Meningitis B Vaccine – Who Gets It?

19 01 2015

My whole life is on the Outlook calendar. Birthdays, meetings, to-do lists, reminders—when anything pops up, it goes on the calendar. Doesn’t matter if it’s four days or four years from now, it gets noted.

In a few months, my younger daughter will be 16. If you sat at my computer and clicked to that day, you’d find two things: 1) Bug’s birthday and, 2) Call to get mening booster for Bug. (Don’t tell her I called her Bug in this blog, but that is what you’d read in my calendar. It stands for Love Bug.)

Meningitis, or more accurately, meningococcal disease, is the real version of the monster under the bed. That’s how scared I am of this disease.

Love Bug - the early years.

Love Bug – the early years.

It’s not as common as flu, but when it strikes, it can kill or do horrendous damage to the body within hours of the first symptom appearing.

In the US, we have vaccines we use against several strains of the disease.

In the fall of 2014, the FDA approved a vaccine against serogroup B, a strain not found in our current vaccines. There’s at least one other vaccine against serogroup B that’s waiting for approval from the FDA, and I’m guessing that approval won’t be long in coming.

Because we haven’t had a vaccine against serogroup B, we’ve left our at-risk populations defenseless. When Princeton and Santa Barbara had their meningitis outbreaks in 2013, the culprit was serogroup B.

But, the good news is that the ACIP (Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices) will now take a look at the vaccine that protects against meningitis serogroup B and decide what recommendations it will make. The ACIP exists to make “recommendations on how to use vaccines to control diseases in the United States.”

It could be that the ACIP will decide to recommend that all young people ages 10 to 25 should be vaccinated. Or, they may recommend that the vaccine only be given in the event of an outbreak.

The CDC has a specific definition of outbreak when it comes to meningitis, and that is: An outbreak occurs when there are multiple cases in a community or institution over a short period of time. Specifically, an outbreak is defined as three or more cases of the same serogroup (“strain”) occurring within three months. Sometimes having just two cases in a school or college can meet the outbreak definition.

For a more precise definition, check out this Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report (MMWR) on the Evaluation and Management of Suspected Outbreaks of Meningococcal Disease.

My personal feeling is that we’re a country that can afford to protect ourselves against vaccine-preventable diseases and we should take advantage of that fact. Why wait until an outbreak to start vaccinating? Let’s get the at-risk populations vaccinated and not worry about an outbreak.

I suspect that as discussions ensue, the cost of vaccinating pre-outbreak will be a major factor in determining what the official recommendations will be. After all, the federal government does have a budget. Maybe a few more zeroes in their budget compared to yours or mine, but still.

I know that other interests are clamoring for their share of the pot. Alzheimer’s research, foodborne illness, alcohol poisoning—everyone deserves some of the health and medical dollars available. As do those with other interests, such as agriculture, space exploration, or marine biology.

But still.

Preventing meningococcal disease has always made more sense to me than hoping treatment works and burying those for whom it does not.

I’d like to hear your thoughts on this. We will share them with ACIP members as they meet to discuss what recommendations to make for the new vaccines.

 

 

by Trish Parnell





One Day, on the Way to the Army

24 04 2014

Today is World Meningitis Day, and the start of World Immunization Week. Are you young and healthy? Stay that way! It’s Your Choice, so choose to get immunized and get on with what life has in store for you.

Abby Blanco-Wold was a young woman on her way to the Army when she was attacked by meningitis. This is Abby’s story, as written by her.

 

TWO DAYS TO GO

Two days to go, and I would have been gone, off to the ARMY . . . Tuesday at dawn.

Out to the gun range my dad and I went, I did really well, to our amazement!

I wanted to shoot a gun once before basic training, the old men that were there found it quite entertaining.

Abby before meningitis changed her life

I had this slight headache throughout the day—didn’t recognize the faint scent of death’s bouquet.

Later that night, out with friends one last time, I threw up by a building, but then I felt fine.

We went home anyway, but stopped for a treat. I didn’t even feel bad enough not to eat.

I awoke in the night, throwing up once again . . . except this time throwing up took forever to end.

So I went back to sleep, but when I arose, intense pain was all over, from my head to my toes.

We need to go now, something’s not right. Upon changing my shirt, came the real fright.

Fever, throwing up, aches and pains, purple spots. The familiarity is chilling. Meningitis, I thought!

To the hospital my friends and I immediately rushed. Oh my God, if it’s true, my family’s going to be crushed!

