Ups & Downs - My Transplant Journey - Part Three

Monday 20^th August 2012 just after 9pm and I walked up my first set of stairs without using my stair lift. I was home. The first thing I did was rush to each viv and hold my babies, every single one. They had grown so much and I had missed them incredibly, it was fantastic to be back in my living room again. I couldn’t stop smiling. I had a cup of hot sweet milky tea, had I missed that and went to bed, I didn’t sleep well as was still incredibly sore but the fact was I was home, I was in my own bed next to my husband and back with my family. Life was good again….

Thunder & I

I was really nervous the following day how I would cope at home with Stefan at work and on my new regime. Lung transplant after all is not a cure, I still have cystic fibrosis, it still remains in my other organs and my nose and throat (airways) and I have to continue to take all my CF related medications as before plus my new medications to help my new lungs stay as well as possible. I start the day off by taking all my morning medications and nebuliser, and then taking my temperature and weighing myself. At ten in the morning I take my immunosuppressant’s and then carry out 3 lung function tests, I record this all in my blue book (that your hospital will give you post tx). I have to lookout for factors that could show a sign of infection or rejection in my new lungs. These are a temperature above 37C, a weight gain of 4lbs or just under 2kg’s in 48 hours, a 10% drop in my lung function from the reading the previous day, and any signs of infection such as sore throat, cough, head cold & pain. I have to contact Harefield should any of these arise and follow their advice or be admitted depending on the seriousness of my situation.

During the day I keep eating and drinking little and often and carry out what exercise I can to get my lung function up and my muscles moving in my legs and arms etc. Great friends of ours, Darren and his dad Stephen surprised me with a exercise bike on my return home which was an absolute god send and I have been working hard on that daily between 15 - 45 minutes each time to help with my rehabilitation. In the evening it’s time for my usual medications and nebulisers again and then at ten in the evening I take my immunosuppressant’s. There are do’s and don’ts I also have to follow. For the first 3-6 months I have to stay away from crowded areas and keep off public transport because of risk of infection. It’s obviously common sense to keep well away from poorly people at all times no matter what stage I am post transplant as this would be no good for me whatsoever, I can also no longer be a sun worshipper due to the medications i am on making my skin super sensitive to sunlight!!

When it comes to food there are a few things I have to avoid as well. Some which I am not bothered about but others …. Rare meat! A nice pink steak is a no no! Cured meats, salami, Parma ham and such like, bugger! Unpasteurised foods, such as camembert, stilton and feta! Eggs, no runny yolk! Dam you Stefan for getting me to finally love poached and fried runny eggs on toast!! Pate, shellfish, mayo and grapefruit I don’t really give two tosses about but hey ho, my new lungs are here and I’ll be dammed if I do anything to risk them!! It’s a shame but I’m relieved I got as much ink as I did in the past, I did have plans to have a lot more. (pictures of my snake babies tattooed on myself) I still can mind you, but its again a huge risk to my new lungs and right now I certainly wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that, I’ve also come to term’s that pregnancy is a definite no for me also. I won’t go into details about what my transplant consultant said a few week’s back as it may offend some people (although it was aimed at me entirely so the only person it should have offended was me, just so happens I like his straight talking, ‘to the point’ opinion) Pregnancy is a HUGE risk, and although in the past I would have given my right arm to be a mummy. Having been through what I have and come out the other side I am grateful to be here, breathing and I am grateful for all I have now. I wouldn’t risk it all for a moments madness, I’m sure there will be days I will be low and think things differently but I know that this is what’s meant to be and I am truly thankful.

The immunosuppressant’s are a nastiness all of their own. They play a vital role in my new life for my new puffers yet cause so much problems else where! I am on tacrolimus and mycophenolate (Tacro & MMF)
These medicines help to stop my body from rejecting my new lungs but also increase the risk of infections and cause other side affects.
They have dulled my taste buds completely and many foods, especially savoury, don’t taste like anything to me, a real pain in the ass when your trying to eat as much as you can to put on all the weight you have lost! It also causes me to shake, sometimes you can barely notice it, other times I look like I’m about to have a hypo from my blood sugars, I will have this for life but it should become less obvious overtime, so if you see me and are concerned about my unsteadiness please don’t worry, its completley normal! Tacro has also caused hair loss, it’s actually seemed to stop growing so much on my body (arms and such like) but I am losing a lot from my head, it comes out in massive clumps, some days are better than others but its very embarrassing at times and I do feel incredibly self conscious.

