I am a firm believer that men and women are equal. Anything a man can do, a woman can do too - if not better! Any job a man does, a woman can too. And vica versa. Men are no better drivers then women, and likewise, women are no better then men. And so the list goes on (use your imaginations, you can see where my point is going).

But today, I would somewhat disagree. I think had a male been present at the 'crisis', we wouldn't have been in the 'crisis' in the first place.

Location: "Work". No seriously, "work" but I wasn't really, really working so make your own minds up.

Time: Between 9 & 5

Problem: It was cold. Very, very cold. Now something I don't do is complain about the temperature, because as a rule of thumb, whenever I'm cold, others are warm; whenever others are baking, I'm freezing; when they be cold, I be hot, when they be cool, I be a geek.

So the one I work with complains that the heating is broken. The lady above the shop comes down and rants raves shouts complains politely expresses concern that the heating may be broken. I conclude from this, that the heating is probably broken. Our toilet is also blocked. We shiver as we work while we are bursting for the loo. How lovely.

So queue the plumber who comes along and fixes our toilet for us. *Joy*

But a couple of hundred out of pocket, and we're still cold. The plumber looks at us as though we be crazy; pockets his money and walks off. While we stand there like snow-women.

I make phone call after phone call after complaint after phone call trying to get an electrician to come out. We're closing in on lunchtime and the place is an igloo - apparently (remember, I have no sense of work temperature).

So *eventually* at about 3pm, a kind man comes out to us. We tell him our sorrowful tale about how the place is falling down around us and how we have worked so hard through the cold all day. What can be done about this? Can it be fixed? Can he help us NOW? We neeeeed heat!! We get down on our knees and beg!

"Sure" he says "no problem". We about jump into his arms, do a jig, pop the champagne. What a wise MAN he be! He fixes our problem. We fork out *another* couple of hundred for his saving grace.

What was the problem?




Someone had turned the thermostat down.



Man = smarter then woman. For once. Man made a few hundred yoyos from turning a thermostat up. Smart man be he. I wonder does he have any vacancies because *that* sounds like an ideal job to me!

Today the house phone rang. I answered it. It sounded like the caller on the other end didn't realise that they had phoned, as nobody was speaking at the other end of the line but I could hear noise and music. My Dad has accidentally called home a few times without realising it in the past, and you just need to SHOUT and he realises his mistake. I've even heard him chose the wine he's having for dinner before...Anyway, we then taught him how to 'lock' his phone, which basically prevents idiots from making such idiotic mistakes again. Fool proof.

So figuring this was the case, I started shouting "HELLO?! HELLO!?! HELLOOOOOOOOOO!! LO! LO! LO!". My Mom asked me who was on the other end, to which I told her I didn't know. But then I realised that whoever it was had the same radio station on as us. And there was a slight echo on their line. Who was this freak?! Frustrated, confused, annoyed and tired I shook my head in disgust. I then looked down and a blue light caught my attention from the corner of my eye. I reached into my pocket and took out my phone.

Calling Home... 45sec, 46sec, 47sec....

My eyes popped out of my head. I hung up swiftly, smiled meekly at my puzzled mother and ran off. Needless to say my keypad is now locked... *blush*

I meant to tell you about the most important part of the concert on Sunday. I don't understand how it did not occur to some people that umbrellas wouldn't be permitted to a standing concert. Clearly selfish people who have little consideration for the people standing behind them. (Remind me to rant about TALL people who stand at the front, another time...). Anyway, after the concert, all the confiscated umbrellas were up for grabs. FREE UMBRELLAS! I got a beautiful pink and white dotty spotty one. I love it when stuff like that happens!

I may add though, that I of *course* have posters up around town in case anyone wants to claim the umbrella. Anyone? No?? Well if you insist!

Work tomorrow until 6pm. Yadda, yadda yawn.

Also, PLEASE know if you left me private comments (no matter how long ago), I WILL get back to you! Sincere apologies....

Anyone this side of the world, will have noticed the rivers that have been pouring out of the sky these last few weeks. November weather, not mid summer. Sunday was no exception. It didn't stop Justin Timberlake performing, nor did it stop a few thousand fans turning up. He didn't manage to sell out though which is surprising. He had to get 50cent to cancel his gig in town and join him, just to get all the 50cent ticket holders to come to HIS concert. Still, it was brilliant.

We had standing tickets, and although the gates opened at 5pm, we decided not to bother rushing. We clearly were not the only ones as we were really up close. I would estimate about 5-7 people from the front. So, pretty close. While we waited, a fan of this blog came up and asked me for my autograph. I'm joking, I spotted Shell (a regular visitor to the guestbook) and ran over like a lunatic and she did likewise. Luckily we stopped in time though because that could have been one nasty crash. Anyway, hellos and goodbyes done, we made our way back to the stage.

50cent opened up and told us all how 'you didn't think I was gona be hur, did y'all? It was a surprise wasn't it? You guys are all surprised aren't y'all?'....Em actually no Fiddy. It was on the news on Friday, but never mind. He got the crowd warmed up because he 'Told ma fren Justeen that I'd warm y'all up... Ole..Ole, ole, ole...'. He didn't *quite* get the melody right (obviuosly someone just told him to get the words right and we'd take it from there) but that was okay because we all took over and sang it over and over again. For anyone who doesn't know the 'Ole' song, it began at the World Cup 1990 as the Irish chant for Italia '90. We sing it everywhere we go. That and 'The Fields of Athenry'.

We were then all instructed to put our middle fingers up in the air and scream obscenities. Or one obscenity over and over again. That was funny. Of course being the nice young lady that I am, I blocked my ears, shut my eyes and had no partaking in such rude antics. Ahem.

"Fiddy" then threw his hat and jacket out. In OUR direction. But too far over to the right, and too far away. But we were *this* close. My mission is to do two hours of arm lengthening stretches a day for my next concert. I'd love some memorabilia like that. Of course I could just go find someone with connections and butter them up, but that would take too long. I could do my arm lengthening stretches while watching Home&Away.

Timberland then came on and busted a few beats which were swell. We wanted JT though. And JT came. I can't even remember what he opened up with but it was excellent. And he was really sweet, because every so often he would fit 'Dublin' into his songs. 'Ain't nobody love you like I love you - Dublin! You're a good girl and that is why I love you - Dublin!'. He then said how Eyer-laaaand was the best crowd ever. I swear he doesn't say that to all his crowds honest. His dancing was amazing as was his talent. He could play the piano, guitar AND sing.

Anyway, the rain stayed away nicely, only coming down once or twice. Thankfully I had my rain-mac-hat. Unfortunately I did *not* have my camera. D'oh! I took the battery out to charge it and then I forgot the pesky thing. But memories are more important. Never mind, as at times like this, I am reminded of William Wordsworth in his poem, Daffodils when he says:

(Never mind)For oft(en), when on my couch I lie (often!!)
In vacant or in pensive mood (bored),
They flash upon that inward eye (I remember it)
Which is the bliss of solitude (which makes me happy);
And then my heart with pleasure fills (which makes me even more happy),
And dances with the daffodils. (I remember the Justin Timberlake concert).

See photos may and will last a lifetime, and in old age my memory may fade, but at least I'll always have the....oh wait....what a stupid poem!!

Second Post: Well I decided now was as good a time as ever to shout from the rooftops about my transplant....yet again. Since it is raining and pouring (and the old man is snoring) I have decided to blog instead. I have blogged a long (you may need to read this in the segments that I should have written it in) post about it. If it's any consolation there is very little waffle in it, it just so happens I like to drag things out a little bit.

It can be found in my RedBook blog on the right hand side (don't bother your Barneys, I've hyperlinked it) so those of you who wish to read about it, can and those who don't won't have to. I think that's fair. I like fair.

And thank you to those of you who have wished me a happy Txday! Woo! I had a cake, Toblerone, Doritos, and M&M peanuts without insulin. I am an idiot.

First Post: Can you see my ticker up above? What does it say??

That's right, it's my TXDAY (transplant day) today! Happy Birthday to me. I'm loving every minute of it, and long may it continue. I shall continue to make each and every breath count; to marvel in every experience, be they mundane or extraordinary; to use stairs instead of lifts and elevators; to run upstairs and not walk and to live and love life to the full.

It looks like my JT blog will go ahead tomorrow. I may well blog again later-depending.

Last night I received a text from my Mum at midnight. My Mum and Dad are away (again) in England for a while. So I'm lying in the leaba, and I get a text wishing me a happy birthday along with directions to a gift. I got out of my bed, and followed the instructions. I found a lovely present with a Winnie The Pooh 1st birthday card from my family. *cry*

My transplant is a bit unusual in the fact that it happened over a weekend. For those of whom I haven't tracked down and forced to listen to my tale, there were one or two delays before my transplant could go ahead, which basically meant that although it was scheduled for Saturday night, it didn't go ahead until Sunday afternoon. I had to go to bed knowing my transplant was the next day. Weird.

