Alright then.  what a strange...and wonderful turn of events.  Again.  Not the wonderful but the strange part.  I mean to say this one was wonderful but the first one wasn't.  Turn of events that is.   Well, you get the drift I think...

He is awake.  The dude just...woke up. and is apparently fine.  well as fine as one can be after a major arterial bleed and a mild cardiac arrest on the table.  Completely alert, completely in tact, completely chatting it up, completely...well...Mike.

The Dr. said it herself - when Soko's mom said "thank you so much," she said, "Don't thank me, it was all him, he's a miracle."

So shazam.  Set back behind us.  Set back that is set back. 

The arm remains in question, and well, thats better than...death I suppose, we'll just wait and see...

How many things can you pinpoint in your life that have had an uber significant impact?  That have clearly altered you?  That are engrained as a picture in your mind so vividly that the emotion of that very moment translates to your face just in the memory?

Sunday night, I stayed with Mike.  I was relieving his girlfriend as the night time shift is very hard on the body and mind - she does it pretty much every night.  As he can't use the call button yet, drink or eat...or frankly...move about, he needs someone with him pretty much 24/7.  Which on some level I think he both loves and is frustrated by.

He didn't have a very good night - very uncomfortable.  Frustrated.  We talked on and off about his feelings about what was happening to him - it varied from looking at the positive side in a very admirable way to levels of frustration beyond belief.  But as usual, as he is the most mentally-healthy person I know, he always ended the conversation on a note of "I know I'll kick the ass out of this accident"  or "I can't wait to just get to work and make my body right again" or "I know I'm a better person because of this", "Thank God I didn't hurt anyone else, and I was the only one who suffered from my bad decision..."

Yesterday, I came back to the house, worked for a bit, and then headed back to bring him some lunch, a request for a sandwhich from our old lunch stomping ground.  As I got off the elevator, his mom stood there white as a sheet...

"What's wrong?" 

"He's bleeding, profusely, can you go check?"

I ran down the hall, stepped into the room, and my life will never be the same...(again, not for the squeamish, and I write not for shock value but to only write the details to clear them from my head as they have been weighing on me all night and this is the safest place to do so)

Now, at this point, he's at a step down hospital...two blocks away from the trauma center where he was in ICU and had all his major procedures.  Thanks to our ridiculous insurance laws, this was a loophole to allow him to use the hyperbaric chamber at the trauma center as an outpatient, as the rules indicate inpatients can't use it.  Yes, I know, brilliant rule. 

When he transferred over, we were told he would not have the same team of doctors, but the timing was serendipitous, because he needs to be moving towards rehab, and this really was the next step - an accute long term facility specializing in wound care.

As I walked in, the bandage, and the surrounding bed linens were covered in the brightest while at the same time deepest red blood I've ever seen.  Mike is by nature squeamish (not sure if you remember the near-fainting entry I wrote at efx2 while he was reading a rather descriptive Chuck Palahniuk book.)  He looked at me and I knew he was going to faint.  So I did the appropriate thing and sternly requested that he not do that.  He kindly obliged.  I told him to look at me, right at me...and he tried very hard again to obey.

Once they cut through the bandages, I saw the artery.  Literally pumping out blood.  He asked if he was bleeding, and I replied yes, but they are doing their best.  At that moment, it squirted on his neck and face.  To which he had a reaction of both severe anger and fear...and then said he was seeing spots, and didn't feel right.  I repeated the command and said it was going to be fine.

Again, his doctor...team of doctors...are not at this facility.  Have I mentioned that?  Serendiptously enough, a vascular surgeon was in the hallway.  The nurses grabbed him, he was so calm and cool and collected.  He doesn't know, but I heart him due to this fine character trait.  I can't even remember his name, or I would call him and tell him so.  Thanks Dr. StrangenameIcan'tremember, you were really very cool."

"Ok, what is the history of his arm please?  It appears to be a combined cosmetic trauma? "

crickets. 

nurses looking at each other.

"We believe its a (insert something so not that it was here, its a blur at this moment"

Me, a bit frantic:  "Um, no.  Its a flap.  A latissimus repair, for the bicep, with brachial artery repair from the original trauma"

Dr  "Ah yes." (again very soothing) "Well I would advise we get him back to St. Joe's immediately, and get this bleeding under control, can someone please get on that while I get this bleeding under control?"

Mike begins asking questions "Am I still bleeding?"  "Is my arm ok?"  Then "I don't feel so well, I can't see out of my right eye"

Blood pressure drops, the Dr. literally has his effing finger on the artery controlling the blood, I'm instructing Mike to please look right at me, and hang in there.  Enter fire and rescue, they somehow stableize him, dump a bunch of saline in him, and boom, he's moved.

18 hrs later, he has had 13 units of blood, a nine hour procedure, and a 50/50 chance of actual survival through the night.  He is stable. He just received his third transfusion, and has had the entire brachial artery replaced with a vessel from his leg. We do not know what will happen next, we do not know if he will keep the arm, but we're told that that is the least of our worries at this point.  He is back in ICU and we are back in wait and see mode.   But, again, he is stable, and we're counting on that.

So, you may think you're just bringing a couple of sandwhiches to your friend, but then you're actually watching them almost bleed out.   Like a damn episode of ER or something.

Please tell everyone you love that you do in fact...love them.  Please tell people that have had a profound effect on your lives...about that profound effect.   Please be nicest to the people closest to you...always.  

And finally, please say a prayer...or a chant if that's what you're into... for Mike and Mike's family.