Good day, Marblehead! I’m Lisa, and my new column is about the challenges of senior life. I’m going to focus specifically on things that are uncomfortable to talk about, such as being a widow or widower, staying sober in a society that seems to worship alcohol, and the reality of pre- and post-menopausal womanhood. Given what I’ve been through, I see my journey to sobriety (by way of a liver and kidney transplant) as a cautionary tale, and I want to share it if it will help others.
I’m a retired attorney who in 2023 discovered I would need a liver transplant. About a month later, my husband died of a sudden heart attack. So, it was a fairly dull year. But seriously, I’m not going to sugarcoat it; although I had made it to 2015 by enjoying a couple of cocktails a few times a week, all that changed when I began having serious neck pain. After physical therapy, cortisone injections, and many follow-up doctor appointments, it was finally determined that I had osteoarthritis and two of my vertebrae would need to be replaced.
When the pain started, there wasn’t a pill or any resource that would give me relief from it, other than alcohol. I’m not proud of it, but I did increase my alcohol intake to escape the constant pain. My husband, Tony, enjoyed his cocktails, too (we did not have children), and then, two neck surgeries later, I still had constant pain. Now, let’s throw Covid into the mix.
You know how a lot of people spent the lockdown exercising more, taking their dogs for more walks, or bicycling? Maybe learning to make sourdough bread, speak a new language, and revamp their diet. Well, we did none of that. We did walk our dog, but he definitely would have benefited (as would we) if we were more consistent about it. What did we do instead, you ask? Yes! We drank more. The liquor stores that delivered made a LOT of money from us.
In mid-2022, I started to feel unwell. I’m not normally a “head in the sand” kind of person, but I had a feeling I knew what it was, and I was afraid to confirm it. I began losing weight because my appetite had all but disappeared, and even when I could eat, it wouldn’t always stay down. Of course, my husband noticed it, and since he was a phenomenal cook who took great pride in making me delicious meals, he was very concerned when I couldn’t eat them. He started gently nagging me to go see a doctor. This took a few weeks and during that time I developed additional symptoms. Taken individually, they weren’t alarming (red spots on my upper body, increasing itchiness all over, obvious loss of appetite and swelling of my belly and lower body), but taken altogether, they raised some serious red flags.
Once this happened, I did go see my PCP. After the examination, she asked me if I drove myself and I said no, Tony was waiting to drive me home due to my overall weakness. She said, “do not pass go, do not collect $200” and told me to have him take me to the emergency room immediately. With those symptoms, the hospital admitted me, and the journey began.
Over the next six months, I was in and out of the hospital. It took quite a while for the gastroenterologist to determine that my liver was too diseased to treat, and that I would need a transplant. Meanwhile, I’m getting sicker and sicker, and by early February, I wasn’t well enough to continue working. I went on short-term disability. At age 61, I was not ready to retire, but circumstances forced the issue. I had hoped that I would recover and be able to go back to work, but that was not to be.
Qualifying for a transplant and then beginning the process to get on the waiting list is quite extensive. Before I even started, I lost Tony in May. Paramedics tried valiantly to save him. My only comfort is that (supposedly, but who really knows?) it was sudden and painless, according to the doctor who gave me the devastating news.
“A Cautionary Tale” continues next week. I plan on being real and sharing a lot: the good and not so good.
Lisa Marchionda Fama is a retired attorney who has lived in Marblehead for seven years, loves this town and hopes she never leaves. Visit her blog at TheSoberWidow.com.
