Steve Thompson - Unforgettable: Rugby, dementia and the fight of my life

Unforgettable

First published in the UK by Blink Publishing an imprint of Bonnier Books UK

Victoria House, Bloomsbury Square, London WC1B 4DA

Owned by Bonnier Books

Sveavgen 56, Stockholm, Sweden

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First published in hardback in 2022

Hardback ISBN: 978 1 78870 590 5

Trade paperback ISBN: 978 1 78870 591 2

eBook ISBN: 978 1 78870 592 9

Audiobook ISBN: 978 1 78870 593 6

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data:

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Design by www.envydesign.co.uk

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Text copyright Steve Thompson and John Woodhouse, 2022

The right of Steve Thompson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Every reasonable effort has been made to trace copyright-holders of material reproduced in this book, but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the publishers would be glad to hear from them.

Blink Publishing is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK

www.bonnierbooks.co.uk

To Steph, Seren, Slone, Saskia and Saxon, for keeping me alive.

CONTENTS

THE ANGEL AND THE DEVIL

I ve never googled dementia. Im afraid of what it might tell me.

What I do know is the inside of my head is home to an angel and the devil. They argue constantly. In fact, their bickering wears me out. When the angel lifts me Youre allowed to feel good. Its OK to feel positive the devil immediately butts in Forget it! Youre coming back down. And quick. There might not be anything in particular for me to feel bad about, but suddenly I feel terrible, like Im about to be crushed beneath a gigantic black tyre rolling towards me.

I dont mind going through good times and bad times thats just part of life but this is different. Ive been robbed of the ability to enjoy a good time, because the bad-time thoughts are overwhelming. Ive always been a fighter, always found a way to sort stuff out, but this opponent not only isnt going away, its gathering force mirrors my declining ability to recognise its influence.

Dementia with probable chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), a degenerative brain disease, stares me down from the opposite corner of the ring. The boxing comparison is apt the only known cause of CTE is repeated blows to the head, hence the phrase punch-drunk. Except while boxing matches are infrequent and last only a few rounds, my time being smashed extends to hundreds of ultra-competitive rugby matches plus endless brutal training sessions thousands upon thousands of bangs, knocks, impacts and concussions, the vast majority of which were barely noticed by me, teammates, staff or opponents. Oh look, a colleague would say as I lay on the deck, hes having one of his naps again. Steve Thompson he sleeps the sleep of the semi-conscious.

Every one of those collisions did its bit to form one of the ugly yellow pixels that, as I look at a scan of my brain, represents dead tissue. I carry that picture around on my phone. I show it to people like I show them pictures of my wife and children. Here we are on holiday last year. And if I just scroll along heres my CTE. Ive resisted the urge to have it as my screensaver. While its there for all to see, nothing can ever be done about it. The damage is so deep that even Heineken cant reach it God knows Ive tried. In fact, the only way CTE can be diagnosed with 100 per cent absolute certainty is by post-mortem dissection. In the meantime, youll have to take my and the experts word for it. Its there. To be fair, the symptoms do add up. CTE affects emotions, steals memories, leaves the sufferer frustrated and irritable, and can lead to suicidal thoughts. Ive never thought of myself as the perfect human specimen, but when it comes to CTE I most definitely am.

The result of all that battering to the brain that CTE is as stark as it is simple. I have dementia. Its described as being early stage, although already its effect is significant. I leave the car running in the street for hours on end. I go to fetch a beer from the fridge and find ten cans solidified in the freezer. I find myself stuck on the same book for months on end because I have to keep going back to the beginning.

The other day I was on at the dog for being a pain. Saxon! Saxon! I was saying. It wouldnt even look at me. Saxon! It was making me angry now. And then I looked at my three-year-old. He most definitely was looking at me and he was terrified. What the hell was going on?

Youre calling the dog Saxon, my wife Steph told me. His names Stan. Saxons your son.

It was a proper What was I thinking? moment. People try to console me Oh, I get my kids names mixed up all the time. And I think, Yes, but not with the dog.

And thats not the worst of it. I look at Steph, the woman Ive shared everything with for ten years, including four children, and cant for the life of me remember her name. Lets just think about that for a second. How could not knowing your wifes name even be a thing? We all know our partners name, right? Its second nature. There doesnt even have to be a link made in the brain. Name. Boom! There it is. Right there.

And yet in the past couple of years something unimaginable has happened, as bizarre as it is heartbreaking. Steph will be there in front of me, and Ill be staring at her staring hard and therell be nothing. In my head Ill be thinking, I know it! I know her name! like you might see someone momentarily stumped for the right answer on a quiz show. But the reality is this answer has gone. And unlike some stupid quiz show it matters. Knowing your wifes name really matters. In that moment, its hard to think of anything that could possibly matter more which in itself isnt a great help when youre desperately searching through the cluttered drawers of your mind, getting a fleeting glimpse of what youre after only for it to disappear again amongst the bric-a-brac, the tangle, the rubbish. It happens once and you think, OK, thats just a one-off. A brain-freeze. It could happen to anyone. Ive seen it in the changing room. The captain looks at a bloke hes played alongside a hundred times and there it is that moment where he cant propel his name to the front of his mind. Mildly embarrassing. Quite funny even for those watching. It happens. People get confused. But your partners name? Really? Surely not ever. But I do it over and over again. One minute its there, the next its gone. Steph describes it as me turning into a complete blank. Like someone has switched me off at the mains. The only way to switch me on again is for her to say, quietly and firmly, Im Steph. At which point something unspoken, a recognition of whats happening, will pass between us and well carry on. Not that it makes it OK. Like any couple, when me and Steph married it was together forever. And suddenly, we have yet again been reminded, she finds herself with some bloke who cant even remember what shes called. She knows its not me being mentally lazy, that I think so little of her that I genuinely cant instantly recall her name, but hard to imagine its not hurtful. Somewhere, however deep, it must be. Were two sides of the same coin. Steph and Steve, Steve and Steph not a hard one to remember. Like fish and chips, salt and vinegar ruck and maul.