Croup

As I write this, John is currently napping... Oh wait, he's just woken himself up coughing again...

At 11pm on Sunday night, John awoke from his sleep with a cough like no-other I've ever heard - a real barking cough, with no stopping for breaths in-between. The poor soul coughed uncontrollably for a good couple of minutes and despite me picking him up & bringing him into our bedroom to try and soothe him, he couldn't stop himself. To make matters worse, once he finished coughing, his breathing wasn't right - he was struggling to draw a proper breath and his chest rattled as he tried.

After trying to soothe him further we decided to phone the NHS24 Helpline for advice. At the time I wasn't convinced this phone call was completely necessary but we were at a loss as to what had caused this sudden onset of illness - just 3 hours before I'd put a happy, apparently healthy, little boy to bed and now he'd woken up in an awful state. I explained my concerns and John's symptoms to a nurse over the phone and once she'd heard John's breathing, she decided to have an ambulance sent out to examine him as soon as possible. And despite her instructions not to panic, my whole body started to shake. The first things that went through my mind 2343 pneumonia and whooping cough - how could I not panic?

By the time the ambulance actually found our flat (after a call from the paramedics asking for directions & me trekking the street in search of them), John was wide awake and in a better mood, albeit extremely hoarse and crying in pain every time he coughed. The paramedics gave John a quick once over and then advised us he'd be best getting checked out by the children's hospital. Panic set in further, worsened by the fact Iain was on-call and couldn't come with us. The paramedics advised me to gather a bag with change of clothes, nappies, milk etc. and all I could think was, "why do we need a bag? How long are they expecting us to be there for?"

The ambulance ride to the hospital was 'interesting'. I found myself sitting with an awkwardly quiet paramedic and John, who was smiling and chatting away to himself, as if excited by the interesting adventure he'd gotten us into. The ambulance ride was made even more uncomfortable by Edinburgh's cobbled roads - do these vehicles not have any suspension? Once we arrived at the hospital, the driver paramedic escorted John and I into A&E, briefed the duty nurse on John's condition and said his farewells. We were advised to take a seat and told we'd be checked in soon. I glanced at the notice board above the nurse's desk: "Current Waiting Time: 4 hours 20 mins". I could have cried. By this time is was after midnight and I was exhausted. John was exhausted. That meant we wouldn't be home until after 6am!

Thankfully, once we were checked in by the duty nurse, we were taken straight through to the second waiting area. Suddenly the memories flooded back to me: This was the very waiting area I had sat in 14 years ago as I waited to have my forehead stitched up after a collision with the pavement, with only my glasses in-between. I sighed as I remembered the wait I had to endure back then. This time however, whether it was because we were brought to the hospital by paramedics or because I was a mother with a baby with breathing difficulties (I'm not sure) we were thankfully seen within an hour of arriving.

One of the doctors gave John an examination, carefully listening to his breathing and checking his temperature as well as his skin colouring, lips, ears & eyes. She informed me he had croup - something (other than the name itself) I knew very little about. She gave me a brief explanation, listed the symptoms and advised me on the treatment of one small dose of steroids to reduce the severity. We were returned to the same waiting area (where we were welcomed by some rather un-approving looks from parents that had been waiting a lot longer than us) whilst the medicine was measured out. One short dose of steroids later and the affects were almost instant. After a quick breastfeed John was able to fall back asleep, although his slumber didn't last long as the doctor soon returned to check him over before sending us on our way. It was closer to 3am by the time we got home, by which point we were both exhausted.

It's now Wednesday and John has improved but the poor wee soul is still exhausted. His cough is changing from a barking cough to a more productive one but (annoyingly) it's still keeping him up whilst he tries to nap. He's off from nursery this week which means I've had to take time off work but I'd much rather be at home and be able to breastfeed him when he needs it - anything I can do to try and make him feel better!

I've since done a little research on croup, as well as the steroids he was given (the latter, mainly for reassurance, as in hindsight I suddenly wondered if steroid treatment was a sensible choice -- turns out it's actually fine and common practice). Unfortunately, everything I read regarding other parents experiences seems to suggest that once a baby has suffered croup, the likelihood is that they'll have to deal with it every year until they're around 5 years old, when their respiratory system matures. We'll be crossing our fingers that it is just a one off but at least from our A&E experience we'll know what to do next year if John is one of the unlucky 3 in 100 who do suffer from re-occurring croup.