WAITING for an organ donor has an impact, not just on the patient, but also on their loved ones.

Here, Carol Glynn describes her personal battle following husband Scott's diagnosis.

IT was a day in March when a blood test and CT scan result revealed that Scott had liver cancer; four tumours in the liver to be exact and no treatment available other than a transplant.

I cannot begin to explain the feeling in that moment, but a black hole opened up and I was thrown into the bottom.

The consultants that dealt the blow became my enemy and unknown to them became my focus of blame. Why Scott? Why us? Where did it all go wrong?

That day began a long wait of unknown questions unanswered and began my personal quest for research. The moment I returned home my grief-filled time was filled with looking and researching for any glimpse of hope that maybe there was treatment other than transplant, that maybe there was some mistake and it would all be a nightmare that soon would come to an end.

I am a staff nurse trained in compassion and support but at this time I could not see any light and it was Scott who was to show an inner strength to get us both through the initial few days and weeks of telling family and friends the devastating news.

Friends who you thought would support you suddenly became invisible whilst others became life savers in their support and offers of coffee outings but it’s a funny thing also that, even surrounded by people, I suddenly felt very alone.

The assessment week took place 20 days later; we were told Scott was lucky, this assessment week can sometimes take longer. It also became very real to me that, although very aware there are hundreds of people dealt a life-threatening diagnosis, suddenly only one mattered to me.

The week was to become an emotional rollercoaster, the outcome the decision Scott was physically and mentally able to survive the transplant operation.

Transplant means always prepared for the call that can come day or night, as death knows no time and through death, the gift of organ donation, Scott will get his chance of life – until then, we wait. Gareth and Lauren, our son and daughter, have contact details and know they can be called out at work or wherever they are. I have hospital bags packed with essentials for both of us.

I ensure every night we are ready and the house is tidy, the arrangements for someone to look after our dog Charlie are in place, small things that did not mean much before but are so important now.

Life is on hold, mobile phones being charged and having a signal is a priority if we are not in the house – a meal out or a drive to get away for a few hours all becomes planned around a signal. We were advised waiting on the transplant list was hard but it is not until you live with the transplant list that it becomes very clear how hard it really is.

My focus is selfishly Scott, I await every ringing call as the one. In the beginning I thought it was a nightmare that would end soon – I am now fully aware it is not going away.

I live for that call but I am also very aware that I will need one day to hand Scott over to medical staff and nurses that are not me and I will have to sit on the side and rely on their expertise to see my husband through his transplant.

The road ahead is hard awaiting transplant but I am equally aware of the long road ahead of the possibility of organ rejection to the multiple drugs required and their side effects on Scott.

Our life will remain for a long time yet unknown but Scott and I have a good relationship and a very strong friendship – it has stood the test of time through 30 years of marriage and will continue to see us through again.