On a cold, rain-soaked winter’s day in London, Fiona Phillips, the former GMTV host now living with advanced early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, sat huddled in the back of a taxi beside her husband of 28 years, Martin Frizell.
They were travelling to yet another medical appointment — a journey that had become painfully familiar.
Fiona, now 65, had been suffering severe and unexplained pain for months. Despite repeated scans, tests and specialist consultations, no clear diagnosis had emerged. The uncertainty had taken a devastating toll on both of them.
“There’s no way I could drive or take public transport,” Martin recalls.
“Fiona rarely understands where she’s going or why. She asks what’s happening four or five times a minute, on a loop, for the entire journey.”
At one point, the strain became almost unbearable.
“I came close to asking the driver to turn back and take us home — the only place Fiona feels safe now,” he admits.
“But that self-pity is nothing compared to what she was going through.”
Eventually, they were referred to a neuropsychiatrist — a suggestion that finally made sense of Fiona’s suffering.
The specialist explained that the anxiety caused by Alzheimer’s can trigger intense physical pain, as a distressed brain reaches for memories it associates with trauma. In Fiona’s case, her most recent dominant memory was not comfort — but excruciating pain from a previous operation.
Relaxation, rest and sleep became essential. Fiona now spends much of her time in bed.
Yet Martin wrestled with an agonising question familiar to many carers:
Was the pain real — or imagined?
“At times I have to stop myself thinking, ‘Is this attention-seeking?’” he admits, before quickly condemning the thought.
“I’m told it’s an understandable reaction for someone carin g for a person with Alzheimer’s — but it still fills you with guilt.”
Martin shared these reflections in an interview with Amanda Platell to coincide with an updated edition of Fiona’s book Remember When, which was serialised by the Daily Mail last year. The new version includes a deeply moving additional chapter chronicling Fiona’s further decline.
In the original edition, Fiona herself — with Martin’s help — described the terrifying sensation of her memories slipping away.
“I know they’re there,” she wrote of the piles of photographs and cuttings around their home.
“But they feel out of reach. Like trying to catch a £5 note blowing away on a gusty day.”
Martin’s own chapters were equally raw, detailing the daily routines that followed Fiona’s diagnosis in 2022 — the repetition, the exhaustion, and the emotional toll of explaining the same things again and again.
“Anyone who thinks they could endlessly explain the same thing just needs to try it,” he wrote.
“Not once. Not occasionally. Every single day.”
Despite the heartbreak, the book struck a powerful chord. Messages poured in from thousands of readers who recognised their own lives in Martin’s words.
One moment from the updated chapter stands out.
On a blisteringly hot day after the book’s release, Martin judged Fiona well enough for a short walk — just to the local Londis and back. He bought her a Magnum ice cream, knowing it was a reliable distraction when anxiety surged.
For a few precious minutes, as she held the ice cream, Fiona became calmer. Lucid.
They spoke briefly about her book. Its success. The kindness of strangers.
But Fiona, once a warm and generous people-pleaser, could no longer express gratitude on her own. She couldn’t write, use social media, or speak publicly.
So Martin persuaded her to record a short video on his phone.
Just nine seconds long.
“Hello, thank you for reading my book,” she said simply.
“Really good of you. Hope you like it. Okay, bye.”
The clip went viral — viewed more than 3.6 million times — touching a nerve in families across the UK affected by dementia.
One message came from Kate McCann, whose long letter to Fiona triggered an extraordinary moment.
When Martin read it aloud, Fiona remembered Madeleine McCann. Her eyes filled with tears.
For a brief moment, the Alzheimer’s fog lifted — and Fiona was back.
Then, just as suddenly, the memory vanished again.
Martin has since left his career in television to become Fiona’s full-time carer. It is a lonely existence, he admits — one shared by millions of families quietly struggling behind closed doors.
He now rents out their beloved villa in Tuscany to help pay the bills, knowing there will be no more family holidays there.
When locals ask when Fiona will return, he answers: “Hopefully in a month.”
Knowing the truth is “never”.
One reason Martin agreed to add a new chapter was simple:
He wants the world to remember Fiona as she was — not just as she is now.
As he wrote in her book:
“It breaks my heart that my strong, independent wife has become so vulnerable.”
And yet, through the pain, the repetition and the silence, his love for her has never dimmed.
If you or someone you love is affected by dementia, confidential support is available from the Alzheimer’s Society Dementia Support Line on 0333 150 3456.
