Sharan’s story: “Our liver isn’t spoken about and to be fair many of us don’t realise how vital our liver is.”

Sharan' s dad passed away from Non-Alcohol Related Fatty Liver Disease (NAFLD) in May 2011.  Following his diagnosis ten years earlier, Sharan felt not enough was done to support and help her dad to improve his liver health.  As a result, she retrained to become a nutritionist to help people with NAFLD.  

My dad took his last breath at 17.00, 11 years ago on 29 May 2011.

People say time doesn’t.

People say life becomes doesn’t

People say you’ll forget the heartache.... you don’t

The pain and helplessness I felt hasn’t gone away.  I've felt it daily for the past 11 years.  I miss him dearly and everyday it kills me to think my daughters will never know what a wonderful man their grandfather was.

My dad was diagnosed with Non-Alcohol Related Fatty Liver Disease (NAFLD) and at the time of his diagnosis was told to ‘lose some weight’.

No real guidance just a booklet.

My dad resorted to eating one meal a day. Sure, he lost weight, but the method of losing weight wasn’t helping his liver.......I know that now. I didn’t back then, and this is another thing I must live with.

Knowing what I know now about nutrition and the importance of our liver, I always think I could have done more.  Maybe I could have saved him.

This is my WHY and my passion.

This is WHY I changed my career and went into studying nutrition so I could help others.

This WHY I’m keen on helping people avoid developing a fatty liver.

Our liver isn’t spoken about and to be fair many of us don’t realise how vital our liver is. It’s just as vital as our heart and it’s information like this which needs to be disclosed.

When I think about my dad he deteriorated quickly which took us all by surprise.  We were told dad had at least three years before he would need a transplant. Dad died 11 months after being told that.

His conditioned worsened and went from NAFLD to Liver Cirrhosis, he was in and out of the High Dependency Unit and wouldn’t wake for days. I can’t remember what I last said to him verbally. But I did say to dad in my heart was it was ok for him to ‘go’ and we would be fine. I couldn’t see wires attached to him, I couldn’t see him lying there day after day being kept alive by machines.

A difficult decision was made on the morning of 29 May.

At 12-noon my mum, brother and I agreed it was time for dad to rest and allowed the doctors to switch the machines off. Five hours later dad took his last breath.  A vision I’ll never forget and a pain which will always be with me.

If I could help just one person reverse and/or avoid developing this disease it would give me comfort in knowing their family wouldn’t go through what we have.



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