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We wake pretty late – around 10, when my Tac-alarm goes off – and slowly grind to a start.  I didn’t sleep at all well, waking up pretty much every hour, so I’m feeling decidedly sluggish, although a quick shower kick starts me very nicely.

We head across to the house to see what we can help with.  K has been there ahead of me and is knee-deep in cakes, arranging a display of confectionery to make the least-sweet toothed person fancy a nibble.  All will be on sale throughout the after noon and, come 4 o’clock, all will have been sold and many eaten.  Not least by K.

I am put to work on various bits and pieces to do with the silent auction and raffle, both of which will be running throughout.  A silent auction, for the uninitiated, is an auction in the traditional sense, but instead of having an auctioneer at the front of the room reeling off the prices and bids, each lot is given a piece of paper on which you write your bid and then keep checking to see if anyone has out bid you.  The best thing about silent auctions is that they can run a lot longer than regular auctions without really winding people up – especially the people who aren’t interested in bidding, for whom a traditional auction is the worst kind of dull.

After almost an hour of beavering away on whatever I’m set-to by the awesomely organised and surpringsly-not-in-the-least-bossy Lucinda, CF-mum and helper-in-chief to Suzanne, the lady-of-the-house who appears to currently be engaged in doing absolutely everything all at once, I have to scurry off to make myself look presentable for the incoming hoards.  I feel somewhat ashamed that the elite team of ladies have been working away since goodness-knows-when (certainly before I was awake) and my little contribution adds up to little over an hour’s stuffing things in envelopes and putting things on tables.

Still, take myself away I do and smarten myself up.  I find K knee deep in hair-product getting her new ‘Do to behave (which it does, and beautifully), slip into my posh frock (wait a sec…) and head back over to the house to be there when the throng arrives.

To my immense surprise, said throng is almost perfectly on time.  I had this crowd pegged as the fashionably-late  sort, but not a bit of it.  On the dot the majority of them came steaming in through the gates (yes, they have gates…!) and parked up in the courtyard (which you’ll remember from yesterday), unloaded themselves, their friends and – occasionally – their babies, and headed up into the house.

Once they’d all settle into the food service (aha – captive audience…), Stephen kicked things off my introducing himself, the idea behind the marathon and the reasons he and the rest of the team were involved.  Then he introduced me (and I’ll forgive him the “brave” comment purely because it’s the only foot he put wrong the whole time I was there…) and I was left to fend for myself in front of 2 rooms full of 100+ ladies (I didn’t count because then I’d just have got all wound up about it).

When I speak in public, I tend to talk without notes.  I usually know how I’ll start and I like to plan something punchy to end on (although Stephen stole the “downhill” joke from me in his intro, so that was that scuppered), but the rest of it is left up to the mood of the room and the feel of the day.  What that mostly means is that I often talk for 10-15 minutes and finish off having absolutely no idea what I’ve just said.  You’ll have to talk to someone else who was there to find out if I was a) interesting or b) any good, but I was happy enough I hadn’t droned on for hours nor been too deathly dull, although one can never tell.

Managing to get myself some lunch afterwards, I got a few appreciative nods and comments from people, which was good, and the silent auction seemed to start to rattle along a bit after in-speech plugs from Stephen and I.  Unwinding from the talk and chatting to the guests, it was good to hear a number of people being educated for the first time about CF – although it’s hard to imagine that there’s anyone out there who’s not heard of it, the truth is it’s rarer than a lot of conditions.  The advantage of introducing it to people for the first time – especially at a fundraiser – is that they often want to do something immediately to help out.  When you combined the charitable urge with the enormous efforts the marathon team are putting in, I was hopeful we’d give the team a decent boost to their sponsorship coffers.

I can’t express my admiration for these guys enough.  Not only have they completed other marathons together, they are now working as a team to meet the challenge of the world’s highest marathon – a feet so insane and counter-intuitive that I simply can’t contemplate it.  And they’re doing it all – off their own backs – to raise money for the  CF Trust and help them pursue their gene-therapy trials in the search for effective treatment and – one day, maybe – a cure for this horrible disease that takes too many lives.

I’m one of the lucky ones who’s been given a second chance at life – a second crack of the whip.  There are still too many children and young adults who only get the briefest, quietest crack and who we lose every week.

