Another Birthday Promise

‘It is the set of the sails not the direction of the wind that determines which way we shall go’. (John Rohn)

This day 6 years ago I became a mum. My beautiful baby boy Luke finally made an appearance and life as I knew it was about to change forever!

When Luke was born I, like most new mum’s, imagined his whole life before him. I had visions of his pre school, saw him walk into Primary school and wondered who his friends would be. I wondered would he be into sports or maybe music or maybe something that hadn’t been invented yet? I wondered which secondary school he would go to and what new friends he’d find there? I imagined what job he might do when he’s older. Will he be academic, maybe he’ll be a teacher, or will he be good with his hands and do a trade? Or maybe he’ll be a scientist and make new discoveries. Who would he marry and how many kids would he have.? It’s funny how when our kids are born we have their whole lives mapped out in seconds when all they want to do is eat and sleep.

But the wind seemed to blow in a different direction and Luke was diagnosed with Duchenne, raising a whole new set of questions!

How will he manage in primary school? Will he be safe out and about? Will he find it hard to make friends when he can’t keep up and will someone stay with him to keep him company while the others run on? What will he do when his friends play sports? What if he likes a musical instrument but this horrible condition takes away his ability to even blow a whistle or hold up a triangle? When he goes to secondary school and his condition worsens will he be left behind? What if we don’t get a miracle and he doesn’t get to finish school before Duchenne wins? If he makes it to adulthood what job will he do and will he find love?

These are only some of the questions that play on the mind of a parent who has just been told their child has Duchenne, but on his birthday, just like I do every year, I promise to set the sails right so no matter the direction of the wind, Luke shall go forward and be great and have the best life that he can imagine, he will have the life that he deserves.

I promise to dedicate my life to help in the fight to change his condition from a terminal one to a chronic manageable one. I promise to use every ounce of energy I have to make his and his brothers’ lives as fulfilled as I possibly can. I promise to instil in him the knowledge and belief that he is great, that he is amazing, that he can achieve anything he wants to in life if he works for it and that no matter the challenges that life may throw at him, he has the strength to overcome them and I will be there with him every step of the way (or at least until he has a girlfriend and doesn’t want me cramping his style lol).

I promise not to let my fear of this condition impact negatively on his life. And I promise that we will try with all we have to change what having Duchenne means for all with Duchenne.

But for today my Lukie, I simply promise you a very happy birthday. I hope you love being 6. 6 is the best age because it’s your age 💙💙💙.image.jpeg

Seems Like Only Yesterday

Dear Mark,

7,670 days!!!! That’s how long it’s been since I last heard your voice, or saw your face, helped you with your homework or brought your dinner into you. 7,670 days but it only seems like yesterday!

Seems like only yesterday since that cold February morning. The morning that Duchenne took over your weary lungs and we had to say goodbye. I don’t know where you are right now, but I’d like to believe that you are running free somewhere. That you’ve felt the wind on your face while riding that motorbike you always wanted. That you’ve experienced the thrill of driving that racing car you always admired. That you’ve delighted in the freedom of running as fast as your legs will take you and that you’ve mastered that electric guitar and strum a little or a lot every day. All the things Duchenne would not let your earthly body do.


I hope you know I loved you and that I love you still. That I miss you every single day. I miss your smell, and the sound of your voice and the feel of your newly cut hair. I miss your jokes and the key ring collection and the posters on your wall (even if they were a little raunchy towards the end). I miss our Sunday TV nights, your stories from school and your friends hanging around. I could go on and on but mostly I just miss my brother. It’s been so long but it only seems like yesterday.

A lot happens in 7,670 days. We’ve had our ups and downs since then. We’ve had birthdays and weddings and graduations. All in all, 27 new babies were born in our family in those 7,670 days when you include the cousins, I know how much you loved ‘the cousins’. We’ve had new homes and jobs and proud moments. We’ve also lost others we love. We’ve had squabbles, and worries and disappointments. But no matter what happened, there was never a moment when you were not there. We speak of you often, dear knows I speak to you often. And even when I think of all that has happened, it still seems like only yesterday since we had you here with us.