Do you know what happened on the 1st of July last year? England got knocked out of the world cup to Portugal. Ronaldo *winked* and Rooney got sent off. I bet you didn't know that! Or...remember that. Well I knew, because I was resting/sleeping/lazing for the match, so missed the start; flew to England during the match, missing the middle and was still travelling while it was ending. We caught the highlights on the BBC1 news.

It's been a year. A whole long year. And while my 'real' birthday isn't until tomorrow (I was operated on the 2nd of July) I'm celebrating anyway.

I think going to Justin Timberlake and standing about 10 people from the stage; managing to walk and walk and stand and basically not sit for about 5 hours is celebration enough for me. JT is the man, as is 50cent as is Timberland. Amazing. I will write about it tomorrow. Not because I don't have room now, not because I have rambled enough, but rather because I'm not working tomorrow so need some 'stuff' to blog about. It was good though. Or should I say 'sweet'....

I went to the cinema in Dundrum last night. We saw Lucky You. Don't go see it. It's useless. The last time I went to the cinema there (I think) was with my brother to see Harry Potter and the something something. Another pre-transplant memory.

Lucky You is about poker. If you don't get poker you're screwed. I understand a *bit* about it but was utterly confabbled. They had entire scenes of just poker. It was about this guy who gets to the world series, faces his Dad who is his enemy and whom he hates with a passion. They throw in this weird love story side plot with Drew Barrymore which is the stupidest thing I've EVER witnessed. The main guy (the son, Huck) meets her, sleeps with her, steals her money and runs off. And then they're still in love kind of (he wants her, she not him, chase chase, argue argue, chase, fight before the world series yawn). And yadda yadda yawn. If someone did that to me, I'd deck them one. And I'm not even the type to 'deck' people.

In the end (don't read on if you want to see this film, which I swear you don't), he and the Dad form part of the last three in the world series. And the hero (the son) loses. Well he bows out. He comes third. So he doesn't even win. And the father doesn't even win either. So they both lose. If you *do* see this film (don't) there's the most random scene ever which gave us such laughs. It just cuts to Drew and her sister hanging up clothes. The sister says 'I hear Huck is doing well' and Drew responds (after AGES) 'good'. What was the point in that?!

And EVERY time (EVERY) there are three people in a scene and they need two characters to converse, the third person's phone rings and they have to 'take it over here' where they then disappear for ten minutes. No explanation as to who was on the phone. Ugh.

Anyway, after the cinema we came back and sat in my friend's porch/front garden until 2am. I was zonked. I had work this morning and slept in a little bit. Zonked. I really don't like working much.

Ohh meant to say! I'm going to see the man himself, J to the T, Justin. Me and my friend got tickets, as an extra show was put on....or extra tickets were put out (what do I care, I'm GOING!) So I shall be Rocking My Body and not Crying A River on Sunday. Like what I did there? Pretty clever right? Of course, what with the weather being so unpredicatable, I may bring a jacket JUSTIN case!!!! OK, I'll stop.


It would seem the opportunity to get on my 'nice people' list (the one which I haven't created and probably won't but if I do you will definately get on it list) proves to be popular! Thank you to all the newcomers or newcommenters(!) for your lovely comments. It is feeding my addiction well. I may even last MORE then the month with no more comments... Well I won't go overboard, but it's possible!!

Something that really struck me was your opinions (and there were a few) about the severtiy of the 'break the hair straigtner' crime. I would have considered this to be a 'day in the stocks' crime, but judging the public feelings, it may be more akin to an 'electric chair' offense. (Oh the irony, electric chair would DEF cause fuzzy hair wouldn't it??).

Anyway, knowing what most of you look like and knowing what *most* of your hairstyles look like, (which are ALL tamer then mine) I see you have considerably less problems with your hair then I. So if *you* guys think this crime was bad, then that says something. Poor me. I just *wish* the eighties would come back into fashion. Seriously, i can do a GREAT "big doo". You want to see? Well tough, because you're forced to. Every. Time. You. Look. At. My. Hair. ESPECIALLY unstraigtened.


I'm working away and have NO access to the internet 9-6 and when I get home, I'm zonked hence the short blogs etc. It's okay but I'm a bit tired afterwards. I think it's the not being used to doing so much work that kills me. I mean who invented this 'work' business. Ick, not wise.

Work, work, work. I need a break. Unfortunately the person who I *work* with is terribly dedicated, a work horse if you will. And well, if you know me, you probably realise I work at a slightly different pace. Ahem.

Anyway, if I believe if it is quiet; if there is little work to be found; no work to be done. If I really and honestly have done all the work i can find (eg, swept the shop, dusted ALL the shelves) and there is nothing left to do. Nada. Zero. Zilch. I sit down. The person I work with does not believe in this method. I am told to dust. Dust what?? Dust again. Pah. So the day feels long, but I'm getting there.

By the way, dust? I don't think that's such a good idea. Same goes for 'work'.

My first time EVER being well enough to spend an evening at a concert, able to stand for the whole thing, perhaps a dance or two, and not spend a week in hospital afterwards. Justin Timberlake plays this weekend - tickets anybody? Please? *Sigh*.

(a proper blog will follow later - just *had* to get that off my chest)

I skipped along to the Diabetes clinic today. I think I arrived late. About 24hours too late, but they saw me anyway. For more information, see my REDBOOK-MEDBOOK blog.

Upon looking in the mirror today I have decided that I really, really need to get my hair cut. I don't know why I always try to convince myself that *this* is going to be the time when I grow it long. It never suits me!! Guh. It's too dry to go to the hairdressers though, as they'll just send it into knots. And then they'll whine and complain that I should be doing this for it, and using that on it and "OMG do you KNOW how bad doing THAT is for your hair???". I'll probably have to sit through renditions of 'Wow your hair is so thick!" and "HOW do you manage to brush it??". Maybe this time I'll opt for the shaved look.

The reason my hair is so unbelievably dry is because I am still on my acne treatment, Roaccutane. It is a miracle drug, but I seem to have had a small relapse. I blame the sun. All was going swell until that heat wave a few weeks ago, when I literally burned in patches. And now those burns have turned into scar things. And now those scars look like spots, but I swear they're not!! Anyway, since there is *no* oil production anywhere, my hair does not get greasy. If I wanted, I would only wash my hair every 10 days or so. It sounds disgusting, but it's simply not greasy. I reassure you though, that I *do* wash my hair more then once every 10 days! (Ahem9daysHemHem)

My three months are up, but due to those pesky burns, I suspect three more months are on the cards. Bleh.

I'm off to work tomorrow and will work until Saturday. I will obviously get to come home to sleep though, as the notion of working straight, non stop until Saturday is a bit preposterous. In fact, the word 'working' is a bit preposterous in itself. Who am I kidding. I don't work. I sit and get bored most of the day and then get paid. It's a tough life really, I ain't going to lie.

From rereading yesterday's blog I have come to one conclusion. Seals probably don't have hands to clap with. Interesting.

My sister has gone off to Spanish college for the next three weeks. This means there will be more crisps to eat in the house. Before she left, I asked her whether she was taking OUR GHD (amazing hair straightener) with her. She reassured me that no, her friend was bringing one so I could use OURS for the next three weeks. "Fantastic," I said, "That's great".

Five minutes into GHD-ing my hair this evening, I discovered she had broken the thing by dropping it.

I told my Mum I suspected her of breaking it, although I couldn't be sure as I hadn't seen her do it. My Mum said she already knew because she saw [my sister] drop it. Did *nobody* think to mention this to me??? Obviously NOT!

I love an open and honest environment. Where's a clapping seal when you need one?

*claps hands like seal*

Thank you all for your 'hellos'!! It would appear most of you are private little so and sos aren't you! How intriguing... To those who left email addresses, I promise to try and get back to you during the week. Included in that is the person I bumped into in 'House of Fraser about two years ago... I hope you know who you are? Well I guess if you don't, then you will when an email pops into your inbox soon! But seriously, thank you all! I will now put you all nice people on the nice people list which I haven't yet created and probably won't anytime soon (due to my sheer disorganisation) but if I ever do, be assured you *will* be on it!

I'm going to get you all to come back (and some more of you hiders) and say hello again next month. You've put me on a high so it should last me a while before I need my next fix. My injection of approval to ease my insecurities about myself if you will. Insecurities such as:

1. Having hair that makes me look like I stepped out of the eighties
2. Having hair that looks like I have just stuck my finger into a socket and left it there
3. Having hair that has one (or two?) slides lost in it
4. Having hair that I *know* people are staring at and counting their blessings
5. Having hair that I have broken two (not one, TWO) hair brushes with
6. Having hair that I brush everyday, but it just makes it static
7. Having static hair

Is it just me, or is there a recurring theme here? Look closely now... the hints are there.... think about it...

