The life story of Alex Lewis is like no other. This man refused to give up on his life no matter what it took, and today, he’s thriving with the help of his loving wife Lucy Townsend, and their son.
Alex and Lucy always knew they were meant for each other. When they married and welcomed their son Sam into their life, they felt like the happiest couple on Earth. But then in 2013, around the time Sam turned two, this family’s life took a different turn.
Both Alex and Sam caught the flu, or at least they believed so. However, as the boy got better in a short period of time, Alex wasn’t feeling fine even days after he experienced the flu-like symptoms.
“Because we owned and lived in a pub and came into contact with lots of different people, I assumed it was a seasonal cold and thought it started off as man flu,” Alex told Metro.
Instead of improving, his condition worsened and he became feverish and noticed blood in his urine.
As he could feel something was very wrong, he went to the hospital where doctors told him he contracted a streptococcal infection (type A). Unfortunately, at that point, the infection penetrated deep into the tissue and the organs and caused sepsis. Alex had contracted shock syndrome, septicemia, and necrotizing fascitis – and his body was attacking itself from the inside out.
“I called an ambulance, and within eight minutes, they were there. At the hospital, we went straight into resuscitation, and I was told to say goodbye. His kidneys were shutting down, and they were going to put him on life support,” his wife Lucy told The Guardian.
Doctors’ prognoses were dull. They told the family there was just a three percent chance that Alex would survive as his face and body turned black.
“They were going to turn my life support off, but they wanted to give me one more night to see if I improved, and they wanted to give my family a chance to say goodbye,” Alex told Metro.
“I cannot imagine what Lucy and my mum were going through.
“Having spoken to them since it happened, I think they were more in shock as they couldn’t believe something so incredibly invasive was happening so quickly,” he added.
“I don’t remember being in excruciating pain at this point, but my family remembers seeing me in absolute agony.”
It was determined that a flesh-eating bacteria was poisoning his body so doctors had to amputate his left arm up to the elbow. Sadly, as months passed by, Alex lost all of his limbs, and doctors were also forced to cut parts of his face in order to save his life.
“I can remember seeing my legs in hospital and how they were getting blacker and blacker,” Alex told The Guardian. “The blackness was creeping up towards my waist. I don’t remember seeing my left arm in that condition, but I can remember my legs vividly.”
As Alex lost his lips, plastic surgeon Alexandra Crick took skin from his shoulder in an attempt to fix his mouth.
“It would take me about an hour to eat a sandwich at night, and that was with the help of the nurse,” he told the Daily Mail.
“The last available skin for surgery was on my shoulder,” he explained. “So they replaced the temporary flap with that. All my other skin had to be used for grafts or was scarred.”
“Having my bottom and top lip done at the same time like this was a world first. It’s one piece of skin, and it was like if you imagine placing a bag in your mouth and then sewing around the edges. After the original operation, I had to have them every three or four months.”
Looking at his father, and how different he was, Sam was afraid to approach closer to him, but Lucy found a way to explain to him why his dad looked like that, which wasn’t easy as Sam was just two years old at the time.
After spending months at the hospital Alex could finally go home. The good thing was that doctors managed to save the elbow of his right arm which allowed him to have a prosthetic and be able to use his arm. Eventually, he could speak again as his lip surgery was a huge success.
“That one elbow is his whole independence,” Lucy said.
“I had to relearn everything,” Alex added. “From learning to eat, drink, put my clothes on, to learn to use a prosthesis, and to self propel a manual wheelchair.”
Today, Alex is involved in a number of tech projects which help ease the lives of disabled people. Among the rest, he has tested solar-powered, battery-assisted four-wheeled handles which have been designed by masters students at Southampton University.
Despite his condition, he’s living a quality life and is doing a lot of things, such as kayaking and climbing. In 2019, he climbed one of Africa’s tallest mountains using a specially adapted buggy.
“Since becoming an amputee, I’ve been fortunate enough to try out a number of training methods to keep my fitness up, working with physios and visiting the Help for Heroes training facilities,” he shared with Sports Management.
“I’ve had first-rate guidance, but nothing has been as effective as EMS training, especially in such a short space of time.
“It’s amazing how the machine helps me to engage muscles I haven’t felt since I lost my arms and legs,” he added.
“I feel stronger in training, daily life tasks are easier, and I’ve gained greater confidence that I can take on these challenges.”
His Wild Wheelchairs Project, besides helping improve the lives of disabled people, raises money to finance the construction and operation of a wheelchair manufacturing facility in Ethiopia.
Alex is also a motivational speaker who is happy with his life.
