I'm posting two chapters at once, so in case you missed it, please be sure to read chapter 7 to see Perry make a pretty important realization about himself!
And for those of you who are not medically-inclined, in this chapter, the word 'bradycardia' is a fancy medical term for an abnormally low heart rate.
Indeed, as soon as Perry set foot in the ICU and glanced toward Della's room, he noticed that its door was open, that her hospital bed was parked inside, and, thankfully, that Della was sitting up in it, eating her dinner off a hospital tray with relish.
"I thought you would be here soon," Dr. Hawley said, appearing at his side and touching Perry's arm, thus interrupting the lawyer's quick progress through the hallway. "Ms. Street gave me permission to discuss everything concerning her health with you, so if you are interested, I will."
"Well, Bill?" Perry asked breathlessly, desperately searching the man's face for answers.
The physician sighed.
"Well, the good news is that her heart rate stayed up all day, of its own accord. It's currently in the low-to-mid fifties."
"But?" Perry persisted.
"But the bad news is: we have put her through every single examination at the Cardiac Testing Center, and we still have not a single clue about the etiology of her bradycardia. All the blood work I sent in the emergency room yesterday came back, and it was stone-cold normal. I had even sent a thorough toxicology panel, to see if she had accidentally ingested any prescription medications or illegal drugs which could cause such a reaction, but that too, was negative. I then had Dr. Jeremy Liao, the Chair of the Cardiology Department and one of the most talented cardiologists on the West Coast, examine Ms. Street personally. Since then, he has phoned three of his equally prominent colleagues and asked them for consultation on her case, but even between the four of them and myself, we have no satisfactory explanation for why her heart rate dropped as it did. The best we can figure, is that there must have been some error…defect…in her heart's conduction of the electrical impulses which cause the heart muscle to contract, but why it happened to her, or why it seems to be correcting itself on its own…we simply have no idea."
"If you do not have a diagnosis," Perry said slowly, "then it follows that you cannot give her a prognosis?"
"Exactly," Dr. Hawley softly answered. "Nor any good treatment options, should her bradycardia recur."
The defense attorney caught his breath, as if someone had punched him in the stomach. In effect, the doctor was saying that Della could collapse at any time, and that there was nothing that could be done to help her. He could not imagine his dear girl forever living under such a shadow. To say nothing of his own anxiety!
"I suppose you told her?" Perry asked quietly.
"Yes."
"How did she take it?" he almost whispered.
"Like the brave woman she is. Gave me a bittersweet smile, thanked me for my efforts, said that she would see her lawyer – I presume that means you – and her priest to make sure her Last Will and Testament and soul were in order, and go on living her life. To that effect, she asked me when she can get out of here. I told her that she has to stay in the hospital until her heart rate is at least sixty beats per minute, preferably seventy." The doctor reached out and squeezed his friend's arm. "I'm sorry, Perry. I had hoped to give you more concrete answers. Let us hope that it was some sort of rare chance occurrence and will correct itself fully over the next several days, and never happen again. Inexplicable things occur in medicine occasionally, but as long as they are not repetitive and all the testing is negative, there is usually no reason to fret. The body has an immense capacity to heal itself. I am cautiously optimistic that such might be the case with Ms. Street. After all, she looks almost perfectly well right now. Go and see for yourself."
Nodding, the lawyer resumed his walk towards Della's room, and forced himself to plaster a smile on his face before he entered it.
"Good evening," he said to her warmly.
"Good evening!" Della said, pushing away her dinner tray and rewarding him with a sweet smile. "Did you pass Dr. Hawley in the hall?"
"Yes, and he told me everything," Perry answered gently.
"Then you must know that I am trying to negotiate my release from here, but I find that he is more difficult to convince than Judge Treadwell. Maybe you could use your skills and work out a bail hearing for me, or something of the sort?"
"Not a chance," Perry chuckled. "On the contrary, I will stipulate that he is an expert in his field, and that his testimony should be heard and accepted without question."
"A fine lawyer you'd make," Della playfully huffed.
Perry Mason found himself laughing, his heart much lighter. Della was herself again, that much was certain. She had a rosy color in her cheeks, and her eyes were sparking and perfectly alert. As Bill had said, her fainting spell and low heart rate had probably been a freak occurrence, since, less than thirty-six hours later, she looked as if it had never happened. The doctor's – and Perry's - hopes would more than likely be realized: the bradycardia would probably never recur.
"By the way, thank you for the flowers, Perry," Della said, gesturing to a lovely arrangement of roses on her bedside table. "They are lovely, and very fragrant, just as I like them."
"You're quite welcome," her boss said, casting another devoted glance at her. He then observed the pile of gifts next to the ornate vase. "But I see that I am not the only person to remember you today."
"Ah, yes, indeed," Della said, reaching out and plucking an orange out of the fruit basket which stood next to the flowers. She began to peel it. "Lt. Tragg sent me this basket of fruit, Hamilton Burger a box of chocolates, and Paul Drake the 'Get Well Soon' balloons." She popped an orange slice into her mouth. "Care for some of the fruit, Perry?"
"No, thank you," he answered.
"Did anything significant happen at the office today?" Della asked.
"No, not a thing," the lawyer answered. He didn't feel it was the right moment to tell her that he was so much in love with her that he had not set foot outside of the hospital all day.
They bantered back and forth for the better part of an hour. Then Janice came in, accompanied by another nurse.
"I'm leaving for the night, Ms. Street. This is Annette, she will take care of you this evening." She gave her patient a kind, but firm glance. "I know it is a relatively early hour, but you really should lie down and get some sleep. You need your rest."
"I suppose you are right, I am getting a bit tired," Della acquiescenced.
"Call me if you need anything, Ms. Street," Annette said.
"I will."
The nurses left the room, and Perry stood up.
"That is fine advice. Lie back and close your eyes, and I will turn off the lights."
"Thank you," she said, pulling up the covers. "Have a goodnight," she concluded sleepily, stifling a yawn.
As promised, Perry dimmed the lights and drew the window curtains to make the room more suitable for sleeping. When he tiptoed back towards her bed, he found that Della was already sound asleep, her breathing deep and even.
From her last remark, he gathered that she expected him to go home and get a proper night's rest in his own bed. He considered that option, but silently shook his head, and settled back into his chair at her bedside. He knew full well that if he left the hospital, he would only lie wide awake all night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if Della was still alright, and driving her nurse to distraction by calling every hour to check on her. The hard wooden bedside chair was by far the more comfortable option – for he could open his eyes every so often and see for himself that his girl was well.
Crossing his arms and settling back, Perry allowed himself to doze off.
…
Less than two hours later, he was startled out of sleep when the lights he had turned off suddenly flooded the room, brighter than ever.
Sitting up in a daze, he saw Annette, the nurse, standing by Della's bed, holding her hand and intently feeling for her pulse. Despite the brightness in the room and the nurse's firm grasping of her wrist, Della appeared to be sound asleep. Perry was just opening his lips to ask what the matter was when the nurse suddenly called out over her shoulder in the direction of the hallway, in a very urgent voice:
"I need some help in here, please!"
Almost immediately, several other nurses and orderlies appeared in the doorway.
"Call Dr. Hawley STAT!" Annette continued in tone of repressed panic, glancing towards her colleagues, "and tell him that Ms. Street's heart rate is twenty-eight beats per minute."
Author's note: 'STAT' in medical terminology means immediately.
Yes, I've ended with yet another cliffhanger!
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