At 21, the deadly meningococcal septicaemia robbed Amy Zahra of her legs and fingers. Seven months ago her resilience was put to the test when she underwent a kidney transplant. She talks to Ariadne Massa about her ordeal.

Waiting to be wheeled into the operation theatre for a kidney transplant, Amy Zahra was inconsolable, but her face lit up when her father - the man who donated the organ - dressed in tights for circulation started prancing around like a ballerina.

"Knowing you and your dad are about to have an operation which could change your life is very emotional and I was scared," she says, laughing at the memory of her dad pretending to wear a tutu.

The news of her kidney failure was an unexpected blow to the 24-year-old, who had started to recapture her lifestyle after her fierce battle with meningococcal septicaemia in February 2006.

While her parents were advised to make funeral arrangements, she defied the odds and emerged from her fight with the deadly bacteria with no legs, and no fingertips. Refusing to wallow in self-pity, the resilient Ms Zahra closed her ears to the doomsayers and within a year was walking on prosthetic limbs and driving a custom-made Volkswagen Polo.

Her sheer determination to survive was so infectious, people were inviting her to give motivational talks to those who had just undergone an amputation. Emboldened by the support, she decided to stop studying mechanical engineering at the University and instead chose to read psychology.

"After my amputation, people started inviting me to speak to them. I felt they were comfortable opening up to me so I felt psychology would be a better idea," she says.

"I figured I'm better with people than machines. I liked maths and physics but I couldn't see myself working as an engineer," she added, deftly holding a two-litre plastic bottle to pour water in a glass.

Ms Zahra is self-sufficient, and in the morning it does not take her longer than half an hour to get ready - she puts on her legs, puts them through her trousers, puts on a touch of make-up and is on her way.

Always eager to push herself to gain an extra bit of independence, in May last year she went abroad on her own for a weekend break to meet a friend in Bristol; it "was an achievement... I wanted to do it."

While there, she started vomiting. She had had a few drinks to celebrate her feat, so shrugged it off. But when she returned to Malta it persisted, and her blood pressure was unusually high. Her doctor urged her to go for a blood test, but with exams round the corner she postponed it.

The creatinine levels in her blood were very high - up to 1,000 from what should normally be 45 to 85 in a woman - which meant her kidneys were not functioning.

Ms Zahra was put on a strict diet without any protein or vegetables because they were high in potassium.

She lived on toast and tomatoes, losing a lot of weight in the process. She continued to live as normal a life as possible and was lucky she did not face the side effects so many people in her situation tend to endure.

By October there was no more postponing and she had to start dialysis at the hospital's renal unit, until she could have a kidney transplant.

After losing her limbs, kidney failure was the last straw: "I was very angry. I thought, how can it be? I thought I was doomed; that everything would go wrong.

"I thought only one bad thing could happen to a person. I held this philosophy that everybody had to face one trauma. I had had my share so I didn't expect this to happen," she says.

Ms Zahra did not dwell on her bad luck for long, and her positivity soon persuaded her to accept this was "part of the package" and a consequence of the meningitis.

"Maybe I was given the chance to get used to my new legs and to walking before my kidneys failed," she says, adding how she believed in fate.

She juggled her four-hour, thrice-weekly dialysis sessions with her lectures and then caught up with her studying while she was hooked up. She would watch the television series Grey's Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, or Gossip Girls, when she tired of her course books.

With Christmas round the corner and parties in full swing, she would badger the unit's coordinator Tony Bugeja to shift her appointments - she was adamant she was not going to miss out on anything.

Ms Zahra was confident this schedule would not run for too long. She was lucky to have four people - her father, her boyfriend Mark Anthony Camilleri, his mother and her uncle from Australia - offering to donate their kidneys.

"I had quite a choice; it's not often a person is lucky enough to have four people with the same blood type who are able to be donors," she says.

All the donors - with the exception of her uncle who, with his mind at rest, flew back to Australia - had to undergo a rigorous process of medical tests. Her father was the closest match and her operation was scheduled for February 4, just a few days after her exams.

"My dad had taken the matter to heart and was scared because it's a risky operation. There was a chance my body would reject his kidney. But on the day of the procedure, the tables turned and he was the one trying to boost my morale," she recalls, tucking her freshly-styled hair behind her ears.

"After the transplant I was kept in the ITU while my dad was taken back to the ward. I was really worried about him and wanted to see him, so my boyfriend used to take pictures of me with his mobile and show them to my dad and vice- versa," she says, adding how her partner had been a pillar of support throughout.

The couple had broken off their three-year relationship just one month before she contracted meningitis, but the tragedy brought them closer and they have been going strong since.