It seems like only yesterday since you used to tell us what you would do if they would find a cure. That was quite an impossibility then but now the future looks a little brighter. I don’t really believe that cure is coming soon or even in my life time. But Mark there is a chance. A chance to change Duchenne. A chance that boys like you can walk a little longer, play a little longer, dance a little longer, hold their hands up in the air a little longer. A chance that our wee Luke might live a little longer.

Today is Rare Disease Day and the theme is ‘With Research Possibilities Are Limitless’. I hope that you are smiling somewhere at the thought of what could be. I know that you would adore Luke because he is just like you – a loveable rogue at 5 years old. I’m trying my best to play my part in making your dream of a cure come true and I hope that you are proud. But I think what we will manage may just fall short, but with any luck, what we do find will mean that I don’t have to write to Luke and tell him ‘it’s seems like only yesterday’.

With all the love in the world Mark

Until we meet again!


Business As Usual

This week I bumped into an old friend and a follower of Leap for Luke. She said she couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to have a child with Duchenne and asked me where I found the time to do all I do. She’s not the first to say these things and I never really know what to say. So tonight I’ve had a think about it and here is what I’ve discovered.

It’s business as usual really.

Just like yours, my bills need paid and so I go to work.

Just like yours, my fridge needs filled and so I do the grocery shop.

Just like yours, my kids want to play and so I get in on the action too.

Just like you, I have school runs and homework and bath times and temper tantrums. I have a house to clean and clothes to iron and errands to run. I trip over toys night and day and I’d swear there’s a secret family living in my house because there’s no way my kids make all this mess themselves.

Just like you, I love my kids more than anything else in this world and just like you, I would fight tooth and nail to protect them, to keep them safe from harm, to keep them fit and well. To keep them in my arms for just a little longer. Just like you I adapt to suit the kids.

But one of my kids is not safe from harm. He has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy and his life is at risk. So for me that love means averaging 4 hours sleep a night because steroids, the only thing I have that might have any chance of keeping Luke on his feet, have him up and full of beans before the day has broken. For me that love means neurologists and cardiologists and endocrinologists and physios and OTs and Special Needs Statements. For me that love means my heart breaking a little more when I see my Luke struggling with those simple things that are the first signs that his condition is really real, even if he looks perfectly healthy. For me that love means hours of reading, hours of research, hours of campaigning, and hours and hours of fundraising work. For me that love means working every hour that I can, whether in my paid work or in my voluntary roles to make sure that I can say I tried with all that I had to save my baby. For me that love means preempting and planning for difficult conversations that lie ahead with both my boys. Conversations I really wish I didn’t have to think about. For me that love means sometimes thinking towards a future that I don’t want to even contemplate, a future where I can no longer see and touch and hear my Luke. And it’s when I think to this future that the ‘business as usual’ mentality breaks down. Though it only ever breaks down temporarily because for now, while I moan about no sleep, I treasure every night that Luke is able to get out of bed himself, and while I groan about the boys fighting, I’m thankful that they still can. And while I push myself to limits I know I shouldn’t, at least I know I’ve done it with love.

For you, that love means something else. You have struggles that I don’t understand and I would find difficult to manage. For you that love means sleepless nights for reasons I know nothing about. For you that love means fearing for an unknown future that I couldn’t comprehend because I am not in your shoes. For you that love means that you work hard to keep your children safe, and that love means you do everything you can to make your kids’ lives fulfilled. There may be things that throw you off your ‘business as usual mentality’ just like everyone else, but you always climb back on that ‘business as usual’ horse and get back to it.

So you see we are no different.

Just like me, you love your kids more than anything in this world and you will do what you must to protect them, to keep them safe and well.

Just like me, you have bills to pay and so you get them paid.

