Up The Farway Tree

It's back to old clothes and porridge

For those non-Scottish readers, the above should be pronounced something like "It's back tae auld clathes and parridge". It makes so much more sense in a Scottish accent. Honest. Anyway, what I mean is that the festivity is now well and truly over and this week I've been thrown back into the reality of life. Work, food shopping, cooking, trying to nurse back plants that have not been watered for 2 weeks, going to bed at a normal time, and getting up at an abnormal time. I am seriously considering moving back home to my parents permanently. Life was so much easier there.

There has been some ongoing celebration however, as a good friend of mine who I met via the CF trust forum a couple of years ago, has finally received her double lung transplant after waiting almost 2 years on the list. I have been avidly watching her blog for updates and so far all seems to be going well and she came off the ventilator yesterday, which is a massive step forwards. The next stage will be require a lot of hard work, as she will have to build up her physical strength in order to use those new lungs to their full potential, as well as simply trying to recover from such major surgery. I will be hoping and praying for her to make a full and speedy recovery over the coming months.

Having someone I know well actually go through this life changing operation is a strange feeling. It makes it somehow seem more real than before. My only past experience of life waiting for transplant was with my sister Frances Ann, who waited 2 1/2 years, but still never got that call. I think as a result of this I sometimes do not believe I will ever get called, or that the whole experience is even real. In a way this is partly a self protective response, where I do not want to think about my situation or consider the possible outcomes, but it is also partly due to a real belief that the call may not come. I do not mean this in pessimistic glass is half empty way, but only in a realistic, what are the odds calculation.

However, what I have realised in the past days is that the odds are the same for everyone. There are only two options, therefore I am just as likely to be called as not to be. Seeing a friend receive that call just goes to show me that it does happen and it could happen. Anytime. On that basis I have been a little more alert and a little less blasé. I even checked my "Newcastle suitcase" (you have to have a bag packed ready to go) to make sure I had in fact put sensible things in it, having not looked at it since I was listed 6 months ago. The friend I was talking about once told me that when she re-checked her bag, she found that in the stress of being listed, she has packed something along the lines of 5 pairs of pants and a poncho. That would have been a good look post-op! Luckily I found I had packed clothing items for both halves of my body, which was a relief to say the least.