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 Accidentally Found a Hidden Nanny Cam in My Bathroom and Went Pale When I Learned Why My 11-Year-Old Son Put It There
Finding the hidden camera tucked under my bathtub was terrifying, and realizing my son had put it there was even worse. But his tearful explanation made me realize he was on a mission to reawaken a part of me I thought was lost forever.
The jigsaw puzzle on our kitchen table had stayed the same for weeks, and I was getting worried. My son, Drake, and I used to love them, but things were much different now.
A puzzle on a table | Source: Pexels
These days, he would rush straight to his room after school and shut the door firmly behind him. That is… after coming home later than usual.
I stirred the pasta sauce and checked my phone again: 6:45 p.m. Two hours late, just like yesterday. Through the kitchen window, I watched our neighbors walking their dogs and laughing together.
Our house used to buzz with that kind of energy. Now it felt like Drake and I were living in separate worlds, connected only by quick hellos and leftover dinners. Did this happen to all pre-teens?
A woman concerned | Source: Pexels
A few minutes later, the front door creaked open.
“Hey, Mom.” Drake’s voice floated through the hallway, followed by the thud of his backpack hitting the floor.
“Kitchen,” I called out happily. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
He poked his head around the corner. I saw his messy hair covered by a backward baseball cap. Something about his eyes made me feel like my boy was back, even for just a second.
Boy with a backwards baseball cap | Source: Pexels
But they soon darted to the floor when I looked at him. I knew something was going on, but I had no idea how to address it. My boy almost seemed older than his few years.
“Sorry I’m late. Chess club ran long.”
“Chess club?” I raised my eyebrows. “Yesterday it was math tutoring. And Tuesday was yearbook committee.”
“Oh yeah, I do all those now.” He shuffled his feet. “Can I eat in my room? Got tons of homework.”
Math book and notebook | Source: Pexels
I gripped the wooden spoon tighter, accidentally dripping tomato sauce onto the stovetop, and decided enough was enough. “Drake, what’s really going on?” I asked, turning and putting one hand on my hip.
“Nothing! I told you, just busy with school stuff,” he shrugged and moved further into the kitchen. Without meeting my gaze, he grabbed a plate, scooped up some pasta, and disappeared before I could press further.
Pasta dish | Source: Pexels
I sighed and wondered to the heavens for the millionth time if I should intervene. Maybe I wouldn’t get an answer from up above, but I could try to find some of my own.
I checked the hallway, and his door was shut as usual, but he had left his backpack in the living room. It was my chance.
Inside, crumpled between textbooks, I found a piece of paper with an address scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting: “1247 Maple Street. Don’t be late. This is it.”
Backpack on the floor | Source: Unsplash
What was going on? I wondered, horrified.
***
That night, I found myself going through his old baby photos, spread across my bedroom floor like pieces of a life I barely recognized anymore.
There he was, two years old, grinning with spaghetti sauce all over his face. That happy little boy used to tell me everything. Now he barely looked at me.
Toddler covered in spaghetti sauce | Source: Midjourney
The parent-teacher conference from last week played in my head.
“Drake seems… distracted lately,” Mrs. Peterson had said, sliding his failed math test across her desk. “He’s been falling asleep in class. When he’s awake, he’s always scribbling in his notebook, but it’s not notes from the lesson.”
How could he be getting a grade like that with math tutoring? Was it time to pull the plug on all other clubs?
A math test | Source: Pexels
Either way, I knew sleep wouldn’t come, so I decided to take a shower.
The bathroom was my sanctuary, the one place I could relax and belt out old songs without anyone hearing. Tonight’s selection was “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
The steam rose around me as I hit the chorus, and I remembered how I used to dream of being on stage.
A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels
“Where do we go now?” I sang, letting my voice soar like it used to at the coffee shop open mics when my future hopes were far grander than what reality allowed.
Sadly, those wishes were extinguished the moment, Tom, Drake’s father and my ex, left us for his new family in Seattle.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past again. The present was much more important. I finished cleaning myself up and exited my shower. As I dried my hair, I felt the pull on my ear and heard a clink on my tiled floor.
