I have a three year old brother who was born with a heart defect. When he was born, my ocd was really bad (it had gotten pretty severe). Anyway, no one knew he was dying day by day. The doctor later told us that a cold could have killed him. He was around 1 month old when we noticed that his breathing had gotten faster, like he couldn't breath. My mom thought he had pneumonia and took him to the hospital, they did tests and told her to check with a cardiologist. It took around two weeks for them to realize that my brother's heart wasn't working.
He was rushed to the hospital, and was taken into surgery right away. The doctor told us that it would be "a less than two hour procedure". It took them 9-10 hours, his little heart had over worked itself, and they didn't think he would make it. During this time, my anxiety was through the roof. Everything annoyed me, I was upset and crying all the time. I remember my mom asking me to go stay with her at the hospital. I said yes, but during the whole time I was worried about getting something.
I remember walking into the hospital room where my brother was in, and not recognizing him at all. He had tubes sticking out of his heart, his legs and his little arms. His chest was covered by what looked to be plastic see through tape. They had left his chest open so they could easily go in, if he began to leak. Which he did, I mean they wnt in three more times after that. They told us that he would not live if they had to go in a fourth time.
During this whole time I was worried that my moms baby would get sick. I worried that he would get MRSA. Oh how I worried about that. I knew someone who had been diagnosed with it, and my mom had her baby near those disgusting people. I remember that person telling me her son had it. Everything became fuzzy, slow and like blurr. I would tell my mom DON'T LET THOSE PEOPLE COME HERE. They are going to spread their shit every where. My mom wouldn't listen. I cursed her out. I even told her that if the baby got it and died it would be her fault. (How rude am I, right?)
Anyway, he never got anything, and he came through. It took a while for him to get better. He lost all his hair and he weighed 12 lbs when he left the hospital, it did take some time for him to be able to learn how to eat and walk, but he got better with a lot of hard work. I remember changing him when he was 8 months old and looking at his tiny babylegs, belly, arms, and looking at his scar and thanking the doctor for not giving up. He is so full of energy, he likes to run for hours! He loves to play with everyone and likes to tell us that he loves us. He likes to call my phone in the middle of the night, and just go on about what he did that day.
My fear of MRSA is very big. My fear of it spreading to my family is very big. I don't talk to those people because I'm grossed out by them. I don't like them anywhere near my home, or the shops I go to. I don't like them near my family. I hate them for being disgusting. The reason the kid got MRSA, was because they left his diaper on for days. He would walk around with a poopy diaper all day and night. They never gave him a bath and they never cleaned their house. Is it wrong for me to be this way? People say I overreact, but have you read what MRSA is? Not many people know what it is. I've been told it's everywhere. The thought of it makes me wish I could live in a bubble.
My family is coming in from out of town and they plan on visiting those people. I've been worrying about it ever since my sister told me. I'm thinking of ways to prevent them from visiting those people. I told them they can stay at my house, but the second they go visit those people, I want them out. I don't care where they stay. I already told them if they want to be gross, they can be gross somewhere else.