July 25, 2006 1:00 PM

Diana Sanders:

I'm sitting up, it's Tuesday morning. I'm surrounded by bleeping monitors, drip stands, machinery. My last memory is of Saturday night - lying on a cold anaesthetic table, a sharp pain in my wrist. A group of white-coated doctors appear at the end of the bed. "Well done, it's over now," one of them says. "It all went well. You've got a new heart and lungs."

I should be overwhelmed with relief and gratitude - the waiting is over, my new life is just beginning. Instead, I struggle out of bed, a scar running from sternum to belly, wires and drains coming out of my chest, intravenous tubing springing from neck and arms, and beg the surgeons to put my old organs back.

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bobbie: NEW

still praying!

Tue Jul 25 2006 1:20 PM