On April 1, 2012, a date forever etched in our memories, our world irrevocably changed. At a New York hospital, the doctor emerged from the waiting room after three agonizing days and nights at our son Rory’s bedside. His words, heavy with sorrow, confirmed our deepest fears: Rory was gone. The ensuing devastation defies description, a pain so profound words fail to capture its depth.
In March of that year, our Rory was a vibrant, healthy 12-year-old boy, standing 5 feet 9 inches tall and weighing 169 pounds. His life was a tapestry woven with laughter and love. A devoted son and brother, Rory shared an exceptionally close bond with his younger sister, Kathleen. Known for his keen intellect and passion for politics and debate, he also enjoyed the simple pleasures of bike rides and skateboarding. A true and loyal friend, Rory possessed an unwavering moral compass.
On Wednesday, March 28, 2012, during gym class at Garden School in Jackson Heights, NY, Rory dove for a ball and scraped his arm. Despite the school nurse being on duty, the gym teacher merely applied two Band-Aids to the wound, neglecting to clean it properly. This seemingly minor incident was the beginning of a tragic cascade of events.
Past midnight, Rory awoke, groaning in pain from his leg. We comforted him back to sleep, but the next morning, he presented with a alarming fever of 104°F. We immediately contacted his pediatrician, Dr. Susan Levitzky, who scheduled an appointment for 6 pm. During the consultation, we showed her the scrape on his elbow. She checked his vital signs and noted his mottled skin, his complaints of leg pain and stomach tenderness. However, she dismissed our concerns, attributing Rory’s symptoms to a stomach virus prevalent in New York at the time. Dr. Levitzky advised us to take him to the hospital for rehydration, anticipating diarrhea the following day, assuring us it was just a virus that would run its course and that there was “nothing to worry about.”
Heeding her advice, we rushed to the ER of a prominent New York medical center. The doctors there echoed the pediatrician’s diagnosis, attributing Rory’s discomfort to a stomach bug and dehydration. They administered two bags of intravenous fluids and drew three vials of blood. Before discharging him, they prescribed Zofran, an anti-nausea medication. The hospital pediatrician who examined Rory noted “pt improved” on his chart, reinforcing the stomach virus diagnosis and suggesting a week-long recovery.
We brought Rory home that Thursday night. He fell into a restless sleep, but Friday morning brought no improvement; he continued to complain of intense pain. Desperate, we repeatedly called Dr. Levitzky, informing her that Rory was unable to eat and that neither Tylenol nor Motrin could control his escalating fever.
By Friday evening, Rory’s condition had deteriorated drastically, prompting us to return to the hospital. This time, he was admitted to the ICU. It was tragically clear: Rory was critically ill, battling a severe infection that had been present in his blood since Thursday.
The innocuous cut on his arm had become a gateway for bacteria to invade his bloodstream. Rory was in septic shock, a life-threatening condition.
When we first sought medical help for Rory, both at his pediatrician’s office and the emergency room on Thursday, he was already fighting for his life. Crucial information gathered by Dr. Levitzky and the hospital staff that night was tragically overlooked and deemed insignificant. Alarmingly, Rory’s vital signs had worsened even before his discharge from the emergency room on Thursday night.
The blood tests that were ordered stat (immediately) were not reviewed by the ordering hospital doctor in a timely manner. Within an hour of Rory’s arrival, the hospital laboratory flagged his bloodwork as abnormal, indicating a serious issue. Yet, a critical system failure meant this vital information was not communicated to the emergency room staff. By the time the critical test results revealed the severity of Rory’s illness, we had already left the hospital, unknowingly taking him home to face a silent killer.
The hospital made no attempt to contact us, Rory’s family, to alert us about his critical condition. Our pediatrician, Dr. Levitzky, also failed to follow up with the hospital on Friday, despite our repeated calls expressing grave concerns about Rory’s lack of improvement.
Rory fought with incredible strength and resilience throughout Friday and Saturday, but tragically, it was too late. On Sunday evening, Rory succumbed to sepsis.
Never Again: These two words encapsulate the overwhelming emotions that consumed us after Rory’s preventable death. Sepsis was a term unfamiliar to us before this devastating tragedy. We soon learned that sepsis is the leading cause of death for children worldwide. In the United States, it claims more lives than breast cancer, lung cancer, and stroke combined. Yet, death from sepsis is often preventable with timely diagnosis and treatment. Had Rory’s pediatrician recognized the telltale symptoms of sepsis he clearly exhibited, he would be alive today. Had the ER doctors promptly reviewed the bloodwork they ordered, revealing a raging infection, he would be alive. Had the public been more educated about sepsis, our precious son, Rory, would still be with us.
Since Rory’s passing, we have dedicated ourselves tirelessly to raising sepsis awareness and advocating for improved protocols in emergency rooms to prevent other families from enduring such unimaginable loss.
Throughout our ongoing journey, we carry the memory of Rory, a child who championed justice throughout his brief but impactful life.
We are committed to continuing his fight.
Rory’s death was a tragedy that should never have happened.
His spirit continues to inspire our work, and he will live on eternally through our efforts in his name.
Orlaith, Ciaran and Kathleen Staunton
