Fiona Phillips, a beloved figure on British television, known for her vibrant presence on GMTV and her incisive columns in The Mirror, has faced a reality far more daunting than any live broadcast: a diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer’s at the age of 61. Now 64, Fiona has opened her heart in a raw, emotional memoir, Remember When: My Life with Alzheimer’s, co-authored with her husband, Martin Frizell, and friend Alison Phillips. Her words paint a vivid picture of a life unraveling, of memories slipping like sand through her fingers, and of a loneliness that cuts deeper than the disease itself. Fiona’s story is not just her own—it’s a stark reminder of the millions grappling with Alzheimer’s, often in silence, as the world moves on without them.

Three years ago, Fiona’s life took a devastating turn. What began as brain fog and anxiety, initially dismissed as menopausal symptoms, revealed itself to be something far more sinister. In 2022, after months of confusion and mood swings that strained her marriage, Fiona received the diagnosis that would change everything: early-onset Alzheimer’s. The news was a gut-punch, not only because of its implications but because Alzheimer’s had already torn through her family. Her mother, Amy, succumbed to the disease in 2006, her father, Neville, in 2012. Her grandparents and uncle had also fallen to its relentless grip. “It just keeps coming back for us,” Fiona said, her voice laced with anger and resignation. For a woman who had spent decades in the public eye, commanding attention with her warmth and wit, the diagnosis felt like a betrayal of her very identity.

Fiona’s memoir, released in July 2025, is a testament to her courage and a cry for understanding. She describes the disease as a thief, stealing moments as fleeting as a £5 note caught in the wind—each time she thinks she’s grasped a thought, it slips away. Simple tasks, once second nature, have become insurmountable. She no longer cooks, her collection of cookbooks gathering dust. Her wardrobe, once filled with designer clothes, is ignored; she wears the same T-shirt and trousers day after day, a stark contrast to the polished presenter the public once knew. Fiona’s husband, Martin, who stepped down as editor of ITV’s This Morning in 2024 to care for her, shares the emotional toll of watching his wife fade. “It’s like I’ve already lost her, even though she’s still here,” he confesses, his words heavy with grief.

The couple’s journey has been marked by moments of profound isolation. Fiona, once a beacon of charisma, now feels invisible. “I’m fading away, and no one notices,” she writes, capturing the loneliness of living with a disease that others struggle to comprehend. Even as she raised awareness through interviews and her memoir, Fiona often forgets the impact she’s had. Martin notes that she believes people are unaware of her illness, a poignant irony given the waves of support her story has sparked. Yet, in her mind, she remains fiercely independent, resistant to pity or help, a trait that defined her career but now adds to her solitude.

Fiona’s battle is not without hope. She participates in a clinical trial at University College Hospital in London, testing a drug called miridesap, which aims to slow Alzheimer’s progression by targeting amyloid plaques in the brain. Early results are promising—cognitive tests show her condition has not worsened significantly since starting the trial. Yet, the uncertainty lingers. Fiona doesn’t know if she’s receiving the drug or a placebo, and the lack of a clear treatment pathway for Alzheimer’s weighs heavily on her and Martin. He laments the absence of the support systems available for other illnesses, like cancer, where treatment plans and survivor stories offer hope. “There are no inspiring TikTok videos for Alzheimer’s,” he says, highlighting the disease’s isolating nature.

The impact of Fiona’s diagnosis extends beyond her immediate family. Her two sons, now young adults, grapple with the reality of their mother’s decline. The disease has forced them to confront their own genetic risks, given its prevalence in Fiona’s family. Yet, Fiona’s determination to share her story has sparked a broader conversation. Her memoir has inspired readers, many of whom see their own loved ones’ struggles reflected in her words. Social media has amplified her message, with communities rallying to support Alzheimer’s research and awareness. Still, Fiona’s day-to-day reality is a stark contrast to the public’s response—she navigates a world where memories dissolve, and even the simplest routines require effort.

Hanoi, where this story was requested to resonate, may seem a world away from Fiona’s London, but her experience transcends borders. Alzheimer’s is a global crisis, affecting millions regardless of culture or geography. In Vietnam, where family ties run deep, Fiona’s story strikes a chord, reminding communities of the importance of supporting those who feel forgotten. Her courage in baring her vulnerabilities challenges the stigma surrounding dementia, urging societies to look closer at those quietly fading in plain sight.

Fiona’s journey is a call to action. It demands better support for those with Alzheimer’s, more funding for research, and a shift in how we view those living with the disease—not as shadows of their former selves, but as individuals still capable of joy, love, and impact. As Fiona clings to the fragments of her past, her story asks us all to pause, to notice, and to act before another voice fades into silence.