Chapter 5
Panic jolted through me in an instant. I pulled back from Sally at once and lifted her right arm carefully.
As I peeled away the thin gauze, a wave of dread crashed over me at the sight beneath.
The faint pink mark of the bite had swollen drastically beyond normal bounds.
Bruises of an eerie, unnatural bluish-purple spread outward from the two tiny indentations.
The discoloration crept across her skin at a visible pace, bleeding into surrounding flesh like ink spreading through still water.
It was a chilling, unsettling sight.
"Why is it like this?" I panicked, my voice shaking uncontrollably.
I'd disinfected the wound thoroughly with iodine right after the bite, following every proper first-aid step.
A simple animal bite should never have deteriorated this rapidly.
"Mommy... I feel sick... my head hurts," Sally mumbled weakly against my chest.
Her cheeks burned bright red, her forehead blazing hot to the touch.
A high fever had taken hold of her.
Clutching my feverish daughter tightly, I screamed toward the hallway, my voice cracking with panic, "Michael! Get in here now!"
Michael burst through the door in an instant. One glance at Sally's flushed face and swollen arm wiped the calm from his features completely.
"What's going on?" Michael asked.
"I don't know! The wound suddenly flared up, and she spiked a terrible fever!" I was on the verge of crying.
"Don't panic. We're heading to the hospital right now!" Michael said.
He acted without hesitation, taking Sally from my arms and grabbing his car keys in one swift motion before rushing out the door.
*****
Bright fluorescent lights lined the hospital's emergency ward late into the night, yet the corridor felt cold and hollow, stripped of all warmth.
Our hurried footsteps echoed off the tile walls, mixed with Sally's faint, whimpering moans.
The attending doctor examined the swollen wound closely, his brows furrowing into a tight frown. "A dog bite?"
"Yes. It was a family Pomeranian, fully vaccinated every single year," I rushed to explain.
The doctor shook his head slowly, his expression grave with concern. "This reaction is highly abnormal, far more severe than a typical animal bite.
"Standard scratches or bites never worsen this quickly, nor cause this level of severe swelling and discoloration.
"It looks consistent with poisoning, or a rare bacterial infection we don't commonly see."
The single word "poisoning" exploded in my mind like a bomb.
I blurted out in disbelief, "That can't be right. Our home is always spotless, and it has always been perfectly healthy. There's no way it carried any kind of toxin."
Michael stood beside me, his face stormy with suppressed anger and lingering fear.
He gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with both terror and rage. "I always suspected that animal was off.
"Thank God we had it put down when we did. Who knows what worse harm it would have caused otherwise."
His words sliced into my already shattered heart like a poisoned blade.
Thank God we got rid of it.
But if Snowball had truly been dangerous all along, why had it remained gentle and healthy for eight whole years?
Why would it suddenly turn violent and carry poison only on that particular day?
My mind spun into a chaotic mess, countless conflicting thoughts racing in circles with no clear answer in sight.
The doctor moved quickly to stabilize Sally's condition, ordering blood work and starting her on intravenous antibiotics.
We sat by the hospital bed, staring down at her flushed little face and her arm swollen to the size of my fist, our hearts twisting with helpless agony.
Michael laced his fingers through mine in an attempt to offer comfort. "Try not to worry, Emily. The doctors will fix her.
"This is all my fault. I never should have brought that dog into our home."
His tone held exhaustion and remorse, yet his words rang hollow and bitterly ironic to my ears.
Now that disaster had struck, he placed all blame squarely on the departed animal.
But if Sally hadn't gotten hurt, would he still be happily enjoying Snowball's company?
Time dragged on agonizingly slow, every minute stretching into an eternity.
Nurses checked her temperature repeatedly, yet the fever refused to break; it only climbed higher.
The antibiotics flowing into her veins did nothing to ease her symptoms.
Sally slipped into a delirious state, twisting restlessly beneath the hospital sheets and mumbling incoherent words, "Snowball... don't run... Bugs... so many bugs crawling..."
Tears streamed down my cheeks unchecked, my heart sinking into the darkest depths of despair.
Dawn was breaking when the lead physician stepped into the room, holding the lab results in hand with a solemn expression.
He said without preamble, his tone heavy, "The situation is more serious than we initially thought.
"All standard bacterial tests have come back negative, ruling out a regular wound infection entirely.
"We suspect a foreign object is lodged deep in the wound, triggering this extreme inflammatory reaction and persistent high fever."
"What kind of foreign object?" Michael pressed anxiously.
The doctor shook his head. "We have no way to identify it without further exploration.
"We'll need to perform a minor surgical procedure to open the wound and clear the damaged tissue.
"Only by removing whatever is trapped inside can we identify the cause and treat her properly from the root. I'll need you both to sign the surgical consent form."