It was a bit of a shock when I went for all the pre-op tests and found out I was in perfect health.  I’ve always been sure that I was a bit duff body wise – especially if you had seen me on school sports days – although I was sports captain (no-one else wanted to do it) I still came last in every race.  My sports forte is bowling – and aside from a year of dedication to the gym in Paris (a particularly bad break up, surrounded by thin friends), I’ve always been kind of stocky (although now Zumba has made me my fittest ever.)

But during the tests, when I suddenly realised that I really wanted to give Joel the kidney, they assured me I was fit as a fiddle.

It’s what I remember now when I have some momentary hypochondria – like when I’m convinced I’m having a heart attack or I’ve got cancer – when I’m actually perfectly fit.

I like that word perfect – I realised that I was physically perfect just before the op, which was annoying as I had spent years avoiding short skirts and bikinis.  And then later, even with the scar, I realised I was still perfect – my kidney, liver, heart, limbs all work perfectly.  Most of us don’t realise how lucky we are until something goes wrong, so appreciate your perfection – now and always, and remember when you are feeling bloated and saggy after the op, love handles and a double chin do not count as a serious problem.