Now finally I don’t know whether this is due to a combination of the medications or whether its just about me being on this journey and things have ‘clicked’ in my head… I used to be incredibly sensitive and would cry at many things, now however I pretty much cry everyday, and it can be anything. I could be happy and cry, just because I am so overwhelmed at being here, or I could hit rock bottom and feel so low I just have to let it all out to feel relief again. I still haven’t had much time to think about what’s happened, to reflect on the last two months and I haven’t spoken to anyone professional about my feelings, this is a route a feel I need to go down especially when it comes to my donor. I have also lost all tolerance of people. I used to be able to walk on eggs shells, not like to fall out with anyone or hurt peoples feelings, not saying I would intentionally do that now but for some reason, if someone upsets me now I get angry and I just cannot be bothered to keep trying with them. Life is far too short to waste on people that cannot be bothered with you. Beforehand, I would apologise even if I wasn’t in the wrong, I couldn’t bare confrontation with people, today I’m more than likely just tell you to do one if you‘ve fucked me over. I feel like I feel things 100% more these days, if I get hurt, I really feel hurt and let down, if I get angry, I’m vexed to the max and can’t calm down for hours, and if I’m happy I can be stupidly ecstatic, it seems everything’s to the extreme and until I figure out what’s going on with me I guess I’ll just have to ride it out…

Back to being home and was I slowly started getting used to my daily routine and enjoying seeing my lung function improve by the day, I was barely sleeping and still very sore but it was all part and parcel of recovery. Stefan and I had made the most of a few hours out when he had finished work in the evenings when we could and it was fantastic - So we made a few plans to be able to enjoy the bank holiday weekend out and about and he had a week off work for shut down that we couldn’t wait for….

In Paignton enjoying a Slush Puppy

Bang, Saturday night, my poorly husband starting throwing up constantly and was in agony…. Our friend Darren took us to our local hospital the following day who sent us straight to Torbay A&E surgical team, with an suspected appendicitis. I couldn’t believe what was happening to us, only a matter of days of me being home from Harefield hospital, four weeks post transplant and I was back in another hospital with the role completely reversed and my husband was being operated on. He was extremely lucky, the appendix was about to burst and they removed it just in time on Bank Holiday Monday. It was one of the hardest weekend of my life, not only to go home on my own every night and leave him on the ward and try and cope with caring for myself only after a few weeks of major surgery, but to see my soul mate and best friend so poorly, and not be able to do anything to help. I never knew how much I took for granted how he must have hurt to see me suffer when I was in pain with all the tubes and unable to breathe. I will never forget it as long as I live, it was an extremely testing 4 days for us…. Thankfully after the operation, he was miles better and soon came home. He had the week off but was unable to drive (as am I still until I get the ok from my transplant team) and in a lot of pain, so we made the most of looking after each other, and walking around the town for exercise and fresh air like a pair of old biddies, everyone who bumped into us thought it was highly amusing!

Stef finally got behind the wheel just before Monday came back around and took us to Dawlish for a few hours, we walked along the riverside and had a snack in a café. It was great and I was so glad things were slowly back on the up…. We decided the following weekend after looking at the weather forecast we would plan a picnic on the Saturday and go to the moors for the day, lots of nice walks up a few hills and stuff myself with lots of nice goodies…. We really should learn never to plan anything Stef and I, it just never goes the way we intend it too.... That Friday evening I was throwing up constantly and in agony with stomach cramps, I threw up my immuneos, (not good!) and went to bed after notifying Harefield. All day Saturday I tried unblocking what I thought was a CF Stomach with Klean Prep and Movicol, I even had the district nurses out for suppositories but the pain was getting worse and everything that went in my mouth came up literally a few minutes later. I had hot and cold sweats and my temperature was rocketing…. I was then admitted to Culm ward at the RD&E on Sunday. Six days I went without food, I was pretty much stuck to the bed on 24 hour infusions of Tacro and fluids, my levels were so low and the MMF had caused my tummy to paralyze and stop working. My CF team were talking to Harefield everyday back and forth about my care and finally things started to improve and I was eventually allowed home on Thursday evening last week. My lung function has since dropped and Harefield weren’t too happy with me yesterday at clinic, but after 6 days of being quite poorly I’m quite surprised they would expect anything more?!

