Sunday, May 28, 2006

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...

3 Comments:

Blogger Oob said...

Oh, Gus... I came here to give you crap for not going to b-vard this summer, and here's what I'm faced with. Son, you best get better and quick, else Oob comes down there and... and.... nothing. Just get better.

7:06 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yo, spleen man, enough with the internal monologue, get to the action!

10:06 PM  
Anonymous D-rock said...

dude that sucks.

hey. who do you know that's in England right now? Some one visited my blog through the link on your site and they did it from England. Any ideas?

-derek

8:59 PM  

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