Internal Bleeding In Arm Mga Nobela at Kwento

Luckily, nothing seemed broken in them. Taking a breath to steady myself for what I knew was going to be my broken arm, I pulled it in front of me to where it rested in my lap, sucking in a sharp breath as fresh tears filled my eyes when I saw the stark white of the bone protruding from the bloody mess that was my wrist. Panic quickly started setting in as I looked behind me and noticed the amount of blood on the floor surrounding me.

I try to open the window but I it doesn't budge. I start to cry in frustration as I struggle with the heavy window. Oww, my arm is hurting. What happened to my arm anyway? I slowly unwrap the bandage and gasp when I see the huge cut across my wrist with large black stitches. God, it’s a bad stitch job. My tears of fear start to fall. Whoever cut my arm didn’t care if I bled to death as that’s a main artery. With shaking legs I walk into the bathroom and close the door.

“Your arm.” He followed her gaze, looking down at his own forearm as if it belonged to someone else. A long, deep gash, hidden until now by the loose sleeve of his tunic, had been torn open by the violent movement. it was an ugly wound, not a clean cut, but a jagged, three pronged tear, as if he’d been mauled by something with immense claws. Dark, crimson blood was welling up from it, soaking the black fabric and dripping in a slow, steady rhythm onto the dusty stone floor.

ARTEMY As my gaze remained fixed on her form, a rush of uneven breaths filled my lungs, their rhythm faltering as I observed her battered body. An ominous hue of deep purple marred the side of her left leg, while an unsightly shade of green began to creep over one of her arms. Evidently, this bruise was a recent addition, perhaps no older than a week. Further inspection revealed an array of minor cuts tracing patterns across her skin. Her face bore traces of bruising, yet it fared markedly better than the rest of her.

“She’s coming with me.” They didn’t argue. I climbed into his car, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. The adrenaline drained fast, leaving me weak and sore. At the hospital, everything blurred into white walls and clipped voices. They checked my vitals. Cleaned the small bruises on my arms. Asked the same questions over and over. Alex stayed close the entire time. “Any internal bleeding?” he asked the doctor quietly. “Nothing concerning,” the doctor replied. “She was lucky.” I exhaled slowly as they wrapped my arm and advised rest.

"Sera! What game are you playing now? Think this will make me feel guilty? Make me..." His words stopped abruptly. His gaze locked onto my hanging left arm. Without proper treatment, my arm had swollen terribly. The skin showed a frightening purple color, nearly twice its normal size. The emergency bandages I'd wrapped around it were soaked through with blood, oozing pus and blood. Shock flashed quickly through his eyes. As if burned, he stumbled back two steps, almost roaring. "Where's the Pack Healer? Are you all dead? Get over here!" The Pack Sentinel rushed over in panic.

The tension in the room was palpable, each heartbeat echoing like a drum. The healer's fingers moved with practiced precision, gently probing the wound. He looked up at Alpha Gordon, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and worry. "We need to take him to surgery," he said, his voice calm but firm. "The injury is extensive. There are multiple fractures, torn ligaments, and extensive muscle damage. But what worries me most," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "is that the main vein supplying blood to the arm appears to be severed. If we don't operate immediately, he could lose the arm." Alpha Gordon's face paled, his eyes widening in shock. "Are you certain?" he asked, his voice b

His side was warm but he wasn't there. She tossed away the blanket and her eyes widened in fright. She opened her mouth but his palm against it smothered it, " It's my blood. " He showed her his arm. There was a cut on the inner side of his arm, it couldn't be easily found.

Shе’ѕ wеаrіng аn armband of ѕоrtѕ tо hide thе dаmаgе, but it hаѕ ѕlірреd down аnd еxроѕеѕ еvеrу hоlе that’s been mаdе in hеr skin оvеr the lаѕt two weeks. Thеrе’ѕ a lumр rіght іn the crook оf hеr fоrеаrm. It’ѕ in the space whеrе a needle hаѕ made іt mark tоо оftеn. It’ѕ wееріng pus. Mу frіеnd isn’t just wаѕtеd, she’s sick.

Shе’ѕ wеаrіng аn armband of ѕоrtѕ tо hide thе dаmаgе, but it hаѕ ѕlірреd down аnd еxроѕеѕ еvеrу hоlе that’s been mаdе in hеr skin оvеr the lаѕt two weeks. Thеrе’ѕ a lumр rіght іn the crook оf hеr fоrеаrm. It’ѕ in the space whеrе a needle hаѕ made іt mark tоо оftеn. It’ѕ wееріng pus. Mу frіеnd isn’t just wаѕtеd, she’s sick.