After I lost the use of my legs thanks in part to that drunk driver, I could have chosen to be bitter, angry, or impossible to live with, or learn how to live my life once I got out of the hospital (and rehabilitation).  The choice was totally up to me.

I chose the latter.  I chose to embrace life and learn how to do things "sitting down".  And I haven't been the least bit sorry that I did.

I have learned that everything happens for a reason.  I ddin't ask to become a paraplegic, but maybe it was God's will for me.  He used soemthing bad for good and I am indeed grateful in that even though I am using a wheelchair, I still can have a very happy, productive life.

My name is Melanie Davis.  I am 27 years old.  I live with my parents in Fond Du Lac, Wisconsin.  I have an older brother, Garry, but he lives in Boise, Idaho, so I don't get to see him much.  I do see him at Christmas, but that's about the only time.  Garry works for the railroad.  I work too; I'm a budding author who writes mainly Christian fiction for children; it's where my heart lies.  God gave me a heart for children, so I do my writing for them.

I was 17 when I was in that accident.  The accident itself is still a blur, but I have learned about what exactly happened from what people have told me.  The guy who hit me was only two years older: 19.  He was blind drunk.  The accident snarled traffic for hours and the paramedics had to use the "jaws of life" in order to free me from my crumpled up vehicle.  I was flown to the nearest trauma center, where my injuries were treated and my overall condition evaluated.

The injuries were serious.  Severe trauma to the spinal region, the lower part of my spinal cord completely severed.  I would not walk again (unless it was on a walker or, if I was lucky, crutches).  

During those first few weeks, my family never left my side.  I don't remember much; I was knocked out or strung out on all the medication they were pumping into my system.  Maybe it's a good thing I didnt' remember?  .... I don't know, but other than what people have told me, I, personally, have no recollection whatsoever about the accident.

When I was well enough to leave the hospital, I was taken to a rehab facility, where I underwent grueling therapy sessions.  I was there for three months.  It was hard, but I was determined to try to get back what that drunk driver had stolen from me: movement from the waist on down.

~To be continued.~