Memoirs
A reflection on intertwining fears of fatty liver disease and the silent weight of my adult child’s struggles during his final year in medical school.
This story was difficult for me to write, but I believe it must be written and shared with everyone. Over two billion people worldwide now face the same reversible and preventable condition that once cast a shadow over my son’s life.
“Dad, I did not want to wake you up,” he whispered, his voice trembling in the stillness of our hotel room. “I know it is unfair, but I feel awful and was hoping you might be able to help.”
I had just awakened from a lucid dream that left me feeling unusually refreshed, so rising was no burden. Fully alert, I was ready to hear him out. He sat next to me on the bed, his face heavy with sadness, his posture radiating a quiet agony that words could hardly capture.
When I asked if he was in pain, he shook his head. “No pain,” he murmured, yet something within him — body or mind — was deeply unsettling, robbing him of sleep and peace.
I stayed silent, meeting his gaze with full attention and care, hoping to ease his burden by simply being present. Gently, I placed my arm around his shoulder, letting him know he could share whatever was weighing on him.
He seemed a little relieved but still uneasy. “Something feels wrong in my body,” he said quietly. There was no pain, yet he felt uncomfortably bloated, even though we had eaten the same celebratory dinner at a luxurious restaurant just hours before.
The dinner had been to mark his upcoming talk at Oxford University — a prestigious opportunity to present his exceptional literature review on an emerging health topic. It was a proud moment in his final year of medical school.
But tonight, the excitement was missing. He showed no trace of the anticipation he once had for this event, an event he had prepared for over months, seeking my input to ensure his presentation would leave a lasting impression.
Then, a single word pierced my heart and brought tears to my eyes. “Dad,” he said, his voice heavy with despair, “I feel like life has no meaning. I am having suicidal thoughts.”
The weight of his words crushed me. I felt an overwhelming sense of failure as a parent. The word “suicide” had always deeply troubled me, but hearing it from my own son — my flesh and blood — was utterly devastating.
Seeing my tears, he quickly tried to comfort me. “Dad, it is not that bad,” he said softly. “These thoughts only come when my body and mind are not at ease. I am sorry — I should not have used such a poor choice of words.” His attempt to reassure me only deepened my resolve to help.
I gently urged him to lie down so I could try calming him with a Reiki massage. I knew this was my starting point — addressing the physical discomfort to ease his mind. Massages, I believed, could work wonders in soothing the body’s stress response, particularly the HPA axis.
As I began massaging his abdomen, he winced and pulled away. “Please do not touch there — it hurts,” he said. That was my first clue. My intuition whispered that something might be wrong with his liver.
After about ten minutes, I suggested a warm bath with Epsom salts, hoping it might relax him further. He hesitated, worried it might make him too sleepy, but when I explained that this was part of my “emergency plan,” he reluctantly agreed.
We shared a pleasant conversation for about 20 minutes in the warm jacuzzi of our hotel room. The warmth seemed to ease his tension, and I hoped it would prepare him for the next step. When I suggested a cold shower, he immediately protested, “No way!”
I adjusted my approach. “How about just adding cold water to the bath?” I suggested gently. He hesitated but eventually agreed. Slowly, he began by immersing his legs, and after watching me sit calmly in the cold water in a meditative state, he finally joined in.
We stayed in the cold bath for another 20 minutes. To my relief, his mood noticeably improved. By the end, he was even smiling as we chatted. It was around 4 a.m., and with his presentation scheduled for 10 a.m. and a one-and-a-half-hour train ride ahead, there was no point in trying to sleep.
I opened my emergency bag and carefully prepared what I knew could help stabilize him. I gave him 5 mg of lithium orotate, 10 mg of phentermine, 10 mg of cortisol, 1 mg of nicotine, 100 mg of caffeine, 350 mg of N-Acetyl tyrosine, and 500 mg of acetyl-l-carnitine, and a high-dose vitamin B complex with a sublingual vitamin B12.
As a medical student, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “What about the side effects?” His concern was valid, and I responded calmly, “One-time use carries minimal risk compared to the state you are in now.” Reassured by my explanation, he nodded and understood the necessity of the moment.
Half an hour later, he looked like a joyful teenager again. “Dad, I feel so happy now,” he said with a beaming smile. “I am going to crush this conference!” His newfound confidence brought a wave of relief and pride to me. After enjoying a nutritious breakfast in the hotel restaurant, we walked together to the nearest train station.
On the way to Oxford, as the train gently rocked us forward, he suddenly turned to me and said, “Dad, I know it was unfair and disrespectful of me to change my surname just to avoid prejudice in school. Why can’t I be strong like you? Why do I care so much about what others think of me?”
I paused, recognizing the depth of his introspection. While this topic deserved a broader discussion, I reminded myself that this was not the time for a detailed conversation. “We talked about this five years ago,” I reassured him. “There is nothing wrong with the choice you made.
You are strong, and your intelligence is greater than mine. You always know what you are doing, and I support you, no matter what. Your decisions are your own, and they make me proud — except, of course, when it comes to your diet,” I added with a gentle smile, lightening the moment.
We agreed to save the diet conversation for the long flight from London to Melbourne. After his conference presentation, which he delivered with precision and confidence, he was thrilled to receive an award. That recognition brought him even more joy, and it was heartwarming to see him so cheerful again.
On the plane, he opened up about what he had been doing wrong. Until he turned 18, my wife and I had carefully managed his diet, ensuring he ate organic food and followed a balanced omnivorous lifestyle.
