Transplantiversary?

Long before I knew I’d eventually have one myself, I watched my friends with transplants celebrate their annual “transplantiversary”. These are birthdays for donated organs, so to speak, a means of recognising how long the recipients have had them, and an opportunity to celebrate another year of life that in many cases would not have been possible otherwise. Once I started waiting for mine, I wondered on a few occasions what date it would be,

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The other side of the story; Dear Holly

Several months ago, I mentioned having written a letter to the family of my donor. I did this not only to say thank you, but also because I wanted his family to see that I was a real, live person whose life has been changed by their loved one. I also wrote it knowing that out of the relatively small percentage of transplant recipients who send letters, very few ever hear back, so it was highly

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The most important thing I’ve ever done; Dear Donor Family

A few weeks ago, I did one of the most important things I probably ever will. I wrote to the family of my donor. Due to NHS regulations here in the UK, I know virtually nothing about my donor or his family. I know his gender, obviously, and I know he was “middle aged” and healthy enough to donate, beyond that, he is anonymous. I presume his family know equally little about me, probably only

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Chapter X: Normality?

As I sit writing this now, I’m almost eight months post-transplant and things are good. Aside from an unwanted encounter with CMV (cytomegalovirus, a virus transplant recipients sometimes get) Billy the Kid is doing well after his rough start. I’m told that by the 12 month point his results should be virtually indistinguishable from those of a kidney that worked straight away. His 10 day nap hasn’t done any lasting harm. I feel fine most of

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Chapter IX: Nothing that ends in a gift ends in nothing.

Mum arrived in the UK (again!) in mid-November, but until she did, my poor friends had to put up with me! My drugged, anxious, sick, tired, generally unstable self was certainly not the best company ever! Turns out, transplant recovery is not for wimps. It. Was. Hard. Fortunately they understood why, and were brilliant at distracting me. As soon as I reached the point where I had more good hours in a day than bad

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