Never Say Die
On a Saturday morning in May 1980, Melanie Bowen, a pretty fifteen year old, ran down the stairs of her parents’ home in Port Talbot, grabbed her leather jacket and crash helmet, yelled a goodbye, and then walked out of the front door into the sunshine for what was to be the last time in her life. Never Say Die is the true story of what followed…Since the motorcycle crash that left her paralysed from the chest down, Melanie's life has been one of extremes. On the down side, she has endured 5 horrific months of despair and indignity in rehabilitation, undergone a colostomy at 23, been in another serious car crash, suffered syringomyelia and the terrifying prospect of full quadriplegia, been diagnosed with breast cancer and broken several bones.On the plus side, however, she's won medals in athletics for Wales, been humbled and inspired by Falklands veterans at RAF Chessington, raised thousands for charity, become a major disability poster girl in America, dabbled with the film world and been screen tested for a movie, met the Queen, and set up her own rehabilitation charity, whose patrons include the acclaimed actor Michael Sheen, Dame Tanni Grey Thompson and former Welsh Rugby captain, Gwyn Jones.She has also, against all the odds, found lasting happiness, having fallen in love with and married the surgeon who 25 years earlier told her she would never walk again.
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Never Say Die
Melanie Davies and Lynne Barrett-Lee
The True Story of An Exceptional Life
by Dame Tanni Grey-Thompson DBE
I first met Mel in the mid-1980s, when we were both competing in South Wales. Right from the start, it felt as though I had known her for years. She is one of the very few people I’ve ever met who can talk more than me! She is always positive, no matter what may be happening in her own life, and it really seems that nothing will stand in her way, mostly because Mel just won’t let it. She always shows an infectious optimism, confidence and gritty determination, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable adversity. It is that incredible stubbornness that is evident in everything she does and makes everyone around her think that they should be doing more.
For some, this book may be an uncomfortable read at times. Melanie certainly pulls no punches in describing in detail the everyday problems encountered by many wheelchair users. It is also an uplifting experience, a bit like meeting Melanie herself. It takes twenty years and a lot of heartache until she feels she has control of her life when she launches the TREAT Trust charity.
Time and again throughout the book you will find yourself wondering what else fate can throw at Melanie, and although she has had to deal with more than most, there are parts that made me laugh out loud as a fellow wheelchair user because I understand some of the experience. And what could be better than a fairytale ending to rival that of any Mills & Boon romance?
Dame Tanni Grey-Thompson DBE
November 2008
Table of Contents
I don’t know how long it was before I fully woke up, but when I did everything felt different. My eyes opened and for a moment it seemed that I must have been hit on the head. There was no pain at all but a face loomed above me. A manly face. Rugged. Unfamiliar. Concerned. I wanted him to save me, but straight away I noticed that there was worry in his expression and sadness in his eyes. He asked me a question but I didn’t really hear it. I felt terrified. Why was he looking at me that way? Then he asked me again, and this time I did hear: ‘Can you move your feet for me, sweetheart?’ I had no choice but to answer with a question of my own, because I didn’t understand what was happening. Where were they? Where were my feet and my legs? Where was the rest of my body?
He was far too old to be my boyfriend. Not only that, he was too short as well. More seriously, though, he was also too wild. He’d been in trouble with the police, he was long-term unemployed and he was unquestionably Not Good Enough for me. In summary, he was all the things that inflame anxious parents when their naïve and impressionable fourteen-year-old daughters get involved with unsuitable nineteen-year-old boys. But I was fifteen by now, and I knew better.
I was also a very good actress, as my drama teacher had often commented upon. I was good in my role as a tough biker’s girlfriend, without any need for the sort of parental concern that might impede my swaggering exterior. Yes, I loved my mum and dad—cherished them more than anything else in the world, truth be known—but to show my devotion just wouldn’t have been cool.
And my parents knew just how to deal with me. They’d been through all the stages wise parents go through and opted for what seemed the most sensible option. Having voiced their opinions and found me less than receptive, they did what was probably the best thing to do: apart from ensuring we were chaperoned wherever possible, they kept their disapproval on a non-confrontational level and simply waited for me to do what they trusted I would. Grow out of it—out of him—if left to do so.
And they’d been right to feel confident. We’d been together almost a year. I was fifteen now, and through a combination of both time and circumstance I was beginning to do exactly that. Not for any of the reasons my parents had cited. Just because I was beginning to feel the first real stirrings of…well, of not needing him any more, I suppose.
Which, in hindsight, is often the way these things work. Older guy takes younger girl under his wing, gives her attention and confidence and a proper sense of self, and so, by whichever law governs such things, makes himself redundant in the process.
But for the moment, at least, we were still together. Still a couple, despite my knowing, even then, that this state of affairs wasn’t permanent. Something testified by a still livid scar across my biceps—the result of the removal of a DIY tattoo, which my parents had organised at hideous expense.
The tattoo had read ‘Aldo’. He’d be here in half an hour. I’d better hurry up and get ready.
