Dusty Wentworth

I live in Norfolk, a beautiful corner of the United Kingdom where the land opens wide and the sky has room to breathe. Norfolk is a county known for the Broads, for its long coastline and quiet beaches, and for those great open skies that teach a man to look up and measure his days by light and weather. It is a place that does not rush you, a place that asks you to stand still and listen. Despite the weight I carried from military service and the long shadow of PTSD, and despite a relatively new diagnosis of fibromyalgia, life was good. I lived simply and happily with my wife and our three children. We were rooted in routine, laughter, and the small honest moments that make a family whole. I believed I knew the shape of my life, and I was content to walk its line. In October 2023, without warning, I collapsed at home. One moment I was steady on familiar ground, the next I was gone. I was rushed to hospital, where doctors diagnosed Functional Neurological Disorder, linking i...

  The Before and After I spent my life working. I joined the Army at sixteen, and for more than thirty-four years I prided myself on discipline, resilience, and the ability to keep pushing through. Even with a diagnosis of combat-related PTSD and fibromyalgia, I refused to slow down. I turned fifty in 2023—still working, still fighting, still standing. Then, in October 2023, I collapsed at home. That single event didn’t just end my working life; it marked the beginning of an eleven-month nightmare that shattered my identity, fractured my body, and left me questioning everything I thought I knew about myself—particularly my masculinity and my role as a father to three young children. The hospital’s initial diagnosis was Functional Neurological Disorder (FND)—a terrifying condition directly linked to trauma and my long-term PTSD. But during the investigations, a brain scan revealed something unexpected: a brain aneurysm. The doctors at Addenbrooke’s deemed it stable, requiring only m...

Two years ago, my life changed in an instant. I had no idea that one ordinary morning would mark the beginning of a journey that would test every part of who I am. October 23rd, 2023 — a date that changed my life forever. It began like any other day, until suddenly it wasn’t. I collapsed without warning at home. When the ambulance arrived, stroke was ruled out, but that was only the beginning of what would become a long and life-altering journey. Doctors didn’t think I’d survive. Yet somehow, I did. ‎ The Eleven-Month Inpatient Battle What followed were eleven long months as an inpatient — three different hospitals, two stints at a Neurological Rehabilitation Centre, and countless challenges along the way. I was fighting battles not only for my health, but for my identity, my independence, and ultimately, my future. Those months were some of the hardest of my life. Every day brought new challenges: learning to move again, to speak clearly, to remember, to rebuild. The neuro...

What does a man do when his body turns traitor—when his voice vanishes, his muscles shake, and the only strength left is the will to endure? This is my life with Functional Neurological Disorder (FND)—a battle fought not on foreign soil, but within my own skin. Yesterday should have been a day of celebration. My new bespoke wheelchair—a bright orange Quickie Nitrum—had just arrived, coinciding with the first anniversary of my discharge from a neurological rehabilitation centre. But as so often happens now, my body responded to the surge of emotion in a cruel and unpredictable way. By the afternoon, the toll had arrived. Excruciating pain gripped me. My speech was gone entirely. Tremors and muscle spasms rocked my body without mercy. Despite the considerable amount of pain medication I take, the pain always finds a way through. By 01:30, the spasms had become so violent they resembled a seizure. In moments like that, medication is useless. You have to retreat into your mind,...