However, once he started college, he changed his habits and developed an addiction to junk food despite his medical knowledge. Over two years, he gained 40 kilograms, and by the age of 24, he was on the verge of obesity. As his father, I felt a profound sense of failure, and my wife was also distraught.
When the hostess served my special ketogenic dinner ahead of everyone else, I took the opportunity to discuss his diet. I reassured him that he did not need to follow a strict keto regimen, but cutting out refined carbohydrates could help him lose weight and feel better. We identified his biggest temptations: fruit juice, milk chocolate, candies, cookies, pizza, chips, and white bread.
Upon returning to Melbourne, I encouraged him to undergo a series of blood, urine, and stool tests to assess his health more thoroughly.
I provided him with a list of tests for all metabolic biomarkers, but he hesitated, pointing out that Medicare would not cover all of them. “Do not worry about the cost,” I told him. “I am happy to cover the gap if it means ensuring your health and well-being.”
A week later, the test results arrived, confirming what I feared — my own son had fatty liver disease. The condition had gone undiagnosed for over two years, as he had skipped his annual check-ups without informing us.
His doctor was alarmed and recommended immediate hospitalization. I intervened, reassuring the doctor that I would handle the situation promptly.
I immediately implemented a plan, starting him on intermittent fasting by skipping breakfast for a month. He agreed, enjoying a cup of coffee in the morning before heading to school.
Together, we made simple but significant changes: he stopped drinking fruit juice, replaced milk chocolate with 95% dark chocolate (a gift I gave him to encourage the switch), and, while reluctant about a keto diet, began eating more eggs, avocados, nuts, fish, and vegetables, with fruits in moderation.
I closely monitored his progress, not just through his diet but also by building his confidence. We had meaningful conversations after school, and I supported him with his research projects, building a sense of connection and purpose.
After six weeks, he started feeling noticeably better, and his sleep quality improved, as confirmed by his smartwatch. Encouraged, I suggested another round of tests.
Four days later, his doctor called with the results: all his markers — ALT, AST, bilirubin, and triglycerides — were within normal ranges. What a great relief it was for me and him!
His fatty liver disease had reversed, he lost some unnecessary visceral fat, and his body became more insulin-sensitive, preventing him from obesity. He even considered long-term fasting, like I do several times a year, and wanted to take a course on nutritional biochemistry.
Tears of joy welled up in my eyes.
At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride — a father who had not only stood by his son but had also helped save his life when he needed me the most.
We chose not to share any of this with my wife and his girlfriend, knowing it would deeply upset them and possibly affect their health.
He expressed his gratitude, kept the secret from his loved ones, and committed to a more holistic lifestyle, focusing on a better diet, regular exercise, quality sleep, and rest.
The most remarkable transformation was his mental state. After fixing fatty liver disease and losing significant visceral fat, his depressive thoughts had vanished.
With renewed purpose, he began a postgraduate program in psychiatry, inspired to help others battling depression caused by poor diet and unhealthy lifestyle choices.
I could not save my father from the grip of ALS, and the pain of failing him as his son still lingers in my heart. But as a father, I was given a second chance — a chance to help my own son reclaim his health and reverse his metabolic disorder.
This is the beloved son who gave me anguish in Singapore.
My Son and Wife Gave Me Anguish in Singapore
We had no idea chewing gum was a huge issue in Singapore, causing a dramatic outcome.medium.com
This story was extracted from my manuscript of memoirs and autobiography, which will be published in March 2025.
Thank you for reading my perspectives. I wish you a healthy and happy life.
Note to New Writers: Our workload is extensive, so please read our submission guidelines before submitting your first stories so that our volunteer editors can publish them on time. We have a massive backlog, and these volunteers are exhausted.
Here are the links to the updated submission guidelines: ILLUMINATION, Curated Newsletters, SYNERGY (Newsletter Booster), Technology Hits, and ILLUMINATION Book Chapters, Readers Hope.
I have created a new community initiative called Friends of ILLUMINATION, which I introduced in a story yesterday. All ethical and authentic writers are welcome to join this exciting journey.
To this end, I created a support account to be managed by volunteer editors, administrators, and Slack moderators. I also made the account a Friend of Medium to contribute to writers’ earnings. This account will be used for curation and featuring stories by Friends of ILLUMINATION. You can follow it to receive updates on Medium and Slack workspace.
Friends of ILLUMINATION Support — Medium
Read writing from Friends of ILLUMINATION Support on Medium. Curating and amplifying stories by Friends of…medium.com
I am here to help my readers, so reach out when you need support. You may take a quick taste of some of my inspiring stories in this collection. If you wish, you may subscribe to my Health and Wellness newsletter to benefit from my decades of health, science, and technology experience.
If you are a new writer on this platform, you can join my publications by sending a request via this link. I support 33K writers who contribute to my publications on this platform. You can contact me via my website. I also have another profile to write and curate tech stories.
I also authored a recent book titled Substack Mastery to guide freelance writers to write insightful content and build their audiences.
You are welcome to join the ILLUMINATION Community on Medium and Substack and our education tool, Substack Mastery, curated by ILLUMINATION-Curators.
You can join my newsletters, where I offer experience-based content on health, content strategy, and technology topics to inform and inspire my readers.
Get an email whenever Dr Mehmet Yildiz publishes. He is a top writer and editor on Medium.
Here is the Importance and Value of Medium Friendship for Writers and Readers.
I also published this story on Medium and Substack.
Leave a Reply