Most people sit on the stem cell donor registry for years before they get a call. Some wait a decade. Some never hear anything at all. Charles signed up while he was already giving blood, added one extra vial, and figured the odds were so slim it would probably never go any further than that. This is his stem cell donor story.
Just over a year later, he was on a holiday in Perth when his phone buzzed with a missed call from Stem Cell Donors Australia. Three hours behind Sydney time, he’d slept straight through it. He called them back the moment he saw it, and that was how he ended up in a chair at the Kinghorn Cancer Centre with a cannula in each arm, donating stem cells to a complete stranger.
Charles during his stem cell donation at the Kinghorn Cancer Centre
Charles is 20. He’s from Canberra. He works with kids. And he didn’t tell most of his friends he was doing any of this. As far as they knew, he was just in Sydney for a few days.
How Charles’s stem cell donor story began
Before donation day, Charles had five days of G-CSF injections. These are the ones that tell your body to make more stem cells. Two a day, injected into his stomach. And he did them all himself.
“The hardest part was the first time, because I’d never injected myself with anything,” he said. “You’ve got this mental barrier of sticking a needle into yourself. But after that first one, it was fine.”
Most donors get some side effects from G-CSF. Aching bones, fatigue, feeling run down. Everyone reacts differently, but Charles didn’t have any. He’d been given Panadol as a backup and never opened the packet.
A stem cell transplant depends on both the patient and the donor being ready at the same time, and it doesn’t always go smoothly. Charles’s recipient developed an infection before the transplant could go ahead, so the whole process had to be rescheduled. He’d already flown from Canberra to Sydney for his workup appointments, and now he had to do it all again. Flexibility is part of what saving someone’s life actually looks like, and Charles had a moment where he thought about pulling out. Not seriously, but the thought was there.
“I just remembered the impact of what this could do,” he said. “And that’s what made me say, let’s just do it.”
What donation day actually looks like
Charles didn’t pay a cent. Stem Cell Donors Australia sorted his flights from Canberra, his hotel, and gave him a small allowance for anything extra. He’s not getting paid to do this. It’s completely voluntary.
On the day, he got a cannula in each arm. Blood comes out of one side, runs through a machine that pulls out the stem cells, and goes back in through the other. Both arms are out of action the whole time, but that’s what the nurses are there for. Need your phone unlocked, a drink, something to watch? They’ve got you.
The apheresis needles are bigger than the ones he’d been using for his G-CSF injections. He watched them go in. “I really enjoy watching needles go into me,” he said, which is probably not the most relatable selling point. But his take on the fear side was simpler. “If you could trade a few needles in your arm for someone’s life, doesn’t that mean something?”
Most donors spend the time watching something, listening to music, or catching up on a podcast. Every stem cell donor story looks a bit different. Charles spent a good chunk of his five hours answering questions for this blog. What a legend.
Charles with Neil from TLR on donation day
Why the registry needs more people like Charles
Charles has an Indonesian background. That matters, because stem cell donors can only match recipients from similar ethnic backgrounds. Around 80 percent of Australians who need a stem cell transplant end up relying on a donor from overseas, and for people from diverse backgrounds the odds of finding a match on the Australian registry are even slimmer.
Australia is one of the most multicultural countries in the world, but the registry doesn’t reflect that yet. Charles put it simply. “If people can only donate to their own backgrounds and their donor isn’t in Australia, that means we need to bring their donation in from overseas. Logistically it makes it difficult, and especially now with the world the way it is, with conflict and uncertainty, it’s quite hard to even just travel, let alone get lifesaving treatments around the planet.”
Getting more people from diverse backgrounds onto the registry means more matches found here in Australia. Faster. Closer. Without the logistics of moving stem cells across the world and hoping the timing works out.
What Charles would say to someone thinking about joining the registry
“Do some research. Ask questions. There are so many good resources out there, like the TLR FAQ page.”
Charles reckons the biggest barrier for most people is the idea of it, not the reality. “It’s needles. You kind of just have to get over it. I’m only 20 years old. I’m not crazy mature yet. But you’re putting two needles into your body and you’re helping someone out. That should be worth more than two needles in your arm.”
When we asked if he’d do it again, he didn’t even pause. “100,000 times. By just a few days, just a few hours of my life, I can give someone ten years. Or a lifetime.”
Not every stem cell donor story looks like Charles’s. But they all start the same way.
Signing up takes five minutes and it doesn’t cost a thing. Sign up through the TLR Foundation’s partner page.
Be a legend. Save a life.