A summer day in the backyard takes a turn. Jay will need the support of his family to get through this battle.
Read on Ao3 or below the cut.
Bridget sits in her lawn chair, watching her boys run around the yard.
They’re playing soccer but with three players that includes an excitable four and six year old its basically a free for all.
They’ve been struggling lately with Jay having meltdowns because Will’s recent growth spurt means that he’s having more trouble than ever keeping up with his big brother but Will is doing a really good job today of slowing things down enough to give his baby brother a chance.
But she can see Jay tiring and worries she’s going to have to have another talk with him about how he can’t win all the time and Will won’t want to play with him if he cries every time he loses.
Sure enough, it isn’t long before he stops running; turning and trudging over to her with slumped shoulders.
She sighs heavily.
“What’s the matter, kiddo?” She asks as he reaches her.
He doesn’t answer, just crawls into her lap and curls up against her chest.
“Not having fun?” She asks.
“Tired.” He says quietly and she frowns.
“You feeling okay, baby?” She asks, running fingers through his sweaty hair.
“Cold.” He mutters and her frown only deepens.
It’s July in Chicago.
“Are you getting sick?” She asks him, gently shifting him to press a hand to his forehead.
His skin is clammy and alarm bells start to go off.
“Patrick.” She calls across the yard, seeing her husband turn toward her.
He sighs.
They’ve had a few arguments with him accusing her of babying Jay too much in the balance between teaching Will to give his brother a chance and teaching Jay to accept losing sometimes.
He’s probably right.
But that’s not what she’s doing right now.
He walks toward her, Will trailing behind with a slightly indignant look on his face.
“Bridget.” Her husband says, shaking his head. “He’s-”
“Do his hands feel cold to you?” She cuts him off and his face shifts instantly.
He crouches down, carefully taking Jay’s hands in his own.
“Yeah.” He confirms, examining them. “B. His fingernails are blue.”
She can’t breathe.
“Urgent care is still open.” She suggests.
He nods.
“Can you carry him to the car?” She asks. “I’ll grab my purse.”
“I got him.” He promises. “C’mere bud.”
Jay whines a little as he’s pulled away from her but quickly snuggles into his dad’s warmth.
“I got you.” Pat says softly, cradling the back of his tiny head.
“Don’ feel good.” He mumbles into the side of his dad’s neck.
“We’ll get you taken care of.” Pat promises before striding off around the house.
He’s buckling Jay into his car seat when she reaches them, Will standing back with confused eyes.
“Do you want us to come with?” He asks.
“Stay with Will.” She says. “See if you can’t get him to bed on time.”
He nods, kissing her.
She’s not sure what it means that her son has improved quite a bit by the time she signs him in at the urgent care.
His finger nails are no longer blue and his hands are starting to warm up.
He doesn’t cling to her as much while they wait for the doctor to call them back.
She’s torn between embarrassment and lingering concern by the time he’s sitting on the exam bed while she explains why she’d brought him in.
But the doctor doesn’t tell her she shouldn’t have done so, just listens to her list of symptoms, checks over the vitals the nurse had taken and then asks Jay if he can listen to his heart.
Jay looks at her and she nods encouragingly so he shrugs, letting the man place the disc of his stethoscope over his chest.
He listens for a lot longer than she’d expected, a frown twisting his expression that she doesn’t much like.
Finally he sits back, spinning on his stool to face her.
“It’s really good that you brought him in.” He tells her.
“What’s going on?” She asks.
“The symptoms you described, combined with his vitals now and what I’m hearing strongly suggest some kind of congenital heart defect.” He says.
She gasps.
“They’re not uncommon and a lot of kids as they grow, they’re heart sorts itself out. But some kids, as they grow and become more active, we start to see indications that their heart is struggling to keep up.” He explains. “I think Jay falls in that latter category. His resting vitals suggest that his heart is having to work harder to compensate for a reduced efficiency. And when he’s running around, playing, it just can’t keep up with what he’s asking of it.”
She nods shakily.
“What do we do?” She asks.
“I’m afraid that’s a little above the urgent care doc level of wisdom.” He says. “I’m going to get you set up with a referral to pediatric cardiologist.”
“I just… take him home?” She asks.
“They’ll call you Monday to set up an appointment.” He says as he writes. “They usually can get kids in pretty quickly. Until then I would recommend keeping him from exerting himself. He’ll hate it I’m sure but nothing that will elevate his heart rate. If he shows any symptoms under resting conditions or that don’t go away fairly quickly once he sits down, you’ll want to take him to an Emergency Room.”
“O-okay.” She agrees, glancing over at her son.
His feet are swinging back and forth as he glances between them, a frown on his little face like he doesn’t understand what they’re talking about but knows it isn’t good.
She kind of feels like when they’d first brought Will home from the hospital, not sure that she should be trusted with this responsibility.
But she watches the doctor finalize everything and then leave the room, leaving well wishes in his wake, and then lifts her little boy into her arms.
He rests his head on her shoulder, still exhausted from everything.
“Mama?” He whispers as they pass through the waiiting area.
“Yeah baby?” She asks.
“S’my heart brokeded?”
“No sweetheart.” She says, kissing his head. “It just a little hurt and we’re going to make it all better, okay?”
“Okay.” He agrees easily.
I’m going to make it better, sweetheart – she promises silently.