Don't ask me why she's naked. I prefer to wear a coat to match...

OK, first off, I have just finished the 2nd 'Frequently Asked Questions' which can be found in the Medical Blog. I will save you the time of scrolling down and finding the link. Just click HERE. (Lazy *ahem*scoundrels*hemhem*)

Thank you for your questions. (KM, I put in your one from the restaurant that night...same night as I discovered the CULT next door to where you work).

I *love* hearing from people who read my blog. When I go to my inbox and I see someone has left me a comment in my guestbook, I feel like it's my birthday! I positively CRAVE such attention, like some sort of spoiled child and it really, truly makes my day. It's funny how something that takes just a second to do, can make ME so happy! Some people crave cigarettes, for others it is alcohol. Me? I like comments! And yes, I am a self centered, ego tripping...um...person(?) and this is about making ME happy despite the fact that it is all of you contacting me!

In all seriousness, I am not someone who actively goes out and seeks attention (except that time when I wore a rain-mac-hat and some rude person said 'my granny wears one of those' and I turned around and said 'SOOOO??'. That shocked her. Her mouth made such a perfect 'o', I could have thrown a golf ball in. Anyway, that was some good seeking of attention).

So with today being so rainy and wet and floody and miserable, I turn to you, the readers and ask you to take just 30 seconds out of your reading time and leave me a comment. You can make it so only I can read it, or you can display it for all to see! If you are a bit of a NunnyMouse type of person, it may take you a bit of plucking of courage, but I believe in you. You can do it! *cheer* What would I like to know about you?? Well:

Who ARE you? Where are you? How did you find me? Is your weather as bad as mine? Would you ever wear a rain-mac-hat?? I want to know about YOU!! So come on, cough up!! I'm waiting! So don't disappoint....

But please cover your mouth. I don't want to catch anything off you...

A year ago tomorrow. (See what happens when not much happens?? Yes, I live in the past!)

I was about two weeks off IV antibiotics and still feeling OK. This was a personal record of mine and one I was rather impressed with. Was this the beginning of a 'good' phase? Were things going to improve? I still had the ridiculous breathlessness but I felt I could squeeze another week or so without needing more IVs.

I hadn't been out on the town in a LONG time. It was coming up to Helen's birthday and plans were ripe as to where it would be held. I figured I would just go to her house and return home, skipping the whole 'going out in town' bit.

That evening, I was browsing Bebo, and I saw a message from someone I knew from the hospital to another person I knew from the hospital. It read something along the lines of: On a more serious note, [Harry] got called today and is in Newcastle as we speak [for transplant].

I knew 'Harry' from the hospital, although not too well, but she was the first person who I actually knew who had got called for transplant. The excitement I felt for her was unreal. I was nervous and excited and I didn't even know her that well. At clinic the next week, a couple of members of staff commented that I must feel a little jealous but comforted me that my time would come. And to be truthfully, brutally honest, those feelings of jealousy never even crossed my mind. I was only delighted for her, my own case wasn't even on my mind.

Later that evening (it was a long evening) I went to Helen's house, (looking unbelievable skinny and ill) for her party. I had texted a friend and they were keeping me up to date with Harry. I then decided I would indeed go out on the town as I should use up the 'wellness' while I had it. Who knew when I could next feel well enough to attempt a night out?

So I did. We went to Crawdaddy's - a place I had never been before. I was only able for one dance, and my job for the night became to mind the seats beside the dance floor. I also may have got lost on the way to the bathroom at one stage which caused panic but never mind. I had a good night all the same.

And that was the last time I went out before my transplant. A mere nine days later, I would be entering the operating theatres for my life saving transplant. I hadn't got a clue, and I never saw it coming. Sitting in the wheelchair being wheeled down, that 'one in ten don't make it out' ringing somewhat in my ears, I was grateful I had gone out that night. Crawdaddy's was a nice place, and it was a good experience.

It was suitable so that I should return there for my first night out after my transplant to celebrate.

Note: For all those who read the unedited version of yesterday's blog, I apologise for changing it. Upon reflection I had to just glance at the title of my blog and I felt silly. It is all about me. Enough said.

In anticipation of my Diabetes Clinic next week, I popped along to the hospital to get my bloods done today. I had foolishly left my forms for the blood test sitting on my windowsill many weeks ago, so the ink had faded and disappeared. I got someone to fill it in again, but realised too late that I had in fact needed to be fasting. Whoops. Considering I don't really think there's much wrong with me, I don't think I'll bother mentioning that error to the doctor.

This hospital is St Vincents (where I was treated pre-transplant), and has had their outpatients department and clinics all done up since I left. A lot of people complain that it is SUCH a waste of space, as there is a huge big...foyer thing, and the wards are still over crowded. But it must be said, it *is* marvellously pretty!! I'm sure if i still attended that place inpatient I wouldn't agree though..

The stomach bug is ripe yet again, and despite FOUR sterile hand soap things that are put in front of you before you can enter, *I* was the only person I saw use them. Everyone always ignores them - it's terrible. I'm sending an email off to some investigating programme to get them to secretly film these buffoons.

I had blood taken first go(!!!!), by a phlebotomist who I happen to know. I know where she lives too so I shall now go and knock on her door next time the Mater requests my presence for bloods!

Keep the questions coming if you happen to have any!

Today myself and the two Sarahs (whom I call Sassy & Sarah and who I have mentioned once or twice on this blog - the ones I grew up with in my neighbourhood; we had a group, we had our games and stupid 'in' jokes...you KNOW who I'm talking about) decided to have lunch together as it had been a good while since our last meet. We decided to head over to the farm across the road armed with a picnic basket and a feast of delicious foods. The sky looked a bit dodgy, always threatening to open and lash at any minute, but we got lucky.

(I add at this point, that the fourth member of our group, my sister, was working today so could not make it. We do not exclude people who are in the group from the group. It is outsiders we shun)

We had our lunch, munched Doritos, savoured each strawberry as though it were our last, and chittered and chattered. We talked and gossiped and had a thoroughly enjoyable time. And we obeyed the number one rule of the group - bring up embarrassing childhood memories! Ugh.

After we had spent ample time (2+ hours!) eating and talking, we decided to go on a walk around the farm. Our tummys were full but all was going well; we were walking a dusty trail, heads down babbling about something when I spotted a white shape way up in the distance. We continued to walk, while Sarah fixed her shoes. The 'white shape' then became clearer and it looked very much like a goat or donkey or bull. It was running. No, it was RACING. And it was racing towards US. I nearly wet myself! I shouted to the others to run, but Sassy had already taken off as I followed close behind, passing Sarah (who was still fixing her shoe and holding on to the picnic basket!) and thinking how bizarre this whole set up was. (I might add that I did feel a bit guilty for just legging it past the shoe fixing Sarah instead of offering to help but anyway). There was (for all we knew) a BULL charging at us, there was nobody around except the three of us, and there was nowhere to run to. They don't call Sassy a Leinster champion sprinter for nothing is all I can say!

We figured someone had forgotten to shut a gate somewhere. When we got around the corner we caught our breath between the fits of giggles. It was rather alarmingly scary though. After a while, we decided to return and thankfully the bull thing was gone. We carried on about our walk, and made our way into another humongous field where three (grumpy) goats appeared to have escaped from wherever they were supposed to be as well. We then figured it was probably a goat and not a angry charging killing bull (as previously suspected) that we had encountered earlier.

We finished the walk, saw some sweet children and that was about it. It soon began to pour out of the heavens when we returned home, which signalled the end of a lovely day spent out with friends. And so four friends (my sister joined us at this point) who used to spend every single summer day together (except when one or other of us would jet off for their annual two week holiday) parted ways once more. Oh except Paula and I, because we sort of live together, so 'parting ways' for dramatic effect would be a bit silly really....and that rain was coming down HARD! No better way to spend a free day then catching up with old friends me thinks...

I am doing another FAQ (Frequently Asked Questions!) about transplants (or CF if you so wish) in my Medical blog at the end of this week. If you want me to (try) answer anything, please leave a comment (publicly or privately) in my guestbook.

Monday. For once I am speechless. I guess I could update you on the surfing girls??

Well, if any of you had been peeking in my Guestbook of late, you would have seen Helen and Eileen's comments about the fact that there are FOUR people there not just the three (Helen, Eileen and Jenny) whom I mentioned. But you see, if people insist on complaining, I would advise *them* to start *their* own blogs and blog about what *they* want instead of parading about on the 'forgotten one's' blog and giving out as. per. usual.

