"And I have this pain in my shoulder. Just like Uncle Mark had."
The conversation is imagined. But it is exactly how I felt like Monday morning. As if I had been sitting on the front porch of the local rest home rehearsing lines of passing with my fellow inmates.
But I was simply at my doctor's office getting my orientation to Coumadin.
Having spent the last twenty years in medical litigation, you would think I would have known something about Coumadin. I didn't.
I think I knew one co-worker who used Coumadin. The only thing I learned from him is that he could not drink alcohol while using it. Not really a concern for me.
The nurse at the clinic had one duty on Monday: to calm my fears about the use of Coumadin. Not a problem. No fear here. At least, not before the orientation.
Example. She told me not to worry if I heard Coumadin was rat poison. It is not. It merely makes rats bleed to death. OK. I feel a lot better now.
She showed me a video from the 80s filled with testimonials of people who kept repeating: Don't worry. Don't worry. Don't worry.
And we all know how that works. Don't eat fat. Don't drive too fast. Don't touch the stove.
The result? We end up obese with suspended licenses and burned fingers.
Almost like listening to presidents telling Americans they should not worry. Just trust me.
But I am not worried.
Not even the finger prick for the blood test worried me. It simply showed my Coumadin intake was not not high enough. She upped my dosage.
I never thought to ask her at what level rats bleed to death.
I learned one other valuable lesson. Over the weekend, whenever I would hop around the house or use my crutches, I would be out of breath.
I asked the nurse if that was a side effect of the Coumadin. Wrong question. She said "No" and immediately booked me to see a doctor -- with no real answer.
Lesson learned: keep your mouth shut. And take your medication.
Except while rocking on that front porch.
I think I knew one co-worker who used Coumadin. The only thing I learned from him is that he could not drink alcohol while using it. Not really a concern for me.
The nurse at the clinic had one duty on Monday: to calm my fears about the use of Coumadin. Not a problem. No fear here. At least, not before the orientation.
Example. She told me not to worry if I heard Coumadin was rat poison. It is not. It merely makes rats bleed to death. OK. I feel a lot better now.
She showed me a video from the 80s filled with testimonials of people who kept repeating: Don't worry. Don't worry. Don't worry.
And we all know how that works. Don't eat fat. Don't drive too fast. Don't touch the stove.
The result? We end up obese with suspended licenses and burned fingers.
Almost like listening to presidents telling Americans they should not worry. Just trust me.
But I am not worried.
Not even the finger prick for the blood test worried me. It simply showed my Coumadin intake was not not high enough. She upped my dosage.
I never thought to ask her at what level rats bleed to death.
I learned one other valuable lesson. Over the weekend, whenever I would hop around the house or use my crutches, I would be out of breath.
I asked the nurse if that was a side effect of the Coumadin. Wrong question. She said "No" and immediately booked me to see a doctor -- with no real answer.
Lesson learned: keep your mouth shut. And take your medication.
Except while rocking on that front porch.
