Bit of a personal success story.

A couple years ago I was given a year or so to live. I had contracted a parasite that pushed my liver into failure. It was a nightmare. In a few months I went from being a C suite guy (marketing. nothing special) to unemployed and unable to get out of bed.

It took the doctors a long time to figure out what even caused it. They treated me as though I was at the end stages of drinking myself to death (I had been a drinker, even a heavy one at times, but not nearly that bad), and as I deteriorated, despite not touching a drop or popping any tests, they assumed I was continuing. They don’t give transplants to active drinkers. It wasn’t until I ordered a special lab at personal cost that they finally believed me and treated me with antibiotics and anti malarials. By then a lot of damage had been done.

Because liver failure causes muscle wasting, and I couldn’t eat much, I rapidly dropped from 165lbs to 120. My abdomen would fill with fluid and need draining every two weeks - sometimes as much as five liters.

But I followed the diets, took the meds, went to the gym five days a week, and over a year recovered enough to start work. A portion of my liver remains functional and I can live without a transplant for maybe 10 years now. Problem is - gaps in resumes don’t look great, and gaps in resumes that indicate a very expensive and unpredictable problem likely ending in a transplant that will cost a health insurance company a hundred k look even worse, so I struck out.

I got a job working under the table as a dishie for a friend at his fine dining place. I was the oldest guy there by far. Some could be my kids. My hands would cramp. My feet would swell. It was a pretty low moment, or at least it felt that way at the time. It was at least part snobbery on my part.

Turns out it was a great way to recover with all the lifting and light cardio it involves. I gained all my weight back. I worked my way up the line, learned a bunch, practiced a lot, kept my head down. The guys and girls took care of me and helped me out when my symptoms were bad or when I landed back in the hospital for one reason or another. They learned how to tell if I was slowing down and what to do if I had a bleed (sudden esophageal bleeding is a complication I have). The chef even researched my diet and would make sure I had a staff meal that fit. I can say with confidence nobody in my office job would have given that much of a shit. The place isn’t without its problems but there’s no shortage of give-a-shit.

Recently I saw an opening for a sous chef at a farm kitchen/supper club. On a lark I applied and did a try out.

I start next week.

It’s collaborative. I have some menu control (which changes with whatever the farmers are pulling). The hours are better. The kitchen is better equipped. The tempo is slower. I get to teach workshops and do demos.

And I’ll finally have health insurance again.

I never expected to get into this industry, and I know it kills a lot of people and sucks a good portion of the time but at least in my case it’s going to keep me alive for a bit.

Tl;dr: in a bizarre reversal kitchen work probably saved my life.