My big mouth strikes again

The count down has now officially began. Only another 24 sleeps till I go to Papworth, how exciting!
The news that I am going to meet the transplant specialists this month, has given me a strange devil may care attitude. I seem to be on a permanent high. I was extremely giggly tonight at my friends 'ratchet' party. I think that's what it's called, but basically it's a grill thing where you melt your cheese into molten lava and then pour it over hot potatoes and gherkins and devour.
A bit like a cheese fondue.
It was jolly good fun all us ladies, sitting around the table with the volume getting louder and louder as we ate more cheese and drank more wine.
I did do a faux pas when moaning about the news that my ex boss making the new information staff wear t-shirts, when I made a comment about what would I wear with the t-shirt if I was still there. I didn't think leggings or jeans were appropriate wear for work and I wouldn't have wanted to look like a lesbian in smart trousers with my t-shirt tucked in. Only I didn't use that word, but a slang word and my lesbian friend was just sitting there laughing as I tried to dig myself out of the hole when I realised what I had said! At least I think she was laughing as I would have hated to offend her.

I am not PC, that is the long and the short of it. I would never say anything to knowingly cause offence, but as I call myself a 'crip' and my best friends call me that too, I can't say I get upset about 'sticks and stones' as long as they are not said with malice.
But I do worry if I think I have offended anyone. The trouble is the words rush out of my mouth before I think and I have always said what I see. Goodness me, how could I be homophobic when a lot of my friends are gay, transsexuals and drag queens?!
Perhaps I will get the heart of a 'lady' and that will change my personality to become a demure lady of breeding?

I do wonder whether you pick up anything from the donor? Will I suddenly start eating pasta, which I don't actually like very much or will I want to go out jogging every morning at the crack of dawn, when everyone knows I hate early mornings? Will I have the urge to shut out 'Everybody on the floor now' in a gruff voice when queuing at the post office to buy my stamps or know another language, when I have the worst ear for sounds now?
Can I dare ask the specialists at Papworth this or will they stamp 'reject' across my file in bold red letters and send me on my way?
Will I see a white light when they take my heart and lungs out, as surely I will be dead for a split second when the machines take over the pumping?
Or how do I lay there on the operating table without drowning in the phlegm, which is what happens now when I try and sleep while sitting back in an arm chair or when laying in the bath even? I have to keep sitting forward to bring it up. Not very restful.
So many questions, but can I ask them?

Maybe it's too much melted cheese or red wine that has made me a bit weird tonight, so apologies to anyone that I may have accidentally offended. I better go to bed while I still have friends.

Lots of love Debbie x