Dr. Youngblood* Strikes Again!



Translation: "Dead Rat Ball". How utterly charming

They kept me for a few days after all the tests and then discharged me. It was good to get home after my cardiac scare. I was determined not to go back to the hospital under pretty much any circumstances. I was, however, still tired and dizzy and weak, oh my! Turns out that even after receiving three units of blood, I was still quite anemic. My hematologist, Dr. Youngblood*, still wanted to know why. Consequently, he was still insisting on a bone marrow biopsy. This is something that scared the hell out of me when he first brought it up (see "Transylvania Transfer", October 6th). I managed to stall for a while and then I had the good fortune to go into A-Fib and wind up back in Mt. Sinai where he couldn't get me in his evil clutches. So how did he get back in the picture? Glad you asked. Because my heart had gone into A-Fib, they had put me on Coumadin. Coumadin is a blood thinner. Its generic name is Warfarin. Guess what else it's used for. Give up? Are you ready? Warfarin started life as rat poison! I kid you not. The cute little vermin eat the Warfarin, it causes massive internal bleeding and they go to that big garbage dump in the sky. When I heard this little tidbit about the new kid in my medical arsenal, I became quite nauseous. The new kid in my medical arsenal? What the hell does that even mean? Has there ever been a more ridiculous mixed metaphor? I've gotta stop writing this drivel at 6:00 in the morning. My brain does not function that early. I mean, come on; that big garbage dump in the sky was bad enough. But the new kid in my medical arsenal? Sheesh! Anyway, Coumadin needs to be monitored so your blood doesn't become too thin and then start leaking out your ears or some such thing. So I had to go to Dr. Katzenelenbogen every week or so and have him check my blood. I'm still doing that, ad hayom hazeh**. On one such excursion, the blood came up dangerously thin (I had to eat broccoli and cauliflower for a week, don't ask) but also quite hemoglobin-less. Hence Dr. Youngblood was once again summoned. When I informed Dr. Katzenelenbogen that Dr. Youngblood planned on doing the biopsy, he responded (quite rationally, I might add) that it might be better to wait till I was off the Coumadin, mostly so that I don't bleed to death during the procedure. That, he thought, might impede my recovery, perhaps even permanently. Pshaw! said Dr. Youngblood. Nonsense, poppycock and all other expressions of ridicule. How quaint of Dr. Katzenelenbogen to express concern for his patient! I must have been absent the day that was taught in med school. The fact that Dr. Katzenelenbogen has shoes older than Dr. Youngblood should have told me that I ought to give his opinion more weight. Should have, but apparently did not. I allowed myself to be verbally bullied into scheduling the procedure. In retrospect it was a very bad idea. In retrospect so was the Hindenburg, but who cares about retrospect? Or the Hindenburg, for that matter?

* Still not his real name.
** Ad Hayom Hazeh = to this day.