On 21st February I donated one of my kidneys to my sister. Just over 2 weeks on and everything is going well for both of us.

It has been almost a year since we found out my sister would need a kidney donation and when we found out I knew I wanted to get checked to see if I was compatible. There was no hesitation, it’s what big brothers are there to do at the end of the day.

Fortunately all the tests proved I was a suitable match. I had numerous blood tests, a CT scan, pee tests, X-Rays, an ECG, a nuclear dye injection and scan (can’t remember the name of that one) and various examinations. I should probably be glowing due to the amount of radiation I’ve had directed at me.

So all tests proved positive and my kidney was an excellent match. Finally the day of going into hospital arrived after one previous delay and we ‘checked in’ to St Georges hospital in Wimbledon, London. I have to admit to not liking hospitals, but the staff on Bucklands Ward were excellent. Not an unhappy face in sight and all very bubbly and just a bit crazy. An X-Ray and ECG out the way and it was time to put the sexy stockings on that are meant to reduce the chance of DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) and try and settle in.

The operation was due at 8.30am on Wednesday morning so we had a night in hospital before the op. All the way through the tests I had not felt nervous, scared or any anxiety towards the op. I don’t know why, maybe because I knew I was helping my sister. I referred to the op as being sliced and diced to anyone that it came up in conversation with and I was always optimistic about it.

After a restless nights sleep, because the hospital ward was too warm and the bed wasn’t long enough for my lanky 6′4″ frame, it was time to be sliced and diced. I was wheeled off to the operating room and into the room where they knock you out (not with a hammer). I don’t remember having to count down once I had the inital injection, I just remember the room going a bit blurry. Now some people say you have the best dreams while under a general anaesthetic, but I don’t remember a thing. I rarely remember my dreams anyway. I woke up after the op in the recovery room and spotted my sister asleep, the surgeons wandered round and said everything had gone really well. So I went back to sleep.