At the end of 2024, both of my parents reached that milestone.
Despite their divorce, they run a business together and remain friends. Strong, healthy, emotionally grounded.
life has a way of reminding us how fragile time really is.
In 2024, just as we were reflecting on their 80 years, my mum was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. A cruel disease that doesn’t just attack the body—but the mind, the very essence of a person.
This is the same woman who, at 60, climbed Everest Base Camp; at 65, scaled Annapurna; and at 70, stood proud at Machu Picchu. Strong. Adventurous. Fearless.
How do you reconcile that woman with a diagnosis that slowly dismantles everything she’s built? You don’t. You simply can’t.
We’ve been incredibly fortunate—my mum is now on a ground-breaking NHS trialblazer for Donanemab, a drug that offers hope. I’m her legal trial partner. And while the science is incredible, what’s truly moved me is the team of experts who’ve stood with us—month after month—guiding, holding, and answering every question when we’ve felt completely lost. Most Alzheimer’s patients and their families don’t have this level of support and care. I can’t explain the gratitude I have for this incredible team!
And I’ll be honest… this broke me wide open. My brother had just moved to Spain. My sister started a major build project. Geographically—and emotionally—I became the one closest.
Her diagnosis forced me to face the one thing I’ve danced
around my whole life: Time.
Time is precious: Spend it with those who matteR
My mum’s diagnosis forced me to consider:
• How I spend my time.
• Who I give my time to.
• What truly matters.
We’re so conditioned to do more, be more, hustle harder.
But none of that matters when the person you love is sitting across from you, terrified because her memories are slipping away.
What mattered was being there.
Fully. Completely. Wrapping her in love. Holding her hand while she faced her deepest fear.
Years ago, when I was a young mum, my parents did that for me. They showed up and cared for my babies so I could study, train, and build a career. They gave me time—without ever counting the cost.
Now, it’s my turn. To slow down. To make this chapter of their life rich with meaning, support, and love. To stop waiting for the ‘right time’—and instead, create the life I need to live right now.
And that’s what I did.
Four Thousand Weeks: Make your time counT
I sat with myself in the thick of the storm and asked:
“What do I need—not just to survive this, but to thrive through it?”
The answer came loud and clear:
• Love.
• Time.
• Presence.
Time to be fully with those who matter most.
Four months on, I’m there. Not perfect. Not without pain. But fully present. And if there’s one thing I’d say to you, it’s this:
Don’t wait for a life event to wake you up. Don’t wait to create what you need. Start now.
Start by sitting with yourself—alone, in the quiet. Hear yourself. See what truly matters.
Time is not guaranteed
The truth is that time is not guaranteed.
And four thousand weeks… well, they go faster than you think.
I can highly recommend Oliver’s book. Give it a go—it may just be the wake-up call you need.
Jane