It's Friday, the temperature is forecast to go above 70 degrees for the first time in more than six months in Seattle and it's the first day this week I'm not riding the bus to get to a doctor's appointment. It's noon and I'm in danger of goofing off the entire day.
But before that happens, an update:
Left blood behind at the hematologist yesterday for them to check the level of the oral direct thrombin inhibitor. If it registers where the doc wants it, they may take me off Coumadin, one of the two blood-clotting inhibitors I am taking. No call from them yet today (are they out enjoying the sunshine?) on whether the new med is doing its thing.
From nicking myself with a knife the other night while fixing dinner, I do know that stanching blood flow is no longer something my body does quickly. I'll need to be careful in my kitchen slave role to Kathy, the master chef in the household. I call what we do "Al-Qaida" cooking. She tells me what to do -- "Chop this, mince that, slice and dice the rest" -- and I do it, no questions asked. What the overall outcome will be, I have no idea. So if Homeland Security swoops down on us, I can honestly say, "I thought we were making bean casserole, not plastic explosives!"
But I'd also prefer not to bleed to death and become a martyr to dinner preparation.
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