Drama: Heart transplant

I had a heart transplant a while ago. It wasn't an easy decision. But the old heart was diseased and dying, set in its ways, needing more than patching-up. Chronic heart failure, I was told. My blood vessels also congested with years of living. I was struggling for breath and life. I couldn't go on as I was. My life was at risk.

But I was scared at the idea of a transplant. So I tried do-it-yourself remedies instead. Stringent diets, foul potions, vigorous exercise, elaborate therapies to improve my condition. Many oughts and shoulds and musts, but they led only to a hardening of the 'oughteries'. They gave the illusion all was well but only made things worse. My physician said the heart at the heart of things was desperately rotten.

In the end the choice was clear. Something had to die in order for me to live. So I surrendered my hope of performing my own remedy and meekly lay down and slept – and let the master surgeon do his work. A suitable donor was at hand: I took my chance.

When I woke something had changed. There seemed to be new life and energy – but also a struggle. My body fiercely protested at the new stranger in its midst, and tried to reject the new heart. It wasn't easy. Sometimes my family didn't understand. But I felt I'd made the most important decision of my life and got it right.

I think, from time to time, of the donor who saved me. I feel his generosity is written on the heart he gave me. If you like, I feel I'm living out his life. It's a small price to pay for what he's done for me.

Just an image of course. Some people have this operation young, some old, sometimes sudden, sometimes slow. Sometimes they notice a difference, sometimes not. But take care: it is a matter of life and death. Have you had a heart transplant?