Meningitis it was, but I already knew. I deteriorate quickly—my feet are both blue.

My parents arrive, “Mom, I have to go pee,” but not a drop would come from my failing kidneys.

I said to the doctor, “I know I might die, but can I have some pain medicine so I don’t have to cry?”

So, here I am in this bed instead, more worried about being AWOL than being dead.

In a war against nature, my body will try to fight off these enemies, so that I don’t die.

In this ICU, my family will weep, counting the moments that I am asleep.

Many of my doctors will quickly be stunned, watching my body grow increasingly rotund.

One by one my organs start to shut down; my urine is now coming out blackish- brown.

Covered all over in dark purple spots, as my vessels are littered with millions of clots.

Soon I can no longer breathe on my own, and more IVs into my body are sewn.

A ventilator’s my new buddy, I guess. How much longer can my body handle this stress?

This struggle is one that I simply must win, but things are so bad, more family flies in.

My priest comes to the hospital to say a prayer. My parents and brother are so numb they just stare.

He gives me just one last sacrament, as my body revolts, to my detriment.

Are they right, my last rites? Will tonight be my forever goodnight?

Suddenly, my blood pressure drops so low and so fast, my heart almost stops.

I am so, so very tired of this fighting, but I won’t give up—sorry that it’s so frightening.

Today, things aren’t good, the attending can’t lie, twenty percent chance to live, and that’s high.

Both my insides and outsides are going crazy. Now I’m in a coma, and my adrenals are lazy.

My prognosis looks so terribly bleak. How strong will my family be? Or how weak?

Am I allowed to die? Will you all fall apart? Will you succumb to the pain of your breaking hearts?

A few days later, it comes, a faint beacon of light. Can a miracle save me from this morbid plight?

Slowly but surely from the ventilator I’m withdrawn, and most of my organs start to turn back on!

I lay in this bed, comatose still. Reality sets in, but survive, yes I will!

I hesitantly, emerge from my sleep to hallucinations, pain, a machine’s constant beep.

I wonder, what could have happened to me? I was out for two weeks—how could that be?

I’m hurriedly transported to a new room, but I cannot sit up or hold on to a spoon.

Surrounded by so many balloons, gifts, and flowers, and cards that I read for hours and hours.

Everyone is here rejoicing my life, while knowing my future holds plenty of strife.

Just lying here the pain is so bad, it seems unbearable for my mom and my dad.

My body’s covered with open wounds that need care. An open bed in pediatrics? I’ll be right there.

My first ambulance ride reveals my yellow streak, and I need lots of help, because I’m so weak.

In my new room, tons of doctors I meet, their topic of interest—my gangrenous feet.

I finally see them completely unwrapped, “please be careful, and don’t touch them,” I snapped.

After surgery I’m left with no toes, heels, or skin, so I stayed alive—but did I really win?

Two months with surgery every other day, please let my parents and my brother be ok.

Eventually the big decision day comes—bilateral below knee amputee? Now I’m one.

abby2

So my life goes on and prosthetics I wear, but my family will never get over the scare.

There in that room . . . I was just 22, but oh how through the experience I grew!

Meningitis information I soon eagerly sought. I discovered that there’s a vaccine—what a thought!

The knowledge of inner beauty did finally come, and I realize, somehow, the battle I won!

But in my head, I know some will die, and many families will forever cry.

And in my heart, I am in disbelief that a shot could have prevented all of this grief!





A Brother’s Love

14 03 2014

My older brother, Evan, and I were 12 1/2 months apart.  We were the “twins” who weren’t really twins, but who shared a bond so close, that I still can’t believe he is gone.

I never needed to worry about having friends around, because I always had Evan.  We both loved sports, and I have the greatest memories of growing up playing baseball, soccer, and basketball together.  It was a great family time, and one I hope to impart to my children.

Evan wanted to be a pitcher on a college baseball team, and my dad took him around to different colleges in Georgia.  After tryouts at Georgia Southwestern University, Evan was asked to join the team as a walk-on player.

Me and Evan

Me and Evan

He was at a small university, but he loved it and loved his team.  I was attending the University of Georgia, and I was so proud of my brother for following his dream.  Both of us had plans to become orthopedic sports physicians and practice medicine together.  We would get married, our children would not only be cousins but best friends—everything was planned out, everything was in motion.

Then, Evan came down with a violent migraine, so we thought.

