Mach was a bloody mess. That wasn't to say that the man was really roughed up any; a bruise marring his pretty boy face and a singular broken rib not even out of place were the only evident external signs of injury. No, the problem lay with the inexpiable bleeding that was occurring from the man's orifices. He seeped blood like someone on Warfarin that had just been thrown off a mountain and without a sign as to why this should have been happening.
By the time the man had arrived at the clinic he was pale as a sheet save the crimson that leaked from him, painting that frozen grin upon his lips grotesque and macabre. His flesh was cold to touch; clammy without refilling of his capillary beds leaving all this distal appendages cyanotic" a corpse barely breathing and working hard to circulate what little vitae remained within the hunter. The first 24 hours were sketchy at best with immediate transfusion of saline, blood, plasma, and platelets to stave off the severe anemia and hypovolemia that the man suffered from. Standard and more esoteric scans found no given reason for the bleeding and magical scanning seemed to be out of the question given the "magic allergy' that had been attributed to the man's current state. And so it was with no small amount of apprehension that blind measures were tried to staunch the continuous flow of blood that threatened to shut down the man's body, starve his brain and organs of much needed nutrients and oxygen carried by that draining vitae.
Six units, twelve, eighteen, twenty four" the products were poured in and just as slowly drained from the man, the medications infused having no effect on reversing this chronic state. It was confounding why his tissues just leaked out that blood that was pushed in after but a few circulations through his system. Perhaps it was a small blessing that the man's mind seemed to have gone out on the longest lunch ever, decreasing the energy need of the man's body but only just so. After the twenty eighth unit hope was dwindling for any sort of recovery, the strain on the limited resource was growing in the face of that unknown etiology. Attempts to try and recycle some of that bled vitae only seemed to send the man's body into fits of convulsions; as if the blood that had just been running in his veins minutes prior were some sort of poison afterwards.
Twenty ninth and there was some serious questions about continuing such extreme life saving measures given no guarantor or individual appointed to make decisions for the man that seemed for all intents and purposes a vegetable without hopes of turnaround. The man's phone was locked and locked hard against snooping eyes but at the same time it may have been laughable to think that the carefree Mach would have anyone to contact in case of such an event. Or perhaps more accurately it was highly unlikely he'd have one because he'd not want anyone contacted given the brazen carelessness which he'd continuously conduct himself" which had landed him in this situation to begin with.
But then at the thirtieth something changed. The man stopped bleeding"from everywhere: his esophagus, his gastrointestinal tract, out his nose, ears, and eyes. It was as if a switch had been flipped and the man's body decided that it was done being difficult. Thirty one, thirty two' slowly the man's hemoglobin and hematocrit climbed with each unit prompting a change in care. A banana bag as well as other nutritionally supplemented IV's were started to try and balance out the man's horrendous blood chemistry though it seemed his body was not only on board with this but doing a miraculous job of trying to assist in this effort.
By the second day the man's reset rib was already starting to knit together, that bruise upon his features healing over at an incredible rate. One would have suspected he'd have popped up at any moment to rush and try and make the Fires of Beltane celebration. This was Mach after all" any reason to celebrate, to party. But he would not' and come the third day he looked to be well on the way to full recovery healing up at an unnatural pace with his features unmarred and his body chemistry no worse for wear. And yet' and yet consciousness still eluded the hunter, the man's mind not returning from whatever dark recess it had sunk into. Brain scans found activity' but it was weak, muted, distant.
And so that was how Mach was: stable if not strong, comfortable, IV feed, and comatose to the world around him.
(This is an open thread, please feel free to come and visit Mach at the hush, hush clinic in the Old Temple district. PM me with any questions and have some fun!)
By the time the man had arrived at the clinic he was pale as a sheet save the crimson that leaked from him, painting that frozen grin upon his lips grotesque and macabre. His flesh was cold to touch; clammy without refilling of his capillary beds leaving all this distal appendages cyanotic" a corpse barely breathing and working hard to circulate what little vitae remained within the hunter. The first 24 hours were sketchy at best with immediate transfusion of saline, blood, plasma, and platelets to stave off the severe anemia and hypovolemia that the man suffered from. Standard and more esoteric scans found no given reason for the bleeding and magical scanning seemed to be out of the question given the "magic allergy' that had been attributed to the man's current state. And so it was with no small amount of apprehension that blind measures were tried to staunch the continuous flow of blood that threatened to shut down the man's body, starve his brain and organs of much needed nutrients and oxygen carried by that draining vitae.
Six units, twelve, eighteen, twenty four" the products were poured in and just as slowly drained from the man, the medications infused having no effect on reversing this chronic state. It was confounding why his tissues just leaked out that blood that was pushed in after but a few circulations through his system. Perhaps it was a small blessing that the man's mind seemed to have gone out on the longest lunch ever, decreasing the energy need of the man's body but only just so. After the twenty eighth unit hope was dwindling for any sort of recovery, the strain on the limited resource was growing in the face of that unknown etiology. Attempts to try and recycle some of that bled vitae only seemed to send the man's body into fits of convulsions; as if the blood that had just been running in his veins minutes prior were some sort of poison afterwards.
Twenty ninth and there was some serious questions about continuing such extreme life saving measures given no guarantor or individual appointed to make decisions for the man that seemed for all intents and purposes a vegetable without hopes of turnaround. The man's phone was locked and locked hard against snooping eyes but at the same time it may have been laughable to think that the carefree Mach would have anyone to contact in case of such an event. Or perhaps more accurately it was highly unlikely he'd have one because he'd not want anyone contacted given the brazen carelessness which he'd continuously conduct himself" which had landed him in this situation to begin with.
But then at the thirtieth something changed. The man stopped bleeding"from everywhere: his esophagus, his gastrointestinal tract, out his nose, ears, and eyes. It was as if a switch had been flipped and the man's body decided that it was done being difficult. Thirty one, thirty two' slowly the man's hemoglobin and hematocrit climbed with each unit prompting a change in care. A banana bag as well as other nutritionally supplemented IV's were started to try and balance out the man's horrendous blood chemistry though it seemed his body was not only on board with this but doing a miraculous job of trying to assist in this effort.
By the second day the man's reset rib was already starting to knit together, that bruise upon his features healing over at an incredible rate. One would have suspected he'd have popped up at any moment to rush and try and make the Fires of Beltane celebration. This was Mach after all" any reason to celebrate, to party. But he would not' and come the third day he looked to be well on the way to full recovery healing up at an unnatural pace with his features unmarred and his body chemistry no worse for wear. And yet' and yet consciousness still eluded the hunter, the man's mind not returning from whatever dark recess it had sunk into. Brain scans found activity' but it was weak, muted, distant.
And so that was how Mach was: stable if not strong, comfortable, IV feed, and comatose to the world around him.
(This is an open thread, please feel free to come and visit Mach at the hush, hush clinic in the Old Temple district. PM me with any questions and have some fun!)