Dusty Wentworth

  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...

It’s the 28th of August already—can you believe it? Where did the summer go? One moment I was bracing myself for six weeks of school holidays, and the next I’m sitting in the garden, basking in the sunshine, kids playing in the background, reflecting on how fast it’s all flown by. Now, to be clear, I wasn’t worried about the usual summer holiday challenges—you know, keeping the kids entertained without requiring a bank balance that rivals Elon Musk’s. No, my real anticipation came from the fact that this was my first summer as a dad in a wheelchair. If you’ve read my earlier holiday blog (Wheelchairs, Lovebirds, and Little White Eggs: A Summer’s Day in the Garden Jungle), you’ll know I had more than a few doubts about how this would play out. Would I keep up? Would the kids adapt? Would I spend most of the summer watching from the sidelines while they ran rings around me? Well, let me tell you—none of that happened. Game Changers and Wheelchair Bandits Early on, my new Quic...

Introduction: The Forgotten Narrative In the decades following World War II, society began rewriting the role of women with energy, clarity, and purpose. Women were encouraged to express emotion, pursue education, enter the workforce, and challenge tradition. And rightly so. But while we updated the story of womanhood, we failed to rewrite the story of man. To understand why that matters, we must first recognise that masculinity itself is not a biological law—but a cultural narrative. It’s a socially constructed script—shaped by folklore, religion, policy, media, and need. Masculinity has always been moulded by what a society demands of its men at a given moment: protectors in war, providers in peace, stoics in crisis. In essence, masculinity is a kind of cultural folk tale—handed down from generation to generation—not just to define men, but to produce the kind of men society believes it needs. This concept is well supported in academic literature. Sociologist R. W. Connel...