Walking into my bedroom, I spotted a pair of shoes on the bed. Being meticulously tidy, I presumed my daughter must have borrowed them. But when I asked, she assured me she hadn’t.
It was early 2011, and this sort of thing had started happening lately. I kept getting into arguments with Lauren, now 29, my sons, Lewis, 30, and Jordan, 24, and my partner, Simon, accusing them of moving things around in our Kent home. Something didn’t feel right, so I went to see my GP.
‘You’re only in your early forties,’ he reassured me. ‘It won’t be anything serious, like dementia.’ He organised tests, which suggested I had mild cognitive impairment. But I pushed to have further examinations.
An MRI scan, blood tests and more cognitive assessments gave…