The ER physicians diagnosed him as having a “little virus,” but it wasn’t a “little virus.”  It was bacterial meningitis, or more specifically, “meningococcal disease.” My parents were told he had a 5% chance of survival.

I can only imagine, now that I am a parent myself, what horror they must have felt hearing that their son might die.  I was on spring break with some friends in Florida, and my parents couldn’t reach me until much later that night.  I immediately left to drive to the hospital where Evan was being treated.

In a spirit of youthful optimism, I felt that if Evan knew I was by his bedside, he would rally, just as each of us could always get the other one to rally.

But this horrible disease was stronger than all of the prayers and love being sent to Evan.  My parents and I watched the disease ravage Evan’s body,  as gangrene set in on his arms and legs.  We watched the machines monitoring Evan, willing the numbers to be stable, for some sign of improvement.

As Evan was transferred to a third hospital, a burn unit, we were told that Evan had a 1% chance of survival.  I remember asking my mom about life after death.  I didn’t understand how my brother could be so sick.  Evan went in for surgery to try to save his life, and both arms and legs were amputated.

That still wasn’t enough.

I watched my brother, in a medically induced coma, lie in bed with stumps, his face and body bloated from kidney failure.  I cried, I prayed, I begged.  I would go listen to music in my car, to try to escape from the reality of what was happening.

Then, Evan suffered 10 hours of grand mal seizures, and that caused irreversible brain swelling, and a herniated brain stem.

My brother, who I loved so much, was brain dead.

We all watched as Evan was disconnected from life support, flat-lined, and carried away in a body bag.  Those are my last images of my brother.

I missed that quarter of school, because Evan had been in the hospital almost a month.  When I went back, it was with a renewed determination to be a doctor.  I did get admitted to medical school, and when I graduated, I fist-pumped my arm, and said to myself, “Evan, I did this for both of us.”

I still talk to Evan, I still miss him so much, and I carry his memory with me everywhere.  My daughter’s middle name is Evan. When I got married, I did not have a best man, because that spot was reserved for Evan.

When my parents and I found out that Evan’s death could have been prevented with a vaccine, that was being routinely used in the military, it just made no sense.  Why hadn’t any of us been told about the vaccine?

Needless to say, I am a staunch vaccine advocate, and as a primary care physician, I make sure that all of my patients are up-to-date on all CDC-recommended vaccinations.

It really is your choice, and your life. Take control and protect yourself against infections by getting immunized.

by Ryan Bozof





Meningitis Outbreaks This Holiday Season

25 11 2013

What’s going on with meningitis at Princeton and UC Santa Barbara?

Both universities are experiencing an outbreak of meningitis—specifically, serogroup B (that’s the genetic fingerprint of the particular strain of meningitis).

In the US, we don’t have an approved vaccine against this serogroup or strain, but we do have vaccines that fight other strains of meningitis, such as C and Y. Those vaccines are working great!

We’re seeing more serogroup B infection right now because there’s no vaccine available in the US to control transmission. And, we’re seeing an outbreak because that just happens sometimes, particularly when there’s no vaccine to prevent it.

As of 25 November, there have been seven cases identified at Princeton, with a probable eighth case not yet formally identified. Three cases have been identified so far at UC Santa Barbara.

Some of the cases have been serious, but to date there are no deaths. Dr. Amanda Cohn, a pediatrician and expert in meningitis with the CDC, talked about these outbreaks today in a teleconference.

She said that while health departments and healthcare providers should be aware of symptoms and think about meningitis should they see indications, it is safe for the college kids to come home for the holidays.

CDC is not expecting transmission in the home. It tends to occur with very close contact (“french” kissing, sharing a room and coughing all over a roommate). Generally, you might get either meningococcal meningitis or meningococcal septicemia from a meningococcal infection.

Symptoms of meningococcal meningitis as noted by CDC include:

  • Sudden onset of fever
  • Headache (severe)
  • Stiff neck (hurts to move it)

Other symptoms might include:

  • Nausea
  • Vomiting
  • Photophobia (increased sensitivity to light)
  • Altered mental status (confusion)

The symptoms of meningococcal meningitis can appear quickly or over several days. Typically they develop within 3-7 days after exposure. This infection can be serious with long-term consequences such as hearing loss or brain damage, and it is at times fatal.

