I have spent another hour this morning looking through photographs that document the past three years. There are many I will not post as they show Nick at his worst points, many show the things he hates about himself now, the things that make him ashamed to be seen.

He has been incredibly brave. He knows that some of the pictures I am posting are ones he does not want to see, photos we took to check on how his body was working, showing the then-twisted spine, the incredibly crossed eyes and fallen face.

To me they are beautiful, even though it hurts to look at them as his Mum, for they tell a story of such courage and determination to beat the odds.

After the attack Nick’s entire right side was paralysed initially. Even now, his hand does not work very well,in spite of all the effort and exercise. Movement is very slow, inexact, deliberate and requires concentration to do anything at all.

As soon as movement began to return Nick was set challenges. It took weeks for him to be able to move his thumb away from his palm, months before he could touch thumb to finger.Stress balls, hand grips, stretches, massages.. stacking things, holding things… anything we could think of.

It wasn’t until the December of 2009 that he was, with help, able to carry a cup of water to his physio, albeit in the electric wheelchair he was able to use in the rehab unit.We were elated.

Perhaps his favourite exercise was the ‘homework’ set by my partner.. a specific use of the middle finger he wanted to see. Nick worked really hard on that one.

When he came home later that month, we started getting creative with the therapies we tried. I found flock pictures, with raised borders for him to colour with felt tip pens and he sent me out to buy children’s colouring and handwriting books.

But there was little real control.

One day I set up the easels and got the watercolours out. It was the most frustrating thing for him to do. Every time he wet the paper it would be dry before he could get colour to it. There were tears, there was anger, it took hours… but the results, now in Jersey with a lady we love dearly, were spectacular:

But, perhaps for me the crowning glory of all his efforts came when, after months of practise, he gave me this on Mother’s Day and reduced me to tears.