Anyway, back to the story. I don't think I am bothered telling you about their FAILED careers as surfers any longer to be quite frank, because being quite frank, I couldn't be bothered. At least they have a place to stay now, although they are still jobless.

But the real hero here, HAS to be Gail. Jenny comes a VERY close second. Those two are the ones holding this vacation together. I hope that they will gain patience in dealing with the 'kids' that are on this trip. From what I hear, you may need it.

Gail, I hope you are having a wonderful time! Jenny, the same goes for you too! Helen and Eileen, I hope you aren't bothering these two like you are me. If you are, give them strength!!

And finally, apologies to anyone and everyone who just read the above and their eyes crossed with confusion. I don't have anything to blog about. I'm sorry.

Happy Father's Day!!

My Dad has been a dad for nearly 25 years. That is a LONG time me thinks. Being a Dad is a full time job, a lifelong commitment. Basically he's stuck with us and we're stuck with him. But I wouldn't want to be stuck with any other Dad anyway so I guess I consider myself lucky...

Back in the day:

I used to love the way he had a car-phone back in 1991! (Although it would probably equate to the same size as a small building these days)

I used to love the way his car-phone had speaker phone, which was probably the coolest thing I had EVER seen.

He used to have a tape (a tape! How lame) of these songs and we would listen to them while driving in France. Songs like 'Meeee-chelle..' 'Strawberry Fields' 'Let's go (let's go) to San Francisco (San Fran)" but he lost that tape (tape - snigger snigger).

He used to work near my hospital and would visit me during his lunch break, with his sandwich and bottle of fizzy something or other.

I used to love when he did my physiotherapy and I'd fall asleep.

Nowadays:

I love the way he will (reluctantly) drive me anywhere (most of the time)

I love the way he will (reluctantly) drive with me anywhere (most of the time)

I love how he is patient, willing to help me when I need help. He will say and encourage me in his 'Dad' way. He never lets me think negatively (except when I'm driving).

Finally, when I was away having my transplant, I had one or two dodgy moments (to say the least) and all I needed was for someone (or sometwo) to be there and he (they) was.

Overall I love that he's MY dad.

Well I'm home from the National Transplant games and I'm tired. And proud and pleased but tired! I have decided to add yet *another* blog (which can be found on the right hand side) dedicated to sport and that side of things... So I will write my review in there...

Anyway, I mostly swam, and although I will miss the medal presentation ceremony tomorrow, I think I got about 5 medals. I ran 100m on the track and came second, but I wasn't actually registered for that race, which means I don't actually get a medal for that. It wasn't the medals or winning or lack of medals or lack of winning that was important to me today though, it was the experience, the accomplishment, the miracle of it all and the chance to meet so many wonderful people each with their own story to tell. As my Freeman team manager says "I was just happy to be there".

We went down to the chipper when I got home and I got a delicious quarter pounder meal with chips and after that I retired to bed. Then I got out of bed, let the dog out who then got confused and wanted to go for a walk despite the fact it was 1am in the morning! I really need to teach him to tell the time...

I got hungry. Remind me never, ever, EVER to get hungry outside the comfort of my own home again. Ever. I was babysitting. Having successfully raided their sweet and chocolate drawer I was still peckish. I decided to bite my lip and do nothing. I crossed my legs, uncrossed them, crossed them but I was still hungry. I then went and stared out the window at the rain pouring down in a melodramatic fashion; the rain acting as a metaphor for my tears of HUNGER. After spending a few seconds doing this I moved around but I was still hungry. I don't know where all that food actually goes, because it certainly didn't turn the 'I'm hungry' switch off like it was supposed to!

And then it hit me. I remembered. Their biscuit cupboard. The last time I was there, they had these uber fancy Italian bread stick things, that were like pencils and tasted delicious. I raced as fast as I could calmly made my way to said cupboard. I looked up (it's a high cupboard) and admired it affectionately. A very itsy bitsy teeny weeny tear came to my eye...Or maybe that was dust - quite possibly dust actually...

I reached my hand up and slowly opened the press door. I spotted the bread sticks immediately, gleaming like a long lost child of mine (that I've never had) and then, as if my eyes suddenly came into focus, I noticed the open packet of McVities balancing precariously in front. Balancing poorly. And just as I thought it, it happened. The McVities wobbled to and fro and then to. I tried to close the press as fast as i could, but it was too late. The packet just fell. I actually managed to trap the bag inside the press successfully, but the contents had fallen and snowed (a LOT of crumbs in those biccies) ALL. OVER. THEIR. COUNTER. And I mean ALL. I was in shock. I opened the press to let the now empty wrapper float down. Mocking me.

And after that? I felt hungry no longer. Nothing like a great big mess to clean up that you stupidly created to make you forget about your real problems...

I am a complete idiot. 'May' breaks??? MAY?! I only clocked the fact NOW that we're in June. Well anyway, my parents went off to Helsinki today (did I mention that's NOT in Sweden?) and we're here by our merry selves until Sunday. P to the Y, parté!! Ahem.

I got up nice and early for a change and waved my Mum off. I had great plans for the day to go shopping and do all sorts of interesting things, but then it wouldn't stop raining! And its the kind of rain that even if you wore a rain coat, umbrella, umbrella hat, waterproof trousers and socks, the rain would somehow still blow in and you'd be like a drowned cat. I don't DO the drowned cat look.

I'll be babysitting later and it was the two year old's (now three years old) birthday recently. She's - you guessed it - three now(!) and I couldn't even get out to find her a nice little present. Or a card.

I drove my sister around the place in my car today and learned that the majority of drivers seem to know NOTHING about yellow boxes. The minority of drivers who DO know about yellow boxes seem to give me this sly look as though they are telling me 'Ah go on, I'm going to stop....sure just pop in there....yes that's right, YOU..pull in in front'..and as I get ready to 'go' they just change their mind! They just slowly pull into the yellow box, with me. RIGHT. THERE!! Glaring at them and occasionally throwing my hands up in a terribly dramatic fashion. And then what do they do? They just stare right ahead and sometimes squint their eyes as though they are oblivious to me looking at them. They pretend to be really focused on something ahead, but I can see. I can see their twitching. I can see their uncomfortable-ness; their shame and embarrassment. Argggg!!

Anyway, driving is improving, and I have toned down my 'weeeeeeeeeeees' when going over speed ramps.

Well, for some bizarre reason my blog has gone into double Dutch, or some other similarly confusing language. I was told to 'Almenden', to sign in. How funny. I actually had a good chuckle at this because I am just that immature about things sometimes.

It's late, it's foggy and my parents are off on holidays tomorrow to Helsinki (which isn't in Sweden as I thought) in Finland. They go away on a 'May' trip most Mays. Last year, my Mum didn't go to Malta because she was afraid I would get my call, despite my insistence and complaining and promising that I wouldn't get my call and she could go and enjoy her holiday. She didn't go. I didn't get called. But according to my dad he would 'never go there again' so it worked out for the best.

The two Mays previous to that, they went to South Africa (05) and Thailand (04). Both those two times I went into hospital a day or so before they left as the hospital wouldn't let me do home IVs on my own and I simply couldn't last the two weeks without some sort of treatment.

AND for some more BORING information (you should really go click that red 'x' up there now now), the time they went to South Africa was the time where I took my rather serious, puzzle the doctors, drop down to less then 6stone turn for the worse. I also did my Leaving Cert (A-levels) in hospital and was filmed for the RTÉ1 documentary 'Our Lady's' (which was about the hospital). I never watched it since, as I dread to see how thin and sick I must look but I have it on video so I may watch it yet.

Other then that, no more news. Update on the 'tres amigos' Eileen, Helen and Jenny:
They have now gone to LasVegas to NOT gamble (too risky) but to have a good time. They have accommodation (for two) with a pool and all standard SanDiego things. I'm frustrated and overly jealous but as well as that, I'm happy for them. And excited.

And FINALLY; stupidly I encouraged you all to go visit Jac and then didn't leave an address for you to bother her at! Just click here!! And enjoy but then come back and promise never to return even though you WILL secretly return but won't tell me so as not to hurt my feelings.

Is it bad that I didn't check with Jac before broadcasting about her first?? Hmmmm

Tiring Tuesday: Now this weather is just freaky...

This morning I got up nice and early and decided to go for a lengths swimming training thing down at the pool. They run these trainings Monday-Thursday every week of the year, and it's all people my Mum's age (including my Mum) and older. They have different levels of ability, from people who swim S.L.O.W.L.Y to people who swim competitively and very fast.

