Page 36 of Must Love Christmas

48 Days UntilChristmas

His eyes still closed, Simon heard the same intermittent beeps he’d heard before falling asleep. The sound came in an unsteady rhythm, which had been driving him a bit round the bend, not knowing when to anticipate the next one.

The fog of fatigue filled his head, and he tried to return to sleep, knowing that waking could reveal he’d lost another part of himself.

Then he heard Garen speaking to the left of his bed. “What’s that contraption for?”

“We’re removing some of his blood,” replied a melodious female voice on the other side.

“Why?” Garen asked.

“So we can separate the plasma from the cells.”

“In that machine?”

“Yes, it’s got a centrifuge. That’s what that whirring noise was a minute ago.”

“Then what?”

“Then we combine the rest of his blood with donated plasma—that’s the bag of yellow liquid—and put it back in his body.” She touched the bed beside Simon’s right arm, where they’d placed one of the catheters. “Studies show it helps people with Guillain-Barré syndrome recover faster.”

“Why does it work?”

The woman hesitated. “It’s a bit technical.”

“That’s all right. I’m a zoologist.”

A distant part of Simon’s mind found this hilarious, a momentary port in the storm.

“Well,” the woman said, “his old plasma carries the particular protein fooling your friend’s immune system. With that removed, the body will stop attacking itself.”

“And by ‘itself’ you mean the myelin sheath of the spinal cord.”

“Yes.”

“Which helps send signals to his limbs and all.”

“That’s correct.”

“Got it.” Garen was silent for a personal-best ten seconds. “How did they figure that out? Was it by accident, like the discovery of penicillin, or did they deduce it because they knew that that protein was in the plasma?”

“Actually, I don’t know. They’ve been using this treatment since before I became a nurse.”

“And when was that?”

“Garen.” Simon opened his eyes. “Leave her be so she can do her job.”

The nurse laughed. “I had a feeling you were awake.”

“How long was I sleeping?”

“Nearly two hours.” She did a quick jazz-hands, flashing her neon-pink fingernails. “Which means wa-hey!—your first plasma exchange is nearly finished. I told you it’d be boring.”

It took Simon a moment to remember it was Monday. The last thirty-six hours had been a blur of pain and fear as all four limbs turned against him, inch by inch.Ascending paralysis, he’d heard one doctor say to another, a hallmark of Guillain-Barré syndrome.

Thus far, the paralysis had stopped at his hips and shoulders, but there was a chance it could envelop his entire body, so he’d been admitted to intensive care in case he needed a ventilator to breathe.

Simon checked the nurse’s name badge—adorned with a white “peace” poppy—to recall who she was amongst his ensemble cast of caretakers. “Natasha, this is Garen. He’s annoying.”

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