Preventable Diseases Part 12

Suppose that, in spite of all our precautions, the disease has gained a foothold in the throat, what will be its course? This will depend, first of all, upon whether the invading germs have lodged in their commonest point of attack, the tonsils, palate, and upper throat, or have penetrated down the air-pa.s.sages into the larynx or voice-organ. In the former, which is far the commoner case, their presence will cause an irritation of the surface cells which brings out the leucocyte cavalry of the body to the defense, together with squads of the serum or watery fluid of the blood containing fibrin. These, together with the surface-cells, are rapidly coagulated and killed by the deadly toxin; and their remains form a coating upon the surface, which at first is scarcely perceptible, a thin, grayish film, but which in the course of twenty-four to forty-eight hours rapidly thickens to the well-known and dreaded false membrane. Before, however, it has thickened in more than occasional spots or patches, the toxin has begun to penetrate into the blood, and the little patient will complain of headache, feverishness, and backache, often--indeed, usually--before any very marked soreness in the throat is complained of. Roughly speaking, attacks of sore throat, which begin first of all with well-marked soreness and pain in the throat, followed later by headache, backache, and fever, are not very likely to be diphtheria. The bacilli multiply and increase in their deadly mat on the surface of the throat, larger and larger amounts of the poison are poured into the blood, the temperature goes up, the headache increases, the child often begins to vomit, and becomes seriously ill. The glands of the neck, in their efforts to arrest and neutralize the poison, become swollen and sore to the touch, the breath becomes foul from the breaking down of the membrane in the throat, the pulse becomes rapid and weak from the effect of the poison upon the heart, and the dreaded picture of the disease rapidly develops.

This process in from sixty to eighty per cent of cases will continue for from three to seven days, when a check will come and the condition will gradually improve. This is a sign that the defensive tissues of the body have succeeded in rallying their forces against the attack, and have poured out sufficient amounts of their natural ant.i.toxin to neutralize the poisons poured in by the invaders. The membrane begins to break down and peel off the throat, the temperature goes down, the headache disappears, the swelling in the glands of the neck may either subside or go on to suppuration and rupture, but within another week the child is fairly on the way to recovery.

Should the invaders, however, have secured a foothold in the larynx, then the picture is sadly different. The child may have even less headache, temperature, and general sense of illness; but he begins to cough, and the cough has a ringing, bra.s.sy sound. Within forty-eight, or even twenty-four, hours he begins to have difficulty in respiration.

This rapidly increases as the delicate tissues of the larynx swell under the attack of the poison, and the very membrane which is created in an attempt at defense becomes the body's own undoing by increasing the blocking of the air-pa.s.sages. The difficulty of breathing becomes greater and greater, until the little victim tosses continually from side to side in one constant, agonizing struggle for breath. After a time, however, the acc.u.mulation of carbon dioxide in the blood produces its merciful narcotic effect, and the struggles cease. The breathing becomes shallower and shallower, the lips become first blue, then ashy pale, and the little torch of life goes out with a flicker. This was what we had to expect, in spite of our utmost effort, in from seventy to ninety per cent of these laryngeal cases, before the days of the blessed ant.i.toxin. Now we actually reverse these percentages, prevent the vast majority of cases from developing serious laryngeal symptoms at all, and save from seventy to eighty per cent of those who do.

Our only resource in this form of the disease used to be by mechanical or surgical means, opening the windpipe below the level of the obstruction and inserting a curved silver tube--the so-called tracheotomy operation; or later, and less heroic, by pushing forcibly down into the larynx, and through and past the obstruction at the vocal cords, a small metal tube through which the child could manage to breathe. This was known as intubation. But these were both distressing and painful methods, and, what was far worse, pitifully broken reeds to depend upon. In spite of the utmost skill of our surgeons, from fifty to eighty per cent of cases that were tracheotomized, and from forty to sixty per cent of those that were intubated, died. In many cases they were enabled to breathe, their attacks of suffocation were relieved--but still they died.

This leads us to the most important single fact about the course of the disease, and that is that the chief source of danger is not so much from direct suffocation as from general collapse, and particularly failure of the heart.

