You Are the Best, the Liver of My Liver

According to Wikipedia, in Persian, Urdu, and Hindi languages the liver (جگر or जिगर or jigar) symbolically may represent bravery, strong feelings, or "the best." So, if I was Persian, instead of saying, “I saved you the best vegetables, the cream of the crop,” I might say, “I have saved you the liver of vegetables,” which kind of sounds gross. Liver squash has an unappetizing connotation.   

The term jan e jigar, is a term of endearment in Urdu. Translated, it means “the power of my liver." I can just see me whispering to my husband, “You are the power of my liver.” Has a nice ring, doesn’t it?

Jigar is Persian slang is used to express desirability, especially when speaking about women. So, men, if you found a woman sexy, you might say she is a liver lady. I doubt this will get you a date with anyone, unless they are liver geeks.

More Liver History

The liver is mentioned in the sacred Jewish text, the Talmud. The liver is thought to store anger and the gallbladder counteracts the anger. This shows a fundamental lack of understanding about the liver. Not only does the liver remain silent, the gall bladder is a chronic complainer. In a relationship, the gall bladder would be like the quintessential stereotypical complaining wife; the liver would be the passive-aggressive husband, baiting the wife to blow up.

Liver History

The liver shows up in Greek mythology. Zeus was furious with Prometheus because he stole fire and gave it to humans. Zeus ordered Prometheus to be chained to a rock. Every day an eagle would peck out his liver and it would regenerate overnight.

The ancient people of the Near East and Mediterranean areas used sheep livers to tell fortunes, a practice known as haruspicy. Personally, I think palm reading isn’t as messy.

In the time of Plato, the liver was thought harbor dark emotions—rage, jealousy and greed. My goodness, everyone knows that the liver in a non-complaining organ.

A World of Liver Exploration

I spent this past Christmas in the ancient Daintree Rainforest in the tropical northeast coast of Queensland, Australia. We went on a hike, guided by a national treasure of a woman named Pru. She was a retired high school principal and now a steward of the rainforest. I guess she was in her 70’s.

Daintree is home to the endangered cassowary, a huge, flightless bird, that sort of looks like an emu with peacock coloring. There are only about a thousand left. What does this have to do with the liver, you might be wondering? Because Pru told me that the cassowary is very important to the survival of the rainforest because of its large and overactive liver. My ears perked up, astonished that the liver could come up in conversation in the most ancient rainforest in the world. From that moment on, I was consumed with interest about the cassowary and its mega-juiced up liver. I wanted to stop right there and then and learn everything about this hepatic-wonder.

Oh the lovely cassowary,

its liver is worthy of inquiry.

The Liver on Holiday

Patients often ask me if they can drink on New Year’s Eve, like the liver knows it is a holiday and it metabolizes everything different that day.

Happy New Year. May it be healthy, sober and fun.

Twas the Night before Christmas, with Apologies to Clement Moore

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the hospital,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a hepatologist.
The IV bags were hung by their poles with care,
In hopes that UNOS soon would be there.

The patients were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions from encephalopathy danced in their heads.
And ma in her bed, and I on the sofa,
Had just settled in for a long winter’s coma.

When out by the ER there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering heart I should see,
But a red cooler filled with possibility.

With a little old surgeon, so lively and wise,
I knew in a moment it must be Tom Starzl.
More rapid than eagles his livers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Leber, now Lunga, now Foie and Fegato,!
On, Kimo! On Gān Zānɡ! On Jigar and Higado!
To the top of the copter pad! To the top of the wall!
Now transplant! Transplant! Transplant away all!"

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the bellies, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Livers to all, and to all a good-night!"

Killing Me Slowly

With all the holiday parties, I double my efforts to remind hepatitis C patients that alcohol is no friend of the liver. I mentioned to a patient that if he drinks with hepatitis C, alcohol will kill him slowly. He replied, “That’s fine – I am in no hurry.”