Just like me, your fridge needs filled and so you do the grocery shop.

Just like mine, your kids want to play so you get down on the floor with them.

Just like me, you have school runs and bath times and temper tantrums. You have a house to clean and clothes to iron and errands to run.

Just like me, most of the time it’s just ‘business as usual’ and that makes us just the same.


Leap for Luke 2016 – A Year in Review

I remember once when I was younger, my mum telling me about someone she knew who cried to the song Auld Lang Syne. I remember being baffled by this and thinking ‘why on earth would someone cry to that song’? The song after all represented, for me, a time of happiness, of celebration, of family and new beginnings. But how things change because now I can’t remember the last time I heard it and didn’t at least have a lump in my throat.

Each new year represents another year that we have lived without my dear brother Mark, it’s another year of watching Duchenne take its grip on Luke, another year with nothing to treat him, which ultimately means another year closer to Duchenne’s inevitable outcome, an outcome so terrifying to me that I dare not think too much about it.


But this year, while I have no doubt I will be sitting sobbing at my TV watching the new year count down and looking over my Christmas photos of the boys, I’m determined to keep those good old meanings of new year and make it a time of happiness and celebration again. But we can’t celebrate new year without reflecting on the year that we are saying goodbye to, and what a year 2016 has been.

This year has had many ups and downs in my world as a Duchenne advocate. Delays at the beginning of the year for the 2 most advanced drugs to treat the underlying causes of Duchenne had me on tenterhooks for a while with hope fading for a treatment; we discovered that all the places were full and indeed, there was a waiting list for a trial for a new drug that could help Luke; I had a trip to Washington to help our American friends advocate for approval of Exondys 51, and while it turned out ok in the end, this was one of the most emotionally exhausting experiences of my life; and as the year draws to a close, I am still in the same position that I was at the end of last year – watching a progressive, life limiting condition take hold of my son with no real treatment possible in the coming few years.

But as 2017 dawns, I do feel more hopeful than I did last year because despite all the downs, 2016 has also been filled with positives. This year, 2 drugs were granted conditional approval and made available to boys with Duchenne (one in the US and one in Europe). Neither of these drugs will directly help Luke and when they were approved, I cried, like the floodgates have opened kind of cried! For the most part these were tears of sheer joy. For the first time ever, at least some boys would have a chance and I could actually feel the relief of the parents who were about to receive a drug that could help to prolong their son’s life, and because one of these drugs uses a technology that will help Luke in the future. It’s approval has given me real hope that I just might get a drug in time for Luke. But I must admit, and I know the parents of the boys on these drugs will understand, I also cried tears of sadness and envy (known in inner Duchenne circles as Mutation Envy), because it’s not fair that some boys have a drug and Luke, my cousin Brian Og and so many others don’t. After all, Duchenne has already taken so much from my family. Was my brother and my 3 uncles not enough?

Me and mark

This year I became chair of the Northern Ireland Council of Muscular Dystrophy UK (MDUK), giving me a real opportunity to help make even a small difference to the lives of people living with all types of muscle wasting conditions in Northern Ireland. The drug development process is very slow and there’s only so much fundraising I can do, so working to improve care for people with Muscular Dystrophy in Northern Ireland helps me to feel like I am doing something, however small, to help Luke and others. If my dream comes true and we get a drug that will help to prolong Luke’s life then maybe he will have some years in adulthood and I want to be sure that, if he does, he receives the best care possible and working with the council allows me to work towards that.

My Duchenne family has grown. This year I had the opportunity to meet many families that I had only known online before and I met entirely new families including 4 here in Northern Ireland. These people, are a huge part of my life and while I wish I didn’t know them (given the circumstances), I sure am glad I do, and I look forward to many years of continued friendship and mutual support with them. What amazes me most about these people is how they make me laugh. We are all facing exactly the same thing, all dealing with it in our own ways and maybe that gives us a special bond, I don’t know… all I know is my Duchenne family is awesome.