This has given us two other data of great importance and value, namely, that while the immediate and greatest peril is over when the membrane has become loosened and the temperature has begun to subside, in both ordinary throat and in laryngeal forms of the disease, the patient is by no means out of danger. While the ant.i.toxins poured out by his body have completely defeated the invading toxins in the open field of the blood, yet almost every tissue of the body is still saturated with these latter and has often been seriously damaged by them before their course was checked. For instance, nearly two-thirds of our diphtheria cases, which are properly examined, will show alb.u.min in the urine, showing that the kidney-cells have been attacked and poisoned by the toxin. This may go on to a fatal attack of uremia; but fortunately, not commonly, far less so than in scarlet fever. The kidneys usually recover completely, but this may take weeks and months. Again, many cases of diphtheria will show a weak and rapid pulse, which will persist for weeks after the patient has apparently recovered; and if the little ones are allowed to sit up too soon, or to indulge in any sudden movements or muscular strains, this weak and rapid pulse will suddenly change into an attack of heart failure and, possibly, fatal collapse. This, again, ill.u.s.trates the saturation of the poison, as these effects are now known to be due in part to a direct poisoning of the muscle of the heart itself, and later to serious damage done to the nerves controlling the heart, chiefly the pneumo-gastric. Moral: Keep the little patient in bed for at least two weeks or, better, three. He will have to spend a month or more in quarantine, anyway.

Last of all, and by no means least interesting, are the effects which are produced upon the nervous system. One day, while the child is recovering, and is possibly beginning to sit up in bed, a gla.s.s of milk is handed to him. The little one drinks it eagerly and attempts to swallow, but suddenly it chokes, half strangles, and back comes the milk, pouring out through the nostrils. Paralysis of the soft palate has occurred from poisoning of the nerves controlling it, caused by direct penetration of the toxin. Sometimes the muscles of the eye become paralyzed and the little one squints, or can no longer see to read.

Fortunately, most of these alarming results go only to a certain degree, and then gradually fade away and disappear; but this may take months or even longer. In a certain number, however, the nerves of respiration, or those controlling the heart-beat, become affected, and the patient dies suddenly from heart failure.

This strange after-effect upon the nervous system, which was first clearly noticed in diphtheria and syphilis, has now been found to occur in lesser degree in a large number of our infectious diseases, so that many of our most serious paralyses and other diseases of the nervous system are now traceable to such causes.

These effects of the diphtheria toxin are also of interest for a somewhat unexpected reason, since it has been claimed that they are effects of the ant.i.toxin, by those who are opposed to its use. Every one of them was well recognized as a possible result of diphtheria long before the ant.i.toxin was discovered, and every one of them can be readily produced by injections of diphtheria bacilli or their toxin into animals.

It is quite possibly true that there are more cases of nerve-poisoning (neuritis) and of paralysis following diphtheria than there were before the use of ant.i.toxin, but that is for the simple and sufficient reason that there are more children left alive to display them! And between a child with a temporary squint and a dead child few mothers would hesitate long in their choice.

CHAPTER XI

THE HERODS OF OUR DAY: SCARLET FEVER, MEASLES, AND WHOOPING-COUGH

Why is a disease a disease of childhood? First and fundamentally, because that is the earliest period at which a human being can have it.

But the problem goes deeper than this. There is no more interesting and important group of diseases in the whole realm of pathology than those which we calmly dub "the diseases of childhood," and thereby dismiss to the limbo of unavoidable accidents and discomforts, like flies, mosquitoes, and stubbed toes, which are best treated with a shrug of the shoulders and such stoic philosophy as we can muster. They are interesting, because the moment we begin to study them intelligently we stumble upon some of the profoundest and most far-reaching problems of resistance to disease; important, because, trifling as we regard them, and indeed largely just because we so regard them, they kill, or handicap for life, more children in civilized communities than the most deadly pestilence. Measles, for instance, according to the last United States census, causes yearly nearly thirteen thousand deaths, while smallpox causes so few that it is not listed among the important causes of death. Scarlet fever causes sixty-three hundred and thirty-three deaths, as compared with barely five thousand from appendicitis and the same number from rheumatism. Whooping-cough causes ninety-nine hundred and fifty-eight deaths, more than double the mortality from diabetes and nearly equal to that of malarial fever.