Symptoms of meningococcal septicemia may include:

  • Fatigue
  • Vomiting
  • Cold hands and feet
  • Cold chills
  • Severe aches or pain in the muscles, joints, chest or abdomen (belly)
  • Rapid breathing
  • Diarrhea
  • In the later stages, a dark purple rash

These symptoms can come on in a matter of hours and the infection is very dangerous.

Prevention means washing your hands and covering your coughs and sneezes. Get up-to-date on your immunizations (no matter your age) and know that, if a healthcare provider suspects someone in the home may have an infection, those in close contact will receive antibiotics to prevent the spread of the disease. There are some manufacturers working on vaccines that include serogroup B for approval in the US, but they are not yet at the final stages of development on those vaccines.





The Trouble With Some Microbes . . .

7 02 2013

Our battle against bacteria is tilting in our favor. After all, we have vaccines and antibiotics on our side. That doesn’t mean we can get cocky. It’s tilting, not surrendering at our feet.

But we’re still struggling to find ways to kill viruses once they’ve infected us.  At best, we can sometimes control them.

Although we can kill viruses on our bodies and other surfaces with disinfectants, it’s difficult to kill them when they’re living inside our cells.  When we’re infected with a virus, it takes up residence in one of our cells and uses the cell’s machinery to reproduce itself.

Developing a drug that will kill the virus without disrupting the intracellular machinery of uninfected cells is no easy task. It’s like playing Jenga—eventually the whole structure will collapse.

Bacteria, on the other hand, generally live outside of our cells and are easier targets.

There are some bacteria that have developed a resistance to not just one drug, say for instance penicillin, but to many such drugs.  They’re known as multi-drug resistant microorganisms such as streptococcus pneumoniae and mycobacterium tuberculosis, germs that we thought were very much under control and are now surging back into the population.

One major factor in preventing us from understanding the world of microbes is the size of that world.

The folks at the University of Georgia College of Agricultural and Environmental Sciences put bacteria into perspective this way, “Bacteria vary somewhat in size, but average about 1/25,000 inch.  In other words, 25,000 bacteria laid side by side would occupy only one inch of space.  One cubic inch is big enough to hold nine trillion average size bacteria—about 3,000 bacteria for every person on earth.

“Bacteria make up the largest group of micro-organisms.  People often think of them only as germs and the harm they do.  Actually, only a small number of [the thousands of different] bacteria types are pathogenic (disease-causing).  Most are harmless and many are helpful.”

Neal Rolfe Chamberlain, professor at the Kirksville College of Osteopathic Medicine, explains viruses in this manner, “Viruses are very small forms of life.  In fact, people still argue over whether viruses are really alive.  Viruses range in size from about 20 to 300 nanometers (nm).  A nanometer is 0.000001 of a millimeter.  A millimeter is 1/25 of an inch.  So in other words, you can place 25,000,000 nanometers in an inch.  If the biggest virus is 300 nm then you could fit 83,333 of that virus in an inch.

“Viruses are major freeloaders.  They cannot make anything on their own.  To reproduce they must infect other living cells.  Viruses infect bacteria, parasites, fungi, plants, animals, and humans.  No one escapes them.  If you have had the flu, chickenpox, measles, a common cold, mono, a cold sore, or a sore throat you have been infected by a virus!”

Some viruses, like HIV and hepatitis C, tend to develop strains that can resist mono drug therapy (treating the patient with one drug at a time).  We have to try and control the viruses with combination, or “cocktail” drugs (treating the patient with several drugs at once), although even that approach does not always work.  Some viruses can keep mutating until we’ve run out of drugs to try.

All this is to say that fighting microbes is seldom a simple task, and seemingly one that is neverending. For example, we have a whooping cough vaccine, but new strains are popping up and new vaccines are needed for this astoundingly infectious microbe.

We will never be rid of our tiny co-inhabitants on this world, and anyway, most of them we want to keep around. It’s those others . . . wouldn’t it be nice to have a jail for nasty microbes?

By PKIDs’ Staff





Voices of Meningitis

31 05 2012

The National Association of School Nurses (NASN) has a message for parents: when it comes to vaccinating preteens and teens against meningococcal meningitis, immunization rates don’t measure up.

Vaccination is the most effective way to help protect against meningococcal meningitis, but many parents may be unaware of the importance of vaccination or that their teens may need a second dose to help keep them protected during the years when they are at greatest risk of infection.

The result? Nearly 40 percent of U.S. teens have not been vaccinated and remain vulnerable to this potentially devastating disease.

