What I’ve learned from being my brother’s health advocate in a system filled with more stigma than compassion.
Until three months ago, I knew almost nothing about the three-pound organ and its crucial role as garbage disposal (eliminating toxins) and refrigerator (storing and releasing vitamins). But once I stepped in as my brother’s health advocate, I became an expert in how it functions and what happens when it fails.
I first noticed it with my chiropractor, a widower in his fifties who lost his wife to cancer a few years ago. “Cirrhosis?” he asked, nodding his head slowly and squinting. “How did he get it?”
“He’s been a heavy drinker for 25 years,” I said, not understanding why he would ask.
“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he retorted, going back to adjusting my back without another word. He may as well have said, “So he got what he deserved.”
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