“I’ve lived more of a life in the past four years than I did in the previous 33, and it’s made me realize how much I love Lucy and Sam,” he told Metro.
“There was so much I regretted not doing when I had arms and legs, but I am not letting that happen again. I would not change anything, not in a heartbeat.”
Sam also learned to love his dad for who he is and is proud of him.
We truly admire this brave man’s resilience. His story is proof that no matter the curveballs life throws at us, we should always do our best to end up winners.
I Mourned My Wife for 5 Years – One Day, I Was Stunned to See the Same Flowers from Her Grave in the Kitchen Vase
I wasn’t sure if I was losing my mind or if something darker was haunting me. When I returned from the cemetery, the flowers I placed on my wife’s grave were waiting for me in the kitchen vase. I’d buried my wife and my guilt five years ago, but it felt like the past was clawing its way back to me.
The weight of grief never truly lifts. It’s been five years since I lost my wife, Winter, but the pain still feels fresh. Our daughter, Eliza, was just 13 when it happened. Now 18, she’s grown into a young woman who carries her mother’s absence like a silent shadow.
A concrete cross in a cemetery | Source: Pexels
I stared at the calendar, the circled date mocking me. Another year has gone by, and another anniversary was approaching. The pit in my stomach deepened as I called out to Eliza.
“I’m heading to the cemetery, dear.”
Eliza appeared in the doorway, indifference cloaking her eyes. “It’s that time again, isn’t it, Dad?”
I nodded, unable to find the words. What could I say? That I was sorry? That I missed her mother too? Instead, I grabbed my keys and headed out, leaving the silence to fill the space between us.
A calendar with a circled date | Source: Unsplash
The florist’s shop was a burst of color and fragrance. I approached the counter, my steps heavy.
“The usual, Mr. Ben?” the florist asked, her smile sympathetic.
“White roses. Just like always.”
As she wrapped the bouquet, I couldn’t help but remember the first time I’d bought Winter flowers. It was our third date, and I’d been so nervous I’d nearly dropped them.
A woman holding a bouquet of white roses | Source: Pexels
She’d laughed, her eyes sparkling, and said, “Ben, you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”
The memory faded as the florist handed me the roses. “Here you go, Mr. Ben. I’m sure she’d love them.”
“Thanks. I hope so.”
The cemetery was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves in the breeze. I made my way to Winter’s grave, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The black marble headstone came into view, her name etched in gold letters that seemed to shimmer in the weak sunlight.
A woman’s grave | Source: Midjourney
I knelt and placed the roses carefully against the stone. A pang of grief pierced my chest as my fingers traced the letters of her name.
“I miss you, Winter. God, I miss you so much.”
The wind picked up, sending a chill down my spine. For a moment, I could almost imagine it was her touch, her way of telling me she was still here.
But the cold reality settled in quickly. She was gone, and no amount of wishing would bring her back.
I stood up, brushing dirt from my knees. “I’ll be back next year, love. I promise.”
A bouquet of white roses on a gravestone | Source: Midjourney
As I walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different this time. But I pushed the thought aside, chalking it up to the ever-present grief playing tricks on my mind.
The house was quiet when I returned.I headed to the kitchen, desperately in need of a strong cup of coffee.
That’s when I saw them.
On the kitchen table, in a crystal vase I didn’t recognize, stood the same roses I had just left at Winter’s grave.
A bouquet of white roses in a glass vase | Source: Pexels
My heart began to race, pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I stumbled forward, my hands shaking as I reached out to touch the petals. They were real, impossibly real.
“What the hell? Eliza!” I called out, my voice echoing through the empty house. “Eliza, are you here?”
I turned around, my eyes never leaving the roses. They were exactly the same as the ones I’d bought, with the same slight imperfections and the same dewdrops clinging to the petals.
It was impossible.
A startled man | Source: Midjourney
“This can’t be happening,” I whispered, backing away from the table. “This can’t be real.”
I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at those impossible roses. The sound of footsteps snapped me out of my trance.
“Dad? What’s wrong?”
I turned to see Eliza standing on the staircase, her eyes widening as she took in my pale face.
“What’s going on, Dad? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I pointed at the vase, my hand shaking. “Where did these roses come from, Eliza? Did you bring these home?”
A man pointing a finger | Source: Pexels
She shook her head, confusion clear on her face. “No, I’ve been out with friends. I just got back. What’s wrong?”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “These are the exact same roses I left at your mother’s grave. Identical, Eliza. How is that possible?”
