I think about my youngest son, then four weeks old, fighting for his life against a brutal RSV infection, having dropped back to his birth weight, too weak even to cry, unable to eat because his body is producing so much mucus that it's filling his stomach.
I think about him in the hospital, with the doctors and nurses gowning up and putting on face shields in what seemed like absurd levels of PPE, a gavage line snaked into his nose and down into his stomach to drip-feed his mother's milk, a CPAP attached to his face and a ventilator nearby in case it suddenly becomes necessary.
I think about the week that he spent there, his mom by his side the entire time. I think about his 17-month-old brother wandering the house looking for him, calling his name, and not understanding where he and mommy are. I think about my inability to explain to such a young person what was happening, and struggling with how to explain what happened to him if the worst came to be.
I was so excited when the RSV vaccine was approved. I don't want anyone to have to go through what my wife and I went through. It's normally a background virus, one of those that passes around the group of illnesses that we call a cold. But sometimes, it turns extraordinarily dangerous. The 2017-2018 season saw twice the normal number of deaths due to RSV, with over 8,000 dead just in hospital records. My son could have been one of them. Many very young kids were.
Damn you, Robert Kennedy, Jr. Damn you to hell. You have besmirched your father's name and have placed and will place hundreds of thousands of people in unnecessary danger. History will see the blood on your hands, and history will not forget you.