Helping hand Gail Crampton, 53, from Wombourne, is helping children to talk about their invisible illnesses...

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At just six-years-old, my wonderful daughter Isabelle, now 13, became dangerously unwell. Weighing just 3st, she was a bag of bones.

With constant stomach aches and fatigue, we had no idea what was wrong with her.

In and out of the doctors, they couldn’t find a diagnosis and kept sending her home.

After four years of being misdiagnosed, I demanded a referral to Birmingham Children’s Hospital, where she was there diagnosed with

Crohn’s disease. It

We nearly lost Isabelle was devastating and if we would have waited any longer, there was a chance we might have lost her.

Thankfully, now on the right medication, Isabelle went into remission, but she would live with this for the rest of her life.

That means a lifetime of doctor and hospital appointments, constantly having to check she is OK and not declining.

And it didn’t take me long to realise that she would just say whatever the doctors

I wanted to help children wanted her to, just so she

could go home. And as I looked around hospital rooms, I realised other children were doing it, too. They weren’t

being rude, but they were scared and didn’t want to answer any more questions about their health. I could see both in Isabelle

and other children that it was torture for them – not understanding that the doctors were just trying to help them get better.

So, I wanted to do something that would help them to understand. And that’s when I decided to create a children’s book –

Rodney Meadow-hopper,

The Hare Who Didn’t Care – with the help from illustrator Megan Pugh. As Crohn’s is a largely invisible illness, I wanted that to be the focus.

The book tells the story of a hare called Rodney who has an invisible illness that no one around him knows about.

At first, he doesn’t tell any of his friends or family about the condition, but slowly he learns to open up.

I wanted to encourage children to talk about their conditions and make the story inclusive to everyone, so I don’t specify what illness Rodney has.

It’s strange, because so many people have resonated with the story, coming up with their own thoughts on his diagnosis.

The book was aimed at helping children just like Isabelle, but I wanted to do something for the parents, too.

As Isabelle has a very weak immune system, she struggles to fight off any infections.

I feel like I spend my life constantly on edge.

And I know other parents feel the same.

So, I’ve started a Whatsapp and Facebook based support group for parents to discuss.

It’s aimed at parents

I know what it feels like with children diagnosed with any form of Inflammatory Bowel Disease, but I would never turn people away.

Before getting diagnosed, we went through years of hell, just desperate for some answers.

Thankfully, after diagnosis we found the charity CICRA – Crohn’s in Childhood Research Association – but it was still hard.

I don’t want anyone else to go through that, so I’m here to support parents, diagnosed or not.

I wanted the story to be inclusive

A species of what has been named after the late Country music superstar Johnny Cash because of its black colour and because it was found near Folsom Prison in California?

Special treats! our seven cats.

Everyone apart from Grumpy Stu.

They would wind each other up like long-lost siblings!

Stu didn’t like sharing his goldpainted cushioned throne, that was donated from a supporter of our animal sanctuary.

All the animals steered clear – except Grandad, who couldn’t help but tease him.

I adored Grandad, and whenever I slept at the farmhouse, he always slept next to me.

He was a cuddle-bug and loved being carried around like a baby.

In January this year, Grandad was 16 and slowing down.

He’d lived 15 happy months at the farmhouse, but we were struck with the realisation that he wouldn’t be around with us forever.

‘Let’s write him a bucket list,’ I said.

And so, we began writing down all his favourite things. First comes first – food! Sitting in the Mcdonald’s drive-thru in our van, Grandad Zach barged at the window trying to make his order.

‘Double cheeseburger, no onion or gherkin, please,’ I asked. What a treat!

Next stop – Starbucks. Grandad happily slurped down a Puppuccino in delight.

Then we booked a table at Sugar Junction tea emporium for afternoon tea. Scoffing down scones, his table manners were hilarious. And he had the perfect attire – his own bow tie.

Grandad’s Facebook fans love sending him costumes to dress-up.

His favourite is a tiger-print onesie, selected to wind up Stu, who hates all things cat.

Back at the farmhouse, Simon, who helps with the electrics, cooked Grandad up a special steak and chips for dinner.

‘Not a fan of the tomato?’ we laughed, as Grandad spat it out.

Number six on the

bucket list was Trump on Grumpy Stu’s throne!

So I lured Grumpy Stu

to another room with a treat, and returned to

Dressed up as a tiger

Solve the puzzle to spell out a term related to the picture. The arrows show you where to put your answers. The answer is spelled in the yellow squares. Your answer ______________________________

Find a balance

1. 2.