This year, Duchenne provided me with personal opportunities and experiences that I would never have had if it hadn’t reared it’s ugly head back into my life. I went to St James’ Palace this year and met Prince Philip; I went to an Advisory Committee meeting of the FDA in Washington and met some of my DMD heroes; my fundraising group, Leap for Luke, was recognised for it’s fundraising efforts for Muscular Dystrophy UK, and I got to meet Sue Barker. But those experiences hardly compare to how Duchenne changed me personally this year. Anyone who knew me up until recent years, will know that I am that quiet, shy, maybe socially awkward girl at the back of the room, always willing to let others take the lead, to speak up. Afraid of any kind of role that might put me on the spot, force me to talk to people I don’t know or even express an opinion. But this year, I accepted a leadership role with the NI MDUK council, I was interviewed and had 2 appearances on separate independent TV channels, I had at least 4 radio interviews, I gave speeches to hundreds of people, some of them colleagues, some acquaintances but mostly strangers, and I made my opinion known any time I had the chance. So thank you Duchenne, not for increasing my confidence, but for providing me with impeccable acting skills, now I can act confident and I think I’m pretty believable :-).

But this year has also taught me that I am just one person. I have never been as busy as I have been this year. Being a mum to 2 young boys as hard work, add Duchenne to the mix and it gets harder, add in a job and what sometimes feels like a full time voluntary role and you soon find both your time and energy dwindling fast. I know that I need to work out something that will allow me to do what I feel I have to do to save Luke and improve his future quality of life, while also being able to provide for him and then actually spend time with him and his brother. Something will have to give. I don’t know what the answer is but 2017 is the year I’m going to find it.

So as I sit now to reflect on all that has happened in 2016, I’ll take some time to acknowledge the harsh realities of the situation but I won’t focus on them. I’ll focus on the incredible successes that my fellow Duchenne advocates will achieve in 2017, I’ll focus on the difference that families, the health care team and the MDUK team here in Northern Ireland will make in improving care in NI, I’ll focus on building those friendships within my Duchenne family and I’ll focus more on my one and only goal in life… saving my son.

I’ll probably not be able to see my screen through my tear filled eyes on New Years Eve so I’d like to take the opportunity now to wish you all a very happy, hopeful and focused 2017 :-).


When He Knows

Can you do something for me? Will you take just a minute to think of your life, your daily routine, the things you do each day, the activities you enjoy. Think of the ordinary mundane things you do that allow you to live a normal life… tying your shoe lace, brushing your hair, running to answer the door, eating dinner, hugging your loved one’s good night.

Now with that in mind, can you imagine over hearing that soon you may never walk again? How would you feel finding a piece of paper that says soon you will not be able to lift your arms to feed yourself, or hug your mum or play your favourite games? Can you imagine how scared you would be to find out that in the not too distant future, something as primitive as breathing will be impossible for you to do alone. Imagine hearing from a little child that you are so ill, you may not live much beyond the next decade! Scary huh? Now imagine that it is your child who will hear these things about themselves! Now it’s not just scary, it’s gut wrenchingly heart breaking!

When my son Luke was diagnosed with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy (DMD) I made a promise. I promised that I would use every ounce of strength I had in me to try to save him. I promised that I would push myself to the limit to make sure that Duchenne wouldn’t take him like it took my brother and 3 uncles before him. I promised that I would make things different. I would change what having Duchenne means and that while doing that I would make sure that he was the happiest little boy on earth.

To keep my promise, I’ve told thousands of people our story. I’ve told them what having Duchenne means, I’ve told them what will happen Luke and I’ve told them that I don’t want to lose my baby. But the risk of awareness building is not lost on me and for a while now, I’ve worried about how Luke may feel when he hears snippets of information. How will I console him? How will I ease his worry and fear? And how will I keep my promise to make him the happiest little boy in the world while also raising vital awareness that will help me keep my promise to save him? It’s a catch twenty-two that I wish I could hide from. Am I wrong to create awareness? My opinion on this changes often but deep down I know that the only way I can save Luke is to tell people about him so that they will help me do all that can be done to keep him alive and well and happy.

