MIKE Carr describes vividly the moment when he thought his wife had died, the joy of realising that she was getting better and the case that made medical history.

As he had done every day for a fortnight, he'd rung the bell at the intensive therapy unit at the Freeman Hospital in Newcastle but was intercepted by a sister who told him that his wife of 28 years had gone to the high dependency ward.

"You just can't imagine the relief, the split second between 'gone' and 'high dependency'. The elation was just incredible.

"I literally got hold of the sister and danced her round the waiting room of the intensive therapy unit until I remembered that there were other people and other relatives there.

"She said she took it I was quite pleased."

After 24 hours on high dependency, Elizabeth Carr was transferred back to Ward 6A, from which dramatically she had been rushed more than two weeks previously.

"Even the nurses were crying when she came back because no one really expected it," says Mike. "They weren't like doctors and nurses really, they were like family. Now it's like starting our lives all over again."

It's for the family on Ward 6A, and in gratitude for the devotion of the Freeman's kidney transplant unit, that he plans a series of fund raising events starting a week tomorrow - but nothing at all, says Mike, can repay them.

Both work at the Maiden Castle sports centre at Durham University, Mike as sports hall supervisor, Elizabeth as a cleaner. "I'm the boss at work," he says, "and the other way round at home."

Elizabeth, 46, suffered from polycystic kidneys and for three years had spent nine hours a night on dialysis when the Freeman rang last November with news of a probable match.

"I was simultaneously glad and nervous," she recalls and after two weeks was home again, seemingly well on the way to recovery.

A few days later she felt unwell, was advised to return to the hospital and spent two more days on Ward 6A. "The next thing I remember is waking up in intensive therapy and saying I was glad I'd only been there overnight."

She'd been there, unconscious, for two weeks while doctors battled to diagnose the problem and to save her life. Mike was advised that Philip, their 22-year-old son, should come to the hospital at once.

Consultant surgeon Bryon Jacques finally realised that a leaking valve was seeping ammonia into her system - with the reality that, unchecked, it could reach her brain.

"No one had ever seen it before in a kidney patient," says Mike. "At first we'd just thought it was some sort of infection, quite common after a transplant, but they took me into a side room and explained that it was a race against time.

"Even then there was only so much they could do. Even unconscious, it was a matter of Elizabeth's willpower, too."

She was allowed home for Christmas Day, returned to hospital on Boxing Day, finally went back to work this week.

"I literally owe them my life," says Elizabeth. "I don't have to be in bed at 8.30pm every night. I'm no longer constantly tired, I can do anything I want to."

Mike, 52, had decided to do something for the hospital even if, as he puts it, his wife didn't come home.

"I just sat there for a fortnight holding her hand, stroking her hair, trying to give her a cuddle. Being there up to 18 hours a day, watching the staff and other relatives, puts a completely different perspective on your life."

On Friday, September 5, 7pm at Maiden Castle, there's an auction of sports memorabilia, signed shirts, footballs and so forth. At 2pm on September 7 many of the region's best known former professional footballers play a charity match at Maiden Castle and on September 21 the man who hitherto would have run a mile in the opposite direction takes part in the Great North Run.

Next year he plans a sponsored parachute jump for the Freeman though Elizabeth ("I don't want him in intensive care as well") fears that may be taking gratitude a bit far.

Former Sunderland player Martin Gray, now a coach with Darlington FC who train at Maiden Castle, has been an "immense" help, they say. "When you think what Elizabeth's been through, it's the very least I can do," says Martin.

Last year Philip - "absolutely brilliant" says his dad - did almost all the Christmas shopping. This year his mum's looking forward to the crowds, the carols and the cacophony.

Mike Carr, meanwhile, is training for the Great North Run in a "Gift of life" T-shirt. It could hardly be more appropriate.

l Further details of Mike's fund raising efforts are available from him on 0191-386 8180. Donations can be sent to him at the Maiden Castle Sports Centre, Durham DH1 3SE.

SINCE there is a touch of renal servitude about today's column, let us salute our old friend Ron Campion - people's Campion - who last weekend celebrated his golden wedding to the magnificent Jean.

Ronnie's 72. Like Elizabeth Carr, he'll never say die. "I've had a kidney transplant, a heart attack and both legs off," he recounts. "I'm diabetic, I have tinnitus and a bad back."

So how's he feel? "Champion," says Campion.

A former Sedgefield Borough Council chairman and holder of many other offices around Spennymoor, he was elected to the town council in May. "You can't just sit at home and feel sorry for yourself," he says.

George Courtney, former international football referee and Spennymoor headmaster - Ron was his chairman of governors - was among those at the party. "His spirit is absolutely amazing," he says.

"By rights he should have been dead years ago."

Now familiar in his electric buggy and vice-president of the local mobility club, he's sometimes down town twice or three times a day. "People think I've more lookalikes than Saddam Hussain because they see me all over," says Ron. "I'd like to go a bit faster but there's a policewoman called Dawn who keeps an eye out for me.

"I suppose a lot of people who've been through what I have would just be laid in bed, but that's no good, is it?

"It's a good life and the only one I'm going to get. I don't look back, I look forward."

UNAFFLICTED but no less indomitable, John Robinson sets out to climb Scafell on Saturday. Unlike every other climber in the history of England's highest peak, he will be doing it barefoot.

"There's no point in not being optimistic," says the 56-year-old haulage contractor from Shildon. "We'll just have to see how good my training has been."

He's a martial arts man, holder of several breaking technique records with both fists and feet and will wear combat suit instead of more conventional mountain gear.

Last year he walked barefoot the 20 miles from Chester-le-Street to Heighington; Scafell nonetheless represents sheer improbability for a man who's never even seen it, much less climbed it.

The ascent, which will be filmed, is expected to take two and a half hours. Though there'll be boots in the bag, if it goes well he contemplates leaving them there for the return.

The column, alas, will be heading in a totally different direction. More of that, and of how JR put bare foot forward, in a fortnight.