I was referred to my local hospital in Taunton, Somerset where I had the good fortune of being referred to an amazing consultant. It was late in August and my body was filling up with fluid. The afternoons were the worst part of the day, my legs took on elephantine proportions, and it was extremely uncomfortable.
Despite this, I forced myself to keep going and carried on working, my consultant offered me a hospital bed while he awaited all his test results, I chose to keep going.

I have to confess that I did not really appreciate just how distressing this was for my work colleagues and my family. People told me after my recovery that I looked like a dead-man walking.
With hindsight there were signs that something was wrong some time before, I just didn't recognize them. Feelings of tiredness and lethargy, my attempts at getting fit to play sport seemed to fail, but it was put down to working hard and the pressures of raising a young family.

In an attempt to try something alternative, I turned to homeopathic treatments and was prescribed a substance called Bentonite clay which absorbs toxins from gut and bowel as it passes through the system. Though hardly a clinical trial I felt it helped me at the time, but I still found myself becoming more quick tempered and irritable by the day.

This I rationalized as toxins building up in my system which affected my behaviour, not an easy thing for my children to understand.In early September, at the point of collapse I was admitted to hospital, my consultant was now armed with his test results and set about draining the seven and a half litres of fluid that had built up in my abdomen, another rapid weight-loss regime! The relief was amazing by the way and well worth lying still for a few hours.
This was followed by a week of scans, biopsies and yet more blood tests to identify exactly what was happening.

Finally he sat my wife, Karen and I down and advised us that there was nothing more he could do, there was a blockage in the main bile duct and the small lobe of my liver had completely shrivelled. I was critically ill. It was then that I realised that the recovery I was sure of, was rapidly disappearing, a very difficult pill to swallow. He thought I had something called PSC, but the way I presented was not very common, and that the probable solution would be a transplant. I was referred to KCH, a three hour journey away, but it was my best option he felt. How my wife managed to break the news to our three young children I cannot imagine, it must have been incredibly difficult. I was forty-five years old with three children under the age of seven years old

Once at KCH they seemed amazed that anyone with such a high bilirubin count was still functioning at all, it's just as well nobody had told me, ignorance was obviously bliss.The doctors repeated all the tests done in Taunton and confirmed the basic diagnosis, but were still puzzled at the sudden nature of the way my condition occurred without any major prior symptoms. The antibiotics were not the cause, merely the last straw, my liver just couldn't compensate anymore.

Karen managed to visit every ten days or so, bringing me news from home, it was a balance between maintaining a routine for the children and being with me. We communicated daily be phone in order to update everyone about my tests and progress. The children visited occasionally, but found it difficult, my eldest son Arne, aged seven, especially. A photograph of my children was stuck on my locker and every morning I would promise them I'd get better. They gave me strength to sit in hospital day after day with only the patientline system to ward off the boredom.

After two months and many bed changes, the doctors advised Karen and I that they thought the root of the problem might be cancer. Trying to keep emotions in check I asked what the prognosis was if that was the case. The response was written on their faces, they would refer me to an Oncologist. At no point did I ever believe that I had cancer, so I asked what they had found. The fact was that nothing had been found, but they still thought it the likeliest cause, after they had gone we shed a few tears. I considered the possibility of death which in itself did not frighten me, but when I looked at the photograph of the children it was difficult to hold back the tears MRI, ultrasound, X-rays you name it I had it and it was early December when we received the best news of my life, there was still no sign of cancer and I was put on the transplant list. The final diagnosis was PSC, Primary Schlorosing Cholangitis and a shunt was fitted to lower my bilirubin count. By the time they sent me home at Christmas my bilirubin was 123 which seemed good to me, I only learned after my transplant that it should be around 5!

My condition was deteriorating and I probably had only months to live unless a donor could be found. I was due back to KCH in the February 2005, but at midnight on the 28th of January the co-ordinators phoned to say a donor had been found and the ambulance would arrive within the hour, it was quite a shock. Amazingly I was perfectly calm and never doubted that the outcome would be positive. Having been booked in, all the forms were signed and I was prepared, scanned and sent down to surgery. The transplant itself went well and the co-ordinators called Karen at regular intervals until she arrived at KCH, they did a wonderful job in supporting her. She was about to settle down for the night when a worrying call came, I had taken a turn for the worst, there was internal bleeding and I had to be rushed back into the operating theatre. Fortunately my surgeon managed to stem the haemorrhage and get me stable again.

I awoke in the intensive care unit dazed and full of anaesthetic all I could see was UV lights. Karen and a family friend were at my bedside and I tried to communicate; now I knew exactly what I was saying and it was perfectly coherent. Unfortunately somewhere between my brain and mouth there was a detour and nobody could understand me. A pen and paper proved equally useless despite my brain telling me otherwise. All I managed to achieve was a rapid rise in blood pressure! The next day normal service was resumed and I was able to communicate. My eminent surgeon arrived with, a thumbs up, no cancers found in the biopsies of either my old or my new liver.

The next milestone was getting out of bed, my whole body felt encased in lead and it took a gargantuan effort to stand up. When I was transferred to Todd ward, I bounced off my room walls in an attempt to get my legs working. Eventually the physiotherapists took me for a walk down the corridor and a flight of stairs, sleep came easy that night! Finally the anaesthetic wore off and I stopped living in the middle of a soap opera, but that's another story, My head cleared and thoughts turned to my donor and I have to say, I was full of very mixed emotions. My life had been saved by somebody else's ending; a generous, courageous and grieving family had given me a chance. I vowed to look after myself and my new liver to ensure that something positive came out of their tragedy.

I was discharged at the beginning of February to recuperate, and whilst the joy of getting back to my family was enormous, there was an overwhelming feeling verging on paranoia about the possibility of infection. Short walks around the village gradually helped me to regain my strength and many people were shocked to see me looking so well. I returned to fulltime work on the 1st June 2005 and haven't looked back since. People often ask what can you do after transplant. Well, since my transplant, I have taken up martial arts, returned to coaching youngster's rugby and perform on stage for our local operatic society. I am an active member of our parish council, village hall committee and a father of three wonderful children.

Finally the trials, heartaches and pains I have suffered pale into insignificance compared to the burden and stress suffered by my wife Karen. It is the spouses and families of transplant patients that face the biggest test of all and without them I know I wouldn't have been able to make it!

Andy Treble
Combe St Nicholas
Somerset