FIVE MONTHS ago Alex Totten was at death's door. He was unconscious for four days, hooked to a ventilator and clinging to life while his wife lost a stone in weight worrying herself sick about him. Sports editors were asking for obituaries to be written for him in newspaper offices around the country. An Alex Totten testimonial match which had been arranged between Falkirk and Rangers in July looked as though it may have to be replaced by his funeral. For one of the most quietly popular figures in Scottish football, it was touch and go.

Things started to feel wrong in June when he returned from the Algarve after an annual golfing trip with pals. He began to feel warm and sweaty and he had an itch on his right arm. Had he been bitten by something? At a Saturday evening barbecue at Glenbervie Golf Club, near Larbert, friends began to notice that he looked off colour. "People were saying I wasn't quite myself. They noticed I didn't have much food on my plate.

"I woke at five o'clock the next morning and by then my arm and my hand were really sore, the sort of pain you get with toothache.

I went through to Stirling Royal Infirmary. That was on the Sunday and they kept me in. On the Tuesday night, at 10 o'clock, they phoned my wife and said they'd have to operate because the arm was swelling. They opened my arm right up, it needed 40 stitches. They never really found anything but at the same time I took septicemia. And that's when the problems began."

Whether or not he was bitten was never established but the septicemia - also known as blood poisoning - almost killed Alex Totten. He was unconscious from the Tuesday night until the Saturday, in intensive care while his family travelled back and fore to hospital and said their prayers. Wife Jessie was comforted by daughter Kay and son Bruce. Alexander, 7, and Jake, 3, wondered what was happening to grandad.

"I was close to death but I was unconscious, so I knew nothing about it," he said. "You don't really know what's happening in those circumstances. It was especially tough for my family who were worried sick during it all. Jessie told me she never slept. I lost two stone from it all but my wife lost a stone just through the worry.

"The surgeon was brilliant but he said to me: Alex you will never be nearer death than you were there, it's as simple as that'. It's amazing: one minute you're fine and the next you could have been away..."

By living to tell the tale he defied the odds. The surgeon told him 75% of people who become as ill as he was do not survive. The fact that he was one of the lucky 25% may have been down to the fact he had always looked after himself. Hospital staff were startled to see that for a man of 61 he had a remarkably clean health record.

Slowly he recovered, moving from intensive care to a general ward and then, on Thursday 19 July after a month in hospital, back to the family home in Dunipace.

It was two days before his testimonial match at the Falkirk Stadium and it seemed inconceivable that he would be well enough to attend. The surgeon told him not to; he would be completely drained and it could do more harm than good. Totten couldn't help himself.

"Against his advice I decided to go, even for 20 minutes just to show face. The wife and me got a taxi. As soon as I got into the ground people were coming at me from all angles. They were saying how you doing, gonnae sign this for me'. My head was buzzing. I had a walking stick and I was unsteady on my feet. At one point I had to ask my daughter to get me a drink of water.

"The game kicked off at three and I left at twenty past. That was it, all I could manage. Coisty' Ally McCoist later told me he had been looking for me and was told I'd already left. I was completely tired. I saw pictures in the papers of me in the stand. I looked like something out of Belsen.

"I was so glad I went, though. I got a tremendous ovation, even from the Rangers fans. My doctor said you have to be ill before people let you know their feelings about you." He reckons he received about 250 letters and messages of support; Andy Cameron, an old pal, was among those who visited him in hospital. Tommy Burns let him know he had said prayers for him. McCoist, Andy Goram and Tommy Gemmell were among those who rallied round.

He need not have been in any doubt about his popularity. Totten goes back a long way with anyone who's anyone in Scottish football and also has a knack of leaving clubs on extraordinarily good terms with their supporters. He gets warm applause when he returns to St Johnstone - having led them from the old Second Division to the Premier League - and to Kilmarnock, where he built an attractive team which, five months after he was sacked, went on to win the 1997 Scottish Cup under Bobby Williamson. By the time of the final he was at Falkirk, who Kilmarnock beat at Hampden to lift the cup.

There is respect for him among knowledgeable Rangers supporters for his work as assistant manager to Jock Wallace in the 1980s. He carries a photograph of himself and "big Jock" in his jacket pocket. In 1986 there was talk that Wallace would move upstairs and Totten would take over as manager, but that was blown to smithereens when Graeme Souness arrived on the scene. When the pair were introduced,Souness shook Totten's hand but was looking across the room at someone else while he did it. That said more about Souness than Totten.

There is no regret from Totten about how things panned out at Ibrox. How could there be, given that he carved out a fulfilling career in management at Alloa, Dumbarton, St Johnstone, East Fife, Kilmarnock and two spells - the second when he finished for the last time in 2002 - at the club he supported as a boy, Falkirk.

For the last five years he has worked on commercial aspects of the club, currently as its income generation manager. That was the role to which he was finally fit enough to return last month. For now he manages two days a week and that will increase in the new year as his health returns.

The illness has taken its toll. He is one of the gentlemen of Scottish football but it just so happens you can't get a handshake out of him. After the initial operation his right arm is so weak he has hardly any grip and can't make his fingers touch his palm. Writing, shaving or putting a spoon to his mouth is a bit of an ordeal and - for the time being - golf is a non-starter.

If someone says something and he completely ignores it, there is no need to take offence: he is completely deaf in his left ear. Sometimes that affects his balance. He still looks slightly frail, perhaps not quite as gregarious as before, but he is gaining strength every week and has put half a stone back on.

"The doctor said the hearing may come back in the ear a wee bit but it's something I have to put up with. My hand could take a year, so I go to physio three times a week. Tissue, muscle and nerves were damaged and it's stiff at the elbow and shoulder.

"Golf was always a great release for me so not being able to play is so frustrating. I can't grip a club." Getting back on a course has become a motivation, a target to aim for. "My next door neighbour watched me in the garden and said I was like a caged animal, walking round and round. I just try to walk as much as I can to build myself up.

"Will I ever play golf again? I really hope so. In fact I'll say yes. I just have to be patient. I've never been patient but I just have to look in the mirror and realise I am lucky still to be here.

"I say to people at the Falkirk games it's good to be herebut it's good to be anywhere!' When the wife starts annoying me I can just turn my deaf ear. And it really is a deaf ear..."

It spreads a warm glow around Falkirk that some old jokes are still being cracked by an old friend.