Her is what Maggie has to say about her experience......

A dinner party may seem an unusual place to make a life changing decision but it was at the table of a friend, four years ago, that I decided to donate a kidney to the N.H.S. Like many people, I had seen the alarming figures for patients in renal failure who die on the transplant waiting list and thought it was awful. My husband and I had carried transplant donor cards for years and had registered on line as future cadaveric donors but it had never occurred to me to think beyond that. We knew that we would donate to each other or to our children and I discovered that at that time it was not permitted to throw a kidney into the general pot, to be given to the best match on the list. My husband and daughters were initially shocked at my plan but soon came round, especially as there is no kidney disease in our families and therefore not much chance that spares will be needed by any of us. Hoping that the legal position might change, I went to my G.P. to ask if I could be referred to the local hospital, which has a transplant unit.

The first referral was ignored and the only acknowledgement I had from the second was a phone call from a nurse, who suggested that I put my idea on the back burner. I realised that I might be considered a time wasting nutter but I decided not to take “no” for an answer and I managed to get an interview with a transplant surgeon in Liverpool. It was a relief to be taken seriously at last. After a range of tests, both physical and psychological, I was accepted as a potential donor by a surgeon who has been a continuing support beyond his own retirement. It was he who found me the surgeon who operated on me in the autumn of 2007. I am perhaps unusual in that I have little fear of hospitals – the day I had my veins done was one of the happiest days of my life. (It was a rest, rather interesting and I had better legs at the end of it.) I didn’t feel quite so sanguine about this operation, I must admit, because there’s always the “What if…?” to keep you awake at night The risk of death is negligible – there has never been one in this country and I was sustained by that even as the day approached and I got increasingly queasy.

Small incision - laparoscopic method

My surgeon pioneered the laparoscopic technique in the U.K. and teaches it in other countries. I had confidence in him and woke up to tolerable pain and predictable tiredness and discomfort. Temporary problems with memory and concentration were a nuisance but lessened with time.

One problem that I hadn’t foreseen was embarrassment that I might seem to be attention seeking and the anonymity clause in the new legislation was a relief. I had spoken to nobody apart from my family and dreaded both telling people and the “Why didn’t you tell us?” after the event. I had been warned that some friends might react badly to my news as, apparently, something like this can seem an implied moral challenge. Even so, I didn’t expect the tight-lipped disapproval of one or two, who said I was acting improperly but never spelled out why. One said that she didn’t see it as a moral act. Setting up as a secular saint, her sardonic take on it, was not what motivated me. “Do as you would be done by” is my usual rule, unsophisticated though some may find it. I wanted to feel good, in both senses of the word but not to perch on any sort of pedestal, mindful of the old wisdom that he who raises himself up finds himself alone.

However, when I was invited to give a press interview I reluctantly agreed, in order to promote this important issue. I was deluged with media interest and gave several radio and T.V. interviews in the summer of 2005, filmed from behind. Some of the kids I teach recognised my hair and voice – and we had a laugh about it. I hope it got people thinking about the possibility of live, anonymous donation and the broader issues of donating the organs of dead relatives. A proposal for presumed consent has been debated in Parliament and I hope that it may be accepted soon. With some friends, I have set up a charity, “More Transplants Please”, which will be launched later this year. We aim to increase the number of organs transplanted and expect to highlight the successful programme in Spain, which has reduced the Spanish waiting list dramatically.

To anyone considering offering a kidney to the N.H.S, may I suggest that you read their website which states that work-related losses, for example earnings and pension contributions, should be born by the Primary Care Trust of the kidney recipient. I did not approach my employer, an Education Authority, to pay these expenses, as a donor’s employer is not the beneficiary here but rather the reverse as they lose an employee for a few weeks.

For every patient taken off dialysis and transplanted, a P.C.T. saves £22,000 a year after the first post-operative twelve months. A live kidney donation lasts an average of fifteen years, twice as long as a cadaveric kidney, so paying a few weeks’ loss of earnings to the donor’s employer seems like a pretty good deal for P.C.T.s. This is an important point and one which delayed my own operation by several months. The N.H.S. has been used to relying on employers’ good will but this could stall or prevent some transplants and cost lives.

I can recommend being a kidney donor. Although my recipient is still a stranger, I feel great satisfaction in knowing that my kidney has gone to live with him and will lengthen and improve his life. We have twice as many kidneys as we need so it makes sense to pass one on. I wonder if my kidney will exert a subtle influence on his tastes; might he develop an interest in Flamenco dancing?

TRANSPLANTS SAVE LIVES, MONEY and MISERY.