I donated a kidney to my dad in 2010. It feels like a lifetime ago now.
He had lived with kidney problems for years and it was incredibly hard watching him get progressively more unwell. For as long as possible, he managed his condition with medication, but eventually the doctors told him he needed to start dialysis. From that point on, everything changed.
Three times a week, he had to go to hospital and spend hours connected to a haemodialysis machine just to stay alive.
Even through all of this, he kept working. He was an electrician for the NHS, working full days and then coming home to face long dialysis sessions. It completely drained him.
From the moment dialysis started, I knew I wanted to get tested to see if I could donate a kidney. My dad was very resistant at first. Now that I’m a parent myself, I understand why — but at the time, I was completely certain. For me, it wasn’t a question.
As time went on, his condition continued to decline. I remember one night in particular – he came home and collapsed straight onto the couch, completely exhausted. That was the moment I said, “Right, enough’s enough. Let me get tested.”
I had never doubted wanting to donate. I just needed to know if I could.
It turned out I was a perfect match. I thought that meant we could go ahead straight away, but there were still months of testing needed to make sure I was healthy enough to donate. In total, it was about another six months before we finally got the green light.
Throughout all of it, I was never really fazed. I was doing it for my dad — for his health, his happiness, his quality of life. Nothing felt like a barrier. At the time, I was a police officer, so I was used to long processes and a lot of red tape.
Of course, if I could have clicked my fingers and done it immediately, I would have. But I understood why it couldn’t work that way.
When the day of the operation came, it felt surprisingly normal. I wasn’t nervous — it just felt like something that needed to happen.
Waking up afterwards was a different story. The pain hit me like a tonne of bricks. I hadn’t really known what to expect and I found it tough in those first moments. The morphine helped and I drifted in and out of sleep.
I half-remember my dad walking around to my bed and giving me a hug. He said, “I can pee!”
The only other thing I remember clearly is his eyes — the sparkle was back. You could see instantly that the transplant had worked.
Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Recovery took time. I was off work for around three months, followed by a phased return. In a strange way, it almost felt like an anti-climax after everything that had built up to that point. It went from months of focus and anticipation to suddenly… nothing. I needed that time to process it all.
Recovery can also be quite lonely. I couldn’t drive and I wasn’t able to get out much. Looking back, I would have really valued the chance to speak to someone who had been through the same experience — just to have someone to talk to who understood.
That’s one of the reasons I became a Buddy for the UK Living Kidney Donation Buddy Support Service. The service didn’t exist when I donated, but I hope I can now be that support for someone else.
Over time, everything settled and life returned to normal. It wasn’t always easy, but the decision to donate was never in doubt.
Seeing my dad get that sparkle back made it all completely worth it.
