When Paul Furness stood by his wife, Nicola Furness, through her battle with breast cancer and a double mastectomy a decade ago, the couple thought they had overcome their greatest hurdle. However, as Paul puts it, there was an even bigger challenge looming - "the battle they're not going to win".
Nicola was diagnosed with Young Onset Alzheimer's in July 2023 at the tender age of 56. In a candid conversation aimed at raising awareness, Paul exclusively revealed to the Daily Mirror the reality of life as a husband who has become a carer. Paul, a resident of Beverley, East Yorkshire, first noticed Nicola's forgetfulness and confusion in 2019, starting with minor incidents.
"She'd make a cup of tea but just pour in the hot water then walk away and leave it. She'd repeat questions she had just asked me, and she even drove home with our daughters and went past the top of our street that we've lived on for 25 years."
Paul also shared how Nicola would turn on the gas but forget to light it when cooking and how she became overly upset with a new work computer system, losing all self-confidence in the process. Once, she got lost in Primark for nearly two hours because she found the layout "was confusing," reports The Mirror.
Things have also become perilous, too. "Nicola drove to a friend's party. She then told friends that I had dropped her off and proceeded to drink alcohol. She was stopped by the police and breathalysed on the way home. She passed, but they could see how confused she was, and the police drove her home."
Besides losing her capacity to cook, clean the house and shop, managing his wife's personal hygiene is another grey area that is frequently overlooked and not discussed enough. Paul's determined to change that.
"I have to shower her because she'd walk into the shower with her pants on. I have to tell her what she has to do with the shower gel and the shampoo. It's exhausting. She won't remember simple things like flushing the toilet of course, and I need to dress her, brush her teeth and tie her shoe laces.
"You would think a 58-year-old woman would find it all frustrating, but she's passed the point of knowing that she has Alzheimer's. It can be mentioned on TV soaps, and we no longer speak over it like we would have two years ago; she's not aware that she has it."
Paul works in debt management as an operational manager with his local council and has been left "juggling a lot of balls in the air" over the last difficult few years. He has gone from working full-time to a reduced 15.5 hours a week. I'm only 55, I'm not ready to retire yet. It's too early."
While he admits that retirement would mean life would "just be about Alzheimer's", financially, it's not a situation he's comfortable with. "My youngest daughter is at drama school, it's costing me a fortune. We've had to make cutbacks and sacrifices. I have to be careful about how I'm managing money now."
This financial concern made getting an accurate diagnosis crucial. This allowed Nicola to leave work as 'ill health retired', a status that makes a significant financial difference compared to being dismissed for long-term sickness. But this came with a harsh, different type of cost, Paul recalls.
"She despised the whole diagnosis process because it's so drawn out and protracted - it was incredibly emotionally humiliating for her. Watching her during the cognitive testing where someone asks what five plus seven is, the names of her daughters, her daughters' ages. She was getting confused and unable to answer. Being given a score described as 'abnormal'.
"It was horrendous, followed by CT scans, MRI scans and then she was sent for a mental health check. That was gruelling because she's quite a private person."
Paul concedes that she has regressed and deteriorated "quite a lot" over the last few months, putting plans in place to safeguard what little he can.
"She isn't going to get better, she's going to get worse. We do things with her like going on holiday so we can make memories - but really, those are memories for me and my daughters. We take lots of pictures and then we put them into books so that she can remember the experience.
"Nikki lives in the moment, but I'm very fortunate to be able to give her these experiences at least. I don't know how long that's going to last - it's becoming increasingly difficult."
Paul discloses that as her main carer, he's reached the point where he can rarely venture out alone with her anymore. "I can't leave her at all now. I went to the bathroom, and she went looking for me while I was away. I lost her for a minute, but it was the longest minute of my life. It was an absolute panic."
Personal time isn't the only sacrifice Paul has made. A passionate Hull City FC fan and former devoted season ticket holder, he no longer attends matches. It's also been four years since he's touched alcohol. "I have to stay very calm and be very patient so alcohol is a no."
