I was rushed to Hemel Hempstead hospital, where I was taken into the resuscitation unit. I was still conscious but had started having breathing problems - I felt like I was drowning and it was a terrifying sensation.
My daughter, Laura, 29, had been on her way down to visit for the day, and arrived at the hospital shortly afterwards, closely followed by my father, and son Jody, 31.
I was not really with it by this point, but with the appearance of my whole family, I knew something was wrong. My daughter gently took my hand and said: 'Mum, they're going to put you to sleep for a little while. I love you.' All I could see was the absolute terror in her eyes.
That's the last thing I remember - at 1pm I was put into an induced coma so my body could concentrate its energies on fighting the infection. My body was now severely swollen and covered in a rash.
The next day as I was not responding to treatment, as a last resort the doctors decided to try the drug Xigris; this was the last option, and my family was told that it would only give me a 40 per cent chance of pulling through and, if I hadn't responded by that Friday, there would be nothing left to do.
Thankfully, my body did respond and, 14 days later they decided I was well enough to be brought out of the coma. But as I came round I struggled to breathe so had to have an emergency tracheotomy under a general anaesthetic.
I remember snatches of those first few days, but I was suffering the most terrible hallucinations almost permanently, and couldn't begin to grasp what had happened to me. It was terrifying and I couldn't speak because of the tracheotomy.
My family were obviously overwhelmed with relief, though, and I can remember my son saying over and over: 'I'd forgotten how blue your eyes are, Mum.'