Two years and counting...

Parivirvana

One of my crew of doctors informs me that my liver is essentially shot (Meld 15), and my odds of living five more years is roughly 10%.  More likely, I've got two years left with an outside chance of croaking this year.  If that score hits 40, I have three months.

That kind of information gives one cause to pause and rethink one's options.  I've elected not to receive a liver transplant, for example.  And I've already had one NASH-related episode of mental confusion (hepatic encephalopathy).  An unexpected turn of events.  What, no aneurysm?  No stroke or heart attack?  No car crash?  Strange!

Oh well.  My other complications mitigate against wasting somebody's perfectly good (by comparison) liver on yours truly.

I meditate on these things. "When it's hot, I sweat.  When it's cold, I shiver."