"When I was transferred to my dad's room, it was an emotional reunion. It was a major operation for him too - it is the true reflection of the unconditional love a parent has for a child. He gave me a third chance in life, as my second was when I lived through meningitis."

Everything went smoothly and she described her surgeon as a "hero". Seven months on, both Ms Zahra and her father are in good health, and they joke that their bladders are synchronised.

"We usually wake up at the same time to go to the toilet at night and we say the kidney probably still remembers," she says with a hearty laugh.

Stopping for a short break to stand in front of the fan, relishing the cool air blowing her hair, Ms Zahra shrugs off suggestions that she could have some phenomenal ability to see life through rose-tinted glasses.

"When I learnt about my kidney problems I thought of giving up, but when so many people had believed in me I felt I couldn't let them down... I'm like any other normal person. I try to get on with it. Sometimes I do entertain thoughts of where I would be had this never happened, but I get on with life," she says, her smile momentarily fading.

But it seems to go against her nature to be serious for too long: "There are those who don't pass their exams, and I have to put on my legs in the morning. I'm not saying I don't get my down moments like any other person. My philosophy is to try to keep myself very busy; that way I don't think about anything."

Aware that landing a summer job would have been hard since she had to travel to the UK a few times for adjustments to her prosthetic limbs, she still dedicated her energies to setting up a support group called Amputees for Amputees.

She is driving her project together with her mentor Pauline Cassar, a woman in her 40s who went through an identical situation three years earlier and endured the same amputations. When Ms Zahra was still recovering, and could barely move, Ms Cassar had been her inspiration because she could walk, cook, wash her car and even do crochet.

The support group is targeting those who had a limb amputated as a result of diabetes or accidents. There are about 200 amputations a year, and Ms Zahra is eager to ensure they receive a better service through the national health care system.

"I think a lot of work needs to be done," Ms Zahra says, looking down at her silicone artificial limbs, which look so real - complete with painted toenails and veins in the right places - that she could fool anyone they were her own.

She was fitted with these prosthetic limbs in the UK two years ago, and they enabled her to be more agile. Her shoe size went up to 38 from 37, but even if her size remained the same she would still have been unable to wear any of her favourite high-heeled shoes. Fashion is important to any young woman, and she feels comfortable showing off her limbs in a skirt.

"They've changed my life. I understand the government may not be able to provide such prostheses, but at least the inside and the socket, which has to be really comfortable, is not expensive," she says.

Ms Zahra says there have been such huge strides in the field of prosthetics that it is a pity a developed country like Malta does not benefit from these advances.

She is also saddened that so many amputees tend to lock themselves up at home, especially the older ones.

"You don't see these people (amputees). They hide. I must have been one of the first to go to a Tribù party in a wheelchair with no legs. I laugh when I remember, and the other day I told my mum, 'how on earth did you let me go out?' But at the time I wanted to get on with my life, come what may," she says, in her infectious positive tone.

"I understand why they do that, because they have something missing. Their spirit is affected, so they hide... My motto is if today I don't feel like doing something, I'm going to do it anyway because I don't know if tomorrow will come and I don't want to live with regrets."

When her mobile phone rings, she excuses herself and hits the silent button. Despite having stubs in place of her fingertips, Ms Zahra can send text messages, a far cry from the days when she could not even reach out a few centimetres to pick up the phone.

How does she feel whenever she hears people complain about trivial things?

"Well, I complain too if I'm putting on weight or if I have a pimple, so I cannot really say anything. It's more when people complain about stupid things about life in general... I'm sure people can get over losing something."

Although she insists she is still the "same Amy" people knew before the incident, her outlook on life has changed drastically: "I know life is very short and I try to make the most of it."

A good-natured attitude is Ms Zahra's trademark, but there are some things that endure her wrath.

"People's mentality towards disabled parking places can be so aggravating. Their excuse is that they only parked there for two minutes, but their two minutes is my hour... And don't get me started on the state of pavements," she says, sitting back in the sofa with a sigh.

Soon she is sitting straight up again chattering excitedly about her "little feats" in life: "I drive abroad and never did that when I had my legs. And, recently we were in Gavarnie, France, and I climbed up a really steep hill with the help of my dad just so that I could see an amazing view."

Looking out of the window of her parents' home in Marsaxlokk, she shares her dreams of getting married, landing a successful career, having a family and maybe one day writing a book that could help motivate and inspire others. So what's her advice to somebody who is going through a bad patch in life?

"Rough patches happen to everyone. If they didn't we would be in heaven. At the time you feel like the world is crushing you, and your body may let you down, but you fight with your spirit... And nobody can take that away from you."

Watch excerpts of the interview - http://www.timesofmalta.com/articles/view/20090830/local/amy-zahra