You can bring your rapist to

Sudoku Just for FUN To solve the puzzles, each 3 x 3 box, each row and each column must contain the numbers 1 to 9. The numbers in the highlighted squares will give you the answers.

9 7 1 9 1 8 6 6 2 8 9 7 2 5 6 2 1 8 79 1 3 5 6923

Your answer________________________

8

3 7

6

2

4 4925 3 6 4 431 5 5 1 8 7341

7 6

Your answer________________________ Your answer________________________ 4 5 4 7 1 625 1 2 9 9 3 6 7 28 6 4 4268 1 243 6 3 3 WORDS BY HARRIET ROSE-GALE IMAGES: SWNS

Kathleen Maher, 47, from Jarrow, passed out, then woke up to a shock… STILL

I’d been in a coma for a month M y mum Madge, 88, sat in her armchair, gripped by her favourite game show, while I slumped on the sofa feeling sick. Bless her , I thought. It was February 2018, and even though she was nearly 90 and in the grip of dementia, Mum was still lovely company to have.

As for me, I’d been laid up with a virus for a few days.

The doctor said a bug had been going around, and I’d had to take time off from my secretarial job.

Still, it’d been nice to spend time with Mum.

Me and my brother Anthony, 54, were her live-in carers.

She’d spent most of her life looking after me and my six brothers, so now it was the least we could do.

We’d take her out for the day and treat her to fish and chips by the coast.

Just doing all the things she enjoyed doing.

Now, yawning, I pulled myself up and went to make Mum’s bed.

Only, as I plumped up her pillows, I felt light-headed.

Then suddenly, I crashed to the floor with a thud.

The next thing I knew, I was wakin up at Sunderland Royal Hospital, the faces of all my brothers staring down at me.

I tried to speak, but no sound came out of my mouth. I couldn’t even raise my head. ‘It’s OK,’ my brother Michael, 63, soothed.

But it wasn’t OK. Not only was I in hospital, but a whole month had gone by while I’d been in an induced coma.

Michael explained to me that I’d suffered sepsis, pneumonia and had multiple organ failure. It wasn’t just

My family got me through it

I hated it

It was the choice of my limbs or my life a standard bug after all. ‘The veins in your limbs have collapsed,’ he said. He looked tearful. The doctors hadn’t expected me to survive.

Over the next few days, I continued to slip in and out of consciousness. Eventually, I was awake more than I was asleep, but my arms and legs felt like dead weights.

Peering down, I saw they were grey, turning black.

Like chunks of coal. Then, a doctor came to see me… ‘All your blood went to your vital organs to keep you alive,’ he explained to me.

It meant my arms and legs had been starved of the oxygen they needed. I had necrosis – my limbs were dead.

‘If we don’t remove them, it could kill you,’ the doctor said gently. I’d had a tube fitted into my windpipe to help my lungs recover, so I couldn’t speak to answer.

Instead, tears just trickled down my cheeks.

How can this be happening? As Mum was so poorly, my brothers hadn’t told her much about my condition.

She just thought I was very ill – not realising her only daughter was on the brink of death.

I missed her so much.

Then, in April 2018, surgeons took me down to theatre as Michael and John, 64, walked beside me.

‘You’ll get through this,’ Michael croaked. I nodded, but I couldn’t stop crying, shaking with fear. During the procedure, surgeons removed my legs below the knee. I later had another op to remove my arms below the elbow.

The next few days were a blur as I was pumped with medication and Stronger every day

EAL LIFE

was just out of it.

I could still feel myself moving m and fingers, even though I knew they were no longer there.

At one point, a nurse lifted me up so I could see my bandaged stumps. ‘I don’t want to look,’ I wept, as she undid the bandages.

Slowly opening my eyes, I saw the ends of my arms.

Red raw, covered in stitches and staples – I hated them.

My legs were the same. How could I live like this? Only, as the days went on, my mood lifted.

I’ll get there , I told myself. One step at a time. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I had clearly survived for a reason.

My brothers kept me company, chatting about my nieces and nephews. I worked hard with a physiotherapist to get myself into a wheelchair. And finally, in October 2018, I was allowed out to see Mum. ‘Kathy!’ she beamed, kissing my cheek.

She barely registered my missing limbs,

reating me just the same. Weeks later, doctors tted me with prosthetic mbs, but to begin with, it was so hard to do

nything for myself.

Eventually, thanks to e nurses and physio, I managed to feed myself.

Even make a cup of tea! I used a walking frame go to the loo. It was exhausting ough, and I was sperate to get home to end time with Mum. But family kept me ing throughout it all.

Where have the doctors your hands and feet?’ six-year-old nephew ed me when visiting. Well, I think they had to he bin,’ I d at him.

ing made rything more earable for me. However, my family had another hurdle to battle.

In April 2019, Mum assed away acefully. was absolutely roken not to by her side, but she lived a long and fulfilled life – I was just proud to call her my mum.

Whilst I was going to miss her, I was soon able to leave hospital where I could start to rebuild my life with my new prosthetic limbs. Now, I live in an adapted bungalow with Anthony.

It’s been a long journey and every day is a challenge, but slowly I’m getting there.

Doctors say it’s a miracle I’m still alive and living a full life.

So, I’m going to make the most of it, no matter what. Positive mind