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.