While visiting family in Alberta this past month, I took a Sunday drive and realized I was heading down the exact road where I took my first flying lesson. My lesson was an unusual one, as it occurred while I was riding my bicycle.  Nearing the location, I found myself  scanning the area and feeling a flash of the past. My thoughts returned to that June summer evening long ago…

At the young, invincible age of 14, my sister and I were pedaling our bikes for a long ride out-of-town. I was halfway across the road when a city bus’s enormous front window suddenly appeared and sent me sailing into the air. My brief flight ended with me shredding the skin on my knees, elbows and chin. My jean cut-offs offered no protection and I found myself lying in the road covered in blood.

Shortly after lying there on the pavement, I saw a lady step out of a white limo and rush over to me.  She spoke softly and instructed me to remain lying there and not to move.  I wondered if she was an angel, as white limos were rare in Edmonton.  Next came the fire department and paramedics. After further examination there was not only road rash, but a gaping hole in my ankle. Immediately the fireman put on an inflatable boot and blew up the sides to apply pressure to the injured ankle. That boot took away so much of the pain where the pedal had carved out a hole in my ankle, I never wanted to take it off!

Upon arrival at the hospital, I had to have my shorts removed. (Many of us grew up with the generation of mothers who always told us to be sure you had clean underwear on everyday. As I sat there in my underwear, I was glad I