Blood Draw Hit Nerve Novels & Stories

the doctor asked softly. Daniel gritted his teeth, sweat rolling down his forehead, his jaw muscles bulging with effort. His fingers twitched slightly, but they remained locked in a half-bent, claw-like posture. He couldn't close his hand. He couldn't open his palm. The doctor let out a long sigh, setting his instruments down on a stainless steel tray. "The nerve sheath in the lower brachial plexus is severely inflamed. The high-stress adrenaline spike you experienced, combined with repetitive micro-trauma from blitz chess, has triggered an acute neuro-ischemic spasm."

"You did a bang-up job, Georgina—uh, Jenny. It's not your fault at all. I think they just nicked a nerve when they cut me. They're going to have to perform surgery, but I should be able to walk just fine afterward. If not, who cares? A guy with a limp can be scary in his own way." "Oh," she says, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I should have looked closer. If I had noticed anything, maybe I could have done something. Wait—what if I tied the tourniquet too tightly? What if that worsened the nerve damage, and—"

A drop of blood hit the floor. Then another. The pounding eased slightly, the voices in my head faded to a dull echo. My breathing came in ragged gasps as I stared blankly at the floor, watching the blood drip steadily. Neville screamed. I saw her move frantically, rushing to my drawer, her hands shaking as she yanked it open. She pulled out a syringe already filled with a clear substance. There was no hesitation. She rushed back and jabbed it into my thigh. The sharp sting barely registered.

“Right away, sir!” After getting the nurse to bring him what he needed, he poked the needle into Fred’s vein to collect blood for analysis. Fred felt a sting as he watched the doctor draw his blood. However, the pain was nothing compared to the humiliation he felt. He rarely got sick and only received injections a few times. Yet, he had to have his blood drawn for what Lily did to him.

I yelled snatching my med kit from the chef and set it down on the bed beside Brandon. I brought out my stethoscope and hung it on my chest. I listened to his heartbeat. So weak but fast. I took out a new syringe and tore the wrapper. I drained the blue liquid substance in a bottle and reached for Brandon’s arm. I looked for a vein.. Oh fu-k!. Why must he be so thick? I raised his arm looking seriously for a vein. I didn’t mean to hurt him but I hit his arm hard and a green vein popped out.

"... however, one of the bullets hit a vital nerve in his lumber spine..." Vivian felt a freezing chill engulf her hearing that, she already knew exactly what situation was currently in at the moment. And the guilt from knowing that she had been the cause of him being in this situation at this moment rushed up on her once again as she staggered unable to stand on her feet. "What does that mean doctor?" Raymond once again asked not fully understanding how that would affect Sebastian's safety. "It means that the bullet had hit a part of his body that has to do with sensation and movements of the leg, and in a case where nerves like that are injured, the patient might suffer from temporary or p

“What do you want?” Blair pressed down on her shoulders to prevent her from getting up. “Donate 300ml of blood, or I’ll draw your grandpa’s blood. It’s your choice.” Mable froze. Blair threatened her to come back just so he could draw her blood? He looked at the time and repeated to the nurse, “Draw her blood!” The nurse moved quickly. Before Mable could react, a tourniquet was tied around her arm. The needle punctured her vein, and her dark red blood slowly flowed into a bag.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, their glow making the white walls look even harsher. A nurse guided me to a chair, wrapping a tourniquet around my arm. Her touch was gentle, but it felt like fire against my skin. "Are you sure about this?" she asked softly. I didn’t blink. "Yes." She nodded and inserted the needle. A sharp sting shot through my arm, but I barely flinched. My blood started flowing into the collection bag, deep red against the transparent plastic. I stared at it, my mind racing. "This should have never happened."

he said. He drove the needle into his own brachial artery with the practiced calm of a man who had seen a thousand battlefields. Then, he pressed the other end into mine. The connection was a jolt of raw, human heat. I felt his blood, steady and quiet, mixing with my own frantic, virus-laden stream.

I could barely tell how I got in my car so fast. Except the fact that I yanked the drip attached to my vein out of my hand. Maybe I yanked it too hard the moment the call ended because I could feel the thick liquid which flowed out of the spot. My eyes drifted down to the blood dripping down from the spot the cannula once lay. I had been lucky to run faster before the security the nurses had called could catch. My head rang with only one thing.