Doctor was saved by his own medicine

Published 9:00 pm Saturday, March 30, 2002

Dr. Stephen Yarnall is an unconventional man, and an unconventional Easter subject. Nonetheless, his is a story of hope and renewal.

Remember "Dr. Cookie"? That was Yarnall’s alter ego in the 1980s and early ’90s.

The Edmonds cardiologist, along with Dr. Marvin Wayne, founded a low-fat cookie company and co-wrote "The New Dr. Cookie Cookbook." Their product was a hit, a way to have treats and fitness, too. Before the company was sold, Dr. Cookie oatmeal goodies fed travelers on Alaska and United airlines.

Now 68, with a part-time practice at Stevens Health Clinic, Yarnall has incorporated fun into his professional calling. He helps patients lose weight and control stress, and he does it smiling.

"I’ve always been a bit of a goof-off. I’ll come into patient rooms singing a song with their name in it," said Yarnall, a spare man with gray hair and friendly blue eyes. Rare is the doctor whose emotions show. Yarnall gets teary showing me pictures of his children.

He’s a Seattle Seafair clown, a former marathon runner and a motivational speaker on humor and healing.

Two years ago, Yarnall almost died. In a recovery still in progress, he’s had need for a strong dose of his own medicine.

It happened on Jan. 28, 2000. Yarnall was skiing at Mount Rose on the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe. Although he had a history of Parkinson’s disease, he had been keeping up with his wife Lynn, 51, who runs 100-mile ultramarathon races.

"It was the second run of the day. We were at altitude and tired. Sitting in the chairlift, the blood had run to my feet," Yarnall said. He fainted, or had a seizure, and fell out of the chair.

He fell nearly 30 feet, striking his head, chest and right side on the snow. Rescued by the ski patrol, he was flown by helicopter to the Washoe Medical Center in Reno.

"I was unconscious. I developed ARDS, acute respiratory distress syndrome. Medically, I was kept in a coma so I wouldn’t fight the respirator," he said. "For 32 days, Lynn and my family kept a vigil. They thought I was going to die."

Loved ones, who had come from all over the country, insisted on aggressive treatment despite Yarnall’s grave condition. He was 65 years old with only a 10 percent chance of survival. But with his zest for life, his family knew he had ammunition that couldn’t be explained by medical science.

"Love and prayers were all around me," Yarnall said. "On Feb. 2, my birthday, a tear came to my eye. People in comas can communicate through love and prayer. It’s not described by medicine."

Doctors pulled out all the stops.

Yarnall underwent a tracheostomy and had assisted ventilation. He was put on an experimental roto-bed. A vein filter was installed for blood clots. A hole was bored in his head. He had a feeding tube in his stomach and dialysis for kidney failure.

After 32 days, he was flown to Seattle, where he spent several more weeks at Harborview Medical Center. Once home, Yarnall said he was "tremendously disabled." He had to be dressed, helped to bathe and eat, and needed a walker. But by summer 2000, he was walking with a cane.

He rode on the Seafair fire engine that summer and was voted most inspirational clown. His clown name is "Dr. Quack."

Degrees and certificates cover the walls of Yarnall’s small office. Shelves are crowded with clown dolls, most of them gifts from patients.

He remains in physical therapy. "I’m still very weak in my right hand," Yarnall said. He turns his car ignition on with his left hand. Doctors are known for terrible handwriting; his is nonexistent.

"I have a number of disabilities, I just don’t think of them as disabilities," he said.

Yarnall is writing a book, expected out in June, that shares his thoughts on the six pillars of healing: love, prayer, touch, humor, music and pets.

Asked about the last, he spoke of a golden retriever in the Harborview rehab ward named Rainier that reminded him of his own dog, Cinco de Mayo. He’s convinced being with pets has curative powers.

What happened two years ago changed him physically and spiritually.

"I used to believe if I prayed for you, it was good for me," said Yarnall, a Quaker by faith. "Now I believe if I pray for you, it’s also good for you, even if you don’t know it."

Modern medicine is miraculous in itself. But Yarnall believes prayer saved him.

"I think miracles happen. Every doctor who’s been in practice awhile has seen a miracle," he said. "There’s a Quaker saying: There is that of God in every man, in every person.

"People call me a miracle man. I should be humble — but I am a miracle man."

Contact Julie Muhlstein via e-mail at muhlsteinjulie@heraldnet.com, write to her at The Herald, P.O. Box 930, Everett, WA 98206, or call 425-339-3460.