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Thursday, September 8, 2016

Are Pharmaceutical Anticolagulants Like Warfarin the Best Answer for Avoiding Deadly Blood Clots?

It is 2:22 p.m. as I type these words, and my wife Jack had just recently come home, and is now taking her youngest son Pote somewhere ─ to work, I hope.

I am unsure what her intentions are thereafter ─ whether or not she will be here all day, and possibly even spend the night.  If so, then I shan't have much opportunity for today's post.

Capping off yesterday, I barely made it to bed ahead of midnight.

I had a fairly good initial block of sleep as I generally do, then availed myself of the bathroom at something like 4:40 a.m. before returning to bed and the elusive bouts of sleep thereafter.

It was 7:03 a.m. when I checked the time and decided to rise for the day.

My eldest step-son Tho had gone to work.  Pote was in bed, and remained there until quite late in the forenoon.

I put work into the new post I have going at my Thai-Iceland website, but it took far longer than I had expected.  I had wanted to return to bed before the morning was too old, for I felt that I could sleep more, and I wasn't feeling all that hale physically.

However, when I realized that I had lost the entire morning before I had yet done the work I intended, I became very agitated, railing against my lot ─ I feel like some useless Sisyphus enslaved at a vain and profitless task.

Is this to be my pointless, wasted life, then?

At least some calm attended the completion of the day's assigned work on that post, although I will probably still be working on it another two days.

The day began heavily overcast, but the cloud cover gave way to considerable breaks of sunshine.  Still, it is rather breezy ─ an almost too cool breeze.


Jack essentially came straight home again, it seemed.  And right away she wanted me to take some photos of her with her cellphone in the backyard ─ the day had become pretty much sunny.

I probably took scores of photos.

Anyway, when we came back into the house, she got busy cooking.

It eventually occurred to me that I could surreptitiously upload some of her photos to my computer, so I snuck her phone up here and had just accessed the folders her images are in...when the damned phone started ringing!

She had not gotten a call all the time she was home; but as soon as I wanted to do something with the device, this had to happen.

It was her dentist's office ─ she apparently had a 4:00 p.m. appointment, and they were confirming or seeking her out because she had missed an appointment earlier this month.

It was around 3:30 p.m., so she said she was on her way; and she got ready and left, of course taking her phone with her.

Perhaps I will just post this:

I can offer nothing concerning the photo.

It belonged to my mother Irene Dorosh, but I cannot even estimate where or when it was taken.  Nearby Vancouver has its share of parades, but I would not want to claim that Vancouver was the location.

For all I know, the scene is somewhere in the States.  She and her husband Alex often went to Nevada ─ usually Reno.  But they also visited other parts of America.

So who knows? 


I never fully understand why people blindly accept any prescription a doctor sets them up with ─ I think that there are just about always options.

For example, some people take warfarin for years ─ maybe till the day they die.  Other anticoagulant medications often prescribed are NOACs (novel oral anticoagulants) that are little better.

A recent study has shown that it is almost improbable for patients to properly balance the levels of warfarin that avoid excessive blood thinning, or that are inadequate and allow potentially deadly blood clots.

As one of the researchers said:
“This analysis suggests warfarin stability is difficult to predict and challenges the notion that patients who have done well taking warfarin should maintain taking warfarin.”
If you are interested, you can read about the study here:


There are surely options to these types of anticoagulants.  

I would do some research of my own and locate a reputable naturopathic medical doctor.  Anyone already on anticoagulants needs this sort of specialized guidance in getting off the pharmaceuticals, and moving over to something far less threatening. 


While I may, I am going to present an entry from my journal of exactly 41 years ago, and then close out this post.

I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.  The house I was renting the room in was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.
MONDAY, September 8, 1975

I didn't get up till about 5:45 a.m., so had no run.

For breakfast I indulged in pancakes (2 cups).

I arose at 11:30 a.m. after at least 1½ hours of lying down in store for some TV tonight.  

I got some sleep, and even dreamed; the dead were coming alive and seeking me thanks to something from an alien craft that crashed in a wooded swamp; I could seek no aid due to some evil I was involved with.

I recall being on a baseball field, wrestling down and pinning one of the players, Hitchcock of high school days, who was obviously surprised by the outcome.  I don't clearly know if this incident was a part of my science fiction dilemma.

After rising, I spent at least 1½ hours at the library, coming home empty handed.

The day was hot and sunny, with some cloud.

I before stated a falsehood; Bill is half-renting his yellow Pinto with the black interior.

Since my library venture, I suffered some indigestion.

At least I today finished Survival Man and His Environment; it was generally tedious. 

I shall be abed at 8:30 p.m.
I had started jogging at the New Westminster Secondary School track extremely early in the mornings, so getting up this late made it impossible for me to have the run ─ students would be going to school.

Those pancakes ─ I meant that I had used two cups of whole wheat flour, for I made my pancakes from scratch.  And those cups would have been just average coffee cups. 

The result was definitely filling, and that's probably why I lied down and had those dreams.

I vaguely recall a student at Princess Margaret Senior Secondary in Surrey whose last name was Hitchcock.  He was noted as one of the 'toughs,' but not a bully.  I had no such notoriety ─ this is why besting him would have caused him considerable surprise.

In my journal entry two days earlier, I had said that my old friend William Alan Gill was driving a black Pinto courtesy car, but this was apparently not entirely true.

I believe that I did not correctly state the title of the library book I had finished reading.  However, I am just basing that claim on my inability to quickly locate via Google any book with the same title as the one I had cited.

It is 5:21 p.m., and Jack is still not back home.  Did she finish with the dentist and then become involved in something else?
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