Swollen Arm After Blood Draw Mga Nobela at Kwento

Neither of us tries to say ‘hi. My attention shifts when I feel Ansel leaning over me. He plucks a leaf out of my hair. “You look like you got eaten by the shrubbery, Karin.” He pulls a twig loose from the fabric at my waist and throws both onto the tray of a servant who’s hurrying by, just before dashes away. When we get to Doc, he cleans my arm with an alcohol swab and tightens a tourniquet around my arm for the blood draw. Ansel sits across from us, watching everything.

Jane was still trying to process what had just happened, but the uneven movement from Dravyn made her brain think faster. She rushed to Dravyn. His face was flushed red, his eyes had turned bloodshot, and he firmly held onto his other arm, which was shaking terribly. "Dravyn, are you okay?" she asked, checking him over. He could only shake his head while he gathered air in his closed mouth, making his cheeks puff out. "Get me the first aid kit, now!" she yelled, helping him walk to a chair close by. As Dravyn sat down, Jane gently helped him roll up his sleeve; thankfully, it was oversized. And then she saw his arm. It was swollen, far more than what the drilling machine could have caused.

“You can refuse, of course. But without the baseline data, I can’t properly oversee your care. Mr. Pierce would be very disappointed.” No wire. No recording. No one would ever know what I agreed to here. “Fine,” I said. I rolled up my sleeve. The needle slid in. Cold fire spread up my arm—not painful, exactly, but wrong. My veins felt too hot, then too cold, then nothing at all. Dr. Aris withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to the crook of my elbow. “You may feel some disorientation over the next few hours. That’s normal. Your body is adjusting to the agent.”

The doctor left the room just as Brenda was leaning over my arm, the needle dipping into my flesh as she released the ternicate she had placed on my upper arm. My blood flowed through the narrow plastic tube, turning the little glass vials a deep red as they filled. "You have a high pain tolerance, don't you?" Brenda said with a smile, capping one of the vials and filling another. I nodded, not the least bit queasy or lightheaded. "Well, that'll do it." She pulled the needle from my arm and placed a bandage over the spot where the needle had been placed in the crook of my elbow. "You might bruise a little, fair skinned as you are."

I replied, extending my arm. My clothes had been taken off earlier to stop Jace's bleeding, leaving me in just a sleeveless T-shirt, my arms exposed. The doctor hesitated, clearly caught off guard, but nodded. "Come with me." Blood was drawn, tests were run, and all we could do was wait for the results.

His face is a bit swollen, as well as his arms. "Sir, you're still here." Uncle Phil Doctor said behind me. "Doctor, why do his face and arms look swollen?" "It is normal, sir. Sometimes it was caused by the medicine." Isn't it bad for his condition?" "Don't worry, sir, it isn't bad. It's just a normal reaction of his body to the medicine." He replied. I nodded and didn't question him again. I don't want him to notice that I am doubting him. "Okay, I leave him to your care, Doctor. I hope he will wake up soon."

“Uh . . . you?” He shook his head. “No, you weren’t talking to me.” I pulled off the last vial and pressed a cotton ball over the needle. I pulled it out more hastily than usual, and Reed hissed. “Sorry about that. Here, hold this,” I said, and Reed pressed down on the cotton ball. His eyes were still trying to catch mine, but I made a big show of gathering all of my paperwork together. “So you know the drill, Reed Taylor. Drink lots of water; don’t use this arm to lift anything heavy. If there’s any strange bruising or a painful lump that arises . . . ”

I sat down and rolled up my sleeve with mechanical precision. "Tourniquet coming on," she said, voice even. Her fingers worked fast, wrapping the band tight around my arm. The pressure made my pulse spike. I could feel it in my throat, my temples, the space behind my eyes. "You good?" she asked, already swabbing my skin. I gave a shallow nod. A sting. The slide of the needle. The tube filled almost immediately—dark, spiraling red. I couldn’t look away from it. Every drop that left my body felt heavy. Heavy with meaning. With fear.

she asked, noting his pale complexion and the rolled-up sleeve that exposed a bruise on his arm. She wanted to scrutinize the bruise more closely, but he seemed to have realized something and instantly tried to lower his sleeve. "Wait!" she exclaimed, seizing his arm to stop him. In the center of the bruised spot, she easily discovered a needle mark, confirming that he had indeed just had his blood drawn. "So it’s true," she said. "I’m just undergoing a routine check-up. They need to do some blood tests," he replied nonchalantly, pulling his arm free of her grasp and readjusting his sleeve. "Aren't you supposed to have your prenatal check-up right now? What are you doing here?"