Moment that changed me: 'While recovering from spinal surgery, Princess Diana's death made me appreciate life'

While on a family vacation in 1996, my mother noticed that something was wrong with my back. While sunbathing by the pool, she saw a flap of skin that looked out of place. When we got home, Dad's osteopath traced an S with his finger down my spine and suggested I see a healer. Mum insisted on a more traditional route, and at the Royal National Orthopedic Hospital in Harrow, West London, I was diagnosed with scoliosis - curvature of the spine - and told I would need surgery to correct it.

I had other ideas. I was an over-excited 18-year-old determined to see the world, and even more determined not to let anything get in the way of my first year of college. I postponed surgery and went to Manchester to study management, hoping nightly back exercises between trips to the union bar would get me through.

Unsurprisingly, my spine did not bend to my will. A year later, another X-ray revealed that things had gotten worse. My spine was spinning now, pushing my ribcage against my heart. Everyone looked horrified when I confessed that I had chest pains. I couldn't avoid surgery anymore.

My case was severe and I had anterior and posterior surgery. The first (earlier) part involved making an incision in the side of my chest, deflating a lung, and removing part of a rib. The second part (posterior), a week later, was to make an incision in the middle of my back. Connection points for the rods were established and then attached to my spine with screws - keeping the bones in a good position to grow together. My removed rib was ground up and used as graft material for fusion. I woke up in the high addiction unit and felt like I was lying on concrete.

The timing, they say,...