First Entry
Topic: My MND Journal
From 1971 until 2000 I was a Police Officer with Strathclyde Police and Northern Constabulary. I worked for 17 years as a Detective Officer, both on the Scottish mainland and latterly on the Isle of Lewis, where I now live with my wife and family.
In 1996 I was promoted to the rank of Sergeant in the uniform branch and this, for me, was one of the most rewarding and enjoyable times of my career.
In the early summer of 1999 I had noticed that, for some reason, my left hand was weak and that I was dropping things. I put this down to a lack of concentration. However, during a holiday to Cyprus, I discovered that I couldn't hold coins in my hand nor could I retrieve items easily from my pocket.
About a year earlier I had fallen and fractured a bone in my right hand but had not been aware of it. Also, prior to going on holiday, I had suffered a rigor fit brought on by an infection in a tooth. This left me weak and I thought the two were connected.
By the November of 1999 I was suffering from tiredness and from time to time was having to correct my balance. This became more prevalent and also I began to walk into doorframes. I was beginning to think my eyesight was going or my ears were affecting my balance.
I spoke, unofficially, to my Doctor who told me my system had been poisoned in the summer and was affecting my body and thus making me tired and that I may suffer the symptoms for some months.
By January 2000, after falling down a few more times and feeling constantly tired, I decided enough was enough and, this time, made an appointment to see my doctor.
Between making and attending the appointment I had to make a business trip to the mainland. On the vehicle deck of the ferry I fell again, it was most embarrassing, and as I picked myself up from the dirty deck, a passenger remarked, "I hope you've not been drinking."
Within a few days I was examined by my doctor, he gave me a thorough going over and told me he couldn't identify the problem but it was possible that either I'd suffered a minor stroke or I may have had the onset of Parkinson's disease. He referred me to a specialist for a further examination. Despite this I remained confident that there was nothing seriously wrong. All I wanted was a quick fix and to get on with my work and with my family life.
I was very fortunate that within a few weeks I saw the Neurologist who, after a detailed examination, informed me that I had significant motorised difficulties. My reaction to this was "well I know that!" He suggested further tests in the Southern General Hospital, Glasgow. So it was back to business as usual.
I had a CAT scan and nothing of note was found apart from my brain of course. Much to my friends surprise there actually was a brain in there!
In early April 2000 I underwent various examinations, full body scans, EMG tests etc. at the Southern General, Glasgow, all of which proved inconclusive. I went home happy and confident all be be OK. Basically I was told I would have to get a lot worse before a proper diagnosis could be made.
Well, I was only home a few days and whilst on holiday had two bad falls which I put down to carelessness and the aging process!
Back to the job I loved so much, which was in fact tiring me out so much but I didn't realise it. Whilst working on the night shift I noticed my speech becoming slurred off and on, but I seemed to be able to control it, I thought it was due to tiredness, nevertheless it was embarrassing. I began to shut myself away in my office, dreading anyone telephoning or wanting to talk to me in person. I knew people were beginning to notice the changes in me. I knew then that I had to tell my close work mates that I was having difficulties. They all acknowledged this and gave me great support, then ever since.
Within three weeks I found myself exhausted and frustrated because I was unable to do things I was in the habit of normally doing. Prior to these attacks I was an extremely active person, some have described me as hyperactive.
By the 12th May 2000 the situation had become too dangerous for me to continue in my role as an Operational Police Officer. I needed, or so I thought, medication to correct my difficulties in order to continue in my job.
That day I saw my consultant neurologist, Mr. Ballantyne, at the Western Isles Hospital, in Stornoway who told me later he couldn't believe how unwell I looked. After some tests to determine my physical strength and coordination, he asked me to put my shoes back on, as I tied my laces I said to him, "sometoimes I wonder if this is all in my head" to which he replied, "how long is it going to take you to tie your shoelaces?" I can always remember looking up at him and think what a cheeky remark, but he looked so stern and said, "it's not in your head!"
At that moment, and for the first time, I realised this is serious. He said, "listen to me, I know you want to know what's ailing you and there's no easy way to tell you." My heart sank for a moment, all I could think about was my wife, Mary, our three girls and what the hell is this guy saying?
He looked at me over the top of his spectacles and said, "I'm 70% sure you have the onset of Motor Neurone Disease." What is he saying, I thought. Then he went on to say, "This is a terminal illness for which there is no cure and the average life expectancy is 2-5 years."
At that point I said, "hold on a minute, I don't think I want to hear anymore and apart from that I'm not Mr. average." He asked me if I was alright? He came and put his arm around my shoulder. It was then I sort of went to pieces for a few minutes. When I got my head back together he said, "do you want to ask me anything?" I said, "when does the clock start ticking?" He looked at me over the top of his spectacles again, I thought, I wish I hadn't asked that question. He replied, "I can't tell you that."
He said the most important thing was to stop working as I wouldn't be able to continue in my role as an Police Officer. My whole world came crashing down in the space of half an hour. Mr. Ballantyne, a very caring man and so down to earth was also very upset. I told him that he had a pretty tough job to which he replied, "just like you, Mr. Bremner."
I left his office and on the way home convinced myself that he was wrong but that I would take his advice and stop working until he'd confirmed the diagnosis.
On arriving home I had no hesitation in telling Mary, who had guessed prior to this that it was MND, but had never said I found it hard at first talking about it and dealt with it by putting it to aside and not talking about it.
I was signed off sick by my doctor, who was shocked to say the least. I then told my employer, who I think did not believe me, which was a source of annoyance for quite some time. At that stage, and even now, I cannot get over the fact that I don't go out to do the job I've always loved.
Suddenly, out of the blue, I decide to go mad and do all the things I wanted to do when I would have retired, I feared things could get worse quickly.
I booked to go on holiday and to go to a flower show in London. The holiday came first, a week in Spain, just Mary and me, we needed time, just the two of us. Prior to leaving on the 29th June 2000 I saw Mr. Ballantyne, who couldn't believe how well I was looking. The stress of my job was obviously too much, even though I enjoyed it. Then off we went and had a lovely week in Malaga. We had no sooner returned from Spain when I was off again to the flower show in London.
Now the only symptoms I was showing was a limited strength in my arms, I experienced slowness of movement in my left arm and leg, from time to time my speech was slurred and of course my balance was affected. I was learning to cope with this and trying hard not to think too much about it, but every no and then I'd have a fall and realise what was happening; it was a nightmare.
At the end of July and I was off to Spain again, this time with the family. Walking was getting more difficult and swimming, as I found out, was definitely off the agenda as the cold water made my muscles very stiff, and you can't swim like that!
When we returned in mid August I was counting the days until I saw Mr. Ballantyne again, thinking he might tell me that he'd got it wrong, but deep down I knew he wouldn't have diagnosed me with MND if he wasn't sure.
September 12th 2000, after a few more tests I was told, without a doubt, that I was suffering from Motor Neuron Disease.
