Today started like yesterday. I had slept a lot, though, after a couple of episodes of Better Call Saul, not quite as much as the night before, and felt all right but not fully restored. My innards were still in modest turmoil. Strangely, but consistent with the previous days, the liver sent no signals of being irritated. I didn’t eat much for breakfast, and when Flucha started decorating our home for Christmas with the children, I stayed out of the way.
I stayed there for much of the day. It was the slowest day in a long time, but that was quite all right with me. Besides hanging our big Herrnhut star above the dining table, I couldn’t justify much action. Outside, it was frigid, moist and miserably grey. The Limmat valley isn’t very attractive in winter. Clouds tend to hang low. Morning fogs cast a depressing tinge over town and country. The sun shows only sporadically. Now, there aren’t even Christmas markets to lift the spirits and provide opportunities to warm up from inside (not that I’m drinking alcohol these days).
As the day progressed, my condition improved slowly. Flucha commented at some point that I was looking less yellow. This was certainly true for my eyes, which had looked a bit like Michael Jordan’s when he was interviewed in Last Dance. My bilirubin levels must have come down a bit. But another handy measure told me it was too early to celebrate. My urine was still of a darkness quite distinct from that caused by dehydration. When you don’t drink enough water, your urine becomes more intense because the liquid is more concentrated, but the hue stays essentially the same. With high levels of bilirubin being cleared through the kidneys, urine becomes much darker. I don’t need to go to the hospital to find out whether my bilirubin levels are excessive.
We didn’t set foot outside all day. The children played happily in a home that sparkled and glinted. We all listened to Christmas music. Flucha kept adding decoration from her vast collection. I felt sluggish and out of energy but otherwise fine and stayed on the sofa most of the day, reading the latest issue of Granta that had arrived the day before. The life cycle and survival strategy of the freshwater pearl mussel, a creature that can live to 300 years in the cold waters of Norway and Finland, is quite fascinating.
Towards the end of the afternoon, the idle day showed its effect on me. Not doing anything tends to wear me out more than long days at work. After a tiny dinner, all that I could muster, I took a quick nap because I was close to collapsing. With the children in bed, I’ve come up to the office to start the week early or, in light of Friday’s disaster, finish it late. This has indeed woken me up. Tomorrow at 8:30, I’ll be back at the hospital for another blood test and what will hopefully be the last consultation before the CT on Thursday. The liver needs to get its act together and stop causing trouble.
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