It's not a game, but it should be. We should have a contest. How high do we think my temps will run today? How many times will I need some demoral to keep my teeth from chattering uncontrollably, to help me find any kind of warmth under the stacks of hot blankets, piping hot, steaming, like a Robert pancake.
Or what about guessing the other numbers that we're constantly monitoring: my absolute dearth of any measurable blood counts. Will they be coming back today? Which ones? We'd like something.
Polys would be fantastic. They would be perfect, in fact, the best line of defense against elusive infections, but we don't want to get carried away. Some of my own platelets would be cool, too.
Hell. Anything.
Any new blood counts would be outstanding. Any little blip on the chart to demonstrate that my bone marrow is waking up again -- still woozy from those mutiple sharp blows to the head -- shaking off the pain, slowly, slowly finding a way to get up off the mat, preparing to hit back.
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