They say great love and great achievements involve great risk. I love both my children more than life itself. I will do anything to save Luke from the clutches of this cursed disease, and I will do anything to spare Coen the heartache of losing his only brother. And so, I believe it is worth the risk and that I must continue creating awareness while at the same time silently planning how to drip feed Luke the details of his condition in a way that he can understand. Right now, Luke thinks that he is the fastest runner and the highest jumper on earth, he thinks that he has big strong arm muscles and can beat anyone in arm wrestling. He thinks that he will grow up big and strong just like any other 5 year old boy believes. He knows he has sore legs and sometimes little boys with sore legs use a buggy. He knows that some day when he is too big for his buggy, mummy will get him a cool wheelchair, and for now that is all he needs to know.

People always tell me to let them know if there is anything they can do to let them know. Well I don’t always need people to raise money or organise an event or jump from planes. What I would like to ask people today is to help me keep my whole promise. I can’t stop creating awareness. By doing so I would be giving up on the possibility that I could be part of a movement that is fighting hard to save little boys like Luke. But, you can help me by reducing the risk of the emotional train wreck that is headed for Luke and the rest of my family. You can do that by treating Luke just like any other 5 year old. You can organise inclusive birthday parties and activities so that Luke is not isolated from his friends as he grows older and his condition takes hold. You can educate your children on disability. If they know Luke personally, you can drip feed information to them that is age appropriate so they don’t drop a bombshell on little ears. If you’re not sure what to say to your children, then you can talk to me about it. While I’m not naïve and I know that I may not be able to save Luke, there is a possibility that we will and it is this message of hope that Luke will grow up with. You can help me promote this message of hope so that with love for Luke we can achieve great things.img_19361

Looking for the Positives

‘Something will grow from all you are going through and it will be you’ (Unknown)

 I’ve seen this quotation so many times recently and every time it brings me back to our journey with Duchenne and the impact it has had on me personally.

When Luke was diagnosed with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy on 25th May 2012, my whole world fell apart. The words simply don’t exist to explain that heart shattering moment when I was told that my first born, the baby I had waited so long for, would likely die before me. That the beautiful, active toddler, sitting in front of me on that gloriously sunny day, would slowly, but still much too quickly, lose power in every muscle in his little body, so that he would no longer be able to do the things he loves, even hugging me.

And even though every day is an emotional rollercoaster and I hate Duchenne with every fibre of my being, part of my fight to prevent Duchenne from consuming me, is to actively look for and acknowledge the positive effects that Luke’s diagnosis has had. And perhaps by doing so, I can teach Luke as he grows, to also look for the positives, even though there are days when they are hard to find.

So many people I know today would not have known the old me, and those who did will likely tell you there are times they barely recognise me now. I was, and still am quiet, shy and reserved. I tended to keep myself to myself. I always let others take the lead in everything I was involved in. With the exception of delivering training as part of my job, I shied away from situations that would involve public speaking or anything that would put any kind of attention on me. My world was pretty close knit.

The way I see it, Luke’s diagnosis has added 3 things to my life that were missing before New people, Confidence and Appreciation.

Since making Luke’s diagnosis and my resolve to save him public, I have been blessed to have met some truly amazing people who have supported me along this journey. They have included friends and strangers. People from our community and further afield who have shown me the real generosity and kindness of the human spirit. And that’s not even to mention the people who have become my Duchenne family – the hundreds of Duchenne parents worldwide, most of whom I’ve never met in person but who share in this journey. In them I have made many life long friends. If it weren’t for Duchenne these people wouldn’t be in my life. And I know my Duchenne friends will understand this – I wish these people weren’t in my life but I’m glad they are.

