The Adventures of Spleen Man, continued...

Day 4

So after three days of laying in a bed after a spleen embolization, after barely even able to move just one arm, after having absolutely no substances in my stomach, after having 3 billion IV's stuck in my arm, after having nurses wake me up in the middle of the night to draw blood like the blood-thirsty vampires you might see in an Anne Rice novel, after watching countless hours of History Channel's "The DaVinci Code Explained!" because that's the only pseudo-interesting thing that's on at 3am... After all of that...it just comes down to this: my blood count. A normal human beings blood count is somewhere between 43% and 47%. Over the past few days I have dropped from 36% to 31% to 28% to 26% and finally to 25%. Any lower and I'll have to get a blood transfusion and another operation: a Spleneoctomy. I never knew how much I liked my spleen. Please don't take out my Spleen!

I can see Abby, my nurse (not one of the vampire nurses...this one gives me pain killers...she is a goddess!), through the window talking to the doctor. They're talking about me. About my blood count. I'm trying to read their lips, but that's a joke. It looks like they're saying, "ABABOBABIBA" over and over. I can't read lips. But I CAN read expressions, and although they're not exactly grim, they're also not happy or content.

On my first day in the ER, when I was dropped off by the helicopter, I saw some paramedics and a doctor rushing by with an older lady on a stretcher. She had blood everywhere...on her arms, her torso, her face, her eyes. It was a car accident, I overheard someone say. She was unconscious. Later that night while I was unsuccessfully trying to sleep, I heard a ruckus in the next room. They had just brought in a 16 year old kid who had been shot in the chest. A gang war, they said. They were trying to save him for a long time. I don't know what happened to him.

Compared to them, my injury was a walk in the park. It could have been much worse.

But here comes Abby and the blood count now. No wait, she stopped at her desk to take a phone call. Come on Abby, tell me the good news or the bad news. I can take it. Unless it's bad news. I can't take bad news.

Here she comes.

To be continued...