to ensure that patients' voices were heard and their concerns were taken seriously. Having lost my one-year-old son, William, to sepsis after doctors ignored my worries, I knew all too well the devastating consequences of not being listened to.
My husband Paul and I had been trying for years to have a baby, so when I fell pregnant in 2013, it was truly a blessing. We found out at 16 weeks that we were having a boy, and when William arrived in November of that year, we couldn't have been happier. He was such a calm and placid baby, sleeping well and never throwing temper tantrums. We couldn't have asked for a more perfect little bundle of joy.
William loved the water and would happily splash around in the bath or bob in our arms at our local pool. And whenever we played music, he would rock from side to side and clap his hands in delight. He was such a joy to be around.
But when William turned one, he developed a cough that just wouldn't go away. We didn't think much of it at first, assuming it was just a viral infection that would clear up on its own. But as the weeks went by and the cough persisted, I became increasingly worried and took him to the doctor multiple times.
Each time, I was told it was just a viral infection and that there was nothing to worry about. But as a mother, I knew something wasn't right. I had lost my trust in the doctors after they had ignored my concerns about my son's health in the past. I even asked to see a different doctor, not because I consciously wanted a second opinion, but because I simply wanted someone else to take a look at my son.
But once again, my worries were dismissed and I was told that William just had a viral cough and that it would go away eventually. I couldn't help but shake my head in frustration. It was like they weren't even listening to me.
Then, one day, William woke up with a fever and refused to eat. I immediately took him to the doctor, but they had no appointments available. It was only after expressing my concern that they agreed to see him at the end of the day. But even then, the doctor assured me that it was just a viral infection and that he would be fine.
But as the days went on, William's condition only seemed to worsen. He was lethargic and had no energy, not even to watch TV. I even called a medical helpline, but they told me it wasn't urgent and that a doctor would call me back within six hours. By the time night came, we still hadn't heard back from anyone.
I tucked William into his cot that night, placing his arm around his toy reindeer and whispering "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you." But something didn't feel right. Despite what the doctor had said, I couldn't shake off the worry. I woke up multiple times during the night to check on him, and by 5 am, I noticed on our baby monitor that he was having a drink from his sippy cup.
But when I went into his room at 8 am, I knew something was terribly wrong. William was lying in his cot, still and stiff. I called his name and stroked his cheek, but there was no response. He was gone.
I ran to my husband, screaming that our baby was dead. In that moment, everything came crashing down. How could this have happened? He was just a little boy, full of life and joy. And now, he was gone.
Despite my best efforts to get him the help he needed, my son had been failed by the system. It's something that I will never be able to come to terms with. What do you do when your baby is suddenly gone? When your heart is suddenly ripped apart? These are questions that I will never have an answer to. All I can do now is to speak out and make sure that no other family has to go through the same pain and heartache that we have endured.
It was a cold December morning when my son William, who was just shy of his second birthday, coughed so hard he brought up his breakfast. As I read the news, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. You see, I had been following the progress of a new rule called "Martha's rule" that would allow seriously ill patients to easily access a second opinion if their condition worsened. And finally, after much anticipation, it was being implemented in 100 hospitals across England. While this was only the beginning, it was a crucial step in making a huge change in the healthcare system.
But amidst my happiness, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. It was disheartening to live in a time where such a rule had to be put in place to ensure patients were listened to and their concerns were taken seriously. I know all too well the tragic consequences that can come from not being heard by doctors. I lost my one-year-old son, William, to sepsis after my worries were dismissed by medical professionals.
My husband, Paul, and I had tried for years to have a baby, so when I fell pregnant in 2013, it was a true blessing. We found out we were having a boy at 16 weeks and when William arrived in November of that year, we were overjoyed. He was a calm and placid child, who slept well and never threw tantrums. He was just perfect.
William loved the water and would splash around in the bath or bob in our arms at the local pool. He also had a love for music and would rock from side to side and clap his hands whenever we played a song. When I returned to work in September 2014, he settled into nursery without any issues.
However, as expected with young children, he soon picked up a viral infection that turned into tonsillitis. After a trip to the doctor and a round of antibiotics, he seemed to recover. But a week later, he developed a persistent cough. While he didn't seem too unwell, it lingered for 10 days, so I made another appointment with the doctor.
Despite being told it was just a viral cough, William's condition continued to worsen. He coughed more frequently and even brought up his breakfast. So I took him back to the doctor and asked to see a different one, not necessarily for a second opinion, but just to have another set of eyes on him.
But unfortunately, the new doctor's mind was already made up. She read through his notes and declared it to be just a viral cough. Even when I mentioned his cough had been going on for eight weeks, she dismissed my concerns and prescribed him an inhaler due to our family history of asthma.
That Thursday night, William woke up upset and with a flushed face from teething. I gave him some paracetamol and he went back to sleep. The next morning, he seemed to be feeling better, so I dropped him off at nursery. But just a few hours later, they called to say he had a temperature and was refusing food. I immediately went to pick him up, but my doctor had no available appointments. However, after hearing my worry, they told me to bring him in at the end of the day.
The doctor assured me it was just a viral infection aggravated by teething and that he would feel better over the weekend. But on Saturday, William was lethargic and had no energy to even watch TV. I called 111 for medical advice, but they deemed it non-urgent and said a doctor would call me back within six hours. But by the time William went to bed that night, we had heard nothing.
I couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right. I woke up twice in the night to check on him and at 5am, I saw on the baby camera that he was drinking from his sippy cup. But when I went to check on him at 8am, he was unresponsive. I frantically tried to wake him up, but he was stiff and his eyes were open, staring straight through me.
In a panic, I called my husband and the doctor, but it was too late. William was gone. It was a heart-wrenching and devastating loss that could have been prevented if only someone had listened to my concerns. And now, I am left with the heartbreaking question, "What do you do when your baby is suddenly gone? When your heart is suddenly ripped apart?"
[This article has been trending online recently and has been generated with AI. Your feed is customized.]
[Generative AI is experimental.]
