I used to have a job working quite far away from my home in Bolton. After 7 or 8 years of it I thought I’d look for a job closer to home, so got a job just down the road from my house. I think it was meant to be, as six months later we found out that my 16-year-old son had kidney disease.
I don’t live with my son and his mum, but we all get on and I was able to support him by driving him to and from his hospital appointments and check-ups. He was able to live with the disease without too much change for two years, still eating and drinking as normal and getting on with his life as a teenager.
In August 2024, however, his results showed a massive drop in his kidney function and we were told that his kidneys had now failed.
His renal team had been great at explaining everything to us in the years leading up to this, so we knew what to expect and how he’d need to go onto dialysis to keep his blood clean.
He didn’t want dialysis to disrupt his studies, so after chatting through the different options with his healthcare team he opted to have dialysis at home. He and his mum spent four weeks at Manchester Children’s Hospital to start the dialysis off and learn how to use the machine, before heading home and setting everything up for him there.
Dialysis is no joke, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Every time he finished a session, it was as if he’d run a marathon. He’d tell me how he would always feel really ill afterwards and have zero energy. His mum spent the four weeks with him at hospital while I did the running around, driving him between hospital and school whenever we had to (it was about an hour and a half’s drive between the hospital and home) and bringing them whatever they needed.
Those four weeks were really tough for all of us. Even once he got home and things became a bit easier, it still wasn’t brilliant. The dialysis still really took it out of him. Sometimes his health would take a hit and he’d have to go back to hospital for a week and do his dialysis there. It was really challenging.
All this time, I was being tested to see if I could donate one of my kidneys to him. As soon as we were told his kidneys were failing, his mum and I both started the process to see if either of us were able to donate.
The first round of tests showed that I was the better match for him and was able to donate. It felt like a winning lottery ticket that one of us had the opportunity to help! I didn’t hesitate at all. I would do anything for my son. Plus I was in my 40s and he was only 16. I’ve had the opportunity to do so much, so it was an honour to be able to use something inside me to improve his life. My spirituality definitely helped me too – my faith taught me hope, patience and resilience. I knew it was the right thing to do.
There were still a lot of tests to do after that, to make sure I was healthy enough to donate and live with one kidney after the donation. It was all new to me and I learnt so much during the process – discovering all about my kidneys felt like opening up a Pandora’s Box of information! But test after test came back okay, and before we knew it we had a date for the operation.
Ahead of the operation itself, prep was absolutely key. I live on my own in a flat with no lift, so I needed a plan for how I’d cope during recovery after the operation, as I was told I could be bed-bound for a few weeks and might not be back to my full self for three months. They said I may not need that much but it’d be better to prepare for the worst, so that’s what I did. I organised someone to help clean the flat and prep my food for me. I bought a chest freezer so I could buy lots of pre-made frozen meals. My neighbour was amazing and agreed to do a weekly essentials shop and empty my bins. They feel like small things in normal life, but made all the difference to me when the time came.
Operation day itself was quite scary, but when the time came everything was ready and the operation happened without any issues.
I didn’t wake up for over 24 hours after my operation. At first I felt weak and ill – my body had just been through a major operation. It was also Eid, which was a shame as I didn’t get to celebrate the day – though I did have family members come to visit on this special day.
I remember a nurse who came in to help me that first day after the operation. She was fantastic, like Florence Nightingale! She was really supportive and helped me through the worst of it. Sadly I never saw her again to say thank you for everything she did for me.
My main focus, though, was my son. Pretty quickly I was told the operation was a success, and slowly but surely they took the dialysis equipment away from him as his new kidney began working. I needed a few days to recover before they wheeled me across to see him (he was in the same hospital as me but in the children’s ward on the other side of the building). He looked great! It was a really special moment for the two of us to share together. I got to see him one more time after that before I was told I was well enough to head home.
I spent three months recovering at home, just as they had told me to prep for. It felt like a blur! Most of the time I really needed to rest up as my body got used to the new normal of life with one kidney. It was a slow but steady process. Every day I tried to push myself a bit more, but it was hard going. I’d start with walking down the stairs, then a few days later I could walk to the car and back. A few months later, I was back doing 10,000 steps a day.
I went back to work after those three months. I’d never taken that long off work before, and it took a bit of time for it all to come back to me! Like with the physical recovery, I just took it slowly, and my manager was so understanding which made a real difference.
My son and I have always had a great relationship, but the transplant really gave us a special link with one another. He’s gone from strength to strength since the operation. When his kidney was at it’s worst, he probably missed around 70% of his school. But he had a great tutor who helped him keep studying, and he really worked hard to put the extra work in whenever he could. After the operation, he went back to do his second year of A levels. He ended up with three A*s!
I’m so proud of him. He’s been through so much, more than I’d want anyone to ever go through, and he’s still been able to do so much. He’s now heading to university to study Maths and Computer Science, and no longer needs to worry about missing any more time. It feels like a miracle. He’s an inspiration to me, and I’m so honoured I was able to help him in the way I have. It’s been a bumpy old road and things don’t always go according to plan, but his future’s looking bright now.
