Living with MS and life at the Tower of London

Andy Merry is a Yeoman Warder, commonly known as a Beefeater, at the Tower of London where he lives with his wife Maxine. They have two grown up children. Former Royal Marines Commando, Andy was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2016, two years after noticing his first symptoms and has since gone on to scale the highest mountain in Western Europe.

My MS journey started in 2014 when I suddenly suffered severe pain in my right eye. I took myself to A&E and was eventually referred to the Moorfields Eye Hospital in London. They found nothing wrong with my eyes and the mystery deepened.
  
Around the same time, I started to trip over quite regularly much to the amusement of my family who just assumed that the old man was getting a bit doddery. While conducting my tours at The Tower, I will often point things out to tourists and found that my right hand wouldn’t straighten, remaining curled up as if I was gripping something.

After a referral from our resident doctor and numerous visits to The National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery, I was finally diagnosed in March 2016 with secondary progressive multiple sclerosis. I was on a shift at the Lifeboat Station on the Thames at the time, where I am a volunteer crew member. I informed the rest of the crew about what had happened and was immediately struck by their reaction. It was one of sympathy and I remember thinking that MS didn’t seem that bad. 

I had spent 25 years in the Royal Marines and therefore spent my entire adult life pushing myself mentally and physically.

I got on with my life as normal but continued to read as much as I could about the disease to try and understand how it may affect me. It was at this time that I began thinking about what I could do to not only help myself but also show others that MS is not a death sentence. I had spent 25 years in the Royal Marines and therefore spent my entire adult life pushing myself mentally and physically.

In September 2016, my wife and I embarked on a road trip around Europe on my motorcycle and one of the places we visited was Chamonix in France. We boarded the cable car that runs up to a mountain called Aguille Midi and it was here, through intermittent breaks in the cloud that I got my first glimpse of the adjacent mountain, Mont Blanc. The answer struck me there and then - I needed to climb this monster and convince people that they should give me money to do so.  

My team was very important to the success of the challenge. I asked two people, both of whom I had served with in the Royal Marines and with the technical and local knowledge that we needed. One had a friend, Rick, that was a local mountain guide. My family are very important and my son Luke was quick to volunteer as was my brother Simon, also a former Royal Marine. The last member of the team was another good friend from the Royal Marines, but also a fellow MSer.  

One of the symptoms of my MS will be familiar to many of you - foot drop.  This is a real winner when just walking about town, but when faced with rocky, uneven and steep terrain in big mountain boots, it becomes incredibly challenging. Add to this the fatigue and balance problems associated with MS, and it really adds up to a cheeky day out. 
 
Undeterred, we set off for France in June 2017. The climb was long, dangerous and in places extremely scary. We faced a night climb on a 600m rock face and had to dodge a substantial rock fall while doing so. We crossed a narrow and incredibly steep snow field that had claimed the life of someone the night before and all in the knowledge that we would have to come down the same way again in the dark!  

I knew that I could make it to the summit but wasn’t sure if I could get back.

After two days we reached the bottom of the final 300m before the summit, when Rick, our guide approached me with what turned out to be some very sound advice. He took me to one side of the rest of the group and explained that the final approach to the summit was along a thin ridge. To one side was a 1000m sheer drop and to the other a 900m sheer drop. He and I were roped together and if I fell one way or the other, he could do little to save us. I knew that I could make it to the summit but wasn’t sure if I could get back. I was tired and my body wasn’t working in the way I needed it to. I also didn’t want to kill Rick, and if I so much as stumbled I would take him with me to the bottom and Luke would have to watch that!  

It took me the best part of an hour to finally come to the very difficult decision that we had come as far as we should….just 300m from the top. Leadership can sometimes be very difficult and this was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, but I knew it was the right one.  

I think it’s important when carrying out any physical challenge that your biggest critic is yourself. You can make excuses to everyone else but in your head, you will always know the truth. I have climbed Ben Nevis once again since Mt Blanc and plan to do it again but this is now much more of a challenge as my MS progresses. My mountains have got a lot bigger.

Earlier this year, I took part in the MS Trust virtual conference. This was my chance to tell my story, all be it electronically, which was a unique experience. I am very comfortable standing in front of hundreds of people and speaking as I do it almost daily at work and have done so many times during my military career. For some reason I found sitting in my front room talking to my iPad slightly more daunting. I’m not sure why.  Perhaps with a live audience, it’s possible to gauge the audience’s reaction. When there’s nobody but a small screen and the sound of your own voice, it’s easy to imagine that no one is really listening. I’ve since been told that my presentation went down well so I’m very relieved that someone was there. 

Just like the world though, I remain optimistic about the future.

During the global pandemic, I spent the majority of my time on furlough. The Tower was closed and this proved to be a surreal experience when you are used to having thousands of people visiting daily. As I write this, The Tower has fully reopened and we are pretty much back to ‘normal’.  Currently, we are welcoming no more than 2,000 visitors a day rather than the 15,000 to 17,000 that we would normally see but I don’t think it will be long before we are back to capacity. 

Unlike the world over the last eighteen months or so, my MS hasn’t stood still but has progressed at a pace that I would rather it didn’t. Just like the world though, I remain optimistic about the future.