He was in a bad car crash and did some serious damage to both his legs. And that was itgone, just like that. The promising job where he was up for managing director and expected a hefty salary, the skiing holiday in the Alps with his wife, cosy weekends out with friendseverything.
His legs were pieced together as best they could and he was sent home. What else was there to do? Just hope for a bit of luck and pray, really. And thats what he did. At night, hed cry out in pain, getting by only because hed have injections morning and evening that let him snatch a bit of sleep.
For a couple of months, getting out of bed wasnt even possible; he had to use a bedpan, poor bloke. Thank goodness his wife stuck with him and helped him through. And when he finally tried to stand and inch about with a zimmer frame, the pain came back, ten times worse.
Have you ever had to have jabs in your belly to keep clots and bedsores at bay, because you cant move? Let me tell youits not just that sneezing or coughing hurts; the most ordinary things, like going to the loo, arent ordinary anymore. You need nerves of steel.
Even so, whose nerves would last through that? All your energy is just poured into coping. There’s nothing left.
But, with time, he picked up walking again, albeit badlytripping, almost tumbling at every other step. Still, a victory of sorts.
And his mates? They vanished. Not a call, not a text, nothing. At work, his spot was filled, including the managing directors seat. How long these trials would last, andmore importantlyhow they’d end, he had no idea.
You can guess, then, his spirits were scraping the floor. All he could see was himselfcrippled, with a threadbare future. Thank heavens his wife hadnt left.
The first time he made it out the front door, wife hovering watchfully with his crutches, the sunlight practically knocked him sideways. He nearly stopped breathing and, in a burst of emotion, just wept. There he wasa useless cripple, leaning on sticks. Was this all that was left of him?
His wife discreetly stepped aside, giving him a moment on his own. As he pushed himself to take a few steps (squinting against the sun, feeling that crisp spring breeze), a sharp little meow piped up from below. He glanced downand found a tiny grey kitten sat patiently by his left crutch.
What do you want? he asked, surprised.
Hed never been much for animals, not really noticing them before, and he hadnt a clue what to do. But the kitten just looked up with big pleading eyes and quietly asked for food.
Could you bring a bit of chicken over for him? he asked his wife.
She soon returned, and he took the treat from her, bending with caution, and offered it to the kitten, who accepted it with polite curiosity, eating away while never taking his eyes off the man with the crutches.
The next day, when he dragged himself outside again, groaning with each step he managed, there were now three cats. They must have been waiting ages.
Well, you lot dont mess about! he chuckled, his pain giving way for a second to something like delight.
His wife grumbled a bit, but brought out three pieces of chicken, which he divided amongst the cats, flinching each time he bent down.
On day three, there were five catsand two little terriers. His wife protested out loud, but he wasnt having it. He sent her down to the local corner shop to pick up a kilo of sausages, and gave a fair share to every wagging tail in the yard.
Afterwards, the cats and the tiny dogs dashed about, weaving around his crutches, dragging him into their silly little game. He yelled in frustration and laughter, but managed a few more steps, the dogs barking and yapping in delight.
The next day, it was drizzling and grey, and his wife seriously considered hiding his crutches, but he insisted, for the first time daring the stairs down by himself.
Theyre expecting me, he explained. I cant let them down. I owe them that much.
And so he went. Out in the rain, five cats and two terriers spun circles around him, and he couldnt help but grin. It was proper English spring weatherwarm rain, sweet airand there he was, chasing after two little dogs (who were loving every minute of it) with five cats bounding after them.
By the door, his wife stood under her umbrella, grinning as she watched her husband, who just months ago couldnt move, hobbling joyfully about with his furry crowd.
Time marched on. Before long, he was down to one crutch, then none at allthe crutches just got in the way of keeping up with his new friends. And, all of a sudden, he realised his legs hadnt hurt in ages.
Work never called him back. Nobody needs an ex-director who can barely walk. He got a decent redundancy pay-out, left on good terms, and found he finally had all the time in the world. He decided to write about everything that had happeneda proper account.
As it turned out, it came out as a play (and a hefty one, at that). He took the finished script round a few theatres (there are plenty in a city like Manchester), but nobody was interestedexcept for one tiny community theatre, half-underground.
A week later, the director rang and said, Lets do it. Well need to trim and tweak a few bits.
For a month, he and the director slogged over every page, arguing over lines with red faces and raised voices. A month later, opening night arrived.
The hall was nothing grandjust enough seats for fifteen, not even half fullyet to him, each audience member was priceless.
He was a nervous wreck, couldnt even look out at the crowd. At the end, curtain down, the hall went dead silent, and all the hope, all the energy seemed to drain right out of him. His heart, his spirit, everything just sank. The pause felt endlessbut in reality, it was only seconds before…
Thunderous clapping erupted! Out of nowhere, the applause exploded, the cast bowing again and again, smiling and beaming at the crowd.
The second show was packedpeople squeezed into the aisles and lining the corridors. The ovation was so fierce, the curtain nearly fell off its rail.
Soon, the company hired out a stage right in the city centre, where the theatre buffs would gather after every show to talk over the rising stars latest work.
He bought himself a proper sharp suit, and every time he took his bow, he led his wife out with him. There was no way he could do it otherwise.
And, you might ask, What about those two little dogs and the five cats from the yard? Well, he and his wife took in both terriers and two of the cats; the other three went to fans of his plays.
So, whats the story really about? Not much, maybe. Or maybe, its about this: how much it matters to look downand see hopeful, eager eyes at your feet, giving you a reason not to fall. You have to keep going, because they believe you can.
He Survived a Devastating Car Crash That Left Both Legs Seriously Injured—And That Was Only the Beginning…