Please, please, if you are as inspired by their efforts and their self-lessness as I am, if you are even remotely touched by their attitude and sense of adventure, if you have any concept just how hard a marathon is, let along one at the base of the world’s highest mountain, go to their Just Giving page and leave a donation – it doesn’t matter how small, every tiny bit counts.  And if you know any benevolent marathon runners, pass on the link, let them see how insane it is for themsevles and get them to leave a donation , too – www.justgiving.com/THCF

At the end of the afternoons activities, having drawn the raffle (and walked away with a food mixer and Christmas hamper!), closed the silent auction and totted up cash donations through tickets, raffle and cake sales to inexcess of £2,300, plus cheques totalling more than £1800 and over £3000 in auction lots, I was well and truly shattered.  Surpsingly so, in fact, but I think the combination of a bad night’s sleep, adrenaline and nerves from the talk and being on my feet for almost 5 hours straight had taken their toll and I needed a kip.

Excusing ourselves in the middle of clear up (here comes the guilt again…), K and I headed up to our room and laid ourselves out for an hour to recharge.  When I woke, I plodded back over to the house and met up with the rest of the marathon team who had joined remains of the day (with the exception of Jodie, who couldn’t come for cross-infection reasons with me).  Both Guy and Barry are exceptionally nice blokes and seeing the hilarity as they tried on some of their cold-weather mountain gear and their thermal sleeping backs and blow-up matresses almost made me wish I was going with them.  then I remembered they were running a marathon on Everest and the urge miraculously disappeared.

In the evening, K and I took ourselves off into the centre of Durham (thanks to Alex’s wonderfully kind taxi service) for a nice meal between the two of us, followed by a walk up to the Cathedral to wave at Castle.

When we got back we sat and chilled with Family Cronin for a while, catching up on the day’s gossip and chatting about all sorts of various disparate subjects from the Mac vs. PC debate to modern horror films and shooting stage plays.

By the time I’d got to the bottom of my beer it was pushing 11 and I was acutely aware that everyone had things to do tomorrow, not least the two of us to make our way all the way back down South.  We were already imposing on the family a day longer than we’d expected to (after I realised the inherent foolishness off trying to drive home from the party in the afternoon as tired as I was), so I wanted to inconvenience them as little more as we could manage.

We headed back to the room, brewed a cuppa, sloped into bed and I don’t know about K but I was asleep within minutes of hitting the pillow.

That’s what I reckon, so I didn’t go to the gym today.

I’m not skiving, honest, just being careful of my leg and not wanting to work it too hard (click here for more on the Calf of Death – not bovine related).

K, however did go, and now has a nice and shiney new programme of weights workout to add to her regular C-V workout, which is lovely for her. And energetic. It’s my turn to ramp up the weights next, so I’ll be booking myself in when I go for my session tomorrow.

Apart from taking K to the gym, today I actually managed to get a lot of work done, which has made a change. I don’t know quite why, but Durham totally upset the balance of everything as far as work and projects were concerned – I was away for all of 4 days and it’s taken me 7 to catch back up. Weird.

This morning was delightful, though, as I ran K down to Lea’s house to get her hair snipped, which meant I got to spend the morning playing with her delightful little one. I’m trying to ignore the fact that I had to break my self-imposed vow never to watch and/or read and/or know anything about Igglepiggle by reading “All Aboard The Ninky Nonk” a total of 17 times. She liked it, which is the main thing. Me? I still don’t really understand it. Although I think the Tombliboos have something to do with the small personification of evil – that may be reading too much between the lines, though.

Yesterday was equally grand – spending time with our littlest niece and nephew for the little lady’s 3rd birthday. It was amazing to see their little faces light up when we got there and then I spent an hour of the afternoon reading/playing “Where’s My Pants”, which luckily is the book we bought her and not a genuine, house-searching game.

At one point, having to make a quick phone call, I escaped to the top of the stairs to grab myself 5 minutes, only to be spotted and joined, perched on the top step, by both of the littl’uns who proceeded to sit silently by my side while I finished my conversation. Cute isn’t the word. It’s much… well, cuter…

I also had a meeting yesterday with a filmmaker from MK who’s interested in collaborating on a few things. I’ve been looking for people interested in filmmaking around MK to work with on some short film projects to get me back in the groove to work up towards shooting something bigger, but have mostly drawn blanks. Now, happily enough, I’ve made contact with a few people and after this meeting yesterday, I’m hopeful that there’s more guys out there than I first thought.

