As We Are | Book 2

Dearly Beloved

            

Chapter Eighteen

Dearly Beloved

"Gone?" I ask my heart sinking further and further down my body and I struggle for breath.

"Gone?!" I ask again hysterically.

My whole world has fallen apart. Pulled completely from under my feet.

Nothing. Nothing could prepare me for this.

"Calm down Mr. Madison," says Dr Martin calmly.

I'm about two seconds away from slapping the taste out of his mouth. He's just told me that Desirae has died and he expects me to 'calm down?!'

"I meant that Desirae, Ms. Wiley, has been moved to another hospital wing."

"Wha...?"

"She regained consciousness in the early hours of this morning and she's been awake since.

She's a trooper, made a very speedy recovery."

I let out a harsh breath of air and collapse onto a nearby chair.

"Sorry to scare you," chuckles Dr Martin, "should've used a smarter choice of words."

"Yeah, you think?" I heave.

Dr Martin chuckles gently to himself.

"I work in a hospital, sometimes you have to use a little bit of humour to get through the tough days. Besides, you did ask me where she was," he smiles cheekily.

"Yeah, you're right," I say, catching my breath as I press the palms of my hands against my watery eyes.

"Would you like to see her Chris? She's been asking about you all morning."

"Yeah. I'd love to see her."

Dr Martin takes my hand and helps me up off my seat effortlessly. For an old guy, he's as fit as a horse.

We walk down the hallway and into an elevator.

"I suspect you'd like to know the details of Desirae's condition?" he says cheerily.

"Huh? – uh – yeah, of course – I – what happened?" I ask struggling to function, feeling like I've stepped out of the twilight zone.

Dr Martin stares at me curiously for a second than he proceeds.

"I want to assure you that even though she's made a near full recovery, it was a close call."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that, when she was brought to the emergency room she was minutes away from death. She must've strained her body too much – of course for a person her in condition."

"Wh-what do you mean a person in 'her condition?'" I ask my heart racing again.

I really just need a moment. A moment to breathe and take this all in. These past 24 hours have been cruel to me, all I ask is just a second.

"I assume you know of her diagnosis?" he asks gently.

I shake my head.

"Ms. Wiley has tuberculosis. An infectious disease affecting the lungs – hence why she passed out and struggled to breathe. The disease shortens her lung capacity. Simple tasks such as walking for long periods of time is very risky and causes her body to... well, deteriorate."

"I...I had no idea," I say softly.

I'm so deeply saddened and disappointed in myself for pushing Desirae to do something her body couldn't, and at her, for once again, being incredibly dishonest with me regarding something so important.