Seven Years Later
One year after Perry and Della married, they had their first child, Maureen. The following year they welcomed another daughter, Vivian. Five years after Vivian was born, Della came down with bronchitis. A week after her doctor prescribed her medication, Della collapsed at the office. Perry walked into his wife's room. She was utterly pale. The woman was sitting up in bed, but he could tell she was exhausted. Perry quietly walked over and sat in the chair. He took her hand and kissed it. They sat in silence for a while, "we have to talk about it," Della said softly.
"I don't know that I can."
"Well, I don't want to, but we have to."
"I know," Perry said.
"I want to go home."
"Darling, I want that too, but the doctor said that you need to stay here."
"Perry, the same thing is going to happen whether I stay here or go home. There's only one outcome. I don't want to," she paused to collect herself, "I don't want to...die here. I want to be at home with you and the girls."
"Alright," he said softly, "I'll arrange for whatever equipment you'll need."
"How are we going to tell the girls?"
"I don't know," Perry said.
"They won't understand what congestive heart failure is."
"For now, we'll tell them that you're sick and the doctor wants you to stay in bed."
Perry put on a brave face, but he was utterly devastated. He always assumed he'd go first, and that was just fine with him. The man never wanted to live a life without Della. Now, he was going to have to for his little girls.
Della eventually lost the ability to walk. One day, while Perry was taking care of her, she had a thought. "I want to go out."
"I know," Perry said.
"I want to see the girls play outside."
The two little girls walked in, "daddy, can we go with Uncle Paul and Aunt Gertie to the beach," Maureen asked.
Della looked at her husband, "Perry."
"Sure, but mama and I will go too."
"You said mama couldn't go anywhere."
"Well, this time she can. Get your things to the car so I can take care of mama."
Perry helped his wife change and carried her to the car. He placed her wheelchair in the trunk. The oxygen tank she was currently attached to, was at her side. The girls got in the backseat, and the family drove off.
Upon arriving at the beach, Perry got the wheelchair out and helped his wife into it. He hung the oxygen on the back of the chair. The girls got out and ran towards the Drake family. Perry stayed with his wife. "Are you too hot?"
"I'm fine," she said.
"Let me know if things change."
"Perry, go play with the girls. I'll be fine."
The man reluctantly stood and left his wife behind. Della smiled as she watched her husband and daughters play. Soon, tears began to fall. She wasn't going to be here anymore. She wouldn't get to watch her girls grow up, get married, or have children. She wouldn't get to grow old with her husband. Suddenly, Della felt a sharp pain in her chest. She groaned and Paul noticed. "Hey, what's wrong, beautiful?"
"Don't scare the girls," she groaned. "Tell Perry I need him to take me home."
Paul went over to his friend, "hey, Della's pretty tired. Why don't you take her home and we'll stay with the girls for a little while longer?"
"Okay, thanks," Perry said. He hugged the girls and Paul encouraged the little ones to go hug their mother. Perry looked at him and knew something was wrong.
Perry got Della into the car, placed the oxygen tank beside her, and the wheelchair in the trunk. He got into the car, backed it out, and turned it to leave. "Perry, I need to go to the hospital."
"I figured," he said as he continued to drive.
"My chest hurts," she winced and moaned in pain.
Perry wrapped an arm around his wife, "just lean on me."
Perry was pacing in the hall outside of Della's room. Finally, the doctor emerged, "how is she?" Perry asked.
"She's stable," the doctor said.
"How much time does she have?"
"Oh, I'd say about forty or fifty years."
"What?"
"You were told that your wife had congestive heart failure, correct?"
"Yes," he answered.
"Well, her doctor was recently indicted for several murders. All of his victims were his patients. All were diagnosed with congestive heart failure, and all died from poisoning. Della doesn't have congestive heart failure. She's been poisoned. Her doctor gave her the wrong medication at too high of a dose. She nearly had a heart attack."
"So she can recover?"
"It will take time, but she should make a full recovery. Now, we have to be careful with her heart for a while, but she should be fine."
"Can I see her?"
"Sure, go right in."
Perry walked in and smiled at his wife. He rushed over to her and kissed her, "I thought I was going to lose you."
"I'm sorry I worried you so much."
"Don't be," he said, "it's not your fault. Besides, I'm just happy that you're going to get better."
"Me too," she smiled as a tear fell down her face. Perry kissed the tear away. It would take a year for Della to fully recover. The doctor wanted her to take things slow for a while because of her heart. The girls helped with their mother's recovery. They didn't know what had really happened but knew she needed help getting better. One day, the little family was sitting down for dinner. Della was able to get around on her own and had her independence back, "mama, you're my hero," Maureen said.
"Mine too," Vivian agreed.
Della smiled, "why's that?"
"You couldn't walk, and now you can," Maureen explained.
"Back to old self," Vivian added.
"I agree," Perry said, "you're my hero too."
Della smiled and began feeling emotional. She had nearly lost this wonderful life she had worked so hard to get eight years ago after being hit by that car. Della had a new appreciation for life. She especially appreciated her husband who always took such great care of her. Even before they were married.
