Several years ago Damien had a bicycle accident while coming home from a friend’s house (it gets brighter- I haven’t quite lost the plot yet). It was one of the first times he’d gone fairly far on his bicycle and I was a little worried about how he would cope. I’m sure you know the thoughts that went through my head: Would he watch for cars? Will he notice if I follow him in the car? Would he stop at all the stop streets? Would other drivers see him? Will he use the right hand signals? Has he kept his helmet on? And so on and so on ad infinitum (ad nauseam). You’re never happy till they’re home in one piece. A short while after he was due home and just as I was about to start panicking, someone knocked on my front door. I opened and there was Damien, bloodied and crying in the arms of a woman I didn’t know- immediately I saw red! What had this crazy woman done to my child!?!?! She must have sensed what I was thinking because she immediately started explaining that Damien had fallen in the road and she had seen it happen, picked up him and his bicycle and brought him home. I grabbed him and shot to the bathroom to see how badly he was hurt and when I got back to the door, the bicycle was in the passage and the woman was gone. I never even asked her name or said thank you. If I could track her down I wouldn’t know how to thank her! Somehow Damien had gotten a foot stuck in the front wheel, then the other foot in the back wheel- and then he landed on his face! Luckily Damien HAD been wearing his helmet. He badly grazed his cheek, got a hole in his forehead and got stitches in his lip… but I still get the shivers if I look at the state of his helmet (we kept it). He all but tore the ligaments in his ankle (still bugs him a bit in gymnastics) and he hurt his arms trying to catch himself- but other than that he was ok. The doctor booked him off for three days (this was just before school started) and I stayed home to nurse him, poor kid couldn’t walk or eat! But I don’t know what I would have done if that “crazy woman” hadn’t picked him up. Thank you stranger.
There Is Never An Excuse
One in three is not a statistic - one in three is a crying shame.