Me in Dawlish

Without all those oxygen tubes & wheelchair!

I am now working my little arse off everyday this week to get my lung function back up so Dr Reed doesn’t want me back to Harefield at the end of this week for a bronch… I know I’m still early stages, I mean I’m not even 8 week’s post just yet!! I know I am going to get little blips, I just can’t bare another hospital trip so soon. I just want a break, a few day’s and some normality with my husband…. It feels like too much to ask!!!



In my next blog I will write all about Harefield's clinic trips and the new friends I have made :) & include my new article that was printed in the local paper last week.... Thank you for reading. xxx

A New Life - My Transplant Journey - Part Two

I had just undergone one of the biggest operations anyone could have, I knew the recovery process would be long & hard and I was prepared for it, after all it was my decision to be listed and hopefully get this second chance. However, no one could ever have prepared me for how difficult some days would be, or tell me the reasons why I would find them so hard.

Agonising pain from my wound & chest drains, making countless holes in me for daily attempts at bloods and blood gasses, being sent down for bronch after bronch, sent to sleep and feeling sick as hell when I finally wake up and out for the count the rest of the day, throwing up constantly and not keeping anything down, not sleeping a wink in almost a month and having the worst hallucinations I ever could imagine - I can handle that… I was born with CF and anything that you have to go through is pretty much standard, you just get on with it, I’ve had it for 29 years and know no different…. But to be over 180 miles away from my husband, and not be able to see him or hold his hand for 5-6 days absolutely killed me, I was barriered in my room for the first fortnight as I had a bug that I caught from ICU which meant I couldn’t go out of my room and nurses etc had to wear gloves and gowns when they entered. Unless my husband was there at weekends, I was completely on my own just me, and the sodding daytime TV.

The transplant team from the outset encourage you to have a family member / relative with you during your recovery 24/7. They are meant to be involved with all aspects of your care, know what medication you are taking, help you with rehabilitation, and learn the signs of rejection and infection. What they don’t tell you is that it will cost a fortune for them to be able to stay with you. Harefield is lucky enough to have Parkwood, a small building on the premises of accommodation for relatives of patients staying in the hospital. Unfortunately, unless you are on job seekers allowance it will cost you £40 a night for a single room (more for a double) this doesn’t include breakfast or anything is it just for a bed for the night. There are some B&B’s in the small village of Harefield and Uxbridge which you can book to but as they are slightly cheaper they are very busy and you must book in advance to be able to get a room. Your still looking to pay £30 a night.

Now Stefan’s work was amazingly supportive, but he only gets limited holiday time and once that was used up, an employer can only do what they can do and that’s of course offer you unpaid time off. For us this just wasn’t an option as we get no help with housing or council tax, we pay full rent and all our bills we have very little money to put back and or spend on ourselves. As the bills still needed paying whilst I was in Harefield, Stefan bless him had no choice but to carry on working, despite how desperate I wanted him to be with me. He was with me the entire time I was in ITU until I was moved to the transplant ward, and then things had to change, he would have to return to work, and then visit me during the weekend’s. He would work all day, go home and sort out the snake babies and try and get some sleep. Virtually impossible for us both when all we wanted to do was be together, I cried every time he rang me, I cant begin to tell you how much it broke my heart. After work on a Friday he would drive all the way up to London, the worst time ever knowing that’s when people are trying to get home… 3.30pm on the road and finally arriving to me at 8.15pm at night, shattered and starving. We’d have the weekend together all though he’d have to leave me around 10pm to get some sleep in Parkwood or one of the B&B’s and then Sunday lunchtime he’s be back on the road for Devon again. He was utterly drained and I knew he wasn’t looking after himself properly. Yet he made sure he was by my side when he could. Of course it wasn’t just the overnight prices, Stefan had to eat & drink, plus the fuel back and forth all the time. We spent around £700 in total during my time in Harefield (a lot less than some fellow tx’ers I have spoken to since) and it has absolutely crippled us financially.

If there is any advice I could give to someone waiting on the list for a transplant, it’s to make sure you start saving if you are in the same position like Stefan & I and to also make sure you have the support of a family member by your side. Recovering from a transplant is one of the biggest things you will ever have to go through, having as much support as possible is vital. I’ll be honest, and hold my hands up, there were times I was seriously thinking about curling up in a ball and just giving up, being alone 70% of the time was just unbearable… I can’t begin to explain to you how I felt, but hearing Stef’s voice on the phone telling me how proud he was of me and wanting to get back to my home and see my babies just spurred me on all the more and I wasn‘t going to let my depression win. The only thing I am shitting myself about now is having infection or rejection and having to stay back there as we will be in the same position all over again, and I know it will happen, it’s a given… It’s just a matter of time as to when.