In medicine, as in war, the gravest and deadliest mistake that you can make is to despise your enemy. These trivial disorders, these trifling ailments, which every one takes as a matter of course, and expects to go through with, like teething, tight shoes, and learning to smoke, sweep away every year in these United States the lives of from forty to fifty thousand children, reaching the bad eminence of fifth upon our mortality lists, only consumption, pneumonia, heart disease, and diarrh[oe]al diseases ranking above them. Of course, it is obvious that these diseases outrank many other more serious ones among the "captains of the men of death," largely upon the familiar principle of the old riddle, whereby the white sheep eat more gra.s.s than the black, "because there are more of them."

While only a relatively small percentage of us ever have the bad luck to be attacked by typhoid fever, rheumatism, or appendicitis, to say nothing of cholera and smallpox, the vast majority of us have gone through two or more of these diseases of childhood; so that, though the death-rate of each and all of them is low, yet the number of cases is so enormous that the absolute total mounts high. But the pity and, at the same time, the practical importance of this heavy death-roll is that _at least two-thirds of it is absolutely preventable_, and by the exercise of only a very moderate amount of intelligence and vigilance. It is, of course, obvious that in a group of diseases which numbers its victims literally by the million every year there will inevitably occur a certain minute percentage of fatal results due to what might be termed unavoidable causes, like a badly nourished condition of the child attacked, unusual circ.u.mstances preventing proper shelter or nursing, or an exceptional virulence of the disease, such as will occur in two or three cases of every thousand in even the most trifling infectious malady. But even after making liberal allowance for what might be termed the unavoidable fatalities, at least two-thirds, and more probably nine-tenths, of the deaths from children's diseases might be prevented upon two grounds:--

First, that they are contagious and absolutely dependent upon a living germ, whose spread can be prevented; and secondly, and practically even more important, that more than half the deaths from them are due, not to the disease itself, but to complications occurring during the period of recovery, caused, for the most part, by gross carelessness on the part of the mother or nurse. A large majority, for instance, of the nearly thirteen thousand deaths attributed to measles are due to bronchitis, caught by letting the child go out-of-doors too soon after recovery, which means, of course, either a chill falling upon the irritated and weakened bronchial mucous membrane, or an infection by one of the score of disease-germs, such as those of influenza, pneumonia, bronchitis, and even tuberculosis, which are continually lying in wait for just such an emergency as this--just such a weakening of the vital resistance.

It is a sadly familiar statement in the history of fatal cases of tuberculosis that the trouble "began with an attack of measles," or whooping-cough, or a bad cold, and was mistaken for a mere "hanging on"

of one of these milder maladies until it had gained a foothold that there was no dislodging. As breakers of the wall of the hollow square of the body-cells, drawn up to resist the cavalry charges of tuberculosis, pneumonia, and rheumatism, few can be compared in deadliness with the diseases of childhood and "common colds."

Further, while all of them except scarlet fever have a mortality so low that it might almost be described as what the French delicately term _une quant.i.te negligeable_, yet a surprisingly large number of the survivors do not escape scot-free, but bear scars which they may carry to their graves, or which may even carry them to that bourne later.

Again, the actual percentage of the survivors who are marked in this fashion is small, but such milliards of children are attacked every year that, on the old familiar principle, "if you throw plenty of mud some of it will stick," quite a serious number are more or less handicapped by these remainders. For instance, quite a noticeable percentage of cases of chronic eye troubles, particularly of the lids and conjunctiva, such as "granulated" lids, styes, ulcers of the cornea, date from an attack of measles or even whooping-cough. Many cases of nasal catarrh or chronic throat trouble or bronchitis in children date from the same source. A large group of chronic discharges from the ear and perforations of the ear-drum are a direct after-result of scarlet fever; and the frequency with which this disease causes serious disturbances of the kidneys is almost a household word. Less definitely traceable, but even more serious in their entirety, are the large group of chronic depression of vigor, loss of appet.i.te, various forms of indigestion and of bowel trouble, which are left behind after the visitation of one of these minor pests, particularly among the children of the poorer cla.s.ses, who are unable to obtain the highly nutritious, appetizing, and delicately cooked foods which are so essential to the full recovery of the little invalids.

