Patrick looked up from the book in his lap as he heard Shelagh's footsteps descending the staircase. He had been waiting for the chaos of the evening to quiet before sharing the day's news with her. In response to his outstretched arm, she sat beside him and leaned into his embrace.
"How did bedtime go?"
"It's almost impossible for the girls to stop giggling and settle down," she sighed, but her smile revealed her true feelings on the subject. Watching the bond that had so quickly formed between Angela and May was pure joy.
Patrick smiled, too, but then sobered. "Shelagh, your friend Hannah Clarke brought her son, John, into the surgery today."
"Did she?" she replied, somewhat distractedly, while reaching out to plump one of the scatter cushions.
"Yes, his school vision screening indicated possible myopia, just in the left eye. She was concerned because she herself has an inherited condition that can cause blindness."
"Really?" He had Shelagh's full attention now. "I've heard her mention an issue with her eyes, but she wasn't forthcoming with the details."
Patrick understood, it was a common British trait to keep personal issues to oneself. "It's called Patterson-Ross Syndrome and it's evidently quite rare. I could only find reference to it in one of my newer medical textbooks." He pulled his arm back from their embrace and turned to face her, gesturing with his hands as he elaborated, "The disease affects the retina but can also cause tumors in other organs of the body."
Shelagh's eyes widened, "Hannah definitley didn't mention anything of that! She's only asked for prayer from our group of Bible study ladies once or twice in reference to what we assumed were visits to the optician." Her forehead creased in compassion as she shook her head sadly, "I can see it was actually much more serious."
Leaning forward, he added, "She may be in a stage of denial, and what's more, fearful of knowing too much about it."
"Oh dear," Shelagh whispered.
"The few family members who are known to have it didn't present with symptoms until puberty;" Patrick crossed one arm in front of him and rested his chin in the other hand as he considered the situation. "I think she was hoping that facing it would be a long way off yet."
"Well, yes," Shelagh agreed, as her voice broke slightly, "he's only seven."
"The school test reported his vision in the left eye as 20/60 but in my office he tested closer to 20/100, even with the limitations of the Snellen chart that's not encouraging. I couldn't see as much as I would have liked to with the ophthalmoscope, due to his age he wasn't amenable to the bright light, but there appear to be some retinal abnormalities."
Shelagh sighed and Patrick took her hand in his. "I've referred John to paediatric ophthalmology. He's going to need a more extensive eye exam, but it seems likely he has inherited the disease."
"I suppose you may be right," she said, looking down at their joined hands.
"Shelagh," his voice was quiet and when she glanced up to meet his eyes he continued, "would you call tomorrow to arrange the appointment for them?"
"Of course," she reassured him. "I'll notify her of the date and time and make sure she knows how to get there."
He squeezed her hand, "Thank you."
They sat in silence for a time, the only sound the ticking of the clock above the fireplace. Shelagh leaned against him as they took comfort in one another, each lost in their own thoughts until she spoke once more, "Hannah has a wonderful support system at the church."
"That's good. She may be about to face this for the first time, for herself as well as her son."
"And Patrick," Shelagh added with concern, "she has a little daughter, Angela and May's age. They're all in the same class at nursery."
She felt his sigh as it ruffled her hair, "She'll need to be tested, too."