Just something that, while it probably sounds emo, is more of a reflection than anything else. I wanted to throw it out there for anyone that ever has to go on this stuff.

"It's a blood clot," the doctor said, analyzing my results. I had known it was, a hard lump that was warm to the touch. What else could it be with my family history and genetic malformation? "Just take this chewable aspirin and it'll dissolve. It's nothing to worry about." Nothing... that's what they told mom. It's what they tell a lot of patients with blood clots. To be honest, for a lot of them it is nothing. Then again, for a lot of them it is something.

I was granted foresight into the matter, walking my mother through so many, so I was able to see the signs and symptoms well before anyone typically would. Most people would think it was an insect bite, or perhaps a hive; a lump that was irritated and giving off heat simply because it was irritated. I knew better -- I knew exactly what it was. The sad thing is that you don't even have to have a genetic mutation to throw a clot. You can get it from a lack of mobility, sitting a lot, smoking, being obese, or being over a certain age. You can even get them for no apparent reason at all. I'll never forget the story about the journalist, the one that flew to the Middle East. He was an avid runner and health nut. He sat constrained on a flight for so long that he formed a clot. He stood, he walked awhile, the clot dislodged, and he was gone instantly. It's a silent killer that can come for anyone.

The next night I watched my arm swell, I saw that the clot had moved. I went back to the ER and stared into another doctor's eyes. "It's impossible," he said. "The chances of a superficial clot in the arm becoming a DVT are next to none." Naturally, I had been right about that too. I had seen my mom go through it, I had experienced enough. He gave me my Lovenox injection, told me to come back for more. The next night a mistake was made, the next day the mistake rectified with twice the Lovenox and Coumadin. I had prepared myself for the symptoms, had prepared myself for the possibility of it happening to me, but there were so many things mom hadn't told me, things I wasn't aware of.

I always knew that most blood thinners, in particular Coumadin, were built on the same compound as rat poison. Of course it's a diminished amount that carries no substantial risk to humans when monitored properly, other than an increased risk of bleeding. Despite the lowered dose it does its job well, perhaps too well; your blood thins and it thins quickly. If you thought you knew what vertigo and dizziness were before, you truly weren't prepared.

To explain the level of weakness that you feel... the level of exhaustion... it's difficult. It doesn't matter what cocktail of medications they have you on, and I'm on my share. Each of them carry the side effects of dizziness and lethargy. Together they have always made it difficult to get through a day without a nap. I always complained about it, thought it was the worst thing that could happen in the way of side effects, but this bluffs them all.

It's a total, intractable, seemingly endless lack of energy. It's the sort of feeling that you imagine death is like, or being very old. It's a frailty, something akin to being a porcelain doll. Doing something as simple as going to pee seems improbable; anything beyond that impossible. You feel, as your blood has become the consistency of water, as if whatever force allowed you to live and keep going in the first place is completely gone. You're hungry, constantly, but as soon as you get food you're too tired to eat it. Even if you have extreme agoraphobia and fear of people, you realize that you are trapped in a cage. All you want is to escape, to see the sun, but you can't walk two steps without almost tripping or collapsing. Your skin becomes pale, your eyes burn, and even if you were afraid of needles before you're too weak to care anymore. You don't even feel the sting of the medicine when you're too weak to remember what it's like to be alive.

So please, take this not as me asking for sympathy, but as a warning of what this can do to you. Take this as a reason to be cautious, to change your life. Take this as a reason to get on a daily aspirin regimen if you're able, and to exercise and stay mobile. There are many levels lower than Alice fell, and none of them are nearly as pleasant as the zenith of her discord.