The NASN’s Voices of Meningitis campaign is calling on communities across the country to “boost” their vaccination rates by letting parents know that health officials recommend vaccination for preteens and teens beginning at 11 or 12 years of age with a booster dose by 18 years of age.

Meningococcal meningitis may be rare, but it is a serious bacterial infection that can kill an otherwise healthy child in just a single day. If you have preteen or teen children, contact their school nurse or health care provider today to discuss vaccination; even if your child was previously vaccinated, a second dose may now be needed for the best protection against meningococcal meningitis.

Visit VoicesOfMeningitis.org to learn more, and join the conversation on Facebook. We did.





Phoenix

17 05 2012

(Years ago, we at PKIDs had a lengthy argument/discussion with a few public health officials about the need to recommend that young kids be vaccinated against meningitis. We didn’t win. This post, reprinted from Parents Who Protect, illustrates why it’s important that someday, all young children be protected.)

Guest post by Clare from Parents Who Protect

It has taken me several weeks to pull myself together, to sit down and take a breath. I don’t imagine this will ever get easier or hurt any less. But I have to tell this story and hope that because of it, one less child will die from meningitis, meningococcemia, or any meningococcal disease.

I have always thought this saying to be true, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” Therefore, on the one-month anniversary of Phoenix’s death, the time has come to tell his story.

Phoenix is my beautiful, intelligent and amazing son. I want every parent to know that he was a precious child who was loved, cherished and cared for by his parents and his twin brother. In just a few days, I went from being a happy mother of two playful little boys to a grief-stricken mother trying to find meaning in such a tragic death.

On the morning of February 9, 2012, Phoenix woke with a mild fever. He played with his brother, ate his breakfast, and then played some more. After eating lunch he laid down for his nap and around 2:00 p.m., woke up with vomiting and with diarrhea. Being the mother of twins, I am used to having both boys sick at the same time, so I thought it was a bit odd that Gryphon showed no signs of being sick at all. After getting Phoenix all cleaned up and settled down, I decided to check his temperature again. When I saw that it was now 104 degrees, I strapped him in the car and headed to the emergency room.

As we arrived at the ER, I noticed a small spot on his arm. I couldn’t linger on this thought because things started moving pretty fast with the doctors and nurses checking his vital signs and asking me a lot of questions. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Phoenix. I started to realize he was now acting very strange; it was like he was hallucinating. He seemed at peace and started to sing to me.

Nobody, not even the doctor, recognized his symptoms. The hospital staff had decided to just keep an eye on him and monitor his temperature. Phoenix asked me to take him to the bathroom, and while he was sitting on the toilet, he kept losing his balance and falling off. Immediately I knew something was wrong, so I started screaming for help. Several nurses came into the room, and at this time, the doctor decided to do a spinal tap. Even though it is such a painful procedure, my precious Phoenix didn’t move at all.

The doctor and staff called for the helicopter to transport him to Oakland Children’s Hospital. In the meantime, the results came back positive for meningitis. When my husband came into the room, Phoenix’s face lit up and he asked his baba for milk and cookies. He appeared to be responsive and cheerful and started to sing E-I-E-I-O. The anesthesiologist suggested we put him under to help eliminate any pain that he may be feeling. That was the last time we heard his sweet voice.

When the helicopter arrived, I demanded to be transported with him. As we were walking out to get in, the hospital chaplain walked with me. We stopped to pray for a miracle. It was at that moment I knew my baby was dying.

After a 50 minute helicopter ride, we arrived at the hospital. While they were getting him out, I could see that his tiny body was covered in purple splotches called petechiae; his legs, his arms, and his torso. Phoenix was raced to the ICU. Coming into the room, I could see at least four doctors and ten nurses scrubbed in and ready to go. I was asked by the head nurse to stay in the waiting room and was told they would brief me on his condition.

Those were the longest two hours of my life. When she came back and told me Phoenix was the sickest boy in that hospital, I felt sick to my stomach. My husband had not yet made it to the hospital, so I stood there alone and in shock, trying to make sense of all that I was being told. As soon as my husband arrived with Phoenix’s twin brother, Gryphon, we were taken straight into the ER to make sure that Gryphon didn’t have the same thing as Phoenix. The decision was made to keep Gryphon under observation for the night until we could get a better grasp on what was happening with our baby son. The nurses came in periodically and updated us on Phoenix’s condition. I couldn’t bear being separated from either one of my boys.