The thing about filmmaking – and all work in the arts, really – is that it’s so much about the contacts you have and the people you can work with. Part of the reason I’ve had so much fun and success in the Theatre has been thanks to the place I worked enabling me to meet like-minded people and also set-up my partnership with Suze, which is ever-fruitful and enjoyable on so many different levels.

I still keep catching myself and realising just how amazing life is now – I’m still not taking any of it for granted and the most mundane things can get me grinning like and idiot at the fact I’m able to do them. And now to be talking about new projects and planning possibilities is so exciting and gives me so much drive and determination to succeed.

NOTE: for the unobservant among you, the Durham trip has been detailed in back-dated entries for the weekend in question.  They’ve been up about 4 or 5 days now, barring the last day’s worth of notes, which are imminent, I promise….

Great day today – not only did I get through a second gym session in 2 days with no ill effects (read all about it…), but also found out that I’ve hit the Plymouth Sound website.

Because the Marines are based in Plymouth (and possibly because my bro happens to be dating one of the presenters), the local radio station (I say local, they’re pretty awesome, not like some “locals”  I could speak of….) have picked up on the marathon story and are running pieces not only on air but on their website too.  They’ve even included links to the ODR and my Just Giving page so people can either show their support financially or just by signalling their intention of saving someone’s life after they’re gone.

It’s getting quite exciting this marathon lark.  What with the gym sessions and all, I’m starting to think that being able to run a mile in 6 weeks’ time isn’t necessarily totally beyond my reach.  Not sure how fast I’m going to do it, but then the Marines are going to have done 25 miles and be weighed down with 30lbs of kit, so at least I’m not going to be the only one looking shattered by the whole thing.  Although I think I might feel a little inferior jogging across the line just little ol’ me – I might have to fill a rucksack with polystyrene to make myself blend in more.

I also impressed myself today by being remarkably sensible and going against my all-go post-Tx mood and having a sleep this afternoon.  We’ve had a bit of a busy few days since heading to friends in Kettering on Sunday and having two early-morning hossie appointments for K two days in a row, which has added up to not much sleep and lots of go-ings during the days.  Getting back in from the hossie run to Northampton this morning, I spent a bit of time trying to keep sleep at bay checking my emails and doing some work-y bits and pieces, but in the end decided that if my body says “tired” then to bed I must take it – not point playing games with a body still in recovery.

Pretty smart, huh?

I say family, because to me my Godson is my family, although technically the bloodline isn’t there. But today I got to spend a few hours round at his place playing, chatting, introducing K to him and his wonderful parents and it was so lovely as to be almost indescribable. But you know me, I’m going to try…

K had to work all morning, which left me at home to my own devices, something which is never the greatest of ideas when I’ve got something to look forward to in the afternoon, because I tend to not be able to think of much else and so meaningful work is always a little hit-and-miss.

As it happens, I managed to use the time to surf the internet for filmmaking websites and news and such, which has helped inspire and drive me forward with a few of the projects I’ve got rolling along in the background at the moment. My docs at Harefield are keen for me not to start doing any “real” work for a while (6-12 months post-op), which is both freeing and frustrating. There are many things I want to do with myself right now and a few projects I REALLY want to get going on, but at the same time I’m sure in the long run the enforced slow-down will only benefit them all by making me take stock of them properly and devote enough time to thinking them through and planning them properly.

I picked K up from work at half two and we shot straight over to Little R’s house to catch up with them for the first time in…well…. blinkin’ ages. I thought his Mum wasn’t ever going to let me go from the massive bear-hug I was enveloped in no sooner had I stepped over the threshold. Not that I’m moaning, you understand, since I felt pretty much the same way seeing all them again.

I feel like I’ve been so much out of R’s life for so long now, since he lives so close, but it’s been such a struggle for me to get to see him. Now I’m starting out again, I’m hoping we can rebuild our relationship back to how it was early on before I got too ill to do anything with him. We’re already planning an ice-skating trip for the Easter holidays!

Plus, I got to be made hugely jealous at the family’s beautiful home cinema set-up. Not only have they got a PS3 (with Blu-ray, which just won the HD DVD format war for those of you who missed that piece of news) but also a gorgous 40″ HDTV and surround sound system to play it through. I’m not the most materialistic man on the planet, but I have to confes to a slight weakening of the knees when it comes to film-watching in the home (and filmmaking outside of the home…). Anything else I can take or leave – if it’s film-related I think I’d rather take it. Terrible of me, I know.

