Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Last week I promised you I would have good news on Friday. And then I told you nothing.
No, I have not reverted to my political mold. No truth-bending here. My announcement simply needed a little more conformation.
I saw my general practitioner doctor last week. She told me my Coumadin sentence was drawing to a close. She wanted me to keep my monitoring appointment on Friday, but after that I would be done.
On Friday, I tripped over to the hospital thinking I would be set free. As so often happens when hopes are too high, mine were dashed. Apparently, the note entered in my medical chart was too ambiguous for the clinic. The nurses needed to talk with my doctor before they could terminate treatment -- and she was not in the office on that Friday.
So, I patiently (after all, that is my role in this drama) waited for news. And took my pills religiously through the weekend.
No news on Monday. No news on Tuesday. Until late in the afternoon. Just as I was reaching to call the clinic, my telephone rang.
The nurse told me I was as liberated as Elsa on the savannah. No more pills.
My doctor and the clinic at the hospital have been great through all of this. Whether or not I was ever really in danger of suffering any damage from the blood clot, we will never know. What we do know is the clot collapsed like the Soviet Union, and I survived. For that, I can thank the medical professionals.
I am now down to one medication for my blood pressure. And if I can strip off the pounds I have gained (and return to my regular food and exercise regimen in Mexico), I may be able to drop the last pill.
But, I am happy, for the moment, to be rid of the Coumadin.