Runaway Organs

At the end of a pretty awful bender at uni, I once said to my best friend over a cuppa and some bacon “I think my liver has packed his bags and is leaving… I physically can’t drink anymore”

Oh how we chuckled.

Fast forward a few years and my liver is still trying to leave my body, only this time it’s  not a joke and my liver actually physically hurts. Who knew that it would hurt? Maybe he’s tacking his escape route to my ribs? Or maybe he’s trying to bust out alien-stylie?

I’m not sure, but I do know that it’s exhausting whatever he’s doing in there.

Its been a rough couple of weeks. The dreaded Steriods are wreaking havoc with my body, which in fairness deserves its own post.

Exhaustion is next level. Does anyone remember that episode of the Simpsons where Mr Burns is wandering around the woods saying “I bring you love?”

Thats me. Only I’m not glowing green. Though I was a delightful shade of yellow in hospital and my eyes are still tinged, but that’s neither here nor there.

All I know is that I must look like a nutcase on the tube, because I am shaking and muttering to myself that I just need to make it home in one piece and then I can lie down. Everything’s going to be okay.

I’ve also turned into an idiot. I can’t seem to concentrate and you can’t talk to me for longer than 5 minutes because I will either forget what I am saying or I’ll forget what you’re saying. I’m staring at you, the lights are on but no ones home. My brain is clearly in cahoots with my liver and they’re going to run off together into the sunset holding hands.

Bastards.

To to say the last week or so has been a struggle would be an understatement, but I’m trying to get through because that’s just how it is. The alternative is to sit and get bitter about what’s happening. I can’t choose what’s going on but I can choose how I react and deal with it.

I don’t want to just survive, I want to live.

I have an appointment with my doctor on Thursday to discuss what went down in the hospital, and to talk about *whispers* liver transplants. I have to whisper because I don’t want to scare my brain away. My Doctor tried to talk to me about it when I was in hospital and my brain completely bailed, I saw his mouth was moving and I was just staring at him going uh huh yeah.. So I’m going to need to get him to repeat that information now that I feel a little bit more equipped to mentally deal with what he was trying to tell me.

I’ll keep you posted, until then, stay well.

x

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