A woman drying up | Source: Pexels
My earring! I bent down to get it and saw the crystal’s shining light reflecting from just under the bathtub. Except… something else caught my eye.
There, hidden under the edge, was an old nanny cam I used when Drake was a baby. And it was ON. I immediately went pale. But I examined the angle. It would only be recording my feet. I didn’t get it.
Still, my hands shook as I took it and carefully wrapped myself in a towel to march straight to Drake’s room. The sound of his furious typing stopped when I pounded on the door.
A woman holding a small camera | Source: Pexels
“Just a minute!” he called out, and I heard drawers being opened and shut. What in the world?
“Drake, open this door right now!”
Finally, I heard footsteps and the door swung open.
He stood there in his oversized gaming headphones, and his own face turned white as soon as I held up the nanny cam.
A boy with headphones | Source: Pexels
“Drake, what is this? Why was this hidden in the bathroom?!” I asked, as my anger and bravado turned to extreme worry.
When he remained silent, I gulped and asked, “Have you been… recording me in the bathroom?”
His eyes widened at that. His expression was terrified. “Oh no… Mom, you weren’t supposed to find that. IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. I can explain!”
“Then start explaining.” I pushed past him into his room and looked at his computer. The screen showed some kind of video editing software. Oh, no! What is he doing?
A laptop on a desk | Source: Pexels
But before I could panic more, Drake spoke. “I…” He slumped onto his bed. “You weren’t supposed to find out yet.”
“Find out what? That my son is making videos of…” I couldn’t even say it.
“No! Mom, listen,” he pleaded as tears welled up in his eyes. “Remember when you used to sing at the coffee shop open mics? Before Dad left?”
The question caught me off guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”
A woman looking confused | Source: Pexels
“You were so happy then. Now you only sing in the shower, when you think no one can hear you.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But you’re still amazing, Mom. I wanted to show you that.”
He reached for his laptop and turned it toward me. His fingers pressed play, and suddenly, the screen showed me… well, a music video.
I saw a sunset over the city and streets filled with people chasing their dreams. But the main part was the soundtrack with my voice, clear and strong. It was playing “My Way.”
A sunset over New York | Source: Pexels
“I met an old man, Mr. Arthur. I’ve been going to his studio after school,” Drake continued. “He’s been teaching me video editing. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday, show you that you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because…”
“Because your father left?” The words stuck in my throat.
“He owns all these old instruments, and he lets me practice drums while he teaches me about making videos.” Drake’s words tumbled out faster now. “I’ve been doing extra chores for neighbors to pay for studio time. Mr. Arthur says I have a good eye for it.”
A drum set | Source: Pexels
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you worry about everything now.” His voice cracked. “Ever since Dad left, it’s like you stopped believing in good surprises. I thought if I could just finish the video, show you how amazing you still are…”
Tears welled and fell before I could stop them. All this time, I’d been so worried about what he was hiding. Never once did I consider he might be worried about me too.
A woman crying | Source: Pexels
“You could have just talked to me,” I said softly, wrapping my arms around him.
“Would you have listened?” He looked up at me, suddenly seeming older than 11. “You always say you’re fine, but I hear you crying sometimes. And you never sing anymore, except in the shower.”
I pulled him close, feeling his thin shoulders shake. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess we’ve both been keeping too many things inside.”
We stayed in silence for a few minutes before I remembered something. “Oh! Is Mr. Arthur’s studio on 1247 Maple Street?”
A music studio | Source: Midjourney
“Yes!” Drake said, but then frowned. “How did you know?”
“In the interest of honesty…” I began and confessed to rummaging through his backpack. Shockingly, we just laughed at each other.
***
The next day, we visited Mr. Arthur’s studio together. He turned out to be a gentle giant with calloused hands and kind eyes, surrounded by dusty guitars and vintage recording equipment.
Music equipment | Source: Pexels
“Your boy’s got talent,” he told me and showed me more of Drake’s videos. “And so do you.”
And now that the secrets were out, Drake and I finally finished the jigsaw puzzle together. I also sang outside the shower for the first time in years.
What’s more, next week, I’m singing at the coffee shop again. My son will be there, recording every moment. This time, I won’t be afraid of a little camera.
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