The pool is a fantastic size, and I think the second biggest in Dublin (about 35metres), and it is divided into six lanes. Lane 1 is the slowest with lane 5 being the fastest. Despite my Mum's numerous explanations, I can't quite remember what lane 6 is used for...

Anyway, I was put into Lane 4. Talk about being thrown into the deep end (geddit??!), but I guess you could say it was a case of sink or swim!!(OK, I'm sorry..) It was rather intimidating though. I used to swim quite a lot when I was younger (about three times weekly) so I have a good stroke technique, but my fitness is really, really poor. I wasn't able to do more then four lengths continuously at a time, and at that I needed a huge rest. I think I just need to learn how to pace myself...

I'm going to keep it up though, as it's something I want to get confident at again, and the other ladies (and one man) are all so welcoming. They had all known about my operation and were all so nice and interested. While waiting on the transplant list, my Mum used to hand her 'transplant phone' (my Mum bought a special phone that only Newcastle had the number to, as she couldn't have her proper phone turned on in class) to the coach every class, despite the coach's insistence that she would have a panic and heart attack combined if it ever went off.

The Irish Transplant Games are on this Saturday and it will be my first time to take part in anything like them, so I wanted to get a 'bit' of 'practise' in beforehand. I reckon a tiresome hour spent in the pool is good enough. I'll use the 'Hey I had a TRANSPLANT you know!!' line if anyone says anything, because that's bound to work at a thing like that!

I shan't be taking them too seriously, as I will be travelling to Scotland to take part in the British ones next month, and I reckon they'll be ten times harder! Yes, for those, I think I may just spend TWO hours in the pool beforehand.. Oh dear...

Mundane Monday: This weather is freakishly HOT!!

Update on the girls: Well their surf coach still isn't impressed with Eileen and Helen. Eileen has claimed that she can indeed swim, and went to the beach yesterday to prove this point. It would seem that Eileen can imitate a puppy drowning all right, but Helen won't go near the water. The coach, unsurprisingly is NOT happy. He has gone around town telling every landlord to make sure they don't get accommodation, so they're living in a motel (not even a HOTEL) at the moment. A new rival called Jenny has arrived on the scene now, and she can surf, swim and do everything the coach wants her to do(!) so the girls are less then happy. But she can also cook and clean and come up with good ideas, so the girls, although less then happy, are also slightly less then sad. They are now calling her 'MOM' and are understandably devastated when she leaves their company for any length of time. This makes showering and going to the toilet increasingly difficult for Jenny.

Nah, I'm only messing. Some of that is true, but most is not. They are ALL in San Diego and it's getting increasingly annoying.

I thought I'd use this post to say my shout outs:

To Jac, yooohoooo!! How creepy/stalkerish is it that I read your blog too! In fact, anyone should read her blog *go, GO*. But then if you go, you'll probably find her SO interesting and funny, you'll never come back here again...*cry*

To Shell and KM and Penny and Jail and Irene and Melon and G-raze: Big hellos!!

And to Jinnáy : Jag hoppa det du er njuta av din fridagen , kasta lott av älska!! (I hope that makes SOME sense...)

A day in the life of a participant of the Women's mini-marathon 2007 through photos. A slight cop out, but we all like to look at photos anyway... Apologies for the inevitable red 'x's that some of you are bound to see. I'm an athlete not a computer....person..

That's me, my sister, and my mum before the marathon with the signs...





^^These were some of the people behind us when we were waiting to start. If you look carefully, you can see where the mob goes around the corner, where I'm guessing it goes on and on and on. And you can also see those funky green really COOL plastic visors that were obviously given to us for free! Only losers wore them.


^^The queue to get to the starting line: Some more of those geeky visors in plain sight - the SHAME! You see it didn't take us eleven minutes to get to the start line because I was as slow, nervous and cautious as a turtle. No it was because of these people. If you zoom in, you can see the balloons that mark the start.


Yes, these balloons right here. (Well it would be a pretty huge coincidence if an unconnected-to-the-mini- marathon -big- bunch-of-balloons were displaying just like that on the same day as the mini marathon) MORE unfashionable VISORS. What are these people? Desperate??



Well....OK, I follow the crowd. I was desperate. That's me crossing the start line. And look how I look ahead as though I don't know the photo's been taken even thought it's clear I'm taking the photo!! Must be that visor inflicting uncoolness in me.





So then we walked about 3miles or so and...



That was me as we passed St Vincent's, the hospital where I was treated for six months before my transplant. A year ago, I sat in a wheelchair, on oxygen, with IVs going through me, as my dad acted as a drip stand and watched the mini-marathoners go by.

By this stage, I had dumped the visor and adopted the 'professional athlete water bottle' look.


So we walked some more (3 more miles I'm guessing...) and we reached the finish line and we all got a medal and we all came home happy as Larry. And this final photo is of me at the finish line. And I know it looks like I MUST have been last because there are no other people beside me, but actually we came BACK to the finish line for this photo. So we basically set it up.



And so that was how I spent a day (or less then two hours) as a mini-marathon participant. I will eventually tell you all about what happened, the things people said, etc, etc. For now though, I need to go blog again, to catch up on my blogging.

Here is a link to a YOUTUBE video, which wasn't taken by me (I actually think it's a HE-SHE who shot this) but it really encompasses the greatness of the day. There was music throughout. And notice the CROWDS moving in the opposite direction. This was the half way point. The camera-man is going up the bridge, and the other MOBS are going back into town. Seriously, LOOK. AT. THE. AMOUNT. OF. PEOPLE people!!!

RedBook-Medbook blog updated: Check it out. Just results, but I know you care and desperately want to know. Admit it...go on...

OK this is really the last time I do this. I did actually finish the mini marathon, honestly, I'm not just buying some time here, I've just been rather busy! And hot...

The breeze left us today so it was just amazingly hot. I was working of course. But never mind.

In the meantime, I'd like to shout out to my friends in SAN DIEGO who I believe have been reading. Eileen and Helen were selected to participate in a Surfing Competition and will be out there until the end of August. The organisers of the competition gave them no money or a place to stay, so they're trying their best to make the best of a bad situation. Life is hard on them at the moment, and they have resorted to playing percussion on their surfboards by day to earn their way. They feel it socially degrading and feel their dignity got left behind on the aeroplane. I think their surf coach even dropped them when they got out there too. Apparently they applied for a spot on the team over the Internet, but Eileen forgot to mention she can't swim. And Helen neglected to tell them she doesn't like sports.

Nah, I'm only joking, there is no surf competition. But they are out in San Diego. It's annoying.

Again, I'm sorry. I know I thought, you thought, we all thought you'd get a nice long ramble about my mini marathon (the bit where I actually got over the start line) today, but sadly today was spent basking in this Mediterranean heat wave.

We actually went over to the farm across the road for lunch, but once we arrived we discovered there was a power outage so the kitchen and restaurant were shut. After spending a few moments fuming like a lunatic, pulling my hair out having been deprived of food (as any normal, rational person would do) I calmed down and we decided to go on the walk.

To say it was stunning and beautiful would be an understatement. It was marvellous. I will put up photos as soon as I can be bothered and then I'll finish my never ending mini marathon saga.

Ok, I lied. Today happened to be even hotter and the heat affects my ability to get thoughts in my head, down on to the keyboard, so there's no update about the mini-marathon today. All I can do it apologise. And hang my head in shame....Out in the back garden as I sip my pina coladas....in shame.

Feeling hot hot hot (weather hot not sickness, temperature, ohmygoodness what's WRONG with me hot) Hence no blog. I will return on Thursday!

Well I have had a nice long rest, and to my complete and utter disbelief I am not even stiff today. I feel a little achy in my right hip when I walk, but apart from that, fine! And can you believe it, I didn't feel breathless ONCE during the entire journey. Not once, not even a little-teensy-wincy-itsy-bitsy bit!

I'm going to write about my mini marathon experience over two or three posts because I'm just that waffely and dramatic I can't simply write "I walked, I finished". Pur-leeeaze!! What am I? A mute? (That said in no way meant to offend mutes, I DO apologize now...)

My Mum had told me on Sunday that I was under no pressure to finish, that I could try and do maybe half the course and my Dad could pick me up and take me home. OR, if I wanted to do it all, I could stop and have breaks and sit down, and I WASN'T to feel pressured by other people or pressured to keep up with others. No pressure OK?? When she first mentioned such a notion I looked at her with my OhmyGAWD-Moooom-you-are-SOOOO-stooopid look and told her 'MOM, I am NOT dropping out!'. This idea of being picked up was thrown about the place a few more times right up until Monday when we got to the start line, by which time I just humoured her and assured I would indeed say 'Oh NO, my legs - are - BREAKING - I need to stop' if I became tired. She seemed satisfied.

