Trigger warning: this blog contains potentially upsetting content.
My drinking started in college, just part of the student lifestyle. For about 20 years, alcohol was a big part of my social life. Over time, it turned into a habit. What began as a few drinks after work soon became one bottle of wine, then two.
I ignored the warning signs. A co-worker mentioned I smelled like alcohol, an ex-partner tried to control my drinking, and I even once spent a night in jail to sober up. A doctor's letter showed something was wrong, but I kept making excuses.
My drinking got worse when I moved for work to Hertfordshire. I had just gone through a painful breakup and did not know anyone in the new place. I drank a lot to deal with being bored and lonely. At weekends, I'd start drinking at noon and keep going until I fell asleep. Then I’d wake up and start again. This started to spill into weekdays too and sometimes causing me to call in sick due to severe hangovers.
During Covid, I drank even more. Working from home meant I could start drinking earlier. I even joined work calls whilst under the influence, somehow still doing my job.
Around this time, I started losing weight for no reason. At first, I was happy about it because I'd always carried extra pounds, but soon, my face looked thin and my skin turned yellow.
The big change came in March 2020. I woke up one day and my stomach was swollen. I panicked and thought it must be from drinking. I called for 111 for help and got some tests done. They showed I had liver disease. The shock was so big that I never drank again. It was like a switch turned off in my head.
I went to see a doctor at the hospital and had more tests. They put me on water pills. I kept losing weight and started to look really sick. Later that year, the fluid came back and my stomach swelled up again. This was a sign my liver was failing.
I had to go to the hospital often to have fluid drained from my body. It got so bad that water started leaking from one of my legs. I didn't feel at this time that the doctors were taking my condition seriously enough.
After some research by my brother, this led us to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. In my first appointment, the consultant was direct; without a transplant, I had one to two years to live, but I wasn’t yet fit enough for the operation. It was scary, but I felt relieved that someone was finally listening to me.
The hospital took charge and made a plan to help me. They got me ready for a liver transplant and I had to have a feeding tube fitted to gain some mass, so as to be healthy enough do undergo the surgery.
During this time, I was also taking care of my mom, who was sick too. Sadly, she passed away before I got my new liver.
I got called to the hospital eight times before I actually got my transplant. Some livers weren't right for me, and other times they didn’t have enough staff or beds.
Finally, on 21 October 2021, I got my new liver. I went home 12 days later. My friends told me later that they thought I was going to die. I probably didn’t realise how sick I really was.
