A moment that changed me: my brother gave me an unexpected gift – and a whole new life at sea

My brother and I grew up surfing at Porthcawl in south Wales. My earliest memories are of playing in the waves and I learned to bodyboard not long after I learned to walk. When I lost the use of my legs, I felt as if I had lost the sea – and a part of who I was.

I was in my teens when I started to develop chronic illnesses, including endometriosis. At first, I was still able to surf – I just needed to rest afterwards. Then, in my early 20s, I developed further chronic conditions, including a connective tissue disorder that affected my joints and muscle strength. I could stand just for a few seconds and was able to walk only a few metres. At 23, an acute infection led to complications, including the loss of the use of my legs. Later, my stomach became paralysed; I’m now fed via a tube that runs down my oesophagus, through my stomach and into my intestines.

When I was 24, one year after becoming a full-time wheelchair user, my brother, Leon, gave me an unexpected birthday gift: a battered, pink and yellow surfboard to which he had fitted shower handles either side of where my chest would rest. He was training as an adaptive surf coach, he explained, so that he could teach me.

Wheeling over to the board, all I could think was, how on earth would I possibly surf? I didn’t know adaptive surfing existed. I couldn’t even move around my house because my wheelchair was so wide and heavy.I couldn’t use my legs, and my core muscles had turned gelatinous. I hadn’t been able to get to a coffee shop with friends, let alone return to the sea. On my phone, I had watched with envy as Leon chased swells in Sri Lanka, Indonesia and New Zealand. Eventually, I had vowed to stop pining for a lifestyle that was no longer attainable – my limited energy was too precious. I had sold my surfboard and resigned myself to the fact that beach wheelchairs are hard to come by (beach access is rarely considered a priority) and the sand was hostile to my current set of wheels.

Getting a piggyback … Bethany Handley being carried down the beach by her brother, Leon, in Bude in June 2026.

At a time when every day seemed like a riptide threatening to drag me into another hospital admission, the new surfboard felt like an ambitious gift. But it also sparked a desire to adapt and take risks again. It was crying out for the sea.

I decided to head to Bude, Cornwall, a place where I had spent holidays as a kid. Leon gave me a piggyback down to the beach while my partner, Harris, strode behind, carrying our boards. We wrapped the end of my feeding tube in a plastic sandwich bag while my parents watched on, nervously.

Leon waded in up to his knees with me on his back before placing me on my board as Harris straightened out my legs for balance. The waves that day were messy and unpredictable, crumbling under an onshore wind before we could catch them. Holding the back of my board, Leon paddled us over the breaking waves, each one launching us towards the sky before we crashed back down. Then a large wave rolled slowly towards us, building, becoming steeper. Leon launched me on to it, shouting: “Paddle, paddle, paddle!” Without having to haul the heavy, ill-fitting wheelchair around with me, I instantly felt stronger. Muscle memory kicked in as I used my arms to part the water as quickly as I could.

Far up the beach, waiting expectantly, was my wheelchair. Harris grinned from the shallows as I hurtled towards him. I felt light and physically powerful. In the brief respite from pain, I whooped with unrivalled joy, my grin so broad I almost swallowed an ocean’s worth of water.

Adaptive surfing hasn’t returned me to my old life – it’s given me a new one. I wish I could visit my bedbound, newly disabled self and tell her of the radical hope I have been given by this unexpected gift. One of the handles fell off after our Bude trip, but it hasn’t stopped me getting out on the waves; I just have to cling on harder. Returning to the place that had shaped me made me see how the limits placed on my freedoms could be removed, and I’m for ever grateful to my brother for giving me back the sea.

The Guardian wp:paragraph