into your arms
It was an ordinary morning when life turned upside down, but Kayleigh Vivante, 28, from Manchester, is standing by her man
He was young, fit and strong. It didn’t make any sense...
Excited, I lay out a row of wedding invitation designs on the livingroom table.
‘So, what do you think?’ I asked my fiance Chris Mills, 28.
‘I think they’re all lovely,’ he replied. ‘You decide.’ Typical bloke!
That weekend we were off to choose our invitations, so I wanted to get some ideas first.
Our big day was booked for September 2018 at a posh hotel in Cheshire.
I couldn’t wait!
Chris and I had known each other since I was 14.
For years, we were just friends. I knew that Chris fancied me – but he was such a good mate and I was worried that a relationship might spoil what we had.
So I went off to uni, while Chris trained as a mechanic – and, for a while, we lost touch.
But when I came home, Chris invited me out with the old gang. And from there, we grew closer.
Over the summer of 2012, we started dating. And I realised all my doubts had been wrong.
Chris was more than a mate. He was my soul mate.
The following year, we went on a trip around the world.
And one evening, as we watched the sunset in Dubai, Chris dropped to one knee and produced a ring.
‘What are you doing?!’ I gasped.
It took a few moments before I realised he was proposing and I burst into tears of joy.
‘Of course I will,’ I beamed, throwing my arms around him.
After we came home, in April 2015, we began saving for our own place, and moved into our first home together the following year. By now I was training as a nurse and Chris was working hard as a mechanic.
We’d booked our wedding, and I’d ordered the cake, hired a makeup and hair stylist, and chosen my bridesmaids. Life was perfect. Now, we just had to get our invitations sorted.
Putting the designs away, we snuggled in front of the telly with our dog Nellie.
Chris dozed off and I gave him a gentle shake.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go to bed. We’ve got work in the morning.’
It was a typical Wednesday evening, nothing out of the ordinary – but, as I fell asleep in his arms, I felt so blessed to have Chris.
The following morning,
I was busy doing my hair and make-up in the mirror, while Chris got dressed.
‘I’ve a real pain in my right shoulder,’ he grumbled.
‘Might be a trapped nerve,’ I said. ‘Give it a wiggle.’
But Chris frowned. ‘I can’t feel my fingers,’ he said. ‘I don’t feel right.’
I looked at him in concern.
By now Chris was pacing up and down the bedroom.
‘I can’t feel my hand now,’ he gasped. ‘I can’t feel my arm.’ Panicked, I called 999. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him,’ I told the operator. ‘Please come quickly.’
‘I can’t breathe!’ Chris stuttered, falling on to the bed. ‘I feel like my tongue is swelling up.’
My heart was pounding. I was so frightened.
‘If I’m paralysed, you must leave me,’ he said softly. I love you, Kayleigh.’
What was he talking about..? Paralysed?
‘Don’t be silly,’ I sobbed, then I heard the siren of the ambulance outside. I immediately raced downstairs,
There are tough days... I miss him so much, especially his hugs
let the paramedics in and showed them into the bedroom.
By now, Chris was lying motionless on the bed. He was struggling to talk but there was no sound.
As I was ushered out of the room, I heard them rip off Chris’ shirt as they began trying to save him.
I couldn’t stop crying. We’d been snuggled up in that bed just hours before. Now, it looked as though the man I loved would die in it. But eventually the paramedics reappeared, carrying Chris unconscious, on a stretcher.
He was rushed to Tameside Hospital in Ashton-under-lyne.
I called my parents, Marian and Carl, and Chris’ parents, Carol and Charlie. Chris was put into a coma, on life support. But the doctors had no idea what was wrong. He was young, 6ft 2in tall, fit and strong. It didn’t make any sense.
We were allowed to see him. He couldn’t breathe for himself and we were told he might not make it.
‘Hang on Chris,’
I pleaded. ‘Please!’
Later, he was transferred to Salford Royal Hospital. And tests showed he had suffered a massive stroke.
‘There’s no reason for it,’ doctors told us. ‘It’s very bad luck.’
They couldn’t say if or when he would recover. We could only wait. It was torture. Over the next few days, Chris gradually awoke. Though he couldn’t speak because of his breathing tube, he managed to whisper, ‘I’ll be up and about soon, don’t worry.’
I was amazed by his courage. Over the next few weeks, as I visited every day, Chris battled on. But he remained paralysed from the neck down, on a ventilator.
Six weeks on, he was transferred to a specialist Spinal Injuries Unit in Southport. It was over an hour from our home, but I made the journey in between my uni lectures and work placements.
Life was chaotic and
I was exhausted. It was hard, sometimes, to stay positive.
But Chris was amazing. He was such an inspiration.
He talked the doctors into letting him home for a visit.
And he was even allowed to go and see John Bishop, one of our favourite comedians.
It was nerve-racking, taking Chris into a big arena, with his breathing apparatus and all the tubes and wires that came with it.
My mum came along to help. It was so crowded, my mum absent-mindedly said, ‘I can’t breathe in here!’
Chris grinned and quipped, ‘Neither can I. Do you want a turn on my vent?’
It was great to see him laugh. Despite everything, he hadn’t lost his sense of humour. ‘When I get home, I’ll learn to walk again,’ he promised me. His sheer determination was incredible. Now, eight months on from his stroke, Chris is still in hospital and still paralysed from the neck down. We’ve had to postpone our wedding because there’s no wheelchair access at the hotel.
But we are still getting married. I want to become Mrs Mills more than ever before. Chris’ doctors don’t know if or when he’ll make any more progress with his recovery. So now we’re busy fundraising for stem-cell treatment abroad, which has been shown to help patients with paralysis. It’s not available on the NHS but we believe it could really help Chris. We’re working towards bringing him home, where he belongs.
Of course, there are tough days. I feel so angry that this could happen to such a lovely bloke.
Life just isn’t fair.
I miss him so much, especially his hugs.
He can’t put his arms around me any more – but one day, hopefully, that will change. I dream of the day I’ll be back in his arms.
Until then, I’ll be by his side. Great relationships aren’t great because they have no problems.
They’re great because you care enough to find a way to make it work.
I’ll never give up on Chris. We’ve just got to stay strong together and face whatever lies ahead.