One of the English commissions which was investigating the alleged physical deterioration of city and town populations stumbled upon a singularly interesting and significant fact in this connection, while plotting the curves of the rate of growth of the children in a given district in Scotland during a series of years. They were struck with the fact that children born in certain years in the same families, neighborhoods, and presumably the same circ.u.mstances, grew more rapidly and had a lower death-rate than those born in other years; and that, on the other hand, children born in other years fell almost as far below the normal in their rate of growth. The only factor which they found to coincide with these differences was that in the years in which those children who made the slowest growth were born there had been unusually heavy epidemics of children's diseases and a high mortality; while, on the other hand, those years whose "crop" of children made the best growth had been unusually free from such epidemics and had a correspondingly low mortality, showing clearly that even the survivors of children's diseases were not only not benefited, but distinctly handicapped and set back in their growth by the energy, so to speak, wasted in resisting the onslaught.

This brings us to an aspect of these diseases which from both a philosophic and a practical point of view is most interesting and profoundly significant; and that is the question with which we opened: Why is a disease a disease of childhood? The old, primitive view was as guileless and as simple as the age in which the diseases occurred. They were regarded not merely by the laity but by grave and reverend physicians of the Dark Ages as a sort of necessary vital crisis peculiar and appropriate to each particular age of life,--a sort of sweating out and erupting of "peccant humors" of the blood, which must be got rid of or else the individual would not thrive. Incredible as it may seem, so far was this idea extended, that the great Arabian physician-philosopher, Rhazes, actually included smallpox in this group, as the last of the "crises of growth" which had to appear and have its way in young manhood or womanhood. Quaint little echoes of this simple faith still ring in the popular mind, as, for instance, in the widespread notion about the dangerousness of doing anything to check the eruption in measles and cause it to "strike in." Any mother in Israel will tell you, the first time you propose a bath or a wet pack to reduce the temperature in measles, that if you so much as touch water to the skin of that child it will "drive the rash in" and cause it to die in convulsions. And, of course, one of the commonest of a physician's memories is the expression of relief from the mother or aunt in any of these mild eruptive fevers, where the skin was well reddened and spotted: "Well, anyway, doctor, it is a splendid thing to get the rash so well out!" Until within the last ten or fifteen years it was no uncommon thing to hear the expression: "Well, I suppose we might just as well let Willie and Susie go on to school and get the measles and have done with it. It seems to be a real mild sort this time." Of course this view was scientifically shattered two or more decades ago by our recognition of the infectious nature of these diseases, but practically its hold on the public mind const.i.tutes one of the most serious and vital obstacles in the way of the health-officer when he endeavors to attack and break up an epidemic of measles, whooping-cough, or chicken-pox.

It cannot be too strongly emphasized that, mild and in their immediate results trifling, as most of these "little diseases" are, they are genuine members of that cla.s.s of pathologic poison-snakes, the germ-infections; that when they bite, they bite to kill; that two to five times in every hundred they do kill; that, like all other infections, they are capable of inflicting serious and permanent damage upon the great vital organs, the heart, the kidneys, the liver, and the brain; and that they are the very jackals of diseases, tracing down and pointing out the prey to the lions that work in partnership with them.

With whatever we may treat measles and whooping-cough, _never_ treat them with contempt!

The next conception of the "whyness" of children's diseases was that as one star differs from another in glory, so does one germ differ from another in virulence; that the germs of these particular diseases just happened to be from the beginning unusually mild and at the same time highly contagious, so that they remained permanently scattered about throughout the community, and attacked each successive brood of newborn children as quickly as they could conveniently get at them. Being so mild and so comparatively seldom fatal, little or no alarm was excited by them and few efforts made to check their spread, so that they continued to flourish, generation after generation. Upon this theory the germs of measles, chicken-pox, whooping-cough, mumps, would be in something like the same cla.s.s as the numerous species of bacteria and other germs that normally inhabit the human mouth, stomach, and intestines; for the most part, comparatively harmless parasites, or what are technically now known as "_symbiotes_" (from two Greek words, _bios_, "life," and _syn_, "with"), a sort of little partners or non-paying boarders, for the most part harmless, but occasionally capable of making trouble. There are scores of species of such germs in our food-ca.n.a.ls, some of which may be even slightly helpful in the process of digestion. Only a very small per cent of the bacilli of any sort in the world are harmful; the vast majority are exceedingly helpful.

