Chapter X: Normality?

As I sit writing this now, I’m almost eight months post-transplant and things are good. Aside from an unwanted encounter with CMV (cytomegalovirus, a virus transplant recipients sometimes get) Billy the Kid is doing well after his rough start. I’m told that by the 12 month point his results should be virtually indistinguishable from those of a kidney that worked straight away. His 10 day nap hasn’t done any lasting harm. I feel fine most of

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Chapter IX: Nothing that ends in a gift ends in nothing.

Mum arrived in the UK (again!) in mid-November, but until she did, my poor friends had to put up with me! My drugged, anxious, sick, tired, generally unstable self was certainly not the best company ever! Turns out, transplant recovery is not for wimps. It. Was. Hard. Fortunately they understood why, and were brilliant at distracting me. As soon as I reached the point where I had more good hours in a day than bad

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Chapter VIII: Billy the Kid

Everybody talks about The Power of Social Media, sometimes so much so that it seems like a cliche, but looking at my phone for the first time after surgery definitely made me a believer! I have never in my life seen so many texts, WhatsApps, Facebook messages, Tweets, Instagram tags, missed phone calls and other notifications. It appeared word had spread. I also promptly discovered that our plan to keep it secret from everyone still

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Chapter VII: 18 missed calls; and a tram.

I arrived at the hotel in Blackpool feeling mightily impressed with myself for having lugged the cycler on the train on my own (well, almost on my own, the station staff helped!). I checked in and then went for dinner with some friends, both of whom are transplant recipients. After dinner we went for a walk to look at the Illuminations and have a drink. While we were walking we spotted a tram with a

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Chapter VI: Life in a box fort.

I’ll never forget looking out the window while the Baxter courier delivered my first two weeks of PD supplies. When he left, I was surrounded by a mountain of cardboard boxes. I could have built an epic fort, had I been so inclined. Sadly for the cat, I wasn’t. I remember a lot of my friends saying that this was when they properly realised this was their life for the foreseeable future. That was why

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