K and I then came back and veg’d good and proper for the night – some lovely sausage-and-chips comfort food and a night in front of the telly.

We caught the new series on BBC3 Being Human, which I have to say massively impressed me. The idea of a flat-share between a Vampire, a Werewolf and a Ghost didn’t do a whole lot for me on reading the listings, but the result was much more heartfelt, funny, dramatic and touching than I ever expected. It’s well worth checking out, if you can cope with the scary subject matter. It’s not really gory, but they have invested a good chunk of cash in a couple of big transformation scenes for the wolfman. What really impressed me, though, was the way it was shot and cut together. For the first time in ages watching a new British drama (particularly BBC), they have finally steered away from the ridiculous music-video manic-camera movements which blight so much UK output. Instead they trusted the really very strong performances of their lead cast and let the camera linger on them without wobble, shake or zoom. Well done that team.

Without doubt the last 7 days have been the busiest I’ve had in a very long time – pre- or post-transplant.

It’s been a whirlwind of trips here, there and everywhere that’s taken up the entire week without either K or I having time to properly draw breath.  We are both shattered.  I don’t know about her, but I feel shattered in a wonderful, sense-of-achievement kind of way.  K may just be shattered from trying to slow me down all week! (Not in a bad, I-don’t-want-you-to-have-fun kind of way, more a whoa-there-boy-you’re-new-lungs-are-only-three-months-old kind of way…)

I must apologise for the distinct quietness of the blog – I have attempted to redress the balance with a few days’ updates all at once this evening, because I feel terribly guilty for having neglected it all this week, although the truth is when I haven’t been either working or sleeping, I’ve been out and about this week.

Since Monday we’ve been to Stoke Mandeville, Oxford, Harrow, Olney, Deanshanger and Willen, not to mention the shopping trips, gym-visits, cups of tea and various odd-jobs which have taken us all over Milton Keynes.

Next week is looking like it might be mildly more sedate, although being half-term there is the chance to spend some time with my Godsons for the first time since my op, which I’m looking forward to more than just about anything I’ve had the chance to experience so far in the 13 weeks since I have my blowers swapped out for a shiny new pair.

I dearly hope the next week will bring a) more regular blog updates b) more pages completed on the new script (19 down, but none written over the weekend) and c) more firsts for the book of wonderment.

I’ve had a much better day today than Thursday – both productive, relaxing and joyous in the space of 14 hours, it doesn’t get much  better than that, I don’t think.

Started out with a way-too-early start to give K a lift to work this morning, but when I got home decided it was too late in the morning to consider sliding back into bed (although I have to say it was mighty tempting), so instead I sat myself at my desk in the study and got stuck in to completing the background work for a documentary proposal I’ve been working on since my transplant.

It took me most of the morning, but I got it sent off to the appropriate people to see what they make of it by lunch time, which pleased me greatly – as it always does when I actually complete a task I set out to do.  I suppose that’s a pretty bad reflection on how often I complete the things I set out to do…

Anyway, after busying myself all morning, I decided to take the afternoon off – as is my wont – and relaxed playing Football Manager on the computer for a couple of hours before heading out to pick K up.

From there, we headed to my ‘rents to catch up with my cousin who was visiting with family in tow from Luxembourg, where she took up residence with her Luxembourgish husband several years ago.  I’ve not seen her or her family for two years, we worked out between us, when her eldest was younger, her middle was toddling and her youngest wasn’t even thought about.

It was fantastic to see them – and my other cousin and his new wife who made it up from the old family home in Southend – and catch up with them all.  K was especially happy to be able to enjoy the baby-cuddles she’s been looking forward to all week.  The little one is a wonderful bundle of cuteness, although she’s not as good at hide and seek as her brother and sister are.

In another moment of “oooh I can do that now I’ve got new lungs” I took my cousin and her four-year-old into town whilst we waited for dinner to cook to pick up some new shoes (which are apparently a bargain over here compared to Lux).  We had the best time wandering into town, looking at all the shoes, (“those are cool.  Those are really cool.  Those are REALLY cool.  Those are the coolest!”) although we were all disappointed that they didn’t have the ones with monkeys on in his size.

We all gorged heartily on one of mum’s roast dinners and the “adults” sat around chatting whilst K and I played hide-and-seek after dinner.  My ‘rents house has the best places to hide – it’s clearly been far too long since I’ve played a proper game of hide-and-seek, because I found some great nooks and crannys.  And I’m much better at hiding now I don’t have a tell-tale “ahem” to give me away every 5 seconds.

