David stepped beside me.
Within seconds, Dr.
Rivera entered with two other members of the pediatric intensive care team.
He examined Leo, listened to his chest, and studied the rapidly changing numbers.
Then he looked directly at us.
“His infection is affecting his breathing more severely, and we need to place him on a ventilator.”
My knees weakened.
“No,” I whispered.
Dr.
Rivera’s expression remained compassionate but serious.
“This gives his body a better chance to rest while the antibiotics and other treatments work.”
“Will he survive?”
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Dr.
Rivera didn’t offer the easy reassurance I desperately wanted.
“He’s critically ill, Clara, but we’re doing everything medically appropriate to help him through this.”
I pressed my lips against Leo’s hot forehead.
His eyelashes fluttered against pale cheeks.
“Mommy’s here, sweetheart.”
David bent beside me.
“Daddy’s here too, buddy.”