I was so worn down that I couldn’t possibly process all the information that was being given to me. At times, I didn’t understand it, or maybe I simply didn’t want to believe it. I cuddled up to Gryphon and tried to fall asleep with him. Around 2:00 a.m., Gryphon started laughing in his sleep, sat up, hugged the air, and said, “I love you.” Little did I know that, at around the same time, Phoenix’s heart had stopped for 15 minutes. I didn’t know it then, but I know now that Phoenix had come to say goodbye to Gryphon.

For the next three days, machines kept Phoenix’s little body alive. Then, we received the most devastating news we hoped never to hear: “Your son, at this moment, is the sickest boy in the whole world.” Phoenix was hooked up to countless IVs, lines, and machines, at least 15, going into his little body at one time. They also had him on an ECMO machine that was inserted into his arteries to help oxygenate the blood. He was so unstable to move that they could not do a CT scan on his brain because his heart had stopped, and his temperature had reached 106 degrees. They held off until Sunday evening to do the CT scans.

From Friday to Sunday evening, we heard from the doctors, “Your son possibly has severe brain damage due to his high fevers, he has pneumonia, looks like we will have to amputate some toes and fingers, looks like we will have to amputate all four limbs.” It was shocking and horrible; it was hell.

On Sunday evening, they were finally able to move him and did a CT scan. The scan confirmed there was no brain activity. Monday came, and the neurologist confirmed that he was, in fact, brain dead. Throughout this extremely long weekend, the chaplain of the hospital stayed close with us. Sister Breanice was an absolute saint, and through her words and kindness helped Bart and I become at peace with where Phoenix was about to go. She was right there as we watched the surgeon take the ECMO out of his body, and she was right there as Bart and I held his little hands and watched his strong heart slowly die. Our baby was pronounced dead around 1:00 p.m. on Monday, February 13.

Please pardon my anger and sadness when I express how devastating it was to read the article regarding Phoenix in the local newspapers, a simply-put story regarding a nameless three year old who had contracted the meningococcal disease. There was no follow up to his condition, no call to action for parents to talk to their healthcare professionals, not even a note on what symptoms parents should look for in their own children.

No one knows where Phoenix contracted this disease. What I know, after doing my own research, is that this disease is only carried by humans and is passed along in close contact situations: crowded areas, high schools, dormitories and even preschools! I also know that this disease has a high fatality rate in children and adolescents, and many who are lucky enough to survive usually don’t escape its devastation without the loss of a limb, some form of brain damage, hearing loss, or kidney failure .

As a mother, I don’t understand how something like this can happen. That “something” being that any child in theUnited States could die from a disease that currently can be prevented by a vaccine. That is right: there are vaccines that help prevent the spread of disease and pointless deaths.

I am sure many of you have heard of polio, measles, mumps, and rubella, and how our society has done its best to eradicate these dangerous diseases. Every child that is born is required to get vaccinated at some point, and I am a parent who says, “That is great!” Why should our children die from a disease that can be prevented? How often do we hear of an outbreak of polio? Not often, or really ever. Thanks to vaccines.

I understand that there are many families who choose not to vaccinate. I respect your right to choose. However, I do vaccinate my children and expect to be given all of the necessary information to make an informed decision. Herein lies the problem: I was never made aware of the vaccinations available for meningitis. It is hard to believe that we currently have vaccines which protect against types A,C,Y and W135. One of the vaccines is approved for use in children as young as nine months of age.

There are five different strains of bacteria that can cause meningococcal disease, and we can currently vaccinate against four of the five. The vaccine is offered to teenagers, college students, military personnel and other selected groups. Although this disease is known to have a high mortality rate in young children, for some reason, this is the age group not offered the vaccine.

I am lost. No, I am more than lost. I am angry and saddened that this disease can take the life a child, and no one seems to care. Why aren’t the younger children protected with a vaccine recommendation? Without any kind of public outcry, pleas of parents who have lost their most valuable treasures are going unheard.

Our government needs to help protect our children and change the way our medical system works. Something has to be done but won’t be until we raise our voices loud enough to be heard. I didn’t want to be an advocate. I would much rather be holding my precious son in my arms, watching him play with his brother, tucking him in at night.

I have to say that without the love and support from our friends and family, I am not sure my husband and I would have gotten through this. So, I must ask you, from one parent to another: wasn’t Phoenix’s life worth that ounce of prevention?