I’ve got such a wonderfully close-knit family that it’s always wonderful to spend any time with them, but when the gap has been as long as it was since I last saw the Lux Lot it makes it that bit more special.  And when they’d been told after I saw their mum and dad (my aunt and uncle) just before my op that they weren’t sure I was going to make it to Christmas, it adds that final finesse of wonderment to the whole day.

Now I’ve just got to wait until my first year post-Tx is up and I can finally go out and visit them instead of having to wait for them to get enough time off to make it over to us.

Freedom at last – after a week spent couped up inside despite feeling just as well as I had the week previously, it isn’t half a relief to be back at home and within my own four walls.  Even if I don’t leave them for the next 7 days, it’s going to be a heck of a lot nicer than it has been on E ward this week.

That’s nothing against E Ward, you understand, it being the very best of the best places to be if the docs suspect you’ve something dodgy going on in the new blowers they implanted, but let’s be honest: hospital is hospital.

Interestingly, I didn’t find this 5 night/6 day stretch as hard going as my previous one (just a week prior) – I was fairly upbeat and resilient the whole way through.  I think it largely had to do with the fact that when I was admitted the team let me know straight away that I was going to be in until Saturday at the earliest, most likely, whereas the previous week every day had been a will-they-won’t-they let me go connundrum whic, upon the arrival of the nigh-on inevitable “won’t”, always served to deflate and depress me – getting one’s hopes up in a hospital is a bad plan at the best of times, but when you’re feeling physically fragile, too, it’s never good.

Still, three days of being pumped full of more steroids that the US sprint team and the Tour de France combined have served to set me back on the straight and narrow (we hope) and get me sent home for a glorious span of 5 days before my next clinic appointment.  Getting discharged on a Saturday is usually no mean feat, but luckily for me, my team were on duty this weekend, which meant full access to the key decision makers who could kick me out at will (mine or their’s, I’m not sure which yet).

All I have to show for my week’s stay in the Big House this time is a severe sleep-deprivation hang-over.  One of the side-effects of the Methal Prednisalone (the IV steroid they put me) is sleep disturbance and although I managed through the first night with just a bit of a late nod-off and minor leg-cramps, last night saw me lie awake until 6am before being unceremoniously awoken for my breakfast at 7.45.  Under 2 hour’s sleep does not for a chirpy Oli make.

Still, it’s hard to moan too much when I’m just happy to be out and back home.  Perhaps the total lack of sleep last night – and my managing to stay awake throughout the day so far today – will do me good in getting me off to sleep nice and swiftly tonight.  One can only hope.

Oh, the only other good thing to come from having far too much time on my hands in hosp for the week was a chance to get started on the treatment for my next writing project – a low-low-budget flick about a band on tour which I hope I’ll be able to knock out in quick-time and see about getting shot sooner rather than later.

Of course, like most of the projects that get mentioned on the blog in their formative stages, there is bound to be a mishap which gets in the way of this one at some point soon, but then perhaps this will be the exception that proves the rule.  Watch this space is about the best I can say, I guess.

I’m off to flop in front of the telly to try to stay awake till my last dose of daily immuno-suppressant is due at 10pm.

For those of you who read this in time over the weekend, pick up a copy of tomorrow’s Observer, where I *should* be featuring prominently in a health-article to back up the paper’s continued push behind the Opt-Out campaign.  For those who can’t get out to pick one up (and thus see a picture of my lovely mug) I shall endeavour to post a website link up here as soon as it’s up.

This week has without doubt been the busiest week of my life in which I’ve achieved precisely nothing.  Today I have a “day off” and I’ve spent the whole thing in my PJs desperately trying to catch up on the sleep and rest that I’m told (and feel) my body desperately needs right now.

The essence of the problem?  Because the docs were nice enough to let me out before Christmas – and before my Tac levels had sorted themselves out properly – I’ve been having to go to Harefield for blood tests to check the levels every day.  Which means from New Year’s Eve to yesterday I’ve been getting up at 7.15am every morning, traipsing the hour to Harefield for bloods and an indeterminate wait of between 15 minutes and 4-and-a-half hours before they let me home again.

In the process, I’ve had a white cell count creeping northwards, which has since settled, plus some other slightly raised (ie: dodgy) results back, which have put the docs on their guard.

