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.
Grandkids Fought over Who Would Inherit Grandma’s Bigger House – But Grandma and Karma Had the Last Laugh
Margaret was 83, fiercely independent, and tired of her family circling her like vultures. When she vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a cryptic note, her children were frantic. They never imagined her bold final move would leave them stunned.
My name’s Dorothy, and I’m 80 years old. I never thought I’d have a story about my best friend, but here I am. Margaret, who I’ve known for decades, deserves to have her story told.
A smiling woman | Source: Pexels
She was the sharpest, sassiest 83-year-old I’ve ever met. She called me her “partner in crime,” though most of our crimes were eating too many donuts or gossiping over coffee.
Margaret had a modest life but a smart one. She lived in a cozy little bungalow, the kind with flower boxes under the windows. She also owned a big, beautiful colonial-style house across town. That house was her husband Tom’s pride and joy.
A colonial house | Source: Pexels
When he passed 20 years ago, Margaret started renting it out. “Tom would’ve hated it,” she’d say, “but a lady’s got to live.” The rent covered her bills, and Margaret never relied on anyone, not even her kids.
“Dorothy, let me tell you something,” she’d say, wagging a finger. “Independence is a woman’s best friend. Next to coffee, of course.”
A woman with a coffee cup on her patio | Source: Pexels
But last year, everything started to change. Margaret’s health took a downturn. She got weaker, and for the first time, she needed a little help. I started running errands for her, and her kids, Lisa and David, began showing up more often.
At first, it seemed like they cared. Then I noticed they weren’t helping. They were circling.
A brother and sister | Source: Midjourney
Lisa was always dressed like she was going to a fancy brunch. Perfect nails, designer purse, big sunglasses perched on her head. “It’s such a shame that big house is just sitting empty. A family like mine could really put it to use,” she’d say.
David was practical, but not in a good way. He’d show up with his laptop and act like Margaret’s financial advisor, even though she never asked him to.
A man with a laptop | Source: Pexels
“Mom, you’re sitting on a gold mine with that house. You know, selling it could set you up for life—or help the kids. Just something to think about.”
Margaret hated it. “I’ll decide what to do with my houses when I’m good and ready,” she’d tell them. “And don’t you dare think I’m leaving this Earth anytime soon.”
An angry elderly woman | Source: Pexels
The grandkids weren’t any better. Lisa’s oldest, Jessica, was the queen of fake sweetness. She’d bring over baked goods with little notes like, “Grandma, don’t you think a growing family deserves a beautiful home?” David’s son, Kyle, was blunt. “Grandma, it’d be a shame if the big house got sold instead of staying in the family.”
One afternoon, Margaret had enough. We were sitting in her kitchen drinking tea when we heard Lisa and David arguing in the living room.
A man arguing with his sister | Source: Midjourney
“You’ve got three kids,” Lisa said, her voice rising. “You don’t need more space.”
“Oh, please,” David shot back. “Your kids are practically grown. I’ve got college to think about, and that house could help.”
Margaret rolled her eyes and shuffled to the door. “Enough!” she snapped, stepping into the room. “You’d think I was already six feet under with the way you’re fighting over my stuff.”
An angry elderly woman | Source: Freepik
Lisa opened her mouth, but Margaret raised a hand. “No. I’m still here, and I’m not splitting my house in two just to shut you up. Go bicker in your own homes.”
David looked embarrassed, but Lisa crossed her arms. “We’re just trying to help, Mom.”
“Help?” Margaret scoffed. “If you want to help, wash the dishes. Otherwise, don’t come around here with your nonsense.”
An angry woman pointing | Source: Freepik
When they left, Margaret turned to me and shook her head. “They’re shameless, Dorothy. Just shameless.”
I patted her hand. “They’ll back off eventually.”
She smirked. “Don’t count on it. But I’ve got a plan.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked cautiously.
Two women talking in their kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Margaret didn’t answer right away. She just smiled like I hadn’t seen in years. “You’ll see,” she said simply.
A week later, Margaret was gone.
She left no warning, no calls, no explanations—just a single note on my doorstep. It was written in her neat, no-nonsense handwriting:
A note on the doorstep | Source: Midjourney
“Dear Dorothy,
Don’t worry about me. I’m safe, and I need some time to myself. Keep an eye on the vultures for me. I’ll be back when I’m ready.
Love, Margaret.”
A woman writing a note | Source: Midjourney
At first, I thought she might have gone to a nearby bed-and-breakfast or was staying with an old friend. But as days turned into weeks, it became clear she was much further than that. Her phone was disconnected, and no one—not even her children—knew where she was.
Lisa and David were frantic. They showed up at my house constantly, asking if I had heard from her.
