You say you want diamonds on a ring of gold

There's been too much navel gazing bollocks going on in these pages in recent times so I thought it about time that I posted about something happy. That something was my baby sister's wedding this past Friday.

I had been looking forward to this for so long that in the period leading up to it the nieces and nephews, of whom more later, were banned from coming anywhere near me as the little bug magnets have a terrible habit of sharing every little bug that's going with me. I actually found this quarantine quite difficult as I love their company but there was no way I was missing out on the big day.

On the morning I got up nice and early with Janine and waited for the hens to arrive and start their clucking while getting their hair done. All things considered it was a remarkably calm house until it came my turn to get ready. I was wearing full highland regalia. I decided for this occasion to hire the same outfit as the other menfolk in the wedding party even though I have two kilts of my own. I wanted to feel like I was part of the whole affair even in such a small, superficial way. Anyway, I went in to the bathroom and turned the shower on and waited for the boiler to kick in and the hot water to build up. It resolutely remained freezing. Normally resetting the boiler is all that's required, or in some instances a top up of the water pressure through the filling loop, but neither of these had any effect. I need a lot of time to do anything and we were rapidly running out of it but we sent my eldest sister to a neighbour's house to see if I could go there to at least get showered. She was in thankfully and so I got wheeled round and saw the beautiful sight of a stairlift to carry me up. I got showered quickly and thanked Mary for her help in our hour of need. It is perhaps a great irony that it was the boiler that packed in because my dear, departed father was actually a heating engineer and the fecker wasn't around when he was needed the most. The opinion throughout the day was that this was him in fact making his presence known, albeit in his own wicked way. I'm not going to disabuse anyone of that rather amusing notion. I got back and started the slow process of getting the whole lot on and presentable. I am of course biased in saying that I scrub up not bad when I put the effort in but I would go even further and say that I look at my absolute best when I have the full highland gear on (as shown by my choice of profile pic). Here, judge for yourselves:

I, perhaps obviously, am the one on the left with the nasal canula helping him to breathe alongside my brother Mark (who was giving Janine away in the absence of said father) and hiding behind us is my chronically camera shy mother. "Oh would some power, the gift to gie us, to see ourselves as others see us" said philandering, Masonic arsehole Robert Burns and it took seeing these photo's back on my camera screen that made me realise that I don't look quite like me. Not the way I used to look anyway. You see when I had to gain weight to make it onto the transplant list I was also in the position that I was losing muscle mass which is more dense than fat so to account for that I had to put on extra weight, so even though I don't weigh much more than I normally would I am a bit more plump than I'm used to being. Looking in the mirror every day I haven't noticed the gradual change but this is the first photo anyone has taken of me in a few years I think and it was a shock to see someone else's face looking back. 

Anyway, I made it down to the Church, handily located at the bottom of my street, safely pushed down in the wheelchair by my brother in law and we went in and got to our respective places. I had a nice chat with the Priest who was telling me this was to be his last wedding before he retires next month. I was an altar boy for Monsignor Osborne way back from mid primary school all the way through secondary school so have known him a very long time. He has married all my siblings and I'm kind of sad he won't be about should I ever get to this position. Anyway, this isn't all about me so back to the story. I'm not gonna lie, I was crying my eyes out as I saw my baby sister walk down the aisle. She was crying too I noticed - Mark was a great sub but there was a big dad shaped hole in proceedings and I think it got to her a bit. She composed herself quickly though. Here, have another pic of the proceedings:

The bridesmaids are my other two sisters, Clare and Alicia and my niece Maria. Gone are the days it seems where you would make your bridesmaids wear horrible dresses to make the bride look even better. The girls looked absolutely stunning. And now, because you can't really see them face on, here's one of Tony and Janine from outside the Church after the ceremony:

Now I was in my wheelchair but a friend of my mum's had her big estate car with her so she took me and my driver for the day, my brother in law James, to the reception venue. As well as getting me about the place we also had to factor in that gases have a habit of running out so as well as my portable liquid oxygen container, there was an extra gaseous oxygen cylinder being taken to the venue for me. I knew that I would tire quite easily so we organised that I could use one of the rooms on the ground floor (occupied by Tony's brother and his other half) for the hour or so I needed to recharge my batteries. As it was I lasted through the speeches and dinner before heading off for that much needed break. I spend most of my normal days in bed lying down so sitting in an upright position for a long while is actually uncomfortable for me now.

I wasn't required for most of the photographs thankfully but as well as the obligatory one of me with the happy couple: 

I got the ones I wanted the most from the day, that is the ones with the nieces and nephews:

And maybe my favourite, with them all around me:

Alicia's two Daniel and Nicole, Clare's Maria behind me and Mark's two Ewan and Chloe

The food was great, the speeches even better, but the relief I felt when I got to lie down for that while was something else. I had an hours sleep as I was exhausted before Tony himself came to get me. The atmosphere was brilliant. Absolutely everyone was mixing well and having a rare old tear of it. Later the DJ commented that he knew he was in for an easy night when the dancefloor was full from the first dance onwards with everyone absolutely going for it. Obviously I'm in no state to dance and it was with a terrible pang that I heard the first strains of Daniel Boone's 'Beautiful Sunday'. I was missing out on that staple of Scottish weddings, The Slosh. Gutted.

I had been sensible and taken pain medication so that I was in the most comfort I could be, although I did kind of shock a few of the folks at my table when I told them the dose that I had taken on top of the alcohol I was throwing down my neck. Between us my generation of cousins managed to introduce the older one to the wonders of the Jaeger-bomb. Reviews were mixed to say the least. While I did have a few drinks I didn't go mental with it as it's been a good wee while since I indulged but I was pleasantly pished by the time it came to go home. My uncle Billy wasn't drinking and so he took me home at about half ten so I had been out for over ten hours and was really beginning to feel exhaustion setting in. He even wheeled me right to the door and made sure I got upstairs to the safety of my room before heading back for his second taxi run.

It was an absolutely tremendous day and I'm not going to sully its memory with imponderables like how it could have been so much better if I was stronger. The facts are that I'm just not and I made the best out of the day. In fact the family were all amazed that I lasted as well as I did. So was I if I'm honest. I reckon adrenaline just kept me going for a bit as I couldn't actually get to sleep when I got home even through the exhaustion.

Saturday and Sunday I hurt like hell and slept for large swathes of both days but by Monday I was feeling normal again. It was hard going but I couldn't have hoped for a better time. And to think I almost missed it for a pair of manky lungs. Thank goodness for my rogue antibodies.