My heart dropped as I listened to my mum, Marnae. ‘Nothing can be done, love,’ she cried.
I was six years old and my dad, James, then 42, had been diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. A neurological disease, it meant his body would slowly deteriorate.
My lovely, kind dad was going to die.
My sisters, Andrea, then 13, and Nicole, nine, and I were all heartbroken.
The next years were tough for us all as we watched Dad waste away.
Stressed, Mum, who’d always worked out