One activity Paul depends on is running. It's the single pursuit he's maintained from his life before Alzheimer's struck, running Monday to Wednesday with a club whilst he's at work.
His mother, 79, stays overnight to assist Nicola whilst he takes some desperately needed respite and the opportunity to escape and discuss anything unrelated to Alzheimer's. "It's a release valve for me. We'll talk about our kids and what they've been up to. It spurs me on and gives me a break and escape."
He also brings Nicola along to the park for yoga, Parkruns and gym sessions as well. He chuckles: "She is in completely the wrong position to everyone else in the class but it doesn't matter - the instructors are so kind and spend so much time with her."
Glimpses of the Nicola he once knew emerge whenever she hears music - particularly 80s retro soul - moments Paul describes as "a beautiful thing".

"Music brings her back to life again. It's like we have her back. This month we're going to see a Luther Vandross tribute again," he reveals, confessing it's the fourth time they've witnessed the same act perform. "Nicola starts singing, dancing, and she comes alive. Music is a very powerful thing.
"It's fascinating as well. She'll remember the songs word for word, whereas normally I can tell her something, and three seconds later, it's gone." Existence can become isolating.
Paul has his mates, a supportive mum and two daughters - Isobel, 25 and Lydia, 20 - but solitude can still emerge. "I don't have anybody on a weekend who can watch her to let me do anything. I've tried external help before, but she rejects them.
"I can get very lonely because Nicky was an educated, articulate, vibrant, funny, compassionate, caring woman, and now she's just a pale shadow of herself.
"There's no conversation there, apart from her asking for things, because the conversation gets lost. I terribly miss the woman that I was married to and had children with. I miss conversations with her the most, and seeing her being a mother to the kids. She's their mum more by name only now. ".
Paul, who has collected approximately £12,000 for Dementia UK and the Alzheimer's Society following his wife's diagnosis, still manages to glimpse the former Nikki beneath the surface.
"If we go supermarket shopping, I try to avoid Tesco because it's got the clothing section, and she's just obsessed that she's got nothing to wear. Every time we go in, I end up buying another set of pyjamas!"
As a father, Paul harbours one significant worry for his adult daughters. "They've shown me how incredibly resilient they both are. My eldest has qualified as a chartered accountant, and my youngest has moved away for drama school. The one thing that I didn't want to see is their mum's health and condition derail their ambitions."
Every couple harbours future aspirations and objectives, but Paul recognises this as confronting challenges much earlier than anticipated. "I see this as dealing with things 25 years before I thought I might have.
"We found out just before our 25th wedding anniversary. Instead of going for an Italian meal, we went to Calabria in Italy on holiday. We had a week there, and it was still very raw."
Television presenter Fiona Phillips, who published a new book, Remember When, last month, received an Alzheimer's disease diagnosis in 2022, aged 60. Her husband Martin Frizell has opened up about the challenges of being a carer, revealing earlier this year that his wife requires "a lot of help," with his responsibilities including bathing Fiona, cleaning her teeth, getting her dressed and fundamentally "making her feel as safe as possible".
As another spouse in a caring capacity, Paul identifies with Martin's circumstances. "I resonate with Martin a lot. Everything they're going through is the same as me - we're living a similar life." Operating in survival mode nowadays, Paul takes each day as it comes. "Just keep pressing repeat on the things that make you smile in life.
"Because you don't know when life's going to catch you out. You've got to wake up and you've got to reset and you've got to put a smile on your face each day. You can't drown in self-pity.
"You can't just concentrate on the negative aspects of life. You'll just go under." It's been a heartfelt conversation and one Paul has conducted with dignity, courage and respect, but when everything is considered, there's no altering how the future will unfold.
"I miss her, and this is going to get harder. It's like watching someone fade away in front of you. This isn't a normal part of the ageing process. She's now someone I used to know."
Alzheimer's Society is there for anyone affected by dementia, through its website alzheimers.org.uk and its Dementia Support Line on 0333 150 3456.
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