Looking back, I can see that one of the reasons that the whole experience of giving a kidney was so hard for me is that I was so bad at letting people get close to me.  I talked about the operation all the time – I was chatty with doctors and nurses, I would even say – “I’m not scared, I’m terrified” (ha, ha, ha!) 

I think there was probably only one person, my best friend Anthony, who had any idea of how scared I really was.  I remember one weekend we had gone out drinking on Saturday night and I had stayed at his house.  In the morning I came home to do all the many things I thought were so important (like writing my will) and after about 10 minutes I called him and asked if I could come back over.  I was so scared that I couldn’t be alone, and as I drove over I was terrified that he would want to “talk it out” or try and talk me out of the operation. 

He answered the door, handed me a cup of tea and we sat watching episode after episode of “Buffy” – not a word said.  I was so grateful to be distracted, and he supported me throughout the whole thing – visiting me in hospital, coming to visit me at my sister’s house, sending me a DVD (featuring Vin Diesel!) on Valentine’s Day, and, when I was home, driving over to pick me up and cook me dinner before putting me in a cab home.  I simply don’t think that I would have made it without him. 

As much as I love my family it was always so hard for them to put their concern for me and Joel to one side and just be there for us - after the operation I talked to Anthony about it, and he admitted that he had been petrified for me, and that when he saw me in hospital that was the worse he had ever seen me (and this was after I had finally had a shower and cleaned up - and he’s seen me on a lot of morning afters!) but he put his concern and fears to one side, and manned up to help me deal with my fears and concerns.

So my first piece of advice is to lean heavily on your friends – there were so many people who offered me a room, or a meal or a shoulder to cry on that I turned down – partly because I thought that my family would really be there for me and because it was inconceivable for me to actually rely on anyone (except Anthony.)  And if I had relied on more people it might have made it easier on him.

Saying that, there was my lovely friend Orla who sent me flowers to the hospital, listened to me whinging for hours and even came with me on holiday to Egypt to cheer me up (all from Rome) and my lovely friend Anne, who was heavily pregnant in Paris, but also at the end of the phone for me, my friend Sally who came to visit me from miles away and who was so sweet about the fact that she had to climb over my bed to get in the flat.  If it hadn’t been for the operation I don’t think Sally and I would have become as close as we are, and I don’t think I would have really appreciated all my other lovely friends as much as I do.

But what I really missed, which I realise more now, as I am finally in a relationship (at the time of writing), was a lover.  When I was undergoing all of the tests, being manhandled by countless doctors, what I longed for was someone to touch me in a non-clinical way, to touch me in a loving way.  In studies of illness and touch, research shows time and time again that animals who are touched, held, shown a little physical affection, recover so much faster than animals who are not – and it’s also nice.

Hugs and kisses – and any alternative medicine involving touch; massage, reflexology, Reiki (pretty cool I think) are all your allies in recovery.  Get them where you can.  I heard this expression recently and it struck me as true; 4 hugs a day for survival, 8 for maintenance and 12 for growth. 

It makes me incredibly sad how alone I have been and how determined I was to recover all alone – I didn’t need anyone – well really I needed 12 hugs a day.

What would have been even nicer is to have had a lover, to have hugs all through the night, someone to talk to when I woke up in a panic in the middle of the night, someone to rub my back (or at least my shoulders) when the pain got too much.

If there is someone trying to be there for you – let them.  

After the operation I also used it to push potential lovers away – I convinced myself that my scar was so ugly that I had to have “the conversation” before anyone saw it.  Cue several dates and me walking away rather than having that conversation.  I felt ugly and imperfect.

One of the biggest tools in my personal growth was a great book by Susan Jeffers – “Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway.”  It’s one of those books that talks about being positive about everything, so the first time I read it I was thinking – “yeah right, you try being positive about being sawn in half.”  (Sorry – I’m melodramatic.)  And then she started talking about having breast cancer, and a mastectomy, and about her partner who stood by her throughout, who found her attractive with one breast and who, above all, loved her.  Well I read and reread this book and I guess it must have gone in, because here is what happened next:-

There was a guy – a friend of Anthony’s, who I had known, but not well, before the operation.  I saw him again when I was about to go to Egypt, the first time I went out after the operation and he was so sweet and kind that, despite the fact that he was in a relationship I got a terrible crush on him.  I didn’t tell him about the op, didn’t want him to see me any differently, but over the next couple of years I would see him at odd intervals and the crush definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

And then one day he was finally single and, well I took him home (bad girl!) and didn’t even think about the scar until the next morning.  I know he noticed it, but he didn’t even ask what it was.  He did the next time and I said “You don’t really want to know.”  But then my friend Sally (lovely girl!) told me I had to, otherwise he would probably think I was dying.

So, full of trepidation, (I really didn’t want him to see me any differently or go off me), I sat him down the next time I saw him and told him all about it.  He said “So you’re a real life heroine” and asked some nice sensible questions and I could have kissed him – in fact I did, and a lot more besides – but you don’t need to know about that!

I guess my point and what I realised from the morning after was – sleeping with someone new and a massive scar is as easy as falling off a log, and that if someone likes you then they are not going to be turned off or altered by your “revelation”.  (Since writing this I went on to have another great relationship and, once again, he didn’t think twice about my scar.)

I also felt when I was with him that this was what I had been waiting for since the pre-op tests – and did I deserve some hugging and kissing!

I was lucky enough to have my first romantic experience after the op be a wonderful one – a wonderful guy who also happens to be a wonderful hugger.  My biggest problem, as always, was me – letting someone be close to me.

What I wish for you is that you have someone half as nice (or even nicer!) to be with you through the operation.  And if not, don’t let the stupid scar, or even a bad dating experience, hold you back.  Because in the words of a song, pinched by an advert, “kisses make it better” (as do hugs, maybe even more so!)