Julie Mills, 28, from Surrey, works in admin for social services.  This year, she was struck down by a rare, life-threatening condition...

"When I developed pains in my chest, I shrugged it off.  I assumed I’d been carrying too many heavy trays around at the restaurant I was working in.  But when bruises appeared on my arms, I went to my GP.  Given that I also had a sore throat, he said it was probably flu and gave me antibiotics.  Two nights later, I could barely breathe and had to see an emergency doctor; the following morning, I was taken to hospital and given an ECG.  I was petrified.  My mum, dad and sister, Erica, all looked worried, too.  My condition deteriorated and I was transferred to the high-dependency unit at Middlesex Hospital in London. 

Tests showed I was suffering from a very rare condition called viral myocardititis, which can cause inflammation of the heart muscle, leading to heart failure.  My heart was slowing and my organs were shutting down.  I was sedated and, at that point, it all became a blur.  From what I’ve learnt since, the doctors said I needed a heart transplant, but there wasn’t enough time.  My family were advised to say their goodbyes – I vaguely remember them doing it, but assumed they’d be back the next day.  I had no idea I was likely to be dead by then! 

In a last ditch effort, the doctors transferred me to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford.  On my way there I stopped breathing and had to be resuscitated.  By the time I arrived, doctors told my parents that I’d only got about 20 minutes to live.  Then the consultant, Mr Westaby, suggested giving me an artificial heart.  It had never been done in the UK but, by coincidence, the first one had arrived from the US two days earlier.  The “heart” was the size of an orange, was inserted close to my diaphragm and connected to a pump; it would give my heart a chance to rest and recover. 

Amazingly, it worked! Six days later, the swelling around my heart had gone down, so it could start beating again.  It meant the doctors could remove the artificial heart. 

When eventually arrived back home, I was incredibly weak and on a mountain of medication – around 14 tablets a day.  But I was so grateful to be alive.  I felt indebted to the staff at the John Radcliffe Hospital – and, of course, to the artificial heart.  So much so that six months after leaving hospital, my sister Erica and I flew out to the factory where it had been made in Pittsburgh, and thanked all the staff.  They were thrilled to see me and had been charting my progress. 

Since then, I’ve gradually recovered.  I’m still on medication and will have to return to hospital for an echocardiogram every two years to check my heart.  But, apart from that, I’m back to normal.  In fact, I’ve achieved so much over the past few months.  I’ve got a new job; have moved into a flat with my friend Sam, and I’m involved in amateur dramatics.  I’ve even taken part in a couple of shows in the West End.  I’ve also become a volunteer for CRY – Cardiac Risk in the Young.  We support people under 35 who have to go through heart surgery.  I find it really rewarding. 

Instead of a quiet family Christmas at home like last year, this year we’re going to Euro Disney.  I’ve always wanted to go, and we’ve got so much to celebrate!  At the end of the day, I was a heartbeat away from death.  Being alive is the best Christmas I could wish for."