I saved my fiancé’s memories
A devastating accident robbed her boyfriend of his memory, but Rebecca Doig, 29, from Glasgow, wasn’t going to accept that…
As I chowed down on my tuna roll, I fumbled for my phone. I was on lunch break from my admin job and thought I’d have a look through Facebook.
Only, looking at the screen, I saw three missed calls from Suzie, my boyfriend William’s sister. Odd. Why was she phoning me? I called her back – and when she answered, she sounded upset.
‘William’s been in a car accident,’ she said. My heart dropped to the floor. I’d met William, 28, a year before on the dating app Tinder, when he’d asked me out for a drink.
We looked like an odd couple.
Me at 5ft 1in, while he was 6ft 4in tall!
But we were a perfect match.
It had been a whirlwind year, with holidays in Croatia and Sweden, plus looking for our first place.
That morning at the end of August last year, I’d kissed him goodbye as usual. He was supposed to have gone to his job as a teaching assistant.
Only now, Suzie was telling me he’d been in an accident.
‘He’s been airlifted to hospital,’ she said. ‘You need to get here right away, he’s in a coma.’
I ran to the car and my friend Clare drove me to Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Glasgow.
Still on the phone to Suzie, I begged her to tell me what bones he’d broken.
‘He’s broken everything,’ she sobbed. ‘He’s on life support.’
Panicked, I urged my friend to drive faster. Then, as we screeched up to the entrance, I raced into the hospital in a daze.
There I found William’s parents and sisters huddled together in a family room, waiting to hear news on how his multiple operations had gone.
‘He’s broken all his bones and there is internal damage,’ a doctor said.
‘If he survives the night, he may be severely brain-damaged for the rest of his life.’ Fear ripped through me. What if he wasn’t the same person when he woke up? What if he never woke up at all?
In shock, I learnt William had been driving in a small town called Dumbarton, doing just 30mph, when his car skidded on some debris on the road and smashed into a school bus.
All the kids in the school bus were taken to hospital as a precaution, but thankfully, nobody else was hurt.
But William had to be cut out of the car, with both arms, both legs and his jaw broken. I sobbed, terrified. ‘I’m scared to see him,’ I wept. But I was more afraid that if I didn’t, I might never see him again.
My heart thumped in my chest as I went in and saw my man, swollen beyond recognition and hooked up to a raft of machines that were keeping him alive.
Clutching his hand, I didn’t want to believe this was happening. I hoped I’d wake up and find it had all been a bad dream. But of course, it wasn’t. Naturally, William’s family were really upset.
All we could do was sit by his bedside and wait.
Slowly, William showed signs of recovery – blinking his eyes open and slightly moving his hand.
And, a week on, he started to finally come round.
For days, he was too groggy to communicate – and, with his mouth wired shut due to his jaw being broken in three places, he couldn’t talk. Still unsure of the extent of his
All his limbs were broken
brain damage, nurses asked him questions. ‘Do you know which one is your girlfriend?’ a nurse asked. William look groggily around the room, then, his eyes resting on me, he pointed. I smiled, tears in my eyes. ‘I knew that you wouldn’t be able to forget me,’ I joked. But William did have some huge gaps in his memory. He couldn’t remember anything for about a week before the accident, or the crash itself. We wrote down all the things we wanted him to remember and put them on a board. Under the heading of family, we wrote our names. We also made a list of things he loved the most, such as his football team and his favourite colour. We reminded him of the important things in his life, sharing memories to trigger his. ‘Remember our first date at the bowling alley?’ I asked, reminding him how I’d got a strike and he’d teased me about beginner’s luck.
We also tested him to help him with his memory.
Finally, William was taken out of Intensive Care after two weeks and put on a High Dependency ward.
He still couldn’t speak, but he would look at me and smile.
‘We’re going to get you better and home soon,’ I told him.
But he had a lot of work to do – he had to learn to walk and talk again, which took ages.
But while he was learning, he found other ways to communicate – using hand gestures and writing things down.
I stayed with William every day and talked to him.
‘Remember the time in Croatia when you got sunburnt?’ I’d say.
I wanted to tell him all the things that were precious to us.
I refused to accept that they’d be lost to him forever, and I loved the look of recognition when my stories triggered a memory.
‘You’ll need to marry this one,’ nurses joked to him.
She’ll be by wife one day, he wrote, hugging me close.
Finally, last October, William left hospital, but he was still in a wheelchair.
Unable to come back to our place – as he needed 24-hour care – he moved back in with his parents. It was a struggle for us both. William was used to being independent, and I was used to living with him. I missed him terribly. But I still saw him every day – helping with his memory and, most importantly, making him laugh.
Finally, in December, he moved back in with me. That’s when it really hit me. ‘I was terrified I’d never have you back again,’ I wept. ‘Me too,’ William admitted. Then, on his birthday in middecember, he surprised me.
‘Stay in bed and I’ll go and get you breakfast,’ he said.
‘But it’s your birthday, silly,’ I said, giggling.
Coming back upstairs with our breakfast, he pulled out a small box.
‘You’re my best friend and I can’t believe you supported me this whole time,’ he said as he went down on one knee. A lump rose in my throat. ‘Will you do me the honour of being my wife?’ William asked. ‘Of course I will!’ I sobbed, wrapping my arms around him. We’ve booked a date for next year. I can’t wait to be William’s wife. William is getting his life back on track, seeing friends and family. He’s even gone back to work. There are still little things he can’t remember, and he still needs regular checkups, but his memory is slowly getting better. William wanted to give something back to the people who saved his life, and he’ll be running a 10k race soon to raise money for the air ambulance charity, in the hope that quick medical attention can save someone else’s life. I can’t believe I nearly lost him. I was terrified that he would forget our love. We’ll never take our second chance for granted. Every single day is an opportunity to make new memories. To make a donation, go to www. justgiving.com/ fundraising/ williamwebster3.