Eliza’s face paled, her eyes darting between me and the flowers. “That’s not possible, Dad. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I need to go back to the cemetery. Now.”
A stunned woman | Source: Pexels
The drive back to the cemetery was a blur. My mind raced with possibilities, each more unlikely than the last.
Had someone followed me? Had I imagined leaving the flowers earlier? Was I losing my mind?
Eliza was adamant about coming with me, but the ride was filled with an uncomfortable silence.
As we approached Winter’s grave, my heart sank. The spot where I’d carefully placed the roses was empty. No flowers and no sign that I’d been there at all.
A bare gravestone | Source: Pexels
“They’re gone. How can they be gone?”
Eliza knelt down, running her hand over the bare ground. “Dad, are you sure you left them here? Maybe you forgot—”
I shook my head vehemently. “No, I’m certain. I placed them right here, just a few hours ago.”
She stood up, her eyes meeting mine.
“Let’s go home, Dad. We need to figure this out.”
A young lady looking up | Source: Midjourney
Back at the house, the roses still sat on the kitchen table. Eliza and I stood on opposite sides, the flowers between us like a barrier.
“There has to be an explanation, Dad. Maybe Mom is trying to tell us something.”
I laughed. “Your mother is dead, Eliza. Dead people don’t send messages.”
“Then how do you explain this?” she shot back, gesturing at the roses. “Because I’m running out of logical explanations.”
A distressed man | Source: Pexels
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration and fear bubbling inside me. “I don’t know, Eliza! I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not… it can’t be…”
My voice trailed off as I noticed something tucked under the vase. A small, folded piece of paper I hadn’t seen before. With trembling hands, I reached for it.
“What is it, Dad?”
A note tucked beneath a bouquet of white roses | Source: Midjourney
I unfolded the note, my heart stopping as I recognized the handwriting. Winter’s handwriting.
“I know the truth, and I forgive you. But it’s time for you to face what you’ve hidden.”
The room spun, and I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself. “No, this can’t be—” I whispered.
A man holding a piece of paper bearing a message | Source: Midjourney
Eliza snatched the note from my hand, her eyes widening as she read it. “Dad, what truth? What have you hidden?”
The weight of five years of lies and guilt came crashing down on me. I sank into a chair, unable to meet Eliza’s eyes.
“Your mother,” I began, my voice cracking. “The night she died… it wasn’t just an accident.”
An upset man | Source: Pexels
Eliza’s sharp intake of breath cut through the silence. “What do you mean?”
I forced myself to look at her and face the pain in her eyes. “We had a fight that night. A big one. She found out I’d been having an affair.”
“An affair? You cheated on Mom?”
I nodded, shame burning in my chest. “It was a mistake, dear. A terrible mistake. I tried to end it, but your mother found out before I could. She was so angry and hurt. She stormed out of the house, got in the car—”
“And never came back,” Eliza finished, her voice cold.
A young lady looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“I never told anyone,” I continued, the words pouring out now. “I couldn’t bear for people to know the truth. To know that her death was my fault.”
Eliza was silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the roses. When she finally spoke, her voice was eerily calm.
“I knew, Dad!”
My head snapped up, disbelief engulfing me. “What do you mean, you knew?”
Close-up of a shocked man | Source: Midjourney
Eliza’s eyes met mine, and I saw years of pain and anger burning in them.
“I’ve known for years, Dad. Mom told me everything before she left that night. I found her diary after she died. I’ve known all along.”
“You’ve known? All this time?”
She nodded, her jaw clenched. “I wanted you to admit it. I needed to hear you say it.”
A furious young woman | Source: Midjourney
Realization dawned on me, cold and horrifying. “The roses and the note? It was you?”
“I followed you to the cemetery and took the flowers from Mom’s grave. I wanted you to feel the betrayal and hurt she felt. I copied her handwriting and left this note with the flowers because I wanted you to know that you can’t hide from the truth forever.”
“Why now? After all these years?”
A stunned man covering his mouth | Source: Midjourney
Eliza’s eyes flicked to the calendar on the wall.
“Five years, Dad. Five years of watching you play the grieving widower while I carried the weight of your secret. I couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Eliza, I—”
“Mom forgave you. She wrote that in her diary. But I’m not sure I can,” Eliza cut me off, her words a dagger to my heart.
A diary on a table | Source: Pixabay
She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with the roses, the same roses that had once symbolized love, now an ominous reminder of the deceit that had torn our family apart.
I reached out and touched a soft white petal, realizing that some wounds never truly heal. They wait, hidden beneath the surface until the truth forces them into the light.
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