It’s been eight years since David and I got married.
We didn’t have much, but our small house in Tennessee was always full of love and happiness.
David was a calm person. When he got home from work, he would hug our daughter, kiss me on the forehead, and never say anything bad.
But a few months ago, I started to feel like something was wrong.
He was always tired, and his back itched all the time. He scratched it so thoroughly that there were little bits of lint all over his clothes.
I didn’t think much of it; it could have just been mosquito bites or an allergy to the detergent.
I took off his shirt the next morning while he was still asleep so I could put on some cream and froze.
There were small red bumps all over his back.
At first, there were only a few, but as the days went by, more and more came, forming strange, symmetrical patterns.
They looked a lot like insect eggs under his skin.
My heart began to rush. There was something extremely wrong.
“Get up, David!” I shook him in a panic. “We have to get to the hospital right away!”
He laughed in his sleep.
“Calm down, honey. It’s only a rash.
But I didn’t want to hear it.
“No,” I said, shaking. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Come on, let’s go.
We rushed to the emergency room at Memphis General Hospital.
When David raised his shirt, the doctor who was there changed his face right away.
The calm, friendly doctor suddenly got pale and yelled at the nurse:
“Call 911 right now!”
My blood turned to ice. Do you want to get the police involved? Is it because of a rash?
“What’s happening?” I stuttered. “What’s wrong with him?”
The doctor didn’t say anything. Two additional staff members came in right away.
They put clean sheets on David’s back and started asking questions immediately away:
“Has your husband been near any chemicals?”
“What does he do for work?”
“Has anyone else had these symptoms?”
My voice trembled.
“He works in construction.” He has been working at a new site for the past few months. We thought he was just tired.
Fifteen minutes later, two police officers came into the room.
The air got thick and motionless, and the machines were the only things making noise.
My knees gave out. What were the police doing here?
It felt like forever before the doctor came back. His voice was calm yet serious.
“Mrs. Miller,” he said softly, “don’t worry.” Your husband does not have an infection. Those marks were not natural at all. We think that someone did those things to him on purpose.
I couldn’t feel anything in my body.
“Did someone do this?”
He nodded.
“We believe he came into contact with a caustic material, possibly something that was put directly on his skin. It took a while to respond. You brought him here just in time.
There were a lot of tears in my eyes.
“But who would hurt him?” And why?
The cops began their investigation right away.
They wanted to know about his coworkers, his schedule, and anyone else who might have been able to get to him.
Then I realized that David had been getting home later than usual.
He said he was “staying to clean up the site.” There was a strong chemical scent on his clothes once, but he didn’t appear to notice.
One of the officers and the doctor stared at each other seriously when I mentioned that.
The investigator said, “That’s it.” ” This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone presumably put something that eats away at things on him, maybe via his clothes. This is an assault case.
My legs quit working. I dropped onto the chair and shook.
After days of treatment, David’s health finally got better.
The red blisters went vanished, but they left behind little scars.
He held my hand and whispered when he could speak again:
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” The boss at work has been trying to get me to sign off on fake bills for materials that never materialized. I said no. He stated he would do something like this, but I didn’t believe him.
My heart hurt.
Because he wouldn’t lie, my loving and honest husband almost perished.
The police then said that everything was true.
Rick Dawson, a subcontractor, had put a chemical irritant on David’s shirt when he was changing in the trailer at the job site.
He wanted to “teach him a lesson” because he wasn’t being helpful.
When Rick was arrested, the company began a full investigation.
I didn’t know if I should be glad or sad when I got the news.
How could someone be so nasty just to get a little dirty money?
Since that day, I’ve never taken time with my family for granted.
I used to think that safety meant avoiding talking to people I didn’t know and shutting the doors.
I now know that the people we trust the most might be dangerous at times.
My chest tightens when I think back to the scary moment when the doctor yelled, “Call 911.”
But that moment also saved David’s life.
As he rubs his fingers over the slight scars on his back, he often says:
“Maybe God just wanted to remind us of what’s important: that we still have each other.”
I smile through my tears and hold his hand.
Because he is correct.
You don’t know if you really love someone until you’re in a storm and you can’t let go of each other’s hands.
