Swollen Arm After Blood Draw Novels & Stories

I leaned against the wall for a second, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I gave nearly two pints of blood. My body is strong, but even I am not immune to the physical drain. I roll up my left sleeve, looking at the crook of my elbow. A dark purple bruise is forming where the needle went in. I run my thumb over it. It throbs, a dull ache that matches the one she must be feeling in her arm. Good.

He withdrew his hand from Callie’s grip and stood up straight, fetching a thermometer from the cart and placing it under Callie’s armpit. He followed by positioning a stethoscope on her chest to listen to her heartbeat. After a moment, he turned to Wendy and instructed, ‘Miss Goldman, draw blood for testing.’ ‘Right away.’ Wendy complied. She intended to take blood from Callie’s left arm, but Jamison stopped her, advising, ‘Not from the left arm; use the right one.’ He was aware that Callie’s left arm was injured and unsuitable for blood collection. Wendy didn’t question Jamison’s decision and prepared to draw blood from Callie’s right arm. ‘Dr Garcia, I’ve collected the blood sample. I’ll g

At a glance, he appeared like a mad wild beast. The killing intent instantly turned into a terrifying airwave, and it rolled toward the surroundings. At that time, Brayden's figure trembled abruptly. Then, just when everyone thought he was exhausted due to losing too much blood, they saw Brayden's chest puffed up. The bulging was only about the size of a fist. After it appeared, it followed along Brayden's shoulders and moved toward his right arm. Then, it went down, passing by the elbow, reaching the wrist, and finally stopped at Brayden's palm.

"May I?" I nod, he then places the tourniquet on my arm. Then, once he finds a vein, he pierces it with the needle, then attaches the syringe. He quickly draws enough blood from me. He takes out the needle, places it on the tray. He then removed the band and placed a bandage over my small wound. He then places the blood in three different vials. One turns pink. "What does that mean?" I asked as I stared at the pink vial.

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.”

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.