A year ago we were enjoying our first year of our new adventure in France, planning our first family ski holiday and doing things that families do. Paul had felt a bit tired and under the weather over the previous couple of months and we put this down to hard work in a new job, lots of travelling and a little bit of man flu. When he felt a lump in his neck, started itching and getting hot during the night we decided to see the doctor who also said there should be nothing to worry about, slow down and to get some rest. So he did and then for the next couple of months we went skiing, drove to trampoline competitions, did some walking in the hills around Lyon, explored this wonderful city and carried on with life.

When we finally went back to the doctor in April 2016, things moved frighteningly fast. A blood test sent us to the hospital emergency unit late on a Friday night and a barrage of tests ensued. We were told it was some kind of blood cancer. 

In typical Paul fashion, his first comment was 

'I think I took that quite well, considering' 

That was how he faced the disease and all the twists and turns that the rollercoaster ride was to take us on. We were then told that it was stage 4 (there is no stage 5), that it was rare (typical) and that they needed to move quickly to start treatment. 

There were many scans, biopsies (imagine having a corscrew drilled into your backside with no anaesthetic), consultations and a myriad of medications with all the side effects that they brought with them. And everything in French. He faced them all with positivity, optimism, courage and a 'can do' attitude that typified this wonderful man in every part of his life. He cycled, jumped on the rebounder, jogged, ate super healthy food, tried bitter almonds and all manner of green smoothies to give himself the best chance. Every time we thought he had reached a good milestone, the next set of scans delivered more devastation, the spleen and the bone marrow became affected and all the chemotherapy which made him sicker, weaker and also took away his hearing, failed to keep pace with the evolution of the disease. So the wonderful French medical team here offered cutting edge immunotherapy, not available at home and we jumped at it, having read all the positive news and hoping for this to be the wonder drug. Yet again the disease outwit it and the team decided to give him more chemotherapy. He continued to lose weight (we joked that I could now beat him in a fight, or that sometimes if the wind blew too hard I held on to him tight for fear that he would blow away) and eating became a real struggle. The French team continued to try to treat him to get the disease to a level where he could have the bone marrow transplant from his sister Trudi which could beat this and save his life. We met an amazing professor who was so positive that she could achieve this, that all Trudis tests were put in place and she was found to be a partial match. Finally, we thought, a change of path, onwards and upwards we go. But it wasnt to be . The disease evolved again and started destroying all the healthy blood cells so that no matter how many transfusions of red blood, platelets and blood products he had, the levels continued to fall. Finally at the end of January we were offered one last treatment of immunotherapy, and Paul took it, knowing that it was his last chance. We held out hope that this could be the miracle that we all so desperately wanted and that this lovely brave man deserved. All the while the pain grew and the itching that had started right at the beginning became like fire and torture for him. He was moved to the pain management unit which was attached to the palliative care section. Initially it was just for a 'look see' but it became clear that this was the best place for him to be made comfortable and pain free. Things moved quickly after that, he became more tired and less able to move or speak. But his main concern was for his family and for his beautiful girls that he was so proud of. 

One of the last things he said to his beloved girls was this;

' From the moment that you opened your eyes, until death closes mine, I am the proudest dad in the world and I love you both to the stars and back'

Death closed his eyes on Wednesday 8th February 2017. He was only 49. He will live on in our hearts and in all the many things he has done and achieved and we are all very honoured to have known him. 

Please donate in his memory so that in future a cure can be found so that no families have to see what we have seen and feel the same pain that we do now and for a long time to come. Thank you to you all

Vanessa, Izzy and Pixie xxx

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