Four years ago today I was admitted to hospital with meningococcal meningitis. Four years ago. Seems like just yesterday but, at the same time, a million years ago. My life was changed that day and so was I. I’ve been trying to come up with some waffling post about how I was surrounded by all these amazing angels – my family and friends, the hospital staff, my workmates – but there is no way of summing up how I feel about everyone without sounding my usual soppy and overly-dramatic self. I love you all for taking care of me, for being there for me and for not giving up on me, even when I had already given up on myself. I remember that time as frightening (you can’t imagine how scared I was and I know I was a bit of a baby). Every day was exhausting. I was terrified I wouldn’t walk again, frantic at the thought of losing fingers and toes, worried that I would never regain my sight properly, filled with despair at the thought of a future on dialysis and what that would mean for me and my marriage, my career, my plans. I hated being unable to do anything, to wash and dress myself, to feed myself and brush my own hair. I hated being dependent on everyone for everything I needed. I hated that I was putting everyone through this and that I couldn’t make things better. I hated that my new husband of only a few months had to become my nursemaid and babysitter and how that changed our relationship forever. I hated the physiotherapy and the rehab, the wheelchairs and those horrible crutches. I hated the vertigo and the exhaustion, the nerve pain and the nausea. I hated feeling useless and being unable to work for such a long time.