Now back to my recovery, as said before for the first few weeks I was isolated in my side room because of an infection I had caught. Because of this I wasn’t able to start walking up and down the corridors with the physio or try the stairs until the antibiotics had done the trick and I was no longer infected, this took a lot longer than I hoped for so in the meantime my physio brought in an exercise bike for me to try a few times a day to help get my legs working again and increase my lung capacity. I started hoping on a few times a day for 5 - 10 minutes slowly increasing it as it became easier for me. I couldn’t believe I was on an exercise bike pedalling away, jesus christ did my calves hurt the following day, but what an achievement so soon after undergoing a huge operation!!

Kicking Ass On The Bike!

One of my chest drains managed to dislodge itself soon after I was moved to the transplant ward, leaving me only with one which was removed a week or so later. I had bronch after bronch during my stay, (where they send you to sleep and put a camera down your throat into your lungs) to remove all the gunky stuff from my lungs, give them a good wash and make sure everything was healing ok, unfortunately from where the chest drain had dislodged itself beforehand it had left lot of fluid collected in my left lung and during a bronch they put in another, my most painful yet as it was pretty much round my back so found lying down extremely difficult. It certainly was necessary though as collected a hell of a lot of fluid in the first 48 hours - they removed it after 5 days and I was finally drain free.

The Worst Chest Drain - So Painful!

After Having My Neck Line Out

Part Of My Clam Incision Scar

Another thing I found incredibly hard was eating and drinking. All the medications I was on were making me incredibly sick, hospital food is disgusting at the best of times but I couldn’t even keep down ‘normal’ food. I was on four anti sickness medications but they were doing jack shit and my weight was plummeting. Funny thing was, I had a discharge meeting from one of my nurses and a clinic appointment made for the end of the week after being told I was proberly going to be discharged the following day, I was concerned as I knew I wasn’t eating but thought maybe things would change as soon as I got home and became all excited at the prospect of being discharged…. The next morning I was seen by my consultant and was told in no circumstance was I being let home. My levels were all over the place and I’d gone from 55kg to 46kg in just 4 days…. I was devastated.
It was only Tuesday and I wasn’t seeing my husband until Friday night, that was even worse. The sickness continued for what seemed like an eternity, I’d eat a little, take my meds, and like clockwork, throw up about ten minutes later. It was a never ending circle. It was only when they started decreasing medication doses that I started to keep things down for longer, maybe go a day without throwing up at all….

Fed Up

Nights were even worse, I’d still have little panic attacks about my breathing at night, I couldn’t lie flat, yet I couldn’t get comfortable because of my scars. I’m used to lying on my sides at home, but this was impossible, I still had dressings which were being changed daily as the wounds were oozing, and still very painful. I was on sleeping medication but it just didn’t work. The pressure points in my back would hurt so much it felt like I needed a ten hour massage to get the bumps out of me. The sensation of my skin would burn like hell too, you know what you get that feeling someone is talking about you and your ear burns red hot? I had that all over my body, especially parts of my body sunk right into the mattress. I would lie there awake every hour, seeing bright firework type images all over the room. My head was a mess and I just wanted to feel normal again, I’m not religious but I prayed for it all to be over.

Wishing I Was Home

The days passed, some seemed to drag and some seemed to go quite quickly. It was a huge relief when I was finally allowed out of my room and could walk up and down the corridor for exercise, I’d try and do this as often as possible, if not purely for some ‘fresh’ air from my stale side room.
One day the sun was shining and a staff member took me outside and sat on the bench with me for twenty minutes. I’ll never forget that moment as long as I live, I was a little unsteady on my feet, but as soon as I got out into that sun, that fresh air, I breathed in. I was still on oxygen then but it didn’t matter, that fact I could breathe in deeply was just incredible. I knew there was a reason I was doing all this, and for those twenty minutes I felt amazing. I didn’t want to go back to my room but I couldn’t stay out there alone, another reason why its great to have a family member with you!!!

