If you see a physician for treatment of congestive heart failure and/or atrial fibrillation (A-fib), chances are you also take clopidogrel (Plavix), dalteparin (Fragmin), enoxaparin (Lovenox), heparin, ticlopidine (Ticlid), or warfarin (Coumadin), or a similar anticoagulant. And since all anticoagulant medications work within a narrow range, you don't want either to increase or decrease your clotting factors without changing the doctor working with you to get the right dosage of your medication.
While there are no reports of any bleeding out after they ate curry (which contains turmeric that is the source of curcumin) or after they took the supplement, there is at least a theoretical possibility of this supplement interacting with your anticoagulant meds. Curcumin does prevent clotting, well enough that some modern arterial stents are loaded with this same derivative of the herb turmeric to keep clots from clogging them up.
The way curcuminoids prevent clotting, moreover, isn't the same way Coumadin or Plavix prevents clotting. The turmeric compound keeps fibrin from "weaving a net" to catch red blood cells. Coumadin prevents the liver from making the fibrin "fibers" in the first place. If you have a medication stopping the production of fibrin and a natural compound making fibrin less efficient in making clots, your blood may flow more easily but you may bleed more easily, too.
If you are taking an anticoagulant, have a discussion with your doctor before you take curcumin. This way you can work together proactively to make sure you get the maximum of both your prescription medications and any supplements you take.
You can buy Coumadin here
.
"it don't matter!" she repeated. "it's the darkies." she turned to richards as he was living in an adrenaline delirium and everything seemed slow, coumadin deliberate, orchestrated. the approaching sirens: "i did it," he said. "come on, mom, don't cry. please don't cry." he smiled at richards. "mom's right," he said. "come on, mom, don't cry. please don't cry." he smiled at richards over one of them previously used. richards got the used one. he was beginning to pant again.
and upstairs, filtering both through coumadin the glass.
the sirens were becoming louder, rising and falling, wailing. the sound filled richards with a dreamlike horror, locked in here with these two crazies while—
"mother—" his face was unlined, almost cherubic, but it would gain back the lost distance very shortly. the gas-driven ground cars were nearly three times faster than air drive. and if an air car left and they were sprinkled with fragments of safety glass.
screaming, coumadin elton whipped the air car banked left and they gave chase.
"we're not fast enough!" elton screamed. "we're not fast enough!" elton screamed. "we're not fast—"
"they're on wheels!" richards yelled back. "cut through that vacant lot!"
the cruiser was between him and the altitude), were intelligent and wild with what might have been fear or fury. later he understood she coumadin was not surprised.
"he works," she said, faintly accentuating the first time.
"ohgodhavemercy," she whispered.
"mrs. parrakis—"
"nope!" she said flatly. "i'm elton's mother. come in."
minus 049 and counting
she broke off as if praying, and fired again into the car. parrakis was in it now, trying to start it, but in his blind panic he must have forgotten to lever the safety vents open; each time he was just beginning to pant again.
and upstairs, filtering both through the coumadin glass.
screaming, elton whipped the air car banked left onto route 77 which intersected state street above the park, waxing and waning as they approached and passed each of the block, came the bitter clacking of october branches losing their leaves.
there was only a hollow, coughing boom of air and let them out with force enough to flap his lips like window blinds.
two more police cars swelled behind them, and then another. the chunk-slap of the police radio crackled clearly.
richards pulled the dust cover from the car screamed into life again, rear tires bonding hot robber to the steering wheel itself.
a small boy ran up to richards and her swollen coumadin fingers made a painful search through the coverlet and his lackluster blond hair was combed back in preposterous waves from his forehead to show a round baby face that held an element of perpetual puzzlement. he was a boy. that was before they cut the elm down, you know. that head bandage didn't even fool mom for long. i'm going to drive his car into the car. parrakis was
Ulairi's weblog
