Shock read: Amy Price – ‘Why I’m scared for Katie’
Amy Price, 64, explains how her famous daughter is helping her to deal with a heartbreaking diagnosis
Like most mothers, it doesn’t matter how old my children get, they’re constantly on my mind. They’re my priority, which is why, when I was diagnosed with an incurable lung condition, they were my first thought.
You might not know my name, but you’ll know my daughter’s. i’m mum to Katie Price, and without her support – and that of her sister Sophie, 27, and brother Dan, 42 – i don’t know what i’d do. next month, along with my husband – their stepdad – Paul, 55, we’ll all be taking part in the British Lung Foundation’s Big Breakfast to raise money for pioneering research. My family are making me so proud.
it was in September 2012 that, walking up the stairs at my home in West Sussex, i started struggling for breath. i remember stopping and clutching the banister. But, although it seemed odd, i thought maybe, at 59, i was just getting out of shape. ‘i had better get to the gym,’ i told myself.
So, i did. i signed up for extra spin classes. But the more i worked out, the more i struggled for breath. there was a cough too, a dryness in my throat.
My friends and sister told me to sort it out, so i went to the GP and was soon referred to the asthma clinic. Even then, i didn’t really think that much about it.
You see, i looked well. to my family, everything seemed fine.
But as the months passed, i lost count of how many times i went back and forth to the GP’S surgery. Each time, they gave me another asthma pump, then another, then they said i had an infection and gave me antibiotics. But no-one ever listened to my chest. and i still had that cough.
Small struggles
i used to be a long-distance swimmer, but i found i couldn’t do more than two lengths. Even pottering in the garden was proving to be too much.
Finally, in March this year, a nurse arranged for me to have a chest X-ray at a clinic in hove, and that’s when everything changed…
Still believing i had asthma, i went alone to the follow-up appointment. But what i was met with was terrifying.
‘You need to have a Ct scan,’ the doctor explained. ‘i don’t think it’s cancer, but what i think you do have is not good.’ i stared at him blankly, unable to take in what he was saying. at least it wasn’t cancer. the doctor explained he thought i had idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis – IPF for short. ‘there are a couple of drugs that can help,’ he continued. ‘But don’t google it or you’ll get upset.’ Well, of course i googled it the minute i got home. a lung disease that’s almost twice as common as cervical cancer. it causes progressive scarring of the lungs, meaning it’s harder to breathe and gets worse over time. ‘i’m reading about me here,’ i thought. and that’s when i saw the next line. there was no cure – sufferers were only given three to five years after diagnosis. it didn’t make sense. i’d always been fit and healthy. i’d never so much as had a cigarette.
But as i read further, i saw it’s not linked to smoking. in fact, they didn’t know what causes it. Shocked, i called Paul, who was in disbelief.
A brave face
i tried to keep going on as normal, but two weeks later, it was time for my initial consultation with the specialist at Royal Brompton hospital. i’d been to Moorfields Eye hospital with harvey, Kate’s son, earlier that morning so Kate came with me and, because Sophie works in London, she came too. By then, i knew what i was dealing with, but for the girls, it was a shock.
after the specialist confirmed it was IPF, Kate was full of questions. ‘how long does Mum have?’ she asked. While Sophie wrote things down to look up later.
they were both determined to stay positive, too. ‘at least you know what you’re going to die of, Mum,’ Kate said. ‘Get out there and enjoy
yourself. You’ve got to make the most of your life and do everything you want to do.’
My son, Dan, dealt with it differently. he was so worried, he wanted me to slow down. But i couldn’t – i had to keep pushing myself.
Of course, as the weeks passed, reality started to set in. Kate offered to give me a lung. i was so touched. But Kate is my child, not the other way around. i had to protect her. What if something went wrong and my grandkids had to face the prospect of life without her? i couldn’t even bear to think about it. So, there will be no lung transplant from Kate, i just can’t allow it.
Looking back now, i wonder why no-one had spotted it was IPF. Six thousand people a year are diagnosed with it in the UK – and it kills more people than leukaemia, or brain or stomach cancers.
it’s important to recognise the symptoms and one of them is a cough. Early diagnosis is vital because it means that you can get on a proper treatment plan and increase your chances of being able to take medication that can help you live longer.
all the things that i’m doing now to help myself, such as tailored activities including spin classes to keep my heart fit and core strength, and yoga to help with my breathing, i could have been doing five years ago. no, there’s not a cure, but it’s all about managing it and quality of life.
Paul went with me to the hospital, where i had to do lung-function tests. i was then approved for the medicine that hopefully slows down the disease. i have to have monthly blood tests to make sure my liver is coping.
in six months’ time, if i haven’t maintained my previous test results, i’ll be taken off the medication. it’s expensive and they won’t prescribe it if it’s no longer working. that’s what’s frightening me most of all. i want to sort out everything now – line up all my ducks, pension, life insurance and i can talk to Dan sensibly about this. Kate and Sophie don’t want to talk about it. things like that are too final at the moment for my girls.
Looking ahead
i’m concerned about Kate. i’d love to see her settled. the others are going to be alright because they’re not in the limelight, so it’s different for them. they’ve got normal lives.
it’s what any mum would want, i’d love to have peace of mind about all three of my children.
in the meantime, life is full – i like it like that, i can’t bear sitting around doing nothing. a bit of gardening, walking the dogs, Derek and Rodney. i also work three days while i can, analysing figures for a local company.
i’m still at the gym every day doing my spin classes and i’m getting help from an IPF group. i’ve also started singing, which is so good for my breathing. i’m enjoying my seven grandchildren. they don’t know what’s happening and don’t need to for now.
next month, we’ll be hosting individual breakfasts at our homes and workplaces as part of the British Lung Foundation's Big Breakfast to help raise money, awareness and to find a cure. it’ll be us, working together to try to halt the damage IPF does. it’ll be a special time for all of us and will once again make me realise just how important my family is. their support and love is keeping me strong and, for that, i’ll always be so grateful.
For more information and to hold a Big Breakfast yourself, visit blf.org.uk/bigbreakfast
‘I thought I had asthma, but it was far worse’