My life after a liver transplant

Transplants are one of those things that always happen to someone else. But I was 50 when I first heard that I needed one. That was three years ago, and I couldn't imagine what life would be like afterwards. I didn't know whether I'd be fit again or whether I'd be in a wheelchair. I had at the time what I'd describe as a pretty standard lifestyle. I was married with no children. Work was a large part of my life - I'd leave the house at 6am and get home at 8 or 9pm. I'd never been a heavy drinker but had the odd pint with the lads.

People often assume with a liver transplant that you have an alcohol problem, but for the majority of people that isn't the case, although I'm not judgmental about people who do. It's clinical need that determines who needs transplants and who doesn't. I hope that George Best has a very successful recovery and can get back to normality. My transplant certainly changed my perspective on life. I changed my work pattern and it probably took away my fear of death. I look upon every day as a bonus - I know it's a clichè, but I really do.

I first found out there was a problem with my liver in 1997. I had a pain in my leg and went for tests. It turned out to be a deep-vein thrombosis, and during a week in hospital they found some unrelated odd liver function test results. Two months later I was diagnosed with Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis (PSC), a disease of the bile ducts that affects only 7,000 people in the UK.

I was told a course of tablets would probably solve the problem, but that if it didn't I would need a liver transplant. I just assumed the tablets would do the trick. For a while I was fine. I did start getting very itchy, which is a symptom of liver trouble, and I was quite jaundiced and yellow. I was also very tired, irritable and suffered from lack of concentration, but I thought I could put those things down to age.

Then in March 1999 I had a severe stomach bleed and lost a lot of blood. After that I had an assessment for a liver transplant. I was very frightened - I didn't know anyone who'd had a transplant and had no idea what the success rate was. I was put on a waiting list, given a bleeper and told that when the right liver came up, I'd be called. I packed a bag for the hospital, carried on working and got on with my life, but I knew things were fairly desperate. My friends and family were very supportive. In the end, I'd say that the experience made my wife and me closer.

I was very lucky. I had a call from the transplant co-ordinator one night in June at 10.40pm. I went to the hospital to wait for the surgeon to assess the liver. At 4am he told me he was satisfied with it and at 7.30am I went down for the operation, which took 10 hours.

I felt calm and relieved but also very emotional because I knew someone had donated the organ. That is when it came home to me, the importance of donorship - someone had freely given an organ so that I could live. I was told afterwards it had been a man my age, with a family.

I didn't ask any more, but I am eternally grateful to that person and his family. I wrote to them and it was the most difficult letter I've ever had to write. It's difficult to express the gratitude you feel, particularly at what is such a difficult time for them.

Like any major operation, afterwards I felt as if I'd been hit by six double-decker buses. And then, a few days later, they discovered a blockage in the artery leading to my liver. They had to open me up again and remove it, but two weeks later the consultant said I required a second transplant because the blood flowing through my liver was insufficient. I just broke down at the thought of having to go through it all again.

When I left hospital after five weeks I started walking and playing golf to get back into shape. After two months I felt better than I had before the transplant, although I knew that this liver would eventually deteriorate.

The next call came late at night in October that year. I guessed who was calling and felt ready to go ahead. I found recovery easier this time. Again, the donor was a man of my age with a family, and I wrote expressing my thanks. I didn't hear back but I send a message twice a year, on the transplant anniversary and at Christmas. Not many days pass when I don't think of them.

When I left hospital, suddenly I had a future again. My wife and I planned a trip to France and within 12 months I was back to my normal life doing everything I did before, just enjoying it so much more. It was literally a new lease of life. I'm now in extremely good health. I go for a check-up every six months and I have to take immuno-suppressant tablets every day, but the only restriction on my diet is that I can't eat grapefruit.

I wanted to prove I could go back to work and returned part-time in February 2000, with the intention of leaving within a year. While in hospital I decided I had spent too much time working, and not enough time at home. I was fortunate enough to be financially comfortably enough off to act on that.

In January last year my wife and I went to Spain for three months. Unfortunately, she died while we were there, following a stroke. But at least we had that extra time together.

Since she died I've been to Morocco, Spain, Russia and spent three months touring the Far East and Australia. I'm just back from France and I've taken up scuba diving, too, which is something I'd always wanted to do. There's nothing I can't do in terms of living a normal life, and at the moment I'm just enjoying life and doing what I can to make the most of it. I volunteer at Addenbrooke's once a week, talking to transplant patients and their families. Most people find it hard to believe I have had a transplant, and that you can regain your life afterwards.

To register as an organ donor, call 0845 606 0400 or look at www.uktransplant.org.uk