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There were few things as scary, in Neil’s opinion, as the moment when he and Andrew realised that Harry was having trouble breathing.
For weeks now, they’d been getting concerned about him. He was eating less and less each day, where before he’d been eating like his food would be taken away from him if he didn’t eat quick enough, and his bedtime was eight o’ clock, but he’d been falling asleep at the dinner table most nights, even after a good ten hours of sleep.
They’d mentioned it to Aaron, who told them to keep an eye on it, but when they realised that he was needing more and more breaks when he was playing, they decided that they needed to check him out. A brief meeting with Harry’s doctor, followed by a referral to the local general hospital left Neil and Andrew hanging on the edge of mental breakdown after mental breakdown.
The hospital appointment was equally harrowing. Neil watched Andrew duck into the room with Harry whilst he was measured and weighed, and Neil left Andrew behind to watch a doctor stick pads to Harry’s chest and listen to his heart. All the while, Harry chattered away, talking about his best friend, Grace, and how she was always teasing him but that it was okay because he always beat her at Exy. They watched him run around, playing on the rocking horse and bringing books to them, demanding that they read them. Andrew clung to Neil’s hand; Neil clung back.
Finally, a friendly looking paediatrician, Dr. King, came into the waiting room to call them back. She had Harry take his shirt off and lay on his side as she set up what appeared to be an ultrasound machine. Harry, at that point, held his hand out, and both Neil and Andrew hurried to take it, to offer Harry as much reassurance as was possible.
Over the screen, an uneven heartbeat sounded. Harry looked around in wonder.
“Is that my heart?”
“Yeah, sweetie.” The doctor smiled, removing her probe from his chest and offering him some paper towel to wipe himself off.
She gestured for them all to sit down, and Neil and Andrew sat close enough that Harry could comfortably sit across both of their laps. She made a few notes, then looked up at them.
“Okay, what I am saying may be difficult to hear,” she started. “But I want you to know that there are plenty of treatments for this particular problem, and more so that there is nothing that you could have done to cause this issue. He was just… born with it.
If you look here…” She pulled up a picture of Harry’s scan. “There’s some irregularity to his heartbeat. This is due to what is known as a Ventricular Septal Defect. It occurs when the lining between the two ventricles in the heart doesn’t develop properly, leaving a hole between them. It’s quite common; the CDC actually believes that 42 out of every 10000 children will be born with it. You mentioned a family history of drugs?”
“Yes,” said Neil, “his biological parents both used drugs. We presumes his mother took drugs while she was pregnant with him, but we can’t be sure.”
“Well that can increase the risk,” said Dr King. “There are a few options. With this particular defect, it can sometimes go away without any further treatment. However, since we are to assume that it has been causing him trouble since birth, and if we consider the fact that the symptoms have been getting worse recently, my recommendation would be surgery.”
Andrew tensed beside Neil, but his hands were still gentle on Harry’s side. “What would that entail?”
“When we treat ventricular septal defects,” she said, “we cut a short incision down the chest in order to access the heart. We insert a small patch, just enough to close up the hole, and sew it back up. He’ll be kept here under observation for a while – generally around seven to fourteen days – and then he’ll be free to go home with you. He will, of course, be required to come back for regular check-ups throughout his life, but generally speaking, he will be able to live a regular life afterwards.”
“Will we be able to stay with him?” Neil reached back, brushing gentle fingers over Andrew’s back in an attempt at comfort. “While he’s here.”
“Unfortunately,” said Dr King, “only one of you will be able to stay here with him full-time.
“He will be required to come in a few days prior, just so that we can monitor him and get him on a course of medication to control his symptoms before the operation.
“I know that this is a lot to take in, so would you like to come back in a week or so once you’ve discussed it all?”
They came back in a week and arranged the surgery.
Neil and Andrew agreed that Neil would be the one to stay with him full-time, whilst Andrew would take care of the cats and visit near daily. The morning his surgery was arranged, Neil spent twenty minutes reading through the good luck messages and well wishes from the Foxes, and from Grace. Neil watched him as he went under and out of the room, and he took the opportunity to call Andrew and update him.
The surgery itself wasn’t very long, and it could only have been a few hours later when Harry was returned to him, still out from the drugs and making Neil panic at the sight of bandages wrapped tightly around his chest.
“We’re going to reduce the anaesthetic slowly,” explained one of the nurses as soon as Harry was settled in place. “He should come out of it over the next hour or so.”
She messed with the IV at his side for a moment then stepped back, allowing Neil to step forward himself. He thought back on every moment since he and Andrew had taken him in, and somehow he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him look so small.
“The operation went well,” said the nurse quietly. “He’s gonna be just fine, Mr Josten.”
Neil hummed. Harry’s face twitched.
“How quickly did you say he’ll come out of it?”
The nurse moved forward again, watching as Harry continued to twitch, followed by his eyelids flickering. Her eyebrows shot upwards in surprise.
“I think your son really wants to be awake, Mr Josten.” She turned to the IV again. “I think we’ll have to reduce the anaesthesia entirely, in that case.”
Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Harry opened his eyes and nearly immediately reached for Neil. Neil reached back, let him tangle their hands together, squeezing as gently as he could. He still looked tiny.
“Daddy,” he mumbled, and then tugged Neil’s hand closer until he was hugging it to his chest. Neil eased it away as carefully as he could. “No hugs?”
“Sorry, buddy,” said Neil, “can’t agitate your stitches.”
Harry peered down at his chest, at the bandages covering it, frowning slightly. “Did ‘t go well?”
“It went really well, buddy.” Neil stood up, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “You did amazing. I’m sure Daddy’ll be here soon and he’ll tell you the same thing.”
“Papa…” Harry tugged at Neil’s hand again. “Are the cats okay?”
“Have you missed them?” Harry nodded, and Neil let a small smile slip. It wasn’t his father’s smile. “They’re okay, kid. They’ve been keeping Daddy company whilst we were here.”
A knock at the door cut off whatever Harry was about to say next, followed by the appearance of Andrew’s head around the door. Harry shuffled excitedly.
“Daddy!”
“Hey, Harry.” Andrew stepped in properly, and then approached to kiss Harry on the head. “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake yet.”
Neil’s lips quirked upwards, amused. “They reduced the anaesthetic a little bit and our little champ decided that he had to be awake.”
Andrew smiled slightly. “That’s our boy.”
Harry reached out with his free hand to take Andrew’s. “When can I go home?”
“Not for a while yet,” said Andrew, eyebrows furrowing. “They need to keep you here for about a week, Harry. Just to make sure everything went perfectly. And to make sure you don’t get an infection.”
Harry pouted. “I miss the cats.”
“And the cats miss you too,” assured Andrew. “But they’ll still be there waiting when you’re ready to come home.”
Harry let out a slow breath through his nose. “Okay. But you’re gonna stay for now, right?”
“Right,” nodded Andrew. “As long as I can.”