Tomorrow's Dream by Janette Oke, Davis Bunn Read Free Book Online Page A

First blood travels from the heart to the lungs, where it gathers oxygen. Then it returns to the heart and is sent out to the body, carrying oxygen and nourishment.” He paused a moment, gathering himself. “At least, that is how it should work. In your son’s case, there is a hole. A very large one, I’m sorry to say, which means that the blood is bypassing the system of valves and chambers.”
    Kenneth felt the void grow and expand until he was lost in the darkness. Helpless and terrified. He clutched at Abigail’s hand, yet did not even feel her reach across and place a second hand upon his. He wanted to shout at the doctor, tell him to stop. As if halting the words would make it all untrue. But he could not open his mouth. He was imprisoned. Lost.
    â€œThis defect in your son’s heart, this hole, means his body is forced to work impossibly hard. Rather than correctly sending the blood into the lungs for nourishment, oxygen-starved blood is being shunted back into his oxygen-starved body. The blueness—you must have noticed the bluish tint to his skin.”
    â€œWe’ve noticed,” Abigail said, her voice barely a whisper.
    â€œThis is caused by a lack of oxygen.” He sighed again, flipping through pages to a second file. “Your son is showing all the classic symptoms, I’m afraid. He won’t feed and takes all his nourishment from the drip. He has difficulty drawing breath, so we are keeping him on straight oxygen. And there seems to be some fluid buildup in his lungs.”
    Abigail demanded, “Can’t you operate—repair the hole?”
    â€œNot yet.” His eyes took on a distant, professorial look. “Some very good work is being done down in Dallas by a certain Dr. Yacoub. But they have never treated someone so young, or someone so seriously affected as your son, I’m afraid. The problem is not the surgical technique but the anesthesia. The risk to newborns is extremely high. We need a new, gentler anesthetic in order to start working with these very young children.”
    Kenneth clung desperately to the hope enclosed within the first two words. Not yet . “How long will we have to wait?”
    The dark eyes lifted to Kenneth’s and gave him another deep inspection. “If your baby were to survive another ninety days, I would say that it would be worth contacting Dallas.”
    There he stopped. The silence hung so heavy that Kenneth felt his own lungs were being robbed of air. Finally he managed, “What are you saying?”
    Dr. Hearly leaned across the table, closing the space between them. “Mr. Adams, your son’s heart is working impossibly hard. A newborn baby simply cannot cope with this strain.”
    He waited through another long moment, then continued. “It is so hard to know what is correct for a situation like this. But I can see what you must be going through right now, and your wife . . .” He paused and looked at the files as if searching for the next words. “I heard what Dr. Pearce and Dr. Saunders think about the situation before I did my own examination. That is why I decided to speak with you as I have.
    â€œMr. Adams, all three of us believe your baby’s life is unsustainable.”
    â€œNo,” Kenneth moaned. “It can’t be. . . .”
    â€œWe are doing everything in our power to keep your baby alive,” the doctor continued. His voice had the soft, deep rumble of a coming storm. “But his shunt is so large, this defect to his heart so severe, that your baby is not able to help us win.”
    Abigail recovered enough to whisper, “How long?”
    Dr. Hearly’s gaze did not waver from Kenneth’s face. “You must prepare your wife for the worst, Mr. Adams. Do so without delay.”

7  
    Joel was as happy as he had been in months.
    He had always loved trains. As a boy, he watched them thunder by and yearned for