"He challenged his disability"

“I can give you security for now, but I don’t know about the future,” he said.

I shook my head, “Does anyone? But I love you anyway and I’m willing to give it a go if you are.”

“OK let’s do it,” he said. “Let’s get married.”

So that was it, really. The beginning of the rest of our lives together, Martin and me, in sickness and in health. Oh yes, and MS too – like a contrary mistress: demanding, unpredictable and capable of blowing your relationships apart if you let it.

The powerhouse of positivity

Diagnosed with relapsing remitting MS in his mid-twenties, understandably Martin didn’t take it well. He spent the first couple of years trying to come to terms with his new way of life, often alienating himself in the process. Counselling and talking therapy helped, but it was when our initial friendship moved up to the next level that we figured out what it would take, no matter what. It would take patience, positivity and love. 

And oh lord, such a love that our bond was unbreakable, even when that saucy minx MS reared her head and threatened time and time again to challenge us. But there we were – the crack team – ready to head MS off at the pass. 

And there was Martin, as always – the constant powerhouse of positivity. He hated the analogy, but I once likened him to an enthusiastic labrador. Happily hurtling through life enjoying good food, long walks whenever he could manage them and charming everyone he met, giving love and loyalty unconditionally.

When our son Josh was born three years later, Martin was the proudest dad in the world, and rightly so. We never shied away from being honest with Josh about his dad’s MS, so he grew up never knowing anything different. Martin was his dad, I was his mum and together we were this tight-knit little trio who looked out for each other, accommodating and solving whatever issues life threw at us. After all, it wasn’t just Martin who had rough days.  Sometimes I’d be poorly too, or Josh would, and Martin would be the one looking after us as best he could. Because that’s what you do for people you love.

Josh and I knew instinctively whenever Martin needed more care. It’s not something you can learn, and there wasn’t ever a time where I transitioned to the role of ‘carer’ other than ‘wife’.  I cared for him anyway, just because I was his wife, and I loved him. It was as simple as that. 

Transitioning to secondary progressive MS

Martin meanwhile responded by being ever positive, even when some years later he was told his MS had moved up a gear and he was diagnosed with secondary progressive MS. 

Instead of shying away from the more unacceptable face of disability, he turned it on its head and challenged it. He was determined that it wasn’t going to stop him doing the things he still wanted to do. We travelled, socialised, cooked together, talked endlessly and we laughed.  Oh, how we laughed! 

On days when anyone else might have taken to their bed, Martin would insist on me driving him to his favourite park to walk and meet friends for coffee. He hated not being independent enough to drive himself. But he saw the plus side from my point of view and – in his words and with his typical humour, “Well at least you’ll know if I’m having an affair, because you’ll have to drop me off and pick me up again!”

Everyone should be more like Martin

Just over a year ago, we knew that navigating the staircase was becoming more hazardous for Martin. As he’d already taken a few tumbles, we realised we couldn’t put it off any longer. So we put the house on the market and began enthusiastically viewing homes without stairs. 

We were positive, happy and looking forward to new adventures. Martin was intent on continuing to impart his considerable wealth of experience in helping others with MS to cope with their condition. And to give them the encouragement and positivity that he had spent nearly 40 years nurturing.

However, fate had other plans. Just as we had acknowledged 33 years earlier that life was unpredictable and none of us knew what was ahead, a sudden cardiac arrest took Martin from us on 26 February 2024. We miss him more than words can ever say. When anyone expressed concern about life expectancy with MS, Martin always told them, “MS won’t kill me.” And he was right. 

I’m so thankful that he didn’t suffer, and although he wasn’t with us for anywhere near long enough, I’m happy he packed so much into his life. Embracing experiences, exuding positivity and love, helping others and being the amazing, vibrant, charismatic man that he was.

Inadvertently, on the day we decided to get married 34 years ago, by seizing the chance of happiness whatever lay ahead, we forged the belief that became Martin’s mantra and his legacy, “Live Life, Not Your Limitations”. Everyone should be a lot more like Martin. Just do it.

Martin’s website still exists at martinbaum.co.uk but is in the process of being updated.  Liz Baum will continue Martin’s work in supporting people with MS and their families. You can get in touch with her at [email protected].