There’s Always a Way

I was sitting at my dressing table, trowelling the makeup on ready to face another day.  P was getting ready as usual, but this time when I looked round he was kneeling down, his head on the floor in some kind of praying position, trying to dry his hair with the hair-dryer he can no longer lift. “Let me do that for you” I said, trying to fight back the tears. “No” he replied. “There’s always a way”.

You see, my husband is dying. Sounds a bit dramatic doesn’t it? But the fact is, that at the age of 41 he’s been diagnosed with Motor Neurone disease and probably won’t make it to 45.

When I sit and write those words it sounds heart-breaking, and there are times when the world seems so black we can barely get through the day. There are times (although increasingly rare) that we don’t think about the diagnosis at all. But most days we face the music with humour as much as we can, because that’s the only way we know how to cope.

For example, P used to enjoy singing. He would sing during a long commute in the car, in the shower, around the house; he was always belting out some tune or other. He never got the lyrics right. He would sing the most random words to songs (think Peter Kay’s “just let me staple the vicar” routine). And he was flippin’ LOUD! He still tries to sing occasionally, but the signals from his brain to his speech muscles no longer work properly, so when he’s three lines behind the rest of us I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he sounds! He says I’m an evil b*tch for doing so. But if I didn’t laugh I’d probably cry.

Comedy falls are also hilarious of course. P’s core strength is now so weak he can’t stop himself from hitting the deck when he loses his balance, like most of us can. You can imagine the fun we’ve had in the recent icy conditions! Whilst we were out on a country walk last weekend he totally lost his footing in a muddy field, and because his arms are too weak to break his fall, he ended up covered in mud from head to toe. The boys were laughing for hours!

But I have decided to write this blog for a more serious reason. Me, P and the boys all know that over the next year, or perhaps two, he’s going to become a man we don’t recognise. He will be with us, but trapped in a body he can’t control, and his voice will be heard through a computer. I don’t want to forget him. I want a record of this part of our life, both good and bad and everything in between.

So, this is the first of many blog posts about how this ‘short circuit’ in P’s brain is taking hold. It might make you sad at times, but my intention (for those of you who know him) is to take some comfort in the fact that that my wonderful husband is facing this illness with strength and positivity. Something that helps me and our two boys through the most difficult days.

Until next time…V x


30 thoughts on “There’s Always a Way

  1. You’re such a beautiful person x and I’m truly gutted you’re going threw this xxxx sending you health wealth and happiness angel xxx


  2. paul is a amazing person always has been your words are so touching but I’m happy that you are all still laughing & smiling even though paul is going through this horrible illness that no one can control. I thought I was hard done by getting diagnosed with MS in 2012 there is always someone out there as my mum n dad used to say to me worse off than yourself loads of love to yourself paul & your two beautiful boys xxx


  3. Paul is a lovely guy, even though I’ve only known him a short while at football with my son Josh, he is lucky to have you and the boys, make memories, laugh, cry, enjoy every moment x


  4. That’s so beautiful and true having know v for most of my life and Paul comming in and making v so happy from their wedding day to now I have never met such a wicked couple and it’s a massive shame to see this happening to such a lovely bloke


  5. Heartbreaking story but you have to face any illness with humour or scream your head off with frustrating and tears. Known Paul years he’s a top bloke no one should have to be faced with this at any age will carry on reading your blog your an inspiration to everyone x


  6. I think this this is an amazing idea, letting it all out, I’m proud of you Vikki more than you will ever know, I love Paul so much and the fact this MND is slowly destroying those I love dearly is quite simply heartbreaking to watch, sitting on the sidelines is so frustrating, I feel helpless but well done you for writing everything down, I think it will be cathartic for you. X


  7. Beautifully written vic, i’ll Look forward to reading more and will be with you despite the challenging posts that i’m Sure will follow. You will never be alone in this… blog or life! Much much love darling. X


  8. What an amazing woman you are Vikki this will give strength to so many people so selfless of you to share this with us. I hope we give you more strength to your husband and your family to go forward and face this that you have to. So sad and so young but enjoy (and I don’t need to say it) every single nano second you have. Take care to all of your family🍀❤️


  9. I have no idea who you are but my heart breaks for you. A friend of mine was diagnosed with MND around the same age as your husband. His final year with his partner was amazing, he started to complete his bucket list.
    So true that life is too short and things like this always happen to the loveliest of people.
    Sending you much love xxx


  10. What a beautiful thing to write hun. Amazing strength you all have, hold on to that and continue to remain strong. Love to you all 💜 xx


  11. This is simply inspirational Vikki and I hope, that you will find it cathartic as well as a record. There are not the words to express our admiration for you and Paul and the boys nd you are in our heart and prayers. Much love Uncle Jon and Karen


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