Jem's Story: 'Everything happened so quickly. One minute she was here, happy and planning our holiday. The next, gone.'

Julie was the heart and soul of the party.

She was a fantastic mother, a fantastic wife, a fantastic Nana.

We’d been together since we were 13, when we met at school. She was beautiful, but it was her character that drew me in – bubbly, lively and always smiling. But she was also the sort of person who’d be the first to help somebody in the street that wasn't well. A nurse for 35 years, she worked in mental health and towards the end of her career, she supported people to care for those with learning disabilities as an Associate Practitioner.

I remember the day so clearly. It was sunny, so we’d spend it just talking in the garden excitedly planning our next trips to Spain and Canada. We’d been looking forward to her retiring in just a few weeks and having time to travel together. Just a normal, lovely day.

But at 1am she woke me up saying, ‘I’ve got a really terrible headache.’ She started to go to the ensuite – but collapsed on the floor before she got there, the side of her face going slack as she drifted out of consciousness.

I rang for the ambulance and told them I thought she was having a stroke. By the time they arrived she’d stopped responding to me. I could tell by the reactions of the paramedics that it was serious.

When we got to hospital, they put Julie in an induced coma and did some tests on her brain activity. She’d had a catastrophic brain haemorrhage – a massive bleed from the centre of the brain. When that happens, the news is rarely good. The next day they told us that Julie was effectively brain dead.

And then, they asked us what we wanted to do.

As a nurse, Julie always said that she’d never want to be kept alive by a machine. So, our answer was clear. So, I told our sons (one who was travelling from Colombia), friends and family that they needed to get to the Hospital as soon as they could. We spent time at her side, but not enough, of course. Then they switched the ventilator off and Julie slowly passed away.

Everything happened so quickly. One minute she was here, happy and planning our holiday. The next, gone.

The effect it’s had on the family is devastating.

Once we’d had Julie’s funeral (with over 500 people!) I suffered a lot from the shock. I’ve been struggling with PTSD over the past year. But I’ve made an effort to deal with the grief head on, taking each day, with its feelings, as it comes. One of the questions to grapple with when someone dies like this is ‘Why?’. Julie was diagnosed with high blood pressure in her 20s, as well as polycystic kidneys. They think that one of the large cysts may have caused a spike in blood pressure in the night, causing the aneurysm in her brain to burst.

Since then, our son Gavin has been diagnosed with an aneurysm – and it is hereditary. We are all so aware now of how important it is to monitor our health. But also, how important a healthy mind is for a healthy body.

I want to do everything I can to raise awareness; I know Julie will be looking down, thinking I am carrying on her legacy. But I’m also considering leaving a gift in my Will. There are so many ways we can make a difference for other families like ours. We were able to find Gavin’s aneurysm, which can now be monitored. But boosting research, working out how we might prevent these terrible incidents, that would be priceless.

Please, if you can, consider leaving a gift in your Will. No matter the size, it’ll enable The Natalie Kate Moss Trust to keep striving for solutions – to stop the heartbreak and devastation of brain haemorrhages for people like us in the future.

Jem