There is evidently some truth in this view of children's diseases, especially so far as the reason for their steady persistence and undiminished spread is concerned, namely, the comparative carelessness and indifference with which they are regarded and treated. But some rather striking developments of recent years have raised grave doubts in our minds as to whether they were always the mild and inoffensive "house cats" that they pa.s.s for at present. These are the astonishing and almost incredible developments that occur when for the first time these mild and harmless "diseaselets" are introduced to a savage or half-civilized tribe. Like an Arabian Nights' transformation, our sleepy, purring, but still able to scratch, "p.u.s.s.y cat" flashes out as a ravenous man-eating tiger, killing and maiming right and left.

Measles--harmless, tickly, snuffly, "measly" little measles--kills from thirty to sixty per cent of whole villages and tribes of Indians and cripples half the remainder!

My first direct experience with this feature of our "household pets" was on the Pacific Coast. All the old settlers told me of a dread pestilence which had preceded the coming of the main wave of invading civilization, sweeping down the Columbia River. Not merely were whole clans and villages swept out of existence, but the valley was practically depopulated; so that, as one of the old patriarchs grimly remarked, "It made it a heap easier to settle it up quietly." So swift and so fatal had been its onslaught that villages would be found deserted. The canoes were rotting on the river bank above high-water mark. The curtains of the lodges were flapped and blown into shreds. The weapons and garments of the dead lay about them, rusting and rotting. The salmon-nets were still standing in the river, worn to tatters and fringes by the current. Yet, from the best light that I was able to secure upon it, it appeared to have been nothing more than an epidemic of the measles, caught from the child of some pioneer or trapper and spreading like wildfire in the prairie gra.s.s. A little later I had an opportunity to see personally an epidemic of mumps in a group of Indians, and I have seldom seen fever patients, ill of any disease, who were more violently attacked and apparently more desperately ill than were st.u.r.dy young Indian boys attacked by this trifling malady. Their temperatures rose to one hundred and five or one hundred and six degrees, they became delirious, their faces were red and swollen, they ached in every limb, and the complications that occasionally follow mumps even in civilized patients were frequent and exceedingly severe. In like manner, influenza will slay its hundreds in a tribe of less than a thousand members.

Chicken-pox will become so virulent as to be mistaken for smallpox.

Several of the epidemics of alleged smallpox that have occurred among Indians and other savage tribes are now known to have been only measles.

At first, pathologists were inclined to receive these reports with some degree of skepticism, and to regard them either as travelers' tales, or as instances of exceptional and accidental virulence in that particular tribe, the high death-rate due to bad nursing or horrible methods of voodoo treatment.

But from all over the world came ringing in the same story, not merely from scores of travelers, but also from army surgeons, medical missionaries, and medical explorers, until it has now become a definitely established fact that the mild, trifling diseases of infancy, "colds" and influenzas of civilized races, leap to the proportions of a deadly pestilence when communicated to a savage tribe. Whether that tribe be the Eskimo of the Northern ice-sheet or the Terra del Fuegian of the Southern, the Hawaiian of the islands of the Pacific or the Aymaras of the Amazon, all fall like grain before the scythe under the attack of a malady which is little more than the proverbial "little 'oliday" of three days in bed to civilized man. Evidently civilized man has acquired a degree and kind of immunity that uncivilized man has not.

Either the disease has grown milder or civilized man tougher with the ages.

The probability is that both of these explanations are true. These diseases may originally have been comparatively severe and serious; but as generation after generation has been submitted to their attack, those who were most susceptible died or were so crippled as to be seriously handicapped in the race of life and have left fewer and less vigorous offspring. So that, by a gradual process of weeding out the more susceptible, the more resisting survived and became the resistant civilized races of to-day.

On the other hand, any disease which kills its victim so quickly that it has not time to make sure of its transmission to another one before his death, will not have so many chances of survival as will a milder and more chronic disorder. Hence, the milder and less fatal strains of germs would stand the better chance of survival. This, of course, is a very crude outline, but it probably represents something of the process by which almost all known diseases, except a few untamable hyenas, like the Black Death, the cholera, and smallpox, have gradually grown milder with civilization. If we escape the attack of these attenuated diseases of infancy until fifteen or sixteen years of age, we can usually defy them afterward; though occasionally an unusually virulent strain will attack an adult, with troublesome consequences.

At all events, whatever explanation we may give, the consoling fact stands out clearly that civilized man is decidedly more resistant to these pests of civilization than is any half-civilized race, and there is good reason to believe that this is a typical instance of his comparative vigor and endurance all along the line.