Five Minutes Of Sunshine

Breathing In Deeply The Amazing Fresh Air

From then on my recovery got better and better, I tackled the stairs with my physio, and would walk lots more down the corridor. I felt a lot better than before, I was eating again, not huge amounts but enough and I finally felt like I would be able to cope at home, it was Friday so I begged them to let me go…. I was told I could for weekend leave and come back on the Monday… I wasn’t impressed but it was better then nothing so rang Stef straight away to tell him the news, only for five minutes later to be plummeted into devastation again. The nurse came back in the room to tell me that the Dr didn’t realise how far away my ’home’ was and they wouldn’t allow me back as it was too much risk. Ahhhh I was sooooo angry!!!!!
So another weekend where Stef had to travel down and we had to shell out more money for him to be with me. I was getting really fed up now, even though I knew my recovery time was absolutely incredible compared to some people, but when your stuck there in that situation, so desperate to get home, being told you can then having it taken away from you again within minutes, there is no words - my head was a complete fuck up.

I was moved that day upstairs to Fir Tree, a lot quieter than downstairs and had my own ensuite which is defiantly a plus. The room and ward itself just felt nicer and I felt a lot more at ease. That happened to be my last weekend in Harefield, as I had to stay I was told I was allowed out and about and off the ward… As soon as Stefan arrived that night I made the most of it. We went down the road for a drink (I could taste it and then proceeded to spill it all over myself, what a waste of a Crabbies) and the following day he drove into Uxbridge and I ate my first meal that tasted ‘normal and amazing’ at Prezzo. It was incredibly hot that day and I am not supposed to stay out in the sun because of the medications I am on, so when I could, I would stop in the shade every now and then. I seemed to walk for hours in the shopping centre and was sooo proud of myself at what I had achieved that day. As the weekend consultants called in on me during the two days, there was promised talks of homeward bound on Monday, so I worked my ass off to prove to them that I would be able to cope and I was determined to get that discharge summary….

Eating Yummy Bruschetta At Prezzo

& It Stayed Down!!!

Rocking Stiffys Hat In My Room On FirTree Ward

My Amazing Man

Thank you for reading, part three to follow.

xxx

A New Life - A Whirlwind Of Six Weeks I Still Can’t Quite Believe - Part One

It’s been almost two months since I last blogged, and for a very good reason. My call came, my first ever call and I was given a second chance and the gift of life by my hero donor and their family.

I was feeling extremely poorly last time I posted and rested for a while. I was then planning to write and tell you what happened at clinic in Harefield when I attended on July 25^th…. But literally the following day I was called and back up in London waiting for news about my life saving operation.

I still can’t comprehend what has happened to me, I also can’t believe how far I’ve come in such short space of time. I don’t want to bore you with pages and pages of my drowning on so will write a few posts if I can explaining what happened, how I felt, how I feel now, and add some pictures we have taken over the last few weeks to show exactly how my journey has panned out…. Please bear with me as I’m still trying to get my head around it myself!!

I was seen at Harefield in clinic on 25^th July, I had all my tests done and then saw my consultant in the afternoon - things were getting pretty desperate now and he said that he would have another word with the team and try to get things prioritised. Stefan and I left the hospital for our long journey back not thinking very much of this at all, just to continue with living life the best way we know how and just hoping one day I would get that call. I had been listed for exactly six months that week and I was amazed at how quickly the time had past…. We finally got home late evening, had something for tea and I updated facebook on the news of the day and we went to bed for some well needed rest.

We were both in a deep sleep when the sound of my mobile ringing literally made me jump out of my skin, through coughing up my lungs and answering I soon realised I was talking to a transplant co-originator from Harefield who calmly apologised for ringing so early in the morning and telling me that a pair of lungs had become available if I would like to come up and see if they were a match…. It was 5.15am, I was shaking like a leaf and couldn’t believe what I had just heard, but through the coughing and the shaking I was able to say yes, yes of course…. She told me to get a bag together and leave within the next hour. I was an utter mess, Stefan thought it was a prank at first but when I assured him it wasn’t he was an auto pilot packing all my things whether I needed them or not! We climbed into the car and set off on our way, I was sobbing, shaking, in total shock I just couldn’t believe that literally 24 hours from travelling up to Harefield for a clinic appointment we were travelling up there again for possibly a life changing operation that I had been waiting for, for so long.

