Ready to get real? Well, as we discussed last week, liver disease has many symptoms and side effects, and one of them is brain fog. The toxins that a normal liver can handle run amok when the liver is sick. This means that I was not myself: not thinking clearly, not my usual “glass half full” outlook. Of course, I was also feeling overwhelmed with grief and terrified of dying. But at times, I was downright mean and said things I never would say in my normal frame of mind. This is something I greatly regret, but luckily, everyone knew the cause.
Another symptom is retaining fluid. A lot of fluid. So much that once a week, I had to go to Salem Hospital to have some of it removed, or I might explode. I remember the first time I had to have it done, I was so swollen it looked like I was pregnant with triplets. That first time, they removed 10 LITERS. I kid you not, but it’s not safe to have a needle stuck in your belly for the time it takes to do that. Thereafter, I had five liters removed each time for nineteen weeks. During my final hospitalization while waiting for the organs, I was on constant dialysis (22/7 in the ICU) for about two weeks, whereby blood and fluid were removed, and blood was put back in. That was the only way that enough fluid could be removed in order to ensure the surgery would be safe. I think it was the first time I saw my ankles in months!
This is just a small sample of what patients with liver disease go through so that they can qualify for the transplant. I won’t bore you with the many details (see my blog for that), but suffice it to say that there’s real incentive to stop or curb your drinking if it is starting to get out of control. It’s very easy to let that happen, believe me. You hear a horror story like mine, and you think, “oh, that could never happen to me, I don’t drink that much.” But then you look in your recycling bin and see all the bottles.
In my case, it was a culmination of things: first, I did increase my drinking substantially for about seven years. Second, I had gastric bypass surgery in 2006, and it’s a known fact that your body processes alcohol differently afterward. And third, I discovered that I have a genetic predisposition to be more susceptible to the effects of alcohol on your liver. My liver doctor went over all this; I think she was trying to make me feel better about why the transplant was necessary. Nevertheless, it was easy for me to stop drinking when I knew it would kill me. Because my liver disease subsequently made my kidneys vulnerable, I also received a new kidney during the transplant. (Fun fact: getting a new kidney does not necessarily mean they take away the old ones, so I have three! Great conversation starter, amiright?)
Here’s the bottom line: please use my story as your reason to stop and examine how much you drink. It may not be much, in which case I’m glad you won’t have to worry. But if you think it might be time to cut back, I applaud you for being conscientious about it. Please don’t let it get to the point where medical intervention is necessary. Since I’ve had the surgery, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard from people about friends and family dying because they wouldn’t stop drinking. Even though they knew it would surely kill them. Alcoholism is called a disease for a reason; it’s addictive and extremely difficult to kick. Check out my blog for more details and individual stories.
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.