If this view of the original character and taming of these diseases be correct, it also accounts for the extraordinary and otherwise inexplicable cases where they suddenly a.s.sume the virulence of cholera, or yellow fever, and kill within forty-eight or ninety-six hours, not merely in children but also in adults.

To group these three diseases together simply because they all happen to occur in children would appear scarcely a rational principle of cla.s.sification. Yet, practically, widely different as they are in their ultimate results and, probably, in their origin, they have so many points in common as to their method of spread, prevention, and general treatment, that what is said of one will with certain modifications apply to all.

I said "probably" of widely different origin, because, by one of those strange paradoxes which so often confront us in real life, though the infectiousness and the method of spread of all these diseases is as familiar as the alphabet and as firmly settled, the most careful study and innumerable researches have failed to identify positively the germ in any one of them. There are a number of "suspects" against which a great deal of circ.u.mstantial evidence exists: a streptococcus in scarlet fever, a bacillus in whooping-cough, and a protozoan in measles; but none of these have been definitely convicted. The princ.i.p.al reason for our failure is a very common one in bacteriological research, whose importance is not generally known, and that is, that there is not a single species of the lower animals that is subject to the diseases or can be inoculated with them. This unfortunate condition is the greatest barrier which can now exist to our discovery of the causation of any disease. We were absolutely blocked, for instance, by it in smallpox and syphilis until we discovered that our nearest blood relatives, the ape and the monkey, are susceptible to them; and then the _Cytoryctes Variolae_ and the _Treponema pallida_ were discovered within comparatively a few months. Some lucky day, perhaps, we may stumble on the animal or bird which will take measles, scarlet fever, or whooping-cough, and then we will soon find out all about them.

But, fortunately, our knowledge of these little diseases, like Mercutio's wound, is "not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 't is enough" for all practical purposes. The general plan of treatment in all of them might be roughly summed up as, rest in bed in a well-ventilated room; sponge-baths and packs for the fever; milk, eggs, bread, and fruit diet, with plenty of cool water to drink, either plain, or disguised as lemonade or "fizzy" mixtures; mild local antiseptic washes for nose and throat, and mild internal antiseptics, with laxatives, for the bowels and kidneys. There is no known drug which is specific in any one of them, though their course may be made milder and the patient more comfortable by the intelligent use of a variety of remedies, which a.s.sist nature in her fight against the toxin. Not knowing the precise cause, we have as yet no reliable ant.i.toxin for any.

Now very briefly as to the earmarks of each particular member of this children's group. It may be said in advance that the "openings" of all of them (as chess-players call the first moves) are very much alike.

All of them are apt to begin with a little redness and itching of the mucous membranes of the nose, the throat, and the eyes, with consequent snuffling and blinking and complaints of sore throat. These are followed, or in severe, swift cases may be preceded, by flushed cheeks, complaints of headache or heaviness in the head, fever, sometimes rising very quickly to from one hundred and four to one hundred and five degrees, backache, pains in the limbs, and, in very severe cases, vomiting. In fact, the symptoms are almost identical with those of an attack of that commonest of all acute infections, a bad cold, and probably for the same reason, namely, that the germs, whatever they may be, attack and enter the system by way of the nose and throat.

One of the most difficult practical points about the beginning of this group of diseases is to distinguish them from one another, or from a common cold. The important thing to remember is that, theoretically important as it may be to make this distinction, practically it isn't necessary at all, as they should all be treated exactly alike in the beginning. The only vital thing is to recognize that you are dealing with an infection of some sort, isolate promptly the little patient, put him to bed, and make your diagnosis later as the disease develops.

Fortunately neither scarlet fever nor measles usually becomes acutely infectious until the rash appears, and as neither is particularly dangerous to adults, especially to such as have had them already, a one-room quarantine is sufficient for the first few days of any of these diseases. We will lose nothing and gain enormously by adopting this routine plan in all cases of snuffling noses, sore throats, headache, and fever in children, for these are the early symptoms of all their febrile diseases, from colds to diphtheria; all alike are infectious and all, even to the mildest, benefited by a few days of rest and seclusion.

