The sacs fill with fluid and pus, not air, and doctors count breaths because fast breathing is the body’s first desperate try to get oxygen. I know because with my nephew, I saw his little chest working too hard, and I told my sister it was just a fever. The sound of that child struggling—it was not a cold, it was the lungs drowning. Now I watch for that quiet, frantic rhythm; it speaks before the cough even comes.
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