I would describe myself as an active person. I’m not the type of person to twiddle my thumbs since retiring as an editor. I go to the gym two or three times a week. I enjoy skiing in the winter and water-skiing in the summer, and I sing in several choirs. Even though I’m now in my 80s, I’m keen to stay involved in the things I enjoy for as long as I’m able. Donating a kidney was no exception.
Many years ago, I read an article in The Observer newspaper by a woman who had donated a kidney to a total stranger. It was a very interesting piece, but at first reading I didn’t think too deeply about it. Then the following week, I saw the same article reprinted in a current affairs magazine. Upon reading it a second time, the penny dropped for me. I could do that!
I did some research online and found my nearest donation centre, the Royal Free Hospital in Hampstead. I gave them a call and we arranged a time for me to go in to talk about it more, and it all moved ahead from there.
They had to do a lot of tests on me to make sure I was able to donate a kidney – more tests than I had originally expected. The very first scan they had to do was to check I had two kidneys, as some people are born with one kidney and live their whole life not knowing. I learnt a lot about myself and my body.
The testing process took around five months in total, which I’m told is quite quick. Once I got the idea in my head, I just wanted to get on with it. I was fit and healthy for my age, and I had no doubt in my mind that it was something I wanted to do, so I didn’t want to faff around.
The donation day itself was very easy. My coordinator Catherine was with me every step of the journey (we’re still friends today, ten years on). She walked with me into theatre, then the next thing I knew I was waking up in recovery.
The operation took place on a Thursday, then I stayed in hospital until Monday. Those first few days weren’t great – after all, my body had gone through quite major surgery and needed a bit of time to readjust. However, every day I felt noticeably better. I was discharged and stayed with a friend for a few days before heading home. Perhaps I didn’t recover as quickly as someone in their 30s or 40s, but in the end there were no long-term effects.
At first I thought I would donate and that would be it, but the reality wasn’t like that at all. I assumed it would just be a physical process that I could get on with, much like donating blood, but it was a far more emotional journey than I had expected. Donating a kidney has become part of who I am. I don’t want to make a big fuss over it, but my friends know about it and I’m very proud to raise awareness of living kidney donation whenever I have the opportunity to.
