Help Me: I Am Addicted To Rat Poison!

Well, I know!  Rat poison?  How?  Why?  Let me explain.

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Warfarin is an anticoagulant drug sometimes given to humans after strokes and heart attacks. The drug thins the blood and prevents it from clotting, allowing the blood to move more easily through the body’s arteries. Warfarin also works to prevent the blood of mice and rats from clotting. Rodent baits containing Warfarin work by thinning the blood of the animal until it bleeds to death internally. Mouse baits containing Warfarin generally work well and have a low incidence of secondary poisoning when the poisoned mice are consumed by scavengers and other animals.


“Given in sufficient amounts warfarin will cause animals to bleed to death. For this reason is has been used as a poison to eliminate rats and mice. Warfarin works by binding to and interfering with the activity of an enzyme that produces some of the clotting factors that are essential for blood clotting.”

When warfarin has been used as a rat poison it has been found that some rats are resistant. The more warfarin is used the more common resistant rats become. In rare cases, warfarin has been found not to work in some people who are given it for medical reasons.

What  does this warfarin have to do with me?  Well warfarin, when used medically, is called coumadin.  And I’ve been taking it for years as a result of a significant family of strokes.  My mother one from which she survived.  And one from which she didn’t!  And I had two.  One which I I went right back to work with; and the one which I have survived but still don’t take care of!

And this, dear reader, is what happened.  Actually, no one really knows what happened to me for certain.  One day, as I was getting to work, I said to my wife, “I don’t feel good”.  Within minutes, I was puking all over the car, unconscious!  Thankfully, I lived less than a mile from a well-known regional medical center, was rushed to the emergency room, and had immediate brain surgery.  I was told I had ‘coded’ three times before I recovered.  I was unconscious for several weeks.

Dramatic?  Yes; of course.  But here’s the rub.  Once in a while, I still forget to take my medicine!  My wife cries with shock and anger: “Are you trying to kill yourself!!!?”

And I don’t know?  Am I?  Or am I being my manic self, feeling invincible, too busy to pay attention, caught up in minutiae to pay heed to my real life-or-death needs?

And does it matter?  Take your f@@king medicine, you $%*&~#@!.  Please, I beg you!


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