A nervous woman | Source: Pexels
“She wouldn’t just leave,” Lisa insisted, her voice teetering between anger and worry. “This isn’t like her.”
David was less dramatic but just as concerned. “She’s punishing us,” he said flatly, pacing my living room. “That’s what this is about. She’s making a point.”
An angry confused man | Source: Pexels
I played dumb, shrugging whenever they pressed me for information. “I haven’t heard from her,” I lied, knowing full well that Margaret would’ve wanted it that way.
Then, one quiet morning, I found a postcard in my mailbox. The picture on the front was of a serene mountain scene, snowcapped peaks under a bright blue sky. The handwriting on the back was unmistakably Margaret’s:
A mountain forest | Source: Pexels
“Dear Dorothy,
I’m finally breathing fresh air. Wish you were here—but don’t tell the vultures. I’ll write again soon.
Love, Margaret.”
I stood on my porch, clutching the card, tears stinging my eyes. Margaret wasn’t just gone. She was free. And as much as I missed her, I couldn’t help but feel a little envious.
A happy woman with a postcard | Source: Midjourney
When Margaret returned, she looked like a new woman. Her cheeks were rosy, her step lighter, and her eyes had a spark that had been missing for years.
“Well, don’t just stand there gawking, Dorothy,” she said, grinning as she breezed through my door with a small suitcase. “I’m back, and I’ve got stories to tell. Put the kettle on.”
I couldn’t stop staring. She looked ten years younger. There was a calm, almost radiant energy about her.
A smiling elderly woman | Source: Pexels
“Where were you, Margaret?” I asked, half-laughing and half-serious.
She wagged a finger. “A lady never reveals all her secrets. Just know that I went where I needed to go.”
A few days later, Margaret passed away peacefully in her sleep. I found her in bed, a small smile on her face, as if she’d simply drifted off into a dream.
An elderly woman smiling in her sleep | Source: Midjourney
The day of Margaret’s will reading was overcast, and the lawyer’s office was packed. Lisa and David sat on opposite ends of the room, their spouses and grown children huddled close, whispering and casting suspicious glances at one another. The air buzzed with anticipation.
I sat quietly in the corner, clutching my purse. Margaret had shared enough with me that I knew what was coming, but that didn’t make it any less thrilling.
A serious woman looking up | Source: Pexels
The lawyer, a composed man with a sharp suit and a no-nonsense demeanor, began with the formalities. Margaret had left some sentimental items to friends, small donations to charity, and a few keepsakes to her grandchildren. The family’s polite nods were a thin veil over their growing impatience.
Finally, the lawyer paused and looked up. “Now, regarding the properties,” he said, flipping to the next page.
A lawyer in his office | Source: Pexels
Lisa’s head shot up. David leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“The large house and the bungalow have both been sold,” the lawyer announced.
“What?” Lisa’s voice cracked as she shot out of her chair. “She sold them? Without telling us?”
David looked equally stunned, his face turning a deep shade of red. “She… what did she do with the money?” he demanded.
A shocked man looking at the papers | Source: Pexels
The lawyer remained calm. “She traveled extensively, fulfilling a lifelong dream. She left a note for her family.” He opened an envelope and read aloud:
“To my beloved children and grandchildren,
Thank you for reminding me that life is short and my happiness is my own to claim. I hope you learn from my example: spend what you’ve earned, enjoy what you’ve built, and live while you can. The houses are gone, but the memories I made will last forever.
A woman writing her will | Source: Midjourney
Dorothy, the money I’ve left is yours. Don’t spend the rest of your life tied to this street. Use it to see the world, just like I did. Live boldly.”
The room erupted.
“She what?!” Lisa shrieked. “That house was supposed to stay in the family!”
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
“This is insane!” David thundered. “Who spends everything without leaving something behind?”
Jessica, Lisa’s eldest, flipped through the photo album the lawyer handed over, her jaw dropping. “Is this… Grandma on a gondola? In Venice?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Margaret would’ve loved this.
A happy woman in a gondola | Source: Midjourney
As the lawyer flipped through the album, he narrated some of Margaret’s escapades: riding a Vespa, sipping wine in a vineyard, and dancing in a village square. Each photo was more joyful than the last, a testament to her unapologetic embrace of life.
“She used us,” Lisa hissed, glaring at me. “Did you know about this?”
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
I raised my tea cup, smiling. “All I know is Margaret did what made her happy. Isn’t that what you wanted for her?”
A month later, I stood at the airport with her photo album tucked into my carry-on. My first destination was Paris.
A woman in an airport | Source: Midjourney
As the plane soared above the clouds, I pulled out the album and flipped through the pages. There was Margaret, laughing in the sunshine, raising a glass in some charming café.
“This one’s for you, Margaret,” I whispered, raising a tiny plastic cup of champagne.
A laughing elderly woman | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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