My Dad's Journey - AL Amyloidosis

Life has a habit of changing direction without asking first. One minute you’re making plans, the next you’re learning a whole new language made up of hospital wards, test results, and waiting rooms. A Most Respected Man... My dad, John Watts, is the strongest and kindest man I know. He’s always been the steady one — the person who shows up, gets on with it, and never makes a fuss. So when his health began to decline over a year ago, none of us imagined where the road would lead. What followed were months of uncertainty, wrong turns, and that growing feeling that something wasn’t right. Last summer things became especially tough, and after nearly a year of investigations, he was finally diagnosed with AL Amyloidosis. AL Amyloidosis is extremely rare. Only around 300–500 people in the UK are diagnosed each year, and my dad is currently the only known person living with it in Basingstoke. The condition is caused by abnormal proteins building up in the body’s organs, preventing them from working properly. In his case, it has affected his heart, liver, and nervous system. There’s no cure — which is a sentence that never gets easier to write or say — but there is treatment, and the aim is to slow progression and preserve quality of life. He spent three months in hospital, followed by several shorter stays, and now undergoes monthly chemotherapy. Even recently, the intensity hasn’t let up. In just the last month alone — January and February — he’s made around ten separate trips to hospital, all for numerous tests, all in central London. Each visit means long days, early starts, waiting rooms, scans, blood tests, and the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t show up on paper.

I didn't think he would retire!

He turns 70 on 12th March 2026 and only retired from work last month. In his final year, his role shifted to mentor — not because he was winding down, but because he was so widely respected. He was valued for his experience, recognised by his own company and others across the industry, and genuinely loved for the guidance and calm he brought to everyone around him. That respect doesn’t disappear just because life changes course. Always Upbeat Despite everything, he remains remarkably upbeat. Some days that’s resilience. Other days it’s dry humour, stubborn determination, and a refusal to be treated like someone who’s finished. He still wants to live, to laugh, and to say yes — even if yes now requires more planning, more rest, and a bit more patience.

So, I have made changes, but not the ones they would expect.

This is a huge part of why Simple Franks Rallies exist. My dad still wants adventures. He still wants to be part of things. Flying is no longer an option, and physical limitations mean life has to be adapted — but adapted doesn’t mean over. The rallies give us a way forward that works: roads instead of runways, shared journeys instead of sitting still.

By bringing people along with us, we’re doing more than driving. We’re raising money for charity, increasing awareness of rare conditions like AL Amyloidosis, and proving that life doesn’t stop just because it looks different. Sometimes it just takes a different route.

This blog isn’t about perfect grammar or polished storytelling. It’s about real life, long days, hard conversations, and finding moments of joy where you can. It’s about family, resilience, and choosing to keep going — even when the map changes.

This is my journey. This is my dad’s journey.And this is why Simple Franks means so much more than just events.