I made several phone calls on the way up, none of them proberly made sense as I’m sure I was blubbing throughout all of them. News soon got around and I was receiving lots of good luck messages which were very much appreciated but at the time I just felt like I was in a dream bubble, nothing was going in or out, I just couldn’t make sense of a thing.

We made good timing despite traffic and I was sat on the bed in my room by 11am, as I was there in clinic the day before, I had all my bloods, x rays etc done so no more tests were needed as they had all the results. Rob, the co-ordinator told Stefan to shower me and gown me up and we were literally waiting for the green or red light as to whether the lungs were a match or not. He said this would take about an hour, but within 20 minutes, he came back in, said “this is a lot quicker than I expected but can you take these please they want you down now” - I had no chance to call anyone, I took my first lot of immuneo medications and started to be wheeled down, squeezing my husbands hand and absolutely balling my eyes out. I’m crying now writing this, I cannot tell you the mix of emotions going through my head, I was petrified, I knew how badly I needed and wanted this life changing operation but at the same time I didn’t want to say goodbye to Stefan, I didn’t know if I would see his face again…. I will never forget that moment, that hug he gave me as we had to say goodbye for as long as I live.

Arrived at Harefield, 26th July am.  

Gowned up & waiting to hear if it's all go....

I remember looking at the clock as the surgical team were gathered around me, attaching tubes and starting to send me off to sleep, telling me they would look after me…. At 12.55pm, on Thursday 26^th July 2012 by eyes closed, and I wasn’t sure when or if they would open again.

I was none the wiser in my sleeping state, but I had soooo many messages of support from friends and family back home - even from some celebrities which was just amazing….

A Tweet From Smiler

My Swamp Brother Friend, Stephen :)

Stef Telling Everyone The Transplant Was A Success &

Fellow TXer/ Cfer Kirstie's Status From That Day

I cannot comprehend how my husband felt whilst I was in theatre. I guess you don’t know how strong you are and whether you would be able to go through something like that until you are physically put in the situation but I truly think my husband is amazing, he was completely on his own until his brother joined him later that night for company. My husband is only 23 and he has always been my rock, but he showed everyone that day just how incredible he is. He even took time to update friends back home on my progress, even though he was stressed and exhausted himself. I will never forget just how strong he pulled through for me, not just that day but through the weeks of my recovery when things were just as difficult as we couldn’t be together as much as we liked.

An Inbox Message From My Amazing

Husband, So Emotional - One Of The Most Testing Times Of Our Lifes

One That Will Never Be Taken For Granted Or Forgotten

I don’t remember very much at all when I was finally woken from sedation, Stefan told me bits and pieces, I was taken off the ventilator on the Friday night, Stefan had sat with me for a while and talked to me but I was still sedated and barely made any sense just stirred every now and then. My mum and sister came down that night too and stayed until I was awake and talking fully on Sunday morning. I know now, the total time of my operation was 7 hours and 55 minutes and I was weaned from bypass after 115 minutes. I’ve never liked ICU, the staff there take amazing good care of you, but the pain and hallucinations you get from the medications were unbearable. I was so uncomfortable with the drains and the wounds on my chest I just couldn’t sleep and would keep getting panic attacks that I couldn’t breathe. I could breathe, I had new lungs, I just didn’t realise yet. It was like a case of mind over matter I had to teach my brain all over again that things were ok, but it took along time. I had my first bronch awake on ICU that morning and looked at the screen at my new lungs and the bright blue stitches, it was an incredible sight, as I lay there with my mouth wide open and the camera down my throat into my left lung I could see how clear the lobes were, inflamed of course but they were bound to be! It was all so surreal….

Me In ICU After Being Taken Off The Ventilator

On the Sunday afternoon I asked if I could sit out of bed, I was really swollen and wanted to feel a bit of normality and have a nice drink, something other than water to quench my thirst. So with Stefan and the nurses help they moved all my drains and I was sat up straight and talking - it felt a hell of a lot better, in walked one of my CF nurses from Exeter just in time to catch me out of bed only 4 days post transplant, better still I was able to stand up myself, a little bit wobbly, but incredibly steady on my feet after what I had just undergone. The following day I asked to be moved from ICU to the transplant ward, and after having two of my four chest drains removed, I was transferred on the Monday 30th to E ward after lunch to start recovering…

Sunday, Day 4 After TX Sat Out Of Bed

Trying To Give You Guys A Smile... ;)

Thank you for reading, part two to follow soon. xxx