We arrived in town at about 2pm, with the race due to begin at 3pm. I have never seen so many ladies dressed so brightly in all my life- it was incredible. We had to make our way from the Luas to the starting line (which itself was about a MILE, so any sponsors out there, keep that in mind) but for some bizarre reason everyone around me was RUNNING to the start line. Either they were eager beavers, or were people who didn't really know where the race start was so kind of just...ran...aimlessly...Weird. It was about this time, I realised that I had done NO training WHATSOEVER except for that stint of 'jogging' about a month ago, which I did all of twice (talk about dedication!). I then considered the whole 'lift home' option and felt it was good to have as a back up.

Anyway, myself and my mum made our way to the start line, where we stood for about half an hour. It then began to drizzle. And rain. And RUIN MY TAN!! That was annoying. Luckily my mum had a geeky very practical rain mac which we held over us until it eased off. I wanted to wrap it around my waist to protect my beautiful legs from any more damage and preventing it from looking like something was running down my legs, but my mum felt prevention from pneumonia was a better idea. Yeah...Whatever.

Then came the instructions from a God like, muffled and hard to hear/understand voice. Things like:

Nooow ladies, let's have a big S for SAY-FEH-TEEE!! (Symphony?? Did he say 'Symphony'?? What would he said THAT? Mum what *is* he on about??)

Nooow ladies, BIN-LOINERS (some clever clogs brought bin liners in case it rained): PLEASE be careful when dispooosing of yer bin loiners. Think of those behind you when taking them off, they are VERY easy to slip on (Can you imagine slipping on a bin liner??? Or *seeing* someone going flying on a bin liner?! Whoooop! Hahhahaha) ind we dooon't want eny injeries!
Noooow ladies, Umburellas! Umburellas aare LETAL! ....

At this point some smart guy unplugged his microphone he got cut off, thank goodness. The rain and drizzle settled off (but the damage was done- my poor legs). Our hearts began beating with anticipation as the cheers marked the runners starting. This was it. I took a few deep breaths and shook out my arms to 'warm up'(?) (and because that's what they do on TV). I shook out and rolled my neck. Someone from behind pushed me and I yelled 'Hang on!!' I did a bit of jogging and marching on the spot. I doubled tied my laces straightened my socks. I looked at my watch and studied it for a few seconds. I then felt I had done enough studying and decided this was it. And so off we SET!!!


....And then we stopped. It actually took us eleven minutes to get to the start line.

1:58:26

I finished the 6 miles in under two hours. I can't believe it. I will blog later when I've had something to eat...

One day to go: ONE, JUST ONE!!!

Jump under my umbrella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh-ay-ay....



Talk about typical. One day to go, and all today it RAINS. I hadn't really banked on that. I will still wear my shorts, but I'm getting really worried. I mean what if my fake tan runs??

2 days to go. (...and possibly three until I'm home again after the six miles!...oh dear)

Well with such a short amount of time left to go, the time has come for me to really kick in the last of the preperation for the mini marathon. As I have said repeatedly, I can only do my best, and a mere year ago this would and could not have been possible. Anyway, that said, preperation is key, SO:

Legs smooth as silk: Check
Legs tan layer one: Check
Legs tan layer two: Check
Selection of shorts: Check (both board shorts and surf shorts. May need to get running ones...)
Cool wrist band: Check (I'm not sure what this actually does...)
Cool Athlete like water bottle: Check

Practice Running: I'll get to that...
Practice Walking: As above.


I still haven't decided about the sign yet (see yesterday's blog). I agree it's a funky idea, but I just don't want people to think I'm saying 'Oh hey look at me, I had a transplant, tell me I'm great' kind of thing. I do reckon it's a fantastic way of showing the positives of transplant though, so it's a matter of weighing up the pros and the cons.

Secretly however (is something posted on a PUBLIC blog secret??!), I think I am a bit anxious of having people coming up and telling me I'm 'brave' and hearing all that 'inspiration' talk. I am not brave, and I wasn't; I was called (pushed, forced) to the plate and I responded. To say I had acted with bravery would mean that there was thought and deliberation, that I said 'let me be brave about this for a moment' and I didn't. I didn't really have a choice; I just responded. I think anyone in that position (or any similar scary sounding medical circumstance) would do exactly the same; we just don't realise what our bodies are capable of until they are tested. I think to people who have never had transplant (or any serious illness or dilemma) touch their lives, often it can seem simply amazing, which provokes the 'brave and couragous' comments and perhaps they feel that they themselves could never go through such a thing, but they probably could. They just don't know it.

As for the 'inspiration' comments, again, not for me. MissT made a very good point a while ago, that although we don't feel ourselves to be inspirational, and we activly play down any such related notion, some people can be inspired from other's situations. I mean I am inspired quite a lot by different people and it does indeed spur me on at times, but I guess I've always considered myself to be 'normal', thus to hear 'oh you're such an inspitaion' is just cracked.

Trying desperatly not to sound like some grumpy old hag like a crazy cat lady or similar here! Just voicing my rambles in a jumbled way...

Anyway, I have a further two days to decide about my 'sign'. Hmmmmmm

When participating at the Transplant Sports Badminton Event in April I got to know some lovely people. One of whom had had a liver transplant a couple of years ago. This was the first time any of us had come on such a trip, so we all found it interesting to talk about our transplants. Clearly we all share that nosey streak, which I refer to as natural curiosity.

This 'liver lady' said that when she was preparing to go home following her operation, she asked a nurse what she should do now. Should she tell people she had had a transplant or should she keep it secret. The nurse said to her 'Well y'know, you don't have to go out wearing a neon sign telling the world "I've had a transplant", you can tell who you like, or nobody if you don't want to'.

I've always been very open about my transplant. I don't tell everyone, but the way things are in this country, everybody knows everybody, so most people know. I don't shy away from talking about it, as I reckon it's a great way to raise awareness. Not everyone is for transplant, and when I say 'raise awareness' I don't mean 'push people into it', or stuff a donor card sneakily in their back pocket when they're not looking, but rather to get them just to think about it.
29% of people in this country are donors. It's a lot, but hardly enough. That's why I do what I can to try and get people to consider it. (In my totally non pushy forceful ways of course!)

Anyway, this weekend will see me attempt to run/walk/crawl the mini marathon. Six miles which would have simply been inconceivable this time last year. I can't say I've exactly trained as such, but I'll give it a shot and hope to raise some awareness and money at the same time. I can only do my best after all!

So last night we came up with a novel (ish) idea, that I would wear an A4 size laminated sign that says :

11 months, 1 day & 19 hours

since my lung transplant!

Support Organ Donation!

My sister who'll be participating (although with her own friends as she doesn't want to be caught dead with family apparently) will be wearing one that says 'sister's' instead of 'my' and my Mum will have one saying 'daughter's'. We will have donor cards to hand out if people comment.

Anyway, I think the idea is a bit cheesy if you ask me, although it should hopefully work. I haven't decided to wear mine yet, as I don't really want to come across as attention seeking. It goes back to the 'you don't have to go out with a neon sign telling the world' comment. I know I don't have to, and laminating is as fancy as I could get anyway-no neons for me- but if the donor rate is so low, then anything to help...

If anyone thinks this is totally tacky please let me know!

Last night myself and a few of the Ladeees from work (well 'ex-work' -the place I was fired from) went to dinner. It was Thai. It was nice. It filled me up which was the main priority at the end of the day.

I then discovered that the building above the restaurant (and the one next door to where I used to work) is owned by a group that you wouldn't be surprised to read about in The DaVinci Code. How freaky. I'm sure they're harmless freaks at the end of the day, but their secrecy and mysterious ways are so intriguing. I'd love to join but I'm not male. Or 21. I haven't been invited either. I think I'll picket outside. That or start up my OWN club. For females. And we'll picket outside. Then they'll be annoyed....and jealous...

I can't believe such a group existed right under my very nosey nose for so long, and I never knew! I'm disgusted with myself!

Now this is for ALL the 'Apprentice' fans out there. This fella is the guy who I mentioned weeks ago, who looks FREAKISHLY like a guy I worked with. I actually have my suspicions that the guy in my office took part in the Apprentice without telling us, and having missed the secret society next door neighbours for so long, I am determined not let this one pass me by! I am NOT joking, this photo could have been taken in my building (except we don't have fancy hole-punchers like he has in the background). If a certain 'WD' is reading, PLEASE go look at his site!!!


"Let's work till we bleed" Yeah, well that's nice and all, but I can't agree. I'm just too darn lazy! Andy !!


WE LOVE YOU ANDY! I reckon SurAllen didn't give some of the 'goodies' a fair chance. How can you judge someone so quickly? *cry*

Kelso: You rock my size five socks. Krazy Kat!!

