Kate Garraway’s hopes were finally fulfilled in April 2021 when she received the news that her husband Derek Draper could return home after more than a year of having his life in danger while he fought Covid in the hospital.

Since the coronavirus devastated his body and brain, Derek remains paralyzed, unable to eat or drink without assistance, needing round-the-clock care, and still having communication difficulties.

Garraway, 55, claimed that her husband’s progress had “improved” but that there was still a “long road ahead.”

It is tough, he’s still very, very injured, Garraway stated on the Walt Disney Travel Company podcast Journey To The Magic. There is still a long road ahead for him because he still struggles with movement, speech, and feeding through tubes.

“But if you compare to last Christmas or the Christmas before, when he was still in the hospital, then you can see improvement.”

“You just want it to be quicker and faster, of course, like everyone would,” Garraway added as she proceeded to express her annoyance.

Due to the fact that he has been taken back to the hospital so frequently, Kate, 56, and their children Billy, 14, and Darcey, 17, have never been free of the anxiety that he will pass away.

Kate details the highs and lows of family life ever since Derek returned to their North London home in her most recent book, The Strength Of Love.

Last year, her powerful documentary on Derek’s case was honored by the NTA.

In these exclusive excerpts, she describes how the strain of taking care of Derek, 56, while balancing her high-profile TV career, financial concerns, and other issues nearly drove her to suicide.

November 2022 had passed. My alarm went off, and I jumped out of bed.

It was time to get up at two in the morning to host Good Morning Britain.

I tried to reach for the off button, but my arm wouldn’t move.

I tried once more, but nothing changed.

My hands were gripped tightly and angled strangely upwards on top of the blanket, as if I were about to throw a right hook.

I attempted to uncurl my fists and calm down, but I was unable. It was similar to an out-of-body experience, although my body seemed to have escaped me rather than the other way around.

The alarm continued to blare.

Darcey yelled from the room next door, “Mum, for God’s sake, turn that thing off!”

I took a long breath in, concentrating exclusively on my breath. “Don’t think about it,” I told myself. “Just do it.”

I was speaking to myself in the same way that Derek’s therapists had spoken to him in the hospital when they were attempting to get him to move.

It appeared as though Covid had forgotten how to lift his hand because he had harmed the neuronal connections between his brain and his limbs.

They attempted to divert him so he would act naturally.

On my knees, I got out of bed.

I uttered “Phew,” followed by an almost immediate “Aarrrrgggh!”

‘Trapped, paralyzed’

My chest was pierced by a sharp agony that seemed as if my breastbone had been punched, my heart had been grabbed, and I had been squeezed.

Sharp and agonizing pain was experienced.

Then I understood that the anguish hadn’t just started. It had always been there. My momentary paralysis had diverted my attention.

Then the question “Oh God, was I having a heart attack?” entered my mind.

I threw up on a stack of papers next to my bed while still on my knees. A knocking on the front door shocked me.

It was 2:40 when I looked at the time. Obviously, the driver is to blame. Already late, I was.

In the car, I tried to read my briefing notes for GMB. But nothing I was reading seemed to stick.

I opened the car window when I started to feel a little lightheaded and felt the rain on my face.

My cheeks suddenly weren’t wet from the rain. Tears were shed.

It was as if I had failed to successfully seal a tank containing my emotions.

I remembered how dreadful it had been to wake up and feel trapped and paralyzed.

When Derek wakes up immobile every morning, I thought that must be how he feels.

He is incarcerated and unable to control either his body or mind. There is no hope of escaping for anyone else but him.

Why, therefore, was my body behaving in this manner?

Could it be that I was feeling compassion pains because I wanted to help Derek so badly?

Or did I get sick too?

(Oh God, who would watch over our helpless children?)

Or had I been at war for so long that even while I slept, my body was readying for combat — fists raised, rigid against the assault?

I begged the vehicle to stop after feeling sick to my stomach.

I was vomiting in the kerbside drain and shuddering at how embarrassing it was.

My chest discomfort had now become unbearable and had spread to my neck and jaw as I climbed back into the car.

When we got to the studios, I went straight to my dressing room and collapsed on my sofa.

I phoned Jen, the editor for the show, and told her I wasn’t feeling well. She was there within minutes.

‘Face fell’

She looked down when she spotted me.

She said after gathering herself, “I’m going to call Dr. Hilary [Jones].”

Anyone who works in ITV breakfast television and has any medical concerns thinks about that first.

In fact, the day Derek initially fell ill, I called Dr. Hilary, who has served as Breakfast TV’s national physician for more than 30 years. While Jen insisted, I didn’t want to wake him up so early.

I was given the phone by a producer named Alex, and I spoke with Dr. Hilary about my problems.

He insisted that I immediately go to the hospital.

I begged Alex, “Please don’t call an ambulance.” Sincerity tells me that I won’t ever make it back in time to perform the show.

She stared at me in shock. There’s no doubt, Kate, you won’t be on the show.

I did not want to concede. I held to the idea that I could keep going and be the strong one.

Over the past two and a half years, I’ve persevered despite being up all night, when Derek’s life was in danger, and when I spoke to him on FaceTime from his critical care bed as he descended into despair.

While he sobbed, I encouraged him to continue and reminded him of everything he had to live for while I watched the hours pass till I had to wake up for GMB and had not slept at all.

“Definitely don’t call an ambulance,” I told Alex. “I’ll get a taxi.”

“In that case, we’ll have to find someone to go with you,” she said.

From then on, it’s all a bit of a blur. They found a junior producer called Charlie to come with me — an adorable young lad in his ­twenties.

When we arrived at the hospital, we almost literally fell into A&E.

An Inspiration

I said, “I think I’m going to have to lie down,” and then I fell to the ground. Charlie, poor Charlie, had to drag and carry me across the room.

I was abruptly taken into a first aid room, where they immediately strapped monitors to my chest, took blood pressure readings, checked my blood oxygen levels, and drew blood samples.

While we awaited the results, painkillers were administered to me.

The cardiologist eventually returned and requested a private conversation with me.

You’ll be happy to learn that tests reveal you are not now experiencing a heart attack, he stated.

But that doesn’t imply there isn’t a problem, regrettably. There are numerous heart problems that we haven’t ruled out.

The good news was that he would let me go home and recover before they conducted any additional tests.

I was happy because of how nice he had been.

I reasoned that if my situation was that terrible, they wouldn’t let me leave.

It was a great pleasure to meet you, he said as I turned to go. You inspire me so much, and my wife adores you. She looks after her mother, and we both think you’re doing great things by speaking out.

I burst into tears. “I’m not helping anyone at all.”

His kindness made me feel so bad since I felt like I was failing miserably on all counts.