After this first general blare of defiance on the part of the system to the enemy, whoever he may be, the battle begins to take on its characteristic form according to the nature of the invader. We will take first the campaign of scarlet fever, since this is the swiftest and first to disclose itself. After the preliminary snuffles and headache have lasted for a few hours, the temperature usually begins to rise; and when it does, by leaps and bounds often reaching one hundred and four or one hundred and five degrees within twelve hours, the skin becomes dry and hot, the throat sore, the tongue parched, and the little patient drowsy and heavy-eyed. Within from twenty-four to forty-eight hours a bright red or pinkish rash appears, first on the neck and chest, and then rapidly spreading all over the surface of the body within another twenty-four hours.

Meanwhile the throat becomes sore and swollen, ranging, according to the severity of the case, from a slight reddening and swelling to a furious ulcerative inflammation, with the formation of a thick membrane-like exudate, which sometimes is so severe as to raise a suspicion of possible diphtheria. The tongue becomes red and naked, with the papillae showing light against a red ground, so as to give rise to what has been known as "the strawberry tongue." The temperature is usually high, and the little patient when he drowses off to sleep is quite apt to become more or less delirious. In the vast majority of cases, after two to four days of this, the temperature goes down almost as swiftly as it came up, the rash begins to fade, the throat gets less sore, and the rebound toward recovery sets in. About this time the daily examination of the urine will begin to show traces of alb.u.min, but this, under strict rest in bed and careful diet, will usually diminish and ultimately disappear.

In the event of a relapse, however, or setback from any cause, the kidneys may become violently attacked, and a considerable per cent of the fatal cases die from suppression of the urine. After this crisis has occurred, however, in ninety-nine per cent of all cases it is comparatively plain sailing; the throat is still sore and troublesome, the skin itches and tickles, and the eyes smart, but the little patient steadily improves day by day. Anywhere from three to five days after the break in the fever the skin begins to get rough and scaly, and gradually peels off, until in some cases the entire coating of the body is shed, having been killed, as it were, by the violence of the eruption. These _flakes and scales of the skin are exceedingly contagious_, and no case should be regarded as fit to be released from isolation until every particle has been shed and got rid of. This const.i.tutes one of the most tiresome and annoying periods of the disease, as complete shedding is seldom finished before two weeks, and sometimes may last from three to five.

However, this long period of contagiousness has been found to be really a blessing in disguise, inasmuch as we now know that even more strikingly than in the other children's diseases it is the period of _recovery_ that is the period of _greatest danger_ in scarlet fever.

Like the Parthians of Greek history it is most dangerous when in retreat. Keeping the child at rest for the greater part of the time, in bed or on a lounge, in a well-ventilated room, or later on a porch or terrace, for five weeks from the beginning of the disease, is well worth all the trouble and inconvenience that it causes, for the sake of the almost absolute protection it gives against dangerous and even fatal complications, particularly of the kidneys, heart, or lungs.

This is a fair description of what might be termed an average case of the disease. We also have the sadly familiar type described as the fulminant or, literally, "lightning-stroke" variety. The child goes down as if struck by an invisible hand; vomiting is one of the first symptoms; delirium follows within ten or twelve hours; the eruption becomes not merely scarlet but purplish from hemorrhage under the skin, giving the name of "black" scarlet fever to this type. The throat becomes furiously swollen, the urine is absolutely suppressed, the child goes into convulsions, and dies within forty-eight hours from the beginning of the attack. Fortunately, this type is rare, but the important thing to remember is that it may develop in a child who caught the disease from one of the mildest of all possible cases! Hence every case should be treated with the strictest isolation, as if it were itself of the most malignant type.

Naturally, the mortality of scarlet fever varies according to the type.

Not only may it a.s.sume a malignant form in individual cases, but whole epidemics may be of this character, with a mortality of from twenty to thirty per cent. Generally speaking, however, the death-rate is about one in twelve, ranging from as low as one in twenty-five to as high as one in five.

As in the case of diphtheria, the greatest danger and most powerful means of spread of the disease is through the mild, unrecognized cases, which are supposed to have nothing but a cold and are allowed to continue in school or play with other children. We have no ant.i.toxin and no bacteriologic means of positive diagnosis. But one method will stop the spread and within ten or fifteen years exterminate every one of these infections--_isolate at once every child_ that shows symptoms of a cold, sore throat, or feverishness, both for its own sake and for that of the community!