Oh what a BIG BOTHER!! Yes, yet another series of that freak show marks the beginning of summer. Of course I won't be watching it, which means I probably will be. I used to love the routine of it, as when I was spending days and weeks surrounded by the monotony of hospital life, it was actually something to look forward to in the evenings.

St Vincent's Hospital where I was looked after pre-transplant doesn't actually have Channel 4 though, so I found it hard to keep up with what was going on, until I went over to England and I watched it most nights in my room. I'm finding it weird that I'll soon be celebrating my first 'birthday', I'm so relieved and as grateful as ever, but I'm still finding myself in moments of disbelief. I seem to be having a quick minute every other day or so this week where I feel like crying - Heck I was emotional when Jadine got fired on last week's Apprentice!! How odd is that??

I think the fact that my lung functions have gone up to 96%(!!!) I'm slowly losing the self doubt that by the next time they'll have fallen and I will be taken in for antibiotics. It's like it's a different world this side of transplant. I've spent years and years going in and doing my lung function tests, knowing they'd be the same or expecting them to be lower. Even yesterday, I thought that they'd be down.

Thankfully, I've been so well I only need reviewing and testing every two-three months so it seems to be the days leading up to these appointments where the confidence seems to fall slightly. Other then that, I am out and about, running for the bus, and just enjoying life. And it must be said, I love it.

Transplant Clinic today! You can read about it in my Med-Book-Red-Book-Blog.


Since I have rambled sufficently today updating on the health front of things, I have little muscle left in my fingers to type much else. (Lazy? No, no. DEF not!)



I was harshly reminded today that the SIX-MILE "mini'' (huh!) marathon is about five days from now. I should really have worked a bit on my training. Hmmmm.

I did a day's work in the pharmacy today, just to fill in for somebody. It was the same, usual, quiet kind of day. The time passed a bit faster then usual I felt as I took two meals in the day (one at 12pm and one at 3pm) so it wasn't so bad.

I cleaned and dusted the shelves and tidied them up a bit. Our pharmacy is extremely small; you could probably walk from one end to the other in three big steps. Yes, it's that small. And no, I don't have gigantic feet.

After doing what I considered to be a good (satisfactory at least) job at shelf rearranging, I began to have second thoughts.

We have security cameras in the back which allow you to view the front of shop, have a nosey at what people are looking at, have a gawk at them to see if you know them (and possibly avoid them if you are feeling tired) and generally just stare at. A lady came in this morning with a little toddler who she placed on the floor as she came up to the counter. The little girl had a nosey around the shop and then stopped and started playing with something. It looked like colourful building blocks on a camera, so I figured they were hers. It didn't occur to me that I never saw the little girl carry the blocks into the shop. It was when the mother was leaving and I heard her laugh out loud, telling daughter to "put them back, I don't need them!!".

Ahhhhhhh. Of course.

Nice purple and green soft padded square building blocks...for ladies....once a month.

Why were they at a child's reach? I noted to myself to move them around.

I am incredibly disorganised and was reminded this afternoon when aforementioned incident repeated itself. This time with a son. Oops, wasn't I supposed to rearrange that shelf?

Hmm, anyway Lost finale was on again tonight. It was amazing. I'm still Lost though. (Bad-dum-dum-TISH!)

Isn't it nice when people are nice. When people take time to contact you AND say something lovely, it's just so heart warming. *tear*. To the person who privately contacted me, thank you. I do indeed remember you from Dundrum(!) and I'll email you tonight or soon. If I'm organised. But thank you.

There was another comment left in my guestbook, which you should all go and read. It's from someone by the name of Amy. And Amy informed me of something even *I* didn't realise was possible about transplant, and I'm someone who should know everything! I hope she doesn't mind me talking about it. All I can say to her is thank you as well. As most of you know, I had a transplant (Did I ever mention that I had a transplant?!?) and went through that wait. My family experienced times where we all wondered would it ever come, but thanks to the generosity of someone like Amy's family I was saved. It is the kindest, most selfless thing a family can do. Ever.

In times of grief at the loss of a family member, the pain can be overbearing at times. Even when it's expected, it doesn't take away the pain-in-the-tummy, lump-in-the-throat sadness. So at a time like that, to stop and consider having your loved one become a donor is just amazing.

Amy's grandmother who passed away recently was 91 years old and she was able to donate her liver. Ninety-ONE!! That's like double a 45year old. That's just eye-popping. I just presumed (whoops) over sixty something, that would be it. But no. And thanks to her, another family right now are noticing the 180 turnaround in the health of their loved one.

I guide you all to the guestbook to read that comment.

Thank you.

Exams are finally over!!! You don't know how good it is to be able to proclaim that! I could just about shout it from the roof-tops!!

Yes, yes, I KNOW I personally wasn't doing any exams this year, or even studying this year and was more of a wannabe student then an actual student but still. The last two weeks have been highly annoying because nobody wants to go out. Apparently 'passing exams' is more important than going out with me. How did I fall in with such geeks in the first place?!...(Despite this, I DO love you all anyway!!)

Anyway, last night we were able to all (most of us) go out. I spotted a nice pair of heels in my room which were so pretty. I ALWAYS wear pumps going out and never wear heels, ever. I can't understand the logic of going through pain to look good and have a good time, but then not having a good time because you're in pain. I'm useless with wearing high shoes. A baby. EILEEN lives in heels (I think she's insecure about her lack of height) and I just can't do it.

Tonight though, I went for it. And I succeeded! This may sound completely bizarre, but prior to my transplant I would occasionally wear heels and when I did I would find myself getting more breathless, or tired. It makes no sense, but I swear that's true. Hand on heart!!

It was weird being that bit taller then usual but it gave me a great vantage point when that little lady had a fight on the dance floor. I wasn't able to see what was going on at first (because the lady was so small and low down) but then I spotted it. Anyone who knows me knows how I would LOVE to be witness to some drama as exciting as this! The whole situation was a bit strange. You know in a cartoon where the weak guy tries to punch and fight the beafy guy and the beafy guy simply sticks out his hand leaving the weak guy punching his heart out against the hand- well it was exactly like that. Except the 'beafy guy' was a tall stringy fellow with long hair; the 'weak guy' was this small lady with plum red hair. Despite her lack of height, it took two bouncers to carry her off. For some unknown reason my friends just carried on dancing.

When we left, there were two gardaí cars outside and rumour was ripe that the 'little lady' ( I won't say what we called her, because that might be a little un-p.c.) was being arrested, but I doubt that, I mean she wasn't THAT bad! Mind you, I couldn't actually SEE so it's possible.

Anyway apart from that scandal down the 'Palace' (never go to the Palace!) and my discovery of ability to walk in heels nothing much happened. I can't be incredibly exciting every day. Pity...

I was quite surprised at my interest in the Election Vote count today, it was addictive stuff watching it unfold on tele and listening to the radio - I felt an unknown competitive streak come to the surface in me. Unfortunately (in my opinion) it looks like Fianna Fáil (Fail?) will be back in government for another five years. We tried. It's frustrating, but I hope with the recent train of publicity for patients and services for people with Cystic Fibrosis a swift improvement will come.

My number one didn't get a seat, which was dissappointing as I feel this candiate is a genuine and over all GOOD politician and would have done us proud.

I have mentioned a few politicians in this blog, but in recent days felt the need to water down my opinions, hence lack of name drops. This isn't a political blog; this is a personal blog. I am not a canvasser for anyone, but as someone who has a real interest in it. I think if you are directly affected by the choices made by the government, then you DO care. A lot of patients with Cystic Fibrosis take their vote very seriously for this reason, and a lot more so then 'healthy' people our age. Heck, a ("healthy") reader of this blog didn't even vote as they "couldn't be bothered!!" Shocking...

And that is where my pol-ogging ends for now. That is all.

On another note, I found out today that a relative of someone I know died. It was shocking. I couldn't believe it. The person who informed me is a former friend. Like many social cirlces of young girls, "her" group and "our" group fell out a LONG time ago. I didn't get too wrapped up in it and would gladly chat to any of "them", but the same can't be said for all memebers of both parties - you know how these things are...

Anyway, out of the blue, this former friend texted. What does that show? It shows a level of maturity that has my respect for her sealed. I have known people who wouldn't pass on such news because of petty arguments and these people would be a good deal older then my former friend's twenty years.

Not only that, but of ALL my friends, this former friend was the first to let me know. One or two others claimed they forgot. People can be funny.

VOTING DAY!! Yay!...or nay...