I’m not really complaining, as it’s better to be commuting every day than still being resident on the ward, which I’m sure my ‘rents will agree with, even if they are the ones having to ferry me to and fro every day.  I am also well aware that plenty of people have much earlier starts and longer days than me and suffer it without moaning, but right now I just miss my sleep.  I can categorically state for the record that 7 hours sleep is not enough for a body still recovering from the rigors of having half it’s engine ripped out and hastily replaced with a new, improved model.

So I’ve been delighted to bask in the chilled relaxedness (it’s a word, I just decided) of a day with no Harefield visit.

Yesterday was my first post-Tx clinic appointment, which went really well, despite being deathly dull and involving a 4 hour wait to see Doc C.  He’s mightily impressed with my progress and all the infection markers which had been creeping up have come back down again, which is ace. The upshot is that I have a day off today, then hopefully my last day-time visit for bloods on Saturday morning, after which I should settle in to a pattern of twice weekly clinic visits, which will gradually become less over time.

What all of this to-ing and fro-ing from Harefield has meant, however, is that my time at home is taken up pretty much entirely with eating and sleeping, with barely a couple of spare hours left over to spend time with K, which has been a real drag.  We both naïvely assumed that being back at the flat would mean we’d get more time together, but it turns out that’s not so.  We are both anxious anticipating my switch to clinic rather than ward visits so that we at least get Tuesday and Wednesday to ourselves.

Still, it’s not all doom and gloom.  In fact, it’s not doom and gloom at all, really – I can’t moan when I still spend all my day thinking about the myriad things I want to and will soon be able to do with my new life.  I’m just itching to get back to work, soon as my body and my doctors (who work, naturally, in unison) allow me to.

Think of me, being poked and prodded, when you wake lazily in bed tomorrow morning.  But don’t feel sorry for me, because shortly afterwards I’ll be tearing down the corridor to escape at a speed I never imagined I’d achieve again….

So I’ve managed, it appears, to spend a couple of days without sending my Tac levels sky-high and spending all dy hurling, which is nice.  I have, however, managed to do something to my left-hand side, which is causing me a great deal of pain right now.

We think – in our infinite wisdom (read: mildly-educated guesswork between one trained nurse and one former-CF patient, newly transplanted) – that I may have strained the stitches on my internal wound.  Back visiting the flat on Christmas Eve, our little nephew came running into the study to see what we were all gauping at on the computer and without thinking I automatically hoisted him up on to my lap.  We reckon the effort of lifting him may have pulled on the stiches (which won’t have fully healed and dissolved for another few weeks yet) and that’s what’s causing the pain.

The biggest problem is that it’s right on my Lat muscle (the sort of angular one that comes down under your armpit), which means just about any body movement twinges the stiches and gives me a nice, healthy, bracing shot of pain.  I’m dosing myself up with Paracetamol and Tramadol at regular intervals, but it doesn’t seem to be doing a whole lot.

Still, the plus side of all of this is that the pain in my side is literally the only thing I’ve got to moan about.  Everything else is absolutely brilliant – I’m walking around freely, my appetite is fantastic, I’m enjoying my days and sleeping pretty well through the nights.  I’m full of hope and excitement for the New Year and just wondering which of my many possible projects I want to tackle first once I’m up and running.

Today I’ve had a day off from going to Harefield, which was nice as it meant I got a bit of a lie in.  I had a wonderfully lazy Saturday morning lying in bed with K reading the paper and chilling out before I got up and had a nice soak in the bath (which did wonders for the pain in my side). 

The rest of the day has been spent in similarly chilled fashion, watching TV, sleeping a little and doing the mini-exercise regieme that the Harefield physios set me before I left.

Tomorrow, K and I hope to get back to the flat to try spending a few nights there over New Year to see how we get on.  At the moment I’m lucky in that I’m here being pampered by Mum and Dad but I really need to get back on my own two feet.  While I know that K’s going to be there to do things for me if I need them doing (which, doubtless, I will to start with), it still feels like a pretty major and slightly scary step.  But at the same time, it’s wonderfully exciting and I can’t wait – it’s one more step on the road back to “normality”.

We’re just a couple of days away now from the end of the most amazing year of my life – one that’s seen more ups and downs than  an entire day riding Nemesis at Alton Towers, but one which will no doubt stick in my mind forever, for all the right reasons.

Despite everything that’s gone on in the last six weeks and despite all the hardships of the year before that, I’ve done some things this year that I’ve always dreamed of doing and can’t wait to have the opportunity to do again. 