TRUE 4. FALSE 5. FALSE

Chucking my last few cigarettes in the bin, I smiled to myself. ‘Well, that’s the last of that,’ I said proudly.

While I didn’t smoke that much – only socially – it was a habit I finally wanted to kick.

It was May 2017, and after many years of trying, I was finally ready to live a healthier life.

Back in 1977, my dad Bill had died of a heart attack aged 40, and it was a huge wake up call for my family.

Now in my 40s, I was keeping a close eye on my own cholesterol.

Not that there was anything to worry about – mine was always low.

Even when I’d been

I was in trouble

pregnant with my two kids – Mirabelle, now 14, and Truman, 10 – I’d never had any problems.

Even so, quitting smoking was never a bad idea.

Now, staring at those fags in the bin, I was ready to turn a new leaf.

The only problem was, I was a bit of a workaholic.

As a leadership coach, I was always travelling around the world, speaking at conferences.

I was rushed off my feet, with no time to slow down.

The following month, returning from a conference in Amsterdam, I waited outside Heathrow Airport for

a taxi home. All of a sudden, it felt as if the air had been rushed out of my lungs and I was struggling to breathe.

Worried, I took slow, deep breaths, and after a few minutes, it thankfully passed.

It must be the heat, I thought. It was the middle of summer. But a few days later, sat in the office, it happened again.

My chest suddenly felt tight, and I struggled to take a breath.

‘I think my bra might be a bit tight,’ I joked to a colleague. But deep down, I was worried. Of course I was thinking about Dad, wondered if I was having a heart attack.

But I’d always thought that if

Pumping iron

I had to slow down you had a heart attack, it would feel as if an elephant was sat on your chest.

The pain I was in wasn’t nearly as bad as that, so I ruled it out.

Just five weeks later, I jetted off to New York for another work conference.

And there, it happened again – that familiar tight chest, a shortness of breath.

I tried to ignore it, figured I was just unfit.

But back home a few days later, I wasn’t feeling well at all, so, struggling to breathe, I rang my GP.

‘Do you have any history of heart disease in your family?’ he asked me.

‘Yes, my dad died of a heart

I’ll be here for my kids attack,’ I told him.

‘You need to get to A&E right away,’ he replied with urgency.

Still, I wasn’t too panicked about it, and even decided to walk the mile from my house to the Royal London Hospital.

There, they did an ECG, and the results were terrifying.

‘You’ve had a cardiac event,’ a doctor said. ‘It may have been caused by a clogged artery.’ ‘What?!’ I gasped.

Then it all came flooding back – all those times I’d suddenly been out of breath, it wasn’t the heat or my bra being too tight – it was my heart all along.

‘My dad died of a heart attack; how did I not see this coming?’ I cried to my husband Adam, 59. I felt so ashamed. I’d been so rushed off my feet at work, and I’d been a smoker – had this all been my fault?

Kept in the hospital for a week, I was closely monitored and given heart medication, which I will have to take for the rest of my life.

I felt much better afterwards, but it was a real wake up call.

A ‘cardiac event’ may be mild,

but for someone my age, it’s a very serious thing to happen.

‘I’m not finished living my life yet,’ I said to Adam.

I was pushing myself too hard and not looking after myself properly. But I had to start thinking of my own health – and I needed to be around for my kids.

After that, I slowed down at work,

did more conferences online instead of travelling, and just generally took some time out.

Today, I’ve completely changed

the way I live.

I avoid being stressed at all costs – I

don’t run for the train, I don’t eat red meat, and I certainly don’t smoke.

I also go to the gym twice a week, do yoga every morning, and walk 10,000 steps a day.

My body needed a break, and it took a heart attack at 45 to realise that.

Was this all my fault?

www.bhf.org.uk.

Back pain is very common. In fact, almost two out of three of us have lower back pain at some time in our lives. The cause isn’t normally serious, and most of the time the pain improves within four to six weeks. To mark Back Care Awareness Week from 5 to 9 October, experts at Backcare (www.backcare.org.uk) share ways we can manage our own back pain.

We’ve also created a programme of quick and simple exercises, called Straighten Up UK. This programme helps people to improve posture and prevent lower back pain by promoting good balance, strength and flexibility in the spine.

It’s really easy to fit into your daily routine – just like brushing your teeth!