The night I lived again: part one

Tonight marks seventeen years since I got the call that would change my life. I feel a little odd after realising that the call came on a Friday and today is a Friday. I wrote this piece (and the two that will come after) two years ago. The gravity of this night will never be lost on me.

bruises you can touch

I’m finding it hard to concentrate on my study today. It’s that time of year. It’s Transplanniversary* time. The 22nd will mark fifteen years since I was (at least this is how it felt) thrown back into life after being ripped from the tenuous march to death. This is a photo me on my 21st birthday on New Years Eve (my actual birthday), 1997. Between Christmas and here, I knew I had to put myself on the transplant waiting list. I’d been remarkably unwell at Christmas and the days after, but by some strike of grace, I was pulsed with energy for my twenty-first birthday. Looking at this photograph now, I look so serene and calm. Just like any normal kid. I look at this picture and think, ‘Pretty. Pre-transplant boobs. No scar. BT. Before Transplant.’

IMG_2038

But when I peel away the layers of this photo, I was anything but…

View original post 1,355 more words

4 thoughts on “The night I lived again: part one

  1. Carly, your beauty is one that not only endures but is genuine! Even so, without your courage and grace it wouldn’t be the same. Few people come into our lives and inspire us they way you do. It is an honour to know you. XOXO

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s