The thing about having a serious and potentially chronic illness is you're so relieved to hear others are suffering ailments too

Of course, I don't want people to be sick. But while my heart is still in a state of flaccid reluctance, I'm not really in the mood to be surrounded by those who are as fit as fleas.

Fortunately, my visitors have been very considerate.

After listening to the alarming story of how my heart failure was initially diagnosed as a chest infection, they have then given me a full run-down of their medical conditions.

My friend Phil had a scare with a nasty bout of pleurisy. He thought he was having a heart attack and was rushed to accident and emergency.

Another friend, Mark, is worried about the recurrence of a cyst on his back, as well as a lump he has found under his little finger.

Clare is concerned about the increasing frequency of her migraines and another friend, who I won't name to spare her embarrassment, has had a problem with piles.

Far from thinking they're all making a fuss about nothing, I am full of sympathy.

What some of them fear is what may seem a fairly minor ailment could end up being life threatening. Naturally, they're using me as an example.

I tell them I am a "one in 10,000" statistic and the chances are they'll be all right. And anyway, doctors can do incredible things these days.

The odd thing about my rare condition (postpartum cardiomyopathy), so people keep saying, is I actually look healthier than I have done for ages.

Thanks to the water tablets and being careful with my diet since the diagnosis three weeks ago, I have lost all the excess weight I put on during pregnancy, plus a bit more.

I can now get into my party frocks again, which I wear whenever we have visitors. Funny how no one has commented on why I'm wearing spangly outfits in the middle of the afternoon. Perhaps they think my brain has been affected too.

They've also been relieved to hear that, although the condition is serious, I'm not in any pain or discomfort. My medication is bringing down my galloping heart rate and makes me feel tired.

But I'm not bedbound. In fact my husband, who has been given time off work to look after me and our children, frequently looks more exhausted. I've told him to lay off the ironing for a while.

My physical appearance even flummoxed my cardiologist this week. After seeing that I look well and hearing that I feel a lot better, he suggested there had been some major improvement and sent me off for a heart scan.

This raised our hopes tremendously. I started to believe perhaps I would be having a riotous party to celebrate my 40th birthday next month and we might even resurrect our plans to holiday in Norway.

But it turned out he was being prematurely optimistic. The scan showed that, despite my external wellness, my heart was still like an old washing machine stuck in the rinse cycle. The doctor then admitted this was really what he should have expected and my recovery was likely to take months rather than weeks. I felt disappointed but I'm still hopeful my party frocks will see some evening action before too long.

In the meantime, has anyone out there got galloping gangrene? I would love to hear from you.