There is someone in my life who is very important to me. I have known her for over 20 years and I love her dearly. Her name is Lucy and she rocks.

Lucy is the first one up in the morning and the last one to bed at night. She likes her music fast and loud. She embraces life with a vigour that is unmatched. One of the best things about her is that after all this time she still manages to surprise me on a regular basis.

To sum up, Lucy is the most beautiful person I know.

It was hard to watch her get weaker over the weeks leading up to the operation. It was an inspiration to watch her bravely endure all the indignities the process threw at her.

The day of the operation is still fresh in my mind. I had not slept well. I tried to keep busy waiting for the call from the surgeon. The phone rang about 3.00pm, which was earlier than I was expecting.

Thankfully it was good news.

Before the operation a nurse had told me specifically not to ask Dr O whether it was OK to visit Lucy. I presumed this meant that he had said ‘no’ in the past, and the nurse was saying ask her instead. I was surprised when Dr O asked was I able to come and see Lucy. The operation had just finished, I said I could be there in about an hour. He said this was good.

Just over an hour later I found myself stood outside the intensive care doors. After quite some time a nervous looking nurse appeared and pulled me to one side. She asked why I had come? I said Dr O had suggested it and she rolled her eyes.

The nurse kindly explained that Lucy was unconscious and would be for several more hours. She informed me of all the machines, wires, tubes and drips involved and that most people found this quite distressing. Finally she said that even though Dr O had suggested it, it really was not a very good idea.

Something happened which I don’t understand. I think it may have been the look on my face. The nurse said firmly, ‘Are you sure you are up for this?’ I said ‘Yes’.

She took me through a myriad of corridors and half curtained off beeping areas before I saw a bed. I say a bed it looked more like a tardis type machine with bustling engineers, and Lucy in the middle.

I put my bag down and trying not to trip over anything or get in anyone’s way. I stepped up to the bed.

Now I say that Lucy surprised me nearly every day. This day was no different.

There, amongst all the tech, I saw for the first time in my life, Lucy’s sleeping face. As I say she is always up before me. She goes to bed after me. She gets the most out of every waking minute. I hadn’t realised that I had never seen her expression so deeply asleep. I was overwhelmed by the thought that Lucy is the most beautiful human I have met. The nurse looked concerned and said was I OK.

Looking back afterwards I realised that the next things I said were kind of tacky. However the nurses around her all seemed to understand. I said, ‘She is beautiful and she is alive. I am delighted.’ I turned to the nurse who had let me in. She was in full sterile gear. I said, ‘I would hug you but you’re clean and I’m not.’

I let myself out of the hospital and drove home. To be honest the next 24 hours are a bit of a blur.

He’s a boss B) – pop back next week for the first few shaky steps post bypass and some hospital shenanigans. Check in to ‘Whatever Doesn’t Kill You is Gonna Leave a Scar’ (thank you Mr Manson), same time, Monday 28th October XX