Thinner than water

Posted on February 5, 2007 by Gene

This entry has some scintillating imagery.
The most annoying and disconcerting thing that I’ve dealt with since the heart attack is coumadin — that insidious blood thinner that doubles as rat poison. It thins the blood to such an extent that the slightest impact causes ugly purple bruises, brushing one’s teeth results in pink bristles, and dry air means nose bleeds.
I hate it with a passion. It is a constant reminder of fragility and makes me feel like I have to constantly worry about medications and milligrams and not eating vitamin K.
I’ve been coughing non-stop since I caught the flu, which just points out my new-found paranoia. Lately in the mornings, when I enjoy that first coughing jag like a heavy smoker, I’ve been coughing up a little more than just the usual phlegm you’d expect from the plague that’s going around. Yes, the one thing you don’t like to see when you cough: blood.

I didn’t really panic, because after six months of coumadin therapy, I expect to see blood just pouring out of me at any time. But hey, I’m paying big bucks for Kaiser, so I made an appointment — and even though the flu is sweeping through the Bay Area like seismic waves these days, the medical center was practically empty yesterday: the flu is no match for the Super Bowl, I suppose.
Blood tests and chest x-rays later, the consensus is that I don’t have pneumonia, and I’m sucking down codeine-laced cough medicine. As for the coumadin, it turns out that my blood was too thin. Ordinary blood is “1″; my therapy goal is to be between 2 and 3 (higher numbers are thinner). But yesterday, my blood was 3.9. Coumadin is a tricky thing, it is hard to keep the dosages and levels exactly right, which is why patients on coumadin have regular blood tests — I have one every two weeks on average to keep track of it all.
Until now.
Yes, thank goodness — I talked to the clinic today, and asked one very important question: “I’ve been on this for six months. When does it end?” Turns out, after some consultation with my doctor, that today is the day when it ends.
And that’s it. No more coumadin, no more ugly bruises when I accidentally bump my arm, no more nose bleeds.
Even better, now I’ll only be taking eight pills per day!