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In 2002, Kay Mason offered to donate one of her kidneys to a complete stranger. There was no recipient lined up, no personal connection — just a quiet resolve to save someone’s life.
At the time, the UK’s healthcare system had no framework to allow what she proposed.
“When I first decided to offer a kidney to a stranger in 2002, it hadn’t been done before,” says Kay. “The Department of Health dismissed my request.”
Her offer was unprecedented. Non-directed kidney donation simply wasn’t supported by the system. But Kay, a retired palliative care nurse, didn’t give up. She persisted, challenged the norms, and helped usher in a change in policy. In 2006, non-directed donation became formally recognised and facilitated by NHS protocols.
“Basically the attitude was: ‘you would have to be mad to do it, and if you’re mad, we can’t let you,'” she recalls. “Hence the psychiatric consultation.”
Now, during Organ Donation Week, Kay’s story couldn’t feel more relevant. The number of people waiting for a kidney transplant in the UK is at its highest level in 17 years, and six people die every week in the UK due to a shortage of donors.
On Tuesday, September 30, Kay spoke at the Bath Royal Literary and Scientific Institution during the launch of What’s a Grownup Anyway? — a new book by Sammy Burt, in which Kay’s story is featured. For someone who avoided publicity for years, it marks a quiet but significant shift.
“I’ve grown to realise that most people still are not aware of the possibility of unrelated donation.”
Kay, now 81, lives in Bath. She grew up in Hornchurch and attended the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Upminster. She trained as a nurse at The Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel — a profession she loved.
“Nursing was one of the obvious careers for non-graduate women at the time, but I loved it.”
She later became a palliative care nurse and raised four children. She’s now a grandmother to six.
It was in 2002 that she came across NHS literature on kidney donation. What she found surprised her: there was no requirement for a donor to be genetically related to the recipient. That realisation sparked a life-changing idea.
“The NHS had literature on kidney donation which did not include non-directed [donation], so I knew it involved a lengthy period of hospital appointments to ascertain suitability.”
Determined to pursue it, Kay began a long and difficult process. While the assessment today is coordinated and relatively streamlined, it was then a disjointed series of appointments and evaluations.
“The assessment process… started with a physician’s investigations including blood tests, X-rays, kidney function tests… treadmill… a breast biopsy for an insignificant area of fibrosis… an assessment to ascertain motive and absence of coercion, and a psychiatric report.”
It took nearly a year.
“By far the greatest obstacle was the Department of Health attitude.”
When the day of surgery finally arrived, Kay turned up at the hospital only to find no one expecting her.
“There was no bed, but I knew my recipient was also being admitted to hospital that evening in Sheffield. I couldn’t let her down.”
The operation didn’t go as planned. A small, previously undetected blood vessel tore, and the laparoscopic approach had to be abandoned.
“It resulted in a conventional incision. I preferred the pain to morphine, and I found the ward staff disappointing. MRSA in my ward bay led to isolation, and I asked to be discharged sooner than planned.”
Her recovery lasted about two months. Today, the physical trace is minimal.
“A scar which nobody sees but me.”
Kay was clear from the start — she didn’t want media attention. When news of her donation reached the press, she refused interviews.
“I didn’t want to have to explain my hazy motivation or for anyone to think I had done it for five minutes of fame.”
Still, her story caught the attention of policymakers. She received letters, contributed to a government green paper, and pushed back against institutional fears of exploitation or illegal incentives.
“There had been a previous scandal with two London surgeons bringing Turkish peasants to provide their private patients with kidneys for a pittance.”
She strongly rejected the idea that altruism must be linked to instability.
“The attitude was: ‘you must be mad.’ But donating to a family member doesn’t require psychiatric assessment, and in my view, that’s much more open to abuse.”
Even today, she avoids annual donor check-ups.
“I don’t avail myself on the grounds that I would feel unwell if anything were amiss, and I’ve always been confident that one’s enough.”
Kay has never met the recipient of her kidney but knows that it went to a young mother. For five years, she chose not to ask for updates. Eventually, curiosity won out.
“I was anxious to know of the success and asked the specialist nurse to contact the other transplant unit… I hear she is healthy.”
That knowledge is enough.
“It gives me great satisfaction when I think about it — which isn’t often at this distance.”
Seventeen years on, Kay remains concerned about public awareness.
“When there are opportunities for publicity, awareness is raised. But that ebbs and flows.”
She also points to inequalities in donation and need.
“We especially need more ethnic minority donations because kidney disease and diabetes are more common in those communities, and better matches are achieved from within the ethnicities.”
She supports campaigns such as Make Your Mark , funded by philanthropist David Dangoor in partnership with Give a Kidney and Kidney Research UK — but she notes that most donors still find their way to the idea through independent online research.
“It’s probably less a case of misconceptions, and more people just getting on with their own lives.”
As for motivation?
“Almost any healthy person of almost any adult age can safely donate a spare kidney and literally save a life.”
Today, Kay volunteers as an NHSBT Ambassador and occasionally helps with awareness events. She last took part in a general kidney donation publicity stand at Southmead Hospital.
“If you are able to do it, you should find it thoroughly rewarding — especially currently when surgeries happen four times a year and usually involve chains in which the unrelated person is essential.”
She keeps busy with reading, walking, and visiting isolated people in care homes. But she’s not actively campaigning.
“I’m happy to speak when invited.”
Her decision to participate in Sammy Burt’s book marks a shift from private to public advocate. She’s not seeking recognition — but she understands the value of visibility now.
“I’ve grown to realise that most people still are not aware of the possibility of unrelated donation.”
And if anyone is considering doing what she did?
“It’s worth fighting bureaucracy for something you think is right.”
Her persistence helped open a door that many have since walked through. And in a week when six people will die waiting, her story is a reminder of what’s possible when someone quietly insists: “This should be allowed.”
If you have any questions about donating a kidney or about the Give a Kidney charity visit https://www.giveakidney.org/our-team/contact-us/ or email [email protected].