I FINALLY finished work today, and got out at lunch. I then made my way down (I actually WALKED!!!) into town (over the bridge and on to the NORTHSIDE - don't worry I wore my bullet proof vest!) and met a friend for lunch. Said friend will be celebrating her lungs' first birthday this weekend which is moderately exciting. Lunch was expensively nice but I shan't be shelling out that money for that service any time again soon. We discussed everything under the sun, including our shared views on politics and our 'secret stuff' which may be made public some time next year. Intriguing I know...

After that, I RAN FOR the bus and got on. Once we went back over the River Liffey I felt a sense of calm again coming back to the Southside. Although without my Abercrombie labels hanging out of me or a BrownThomas bag on my arm at the time, I felt a little pauperish. It was awful...

My oldest brother and I walked down to vote this evening. I cast my vote and hope it makes some sort of difference. I then made a bet with him that in ten year's time, Fianna Fáil won't be running the country. If I'm right, I will earn €50. I wonder if I will be able to buy a bag of sweets with that....

Half way through the week already! From a work point of view, this pleases me greatly, but how scary is it how time is flying by?!

I just realised that the Mini-Marathon which I am to participate in is in less then two weeks. Now the prospect of me attempting to do THAT is scary. I figure I'll find some wheelchair bound person and ask if their pusher wants help pushing for a while. That way I won't be allowed to(forced to, pressured to) go too fast, as I can't have the person in the wheelchair getting windswept hair. Whenever I was in a wheelchair, I would enjoy taking the sights in while being chauffeured around, so I will have to take this into consideration when performing my duties. There would always be the danger however that I would get frustrated if this plan didn't work and would simply let go of the wheelchair and run off. I suppose though trying to run away from that carnage would be motivation enough...

In the case that I can't pawn off my terrible slowness when it comes to walking on to some poor unfortunate wheelchair person, I will have to come up with a plan B. This would have incorporated some sort of Rollerblades/skates idea, except that they're considered contraban, and there's always one who will rat you out!

I could always say to my group 'Oh hey guys, I'm gona run up ahead if that's ok' and then catch a bus/taxi - and while morally I would absolutely no qualms whatsoever with this idea, the fear of getting caught would be in the back of my head. And I can guarantee some old biddy on the bus would take it as her duty to report me - again, always one!

Plan C, would involve not actually starting at the start line, but rather hide out behind a tree half way up the course and then join in. Again, a very good method, except knowing my luck, I would still end up not being able to keep up, and would have to resort to Plan A- the wheelchair method.

And the only other option left, which I feel is probably the most secure from all angles, is to simply not run at all. This would work, as it would mean there would be no chance of me being late for the race, I wouldn't have to run (just fake some 'oh I'm wrecked!' breathlessness) and I would still get my medal. I would take the bus over to the finish line, buy myself an ice cream and simply wait. When a huge gang of finishers comes in, I simply join them.

Cheating? I think not. I like to think of it as 'thinking outside the box!'.

Congrats to my sister who was ordained (?) a prefect today. A better one you would probably not find. Except for me. But I was too cool for all that stuff...

Some smart wise cracker remarked that someday I would regret the amount of food I consume daily (which admittedly is quite a lot, and of that lot, quite a lot isn't the most nutritious). It would seem that for once, that smart wise cracker would be right. I am not requiring someone to roll me into work just yet or anything, but today I experienced my first brush with food poisoning. Bleugh!! At least that's what I'm guessing it is. Bleugh!! Had I not been so enthusiastic (as I am everyday) at lunchtime, I wouldn't have purchased that tasty looking chicken wrap thing. It wasn't made in front of me, but rather a pre-packaged yoke - Bleugh!! Not good!

Apart from the complete lack of sleep tonight (I'm writing this on Wednesday so pretending it's Tuesday, so I am referring to Tuesday night - KEEP UP!) and being up every hour until 7am when I then slept fine (how typical!) I feel better now.

Did I mention - BLEUGH!!

This week I am working 9-5 in the office until Wednesday when I will retire *cry*. I'll miss those krazy kats in that place!

Funnily enough, the sort of work (and pace/pressure of) is exactly the kind of work I was initially brought in to do back at Christmas. Unfortunately the system I am using in work to do my work is rather complicated which means there is absolutely no fast way of gettin the job done. I may leave a happy woman knowing I will never have to copy and paste again for a long time!

Today at lunch I learned of a story about a poor unfortunate child.

PICTURE THIS: This child was placed in a microwave by her Dad (and I presume he shut the door and turned it on) Now the child survived and is doing well. It's appalling, but let me ask you this:

Was your first thought "Oh my, that's dreadful!!" or was it (be honest) "How is it even possible to fit a child into a microwave (unless its a industrial thing)???

Think about that.

Sunday - great day that.

I am someone who is so incredibly organised and I like to have everything I need for the day in my handbag setting off to work. This 'everything' includes everything from my phone, i-pod, diary to my medications, insulin and needles. As such, trying to put together such a complicated survival pack for the day can take time, and since I'm one busy woman, I have NO time to do this stuff. And as such, had I not driven to work today I would have been late, So I nabbed the keys and zoomed (at the correct speed limit) to work!

When I left the house everyone else was asleep which meant I got to skip the 'irresponisble to drive alone' statement that repeats itself from my Dad's mouth every now and again.

When I arrived at work I had to park at the back as there were no spaces out front. 'At the back' is in an estate of houses behind the pharmacy.

And do you know what? A man who supposdly has a life, has plenty of things to be doing with his time, plenty of hobbies to enjoy came and checked up on me! And went and found my car and where I had parked it!! (This could be construde as making sure I arrived safely, but we all know it was to check had I been able to park it well). You meet all sorts of FREAKS these days!!

We had, what can only be described as a wonderful evening with my cousin and her husband then. The food was so nice, and it was great to meet them and chat. After dinner and a fountain of drink we 'attempted' a sing song (which for anyone who knows us knows it is a regular nightly feature at our house....*ahem*...). I say 'attempted' referring to the Fitz's as our guests were great in their playing/singing/performing. The song we all mangaed to try and sing was 'My lovely horse' from Father Ted. That and Titanic (yes, I am STILL rolling that dead horse out ten years on!)

I drove into town to drop them back afterwards which was an experience to say the least. A whole load of drunks sprawling all over the road/path means you have to have your eyes open all the time. But as usual, I passed that task with flying colours...

Today a man arrived to fix my laptop this morning. Now there's a story worth telling. But I won't.

I felt a good deal better again today and went into work for the afternoon.

Tomorrow I work in the pharmacy.

We will then entertain my cousin and her husband who now live in NewYork, and whom I haven't seen in about ten years.

I say 'we' will entertain but really I mean my parents. I will just help to eat the food and drink the wine, and basically put my feet up and act like a guest too. Keep in mind I will be working tomorrow. I think I deserve it; 9-5, one day a week is HARSH!

Comp winner: Shell and MissT - Congrats! And hard luck to those who tried and failed. That'll teach you never to try! Unfortunately there can only be ONE winner/prize though, so you'll have to fight amongst yourselves for the prize!

Second Post: Just watched the debate between Bertie Ahearn and Enda Kenny which made for interesting TV. It was great that the MC got a question in about Cystic Fibrosis and the services/faililties for patients in this country. Oh wait, did I say facilities?? No, I meant LACK OF! I can't say who came off better, I think perhaps Bertie at times, at others, Enda. Personally I don't like the way the country is being run at the moment, and while I see some good has been done, I see a lot more yet to do. Change can be a good thing. Everyone could do with a change... So in my bias opinion, I think Enda was better overall . I think I would echo the response I have heard so far, although in terms of poor Bertie, I'm being a lot kinder. I wouldn't ever say the word T*T on MY blog after all!

Not Irish? Sorry, tonight's blog probably sailed right over your head...

Comp Answer: Is just plain and simple, boring and dandy, Rabbit. Who wins? YOU decide! Miss T and Shell both claim to have the correct answer, but, um, I don't like making decisions. If anyone wants to have a look at the battle of the Winnie the Pooh fans going on in the guestbook and wish to voice your opinion on the winner, please do. Seriously, PLEASE, DO!!

FIRST POST:
The COMP ANSWER: OK, I checked it out, and nobody technically got the right answer! Shame on you! Boooo! I was actually quite surprised because I assumed the answer was Piglet! Well done all on getting that it was from Winnie the Pooh. The closest correct answer came from Shell who suggested "a rabbit" (although I'm horrifed you thought Beatrix Potter was DISNEY!). The "rabbit" is indeed covered by the butter.

Anyway, since nobody actually got it right, and I'm a stickler for rules (when I set them!), I will give until Friday at dawn(!) to get the "rabbit's" name....Get going!




Now, its that rabbit looking yoke to the right of the tree I'm after. Apologies for the kitchen lights! They're only covering a mousy looking fella anyway who I don't recognise at ALL. In fact, THAT would make a good comp, name that SHAPE!