Making mother’s day

My first realisation of Mum being sick was when I was five. It was just the two of us in Newcastle, she was carrying a 44-kilogram drum on crutches after having a hip replaced and I was too young to help. Day after day she would have to stick needles in her arms -“ I just wanted to help her.

They told me she had nephrotic syndrome. Her kidneys were failing and she was on dialysis until they found her a replacement. She also has osteoporosis from all the drugs she’s taken over time. Worse still, the strain of me being born impacted on Mum’s kidney.

On that day I promised I would give her one of my kidneys, but they didn’t believe me.

Mum is my rock. When I came out to her at 14, she took it very well, even though I was the only male to pass on the family name. I owed her so much loyalty and love.

I had to be of legal age to donate a kidney, meaning 18. Even then it took two years of rigorous cross-matching and blood tests to see if we were compatible.

No other family member matched and she had been on the waiting list for 13 years. I was only a 50 percent chance, but it was the only hope there was.

After speaking to the doctors I decided to go ahead anyway.

I made the doctors sign a statement saying they would not disclose to Mum that she was getting a kidney or that I was involved. She knew she was going to have an operation, but after so many, she didn’t know what it was for. We gave blood at separate times. That was tough. I don’t know how she coped.

But I kept giving hints. Wouldn’t it be good to get rid of that dialysis machine once and for all? Once we went in for our pre-operation prep, I told her: Kidney’s on the way, from me. She burst into tears.

There was a small risk of dying in surgery or ending up on dialysis myself. Thankfully it was a success. Mum gave me life and I gave it in return.

It was the hardest part of both our lives, the six months after the transplant. She couldn’t go out and I didn’t feel comfortable going too far from home in case she needed me.

But then I saw her with rosy cheeks and enjoying herself. Mum is still my rock.

Now I’ve been able to move out and come to Sydney and live my own life. As her carer I wouldn’t have been able to do that before.

I came down to Sydney this year for Fair Day and loved it, so after Mardi Gras I decided to make the move permanent. There’s only one club in Newcastle, and I wanted more opportunity to meet guys.

Now I’m working as a marketing manager on Oxford Street and loving it in Sydney, although still hoping to find a partner.

I can’t drink as much because of the transplant, which is a good thing. Lots of people survive on one kidney. If anything it teaches you to treat your body well.

For me, I’m giving someone life. No average Joe Blow could do it. It takes an extraordinary person. I’d do it again if I had to. I’d give my mum my heart. If my partner needed a blood transfusion, I’d give that too.

Gay people should also consider donation, like blood and plasma. Your body can save nine lives. I don’t believe in the ban on gay men donating. Just seeing my mother smile now tells me all I need to know.

For Kidney Health Week from 27 May I’m going to be manning booths at shopping centres asking people to get kidney-health checks. All it takes is a urine sample and blood pressure, just five minutes out of their day.

Interview by Harley Dennett