I cannot save my son without creating awareness of his condition and actively asking other people to help me. I cannot save him without campaigning for care that will prolong his life or without advocating for access to therapies that will slow down his condition. In my quest to save him, I have openly shared my story, I’ve poured my heart out in public even though it felt totally against the nature of my personality. I’ve spoken on live radio and on independent TV channels, I’ve taken centre stage at events that provided me with awareness building opportunities and I’ve travelled alone to conferences and advocacy events throughout the world, where I had to force myself to network, no matter how hard that shy little girl inside me felt it was. Without Luke’s diagnosis I would never have had the confidence to do those thing. His diagnosis has created a fire that burns so strongly in me that Duchenne has given me the strength I need to fight it…ironic huh!!


Every night before I sleep, I watch my boys sleeping for a little while and revel in the beauty of the 2 little miracles I created. I’d like to think that I would have done that even if Luke didn’t have Duchenne but I know that his condition makes me appreciate the little things in life, in a way that I might not have done without it. Every single day is precious when you have a life limited child. In just a few years Luke will be off his feet and so between now and then, I take in and memorise each little pedal of his trike, each run down the lane, every nature walk. A  while after that he may not be able to hug me, so I hold tight with every hug in the hope that it will last a second longer. And after that his heart and lungs will weaken so as I watch them sleeping I listen to his breath and watch his little chest and silently ask them to promise to fight to stay strong. I must have 10,000 photos, memories made, and 2 children who know that they are loved beyond compare.

Sometimes Duchenne has little victories, moments when my guard is down and it plays havoc with my emotions but mostly Duchenne has given me strength, resolve and purpose. It has brought people into my life who give me strength, it has given me the confidence I need to beat it and it has made me ever wary of just how precious each and every day really is. So thank you Duchenne for that, but I’m still going to kick your ass!!! 🙂


Donaghmore Sisters Leap for Luke

In February 2017, two Donaghmore sisters will take to the skies above Northern Ireland in a bucket list challenge that will see them jump 12,000 feet from the sky. Denise Murtagh and Alanna Collins will become part of Team100 Make Today Count, an initiative by local fundraising group, Leap for Luke, who are attempting to get 100 people from across Northern Ireland taking to the skies in early 2017, to create awareness of Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy and to raise funds for the Duchenne Research Breakthrough Fund run by Muscular Dystrophy UK.


Both Denise and Alanna work in Dungannon Enterprise Centre along with Claire O’Hanlon, from Coalisland whose 5 year old son, Luke, has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, a life limiting, muscle wasting condition that leads to increasing disability and has a Northern Ireland life expectancy of just 19 years old. Denise has said ‘being a mum myself I can’t imagine what it would be like to know that my son has a life limiting condition. I know Luke, and when you see him, it’s hard to imagine what lies ahead for him. But his mum Claire is so positive and believes that scientists are at a point where they could save this generation of children living with Duchenne and we are up for anything that will help them to achieve this. Yes, a sky dive is scary business but there’s nothing as scary as the prospect of losing your child’.

The girls, who together have helped hundreds of entrepreneurs in Dungannon to start and grow their own businesses over the last decade, are calling on as many friends, colleagues and supporters as possible to either jump with them or donate to their fundraising campaign. Alanna said ‘I’m just not thinking about the actual jumping part right now, I’ll leave that to the day. I remember Claire waiting for Luke’s results and then getting his diagnosis. She was heartbroken but since then her resolve to save her son has been unwaivering. By being part of Team100 I’m hopeful that we can help Claire and other families in Northern Ireland to one day gain access to drugs that could add years to their children’s lives’.

If you are up for the challenge and want to jump with the girls all you have to do is visit  or Facebook message Leap for Luke and register for just £29 (early bird rate ends 31st October) and commit to raising £400 sponsorship which is much easier than you think.

If jumping from a plane isn’t quite your thing then please nip over and sponsor Denise and Alanna at and give Leap for Luke a like on Facebook.