K and I sat watching a film last night which summed up my attitude to life perfectly.  Funnily enough, I don’t normally credit Adam Sandler movies with being all that profound, but watching Click reminded me that life is about every experience you go through, good or bad, and that every single thing you go through helps to shape you as a person.  I would not swap a single day of the last 12 months because the great ones were the greatest because of how hard I had to fight to get through them and the bad ones were the worst but taught be more about myself, my strength and my resolve than a million sessions with a phsycologist or life coach ever could.

Here’s to meeting with triumph and disaster and treating those imposters just the same.  And here’s to 2007: year of wonders yet to cease.

In case you haven’t read it, please check out the ‘A message from your host’ post which is before this, it’s a very special post that I know you’ll want to read.  I wasn’t keen on writing over it but I’ve had my orders to keep everyone updated and now Oli can run faster than me I’d better not make him grumpy!

Today has been anothr great day, I really can’t think of a time when I’ve been as happy as this, it’s the best feeling in the world. 

When Oli’s Mum and I got in to see him this morning we found a sad and tired Oli who didn’t really want to play this game anymore, I think the night on dialysis hadn’t helped him get any sleep and the extra fluid around his body (all 8 litres of it, not nice) was making him so unformfortable that he didn’t know where to put himself.  Oli’s Mum got sent off pretty quickly to go on an apple juice hunt and I just sat myself near him, at the end of his bed.  After a couple of quiet minutes he looked at me and said “I need to pull myself out of this don’t I?” and we came to the decision that I was going to put some music on the cd player (thanks Kate!) and Oli was going to sit up and be more positive.  From that moment on Oli’s day just got better and better, and better!

The Big Head Dude Doc Man (who needs capital letters because he is that important) came in to see Oli and decided that the majority of his remaining wires, tubes and drain should be taken off.  We were so happy!  The central line, which has 3 or 4 lines in it and is in no way connected to the London Tube, in Oli’s neck has been removed and instead they have re-accessed Oli’s portacath which will be used for his IV drugs.  The arterial line (I don’t know what this was for, I think it may have been blood gases) from his groin has been removed, the final chest drain has been removed and he is no longer on the cardiac monitor. 

The reason for all of this, apart from being well enough to be taken off of everything, is because of all this nasty extra fluid.  The overnight filtering has really helped, last night 2 litres of extra fluid were removed by this dialysis machine, but the body will be able to shift the fluid much more easily if Oli is able to do more physio, which in turn is easier to do when wireless.  The lines in Oli now are the port when it’s in use, the vas-cath (in his groin where he connects up to the dialysis machine at night) and his catheter.  Hopefully the vas-cath will come out tomorrow and once the extra fluid comes down and they are needing to check his urine output so much, the catheter will also get removed.  I’m not sure how long they will give Oli the IV drugs but at some point they will stop using his port and give him oral antibiotics instead.

This evening Oli doubled his 40m record.  It’s so amazing!  I wasn’t there for it but Oli phoned me to tell me and the joy and emotion in his voice made me want to cry with happiness – this is someone who 3 weeks ago was really quite poorly and got out of breath getting out of bed, this really has been the gift of a lifetime for Oli, and for us.  Oli was telling me how he walked from his room to the end of the ward and back and said that the nurses were beaming at him and the kitchen porter guy (official title, I’m sure) was cheering him on and telling him how good he looked!  Oli also said how he met a nurse he hasn’t met yet, she asked him what he’d had done and that made him realise HE hasn’t told anyone yet – lots of people know but not from him, for the first time he said ‘I had a double lung transplant nearly 3 weeks ago’ and when he looked over and saw his nurse’s face, Oli could see exactly why this nurse did his job, Oli said it was such a picture.

This evening Oli was able to spend a lot of time with his Big Bro who has come up to see him for the weekend, this is the same legendary Big Bro who gave the butt kicking last week.  Wow, must this be a different Little Bro he is seeing!  Following his legendary form, Big Bro has set Oli a challenge that has been agreed to (witnessed by Oli’s Dad, so no getting out of it).  On April 10th 2008 Oli will run alongside his Bro and his Bro’s marines for the first mile of the CF Trust’s Tresco Marathon.  How unbelievable is that?!  I’m thinking that all those who promised to wield big sticks at the previous exercise programme might need to get those sticks out again!

Bring it on!