Mel Giedroyc Quotes

It's very interesting, I had an extremely intense experience with my dad in 2002, when he was an old man and very ill and I was taking care of him and my mother, and he was extremely depressed, virtually lost the will to live, and I realized my main job was cheering him up to save his life.

When you have a stroke, it changes you... It really teaches you, like, you have to live in the moment.

The only real experiences I've had with therapists were the ones who were working with me and my family when my mother was ill.

Everyone I tell that I had an aneurysm always says, 'Oh, my cousin died from that.' Well, I didn't, so I'm amazed. I was in a wheelchair, and I had to go to rehab. And now I'm walking!

I have three living children for whom this is a father who I want them to love and on whom they're going to have to rely if my disease takes a bad turn.

Towards the end of 2003 it was hard to get through training - and the darkest point was when a doctor told me there was a possibility I could end up in a wheelchair.

As well as writing novels and doing short-order journalism, I am also the full-time carer of my husband, who has Alzheimer's. Each day feels like a race that must be run.

I know I was very unstable and unhappy all through my life. I lost my mother and then my father. Losing Dad was like losing the bearings of my life. My sisters took it badly, but I took it worse. Throughout my lean phases, Dad was like a solid rock, supporting me, whether it was work, or my jail term.

I've spent a great deal of time over the past decade as a caregiver for various family members. It gives me a perspective on the struggles that many New Yorkers face with illness, disability, health care, insurance difficulties, and trying to work with and also take care of family members.

Then my mother had several strokes and my father, who was 85, couldn't handle it, so Donna came back and we went through the same thing here. She lives in Mill Valley; her group is organizing this event.

There are times where you can't do it yourself and the system takes over, or it's appropriate to do things differently. But I think driving your son and your wife away from hospital was really important to me.

My daughter lived with my wife being ill since she was 2.

My problems seemed so glamorous to other people, and everyone just thought I was so lucky. But then, I was lucky because my family was really there for me - San Francisco was a real refuge.

As a carer for my disabled son, I understand just how hard caring is, at the best of times. I know how important it is for families to get the support they need.

Having a mother with an illness and being there for her, and being there for my children I just realize how precious life is.

My husband Don's mother, Denise, was diagnosed with cancer, and she was given eight months to live. We decided to go and stay there and help live her days with her, 'cause you don't get those chances again, right?

I got really, really sick with a horrible disease called transverse myelitis; I lost my legs. I couldn't play anymore. It was a form of multiple sclerosis, which I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

I suffered a stroke in 2002 that made everything else in my life that happened to that point pale in comparison.

My mum really depended on me. I'm the eldest of three girls, and she had emotional issues.

If you are a part of a family, that family does not treat you badly when you are down, it supports you to revive.

Our mom did her best to provide for us growing up.

It's just been really hard, 'cause I had a really hard year in 2012 where I had to have triple hernia surgery, and I was out of commission for a year; I couldn't walk, I couldn't sing, I couldn't do anything with work. So it was kind of a rough year.

There were times while I was injured at Villa when I felt like I was a ghost.

I had to take care of my family. That was my No. 1 goal.

When my disease nearly destroyed me in 2009, my doctors thought I'd be lucky to regain 80 percent of my cognitive abilities. When I was at my sickest, I couldn't read or write. I could barely walk on my own or groom myself. The disease felled me physically and mentally - robbing me, briefly but intensely, of my wits, my sanity, my memory, my self.