Thursday April 16th 2020. D day.

Mel Bramwell-Popham

The day we heard those dreaded words, ‘I’m afraid it’s not good news’. The day our world changed.

That weekend I lurched from disbelief to fear, from anger to feeling numb. We had a diagnosis and an answer but it wasn’t one I had ever imagined. The tears started and they didn’t stop. How could this be happening to us? We had such big plans for our future together; a little brother or sister for Darcey, our glass house by the sea, our middle aged gap year travelling around the world. Within one phone call, all those plans and dreams came crashing down around me. The doctor’s words were ringing in my head on a loop, ‘There is no treatment and no cure’. I felt utterly helpless. Being someone who loves taking care of those around me, it was alien to me that there was nothing I could do to fix this or make it better.

I lay in bed on the Sunday night watching Al sleep peacefully next to me, as tears rolled silently down my cheeks, I contemplated the questions I would ask the doctor tomorrow in our follow up call. It also happened to be my birthday the next day but, in that moment, the last thing I cared about was turning 41. All that mattered was Alix, my amazing, strong husband and best friend. I shivered at the thought of him not being ‘Alix’, and it was in that moment something changed in my thinking.

What would Dad say to me if he was here now? What positive words of encouragement would he have for me? How would he inspire my positive thinking in such a desperate situation?

The answer was simple and so obviously clear….‘You’re a Bramwell darling – To the limit and beyond’.

Those five words were Dad’s motto in life from his Royal Navy Field Gun Crew days, and one he lived his life by and passed on to his four children.

That was it. We wouldn’t accept the prognosis and the 5 to 10 year management plan. We would find a way. Alix has never been average at anything in life, and he wasn’t going to be an average stat with this. From now on, it was Dad’s booming voice on loop in my head: ‘To the limit and beyond’, and a decision to make it my life’s mission to find a miracle and keep Alix here for as long as possible.

From that moment forward, Alix and I let go of any anger – we can’t change the past. We believe we can change the future. By bringing together the best brains in science and research, we believe we can make a difference. By working and collaborating with others, we can achieve more together. By understanding and sharing knowledge, we can help ourselves and others.

It also became very clear to us we needed to help protect the current and future players, to prevent any others being in Alix’s situation in years to come. But, just as importantly to Alix, we needed to do this in a way that would protect the game we both still love. Rugby has been Al’s world since he was 4 years old and he doesn’t regret playing; it gave him so much in life and he fulfilled his childhood dream of playing for his country in a World Cup and winning the Grand Slam.

The rugby family is a very special breed and since going public with Alix’s diagnosis the love and support has been overwhelming and, for that, I’m eternally grateful.

The last eight months of late night and weekend zoom meetings, calling on favours from friends far and wide, spending every spare minute brainstorming ideas and plans, have all been worth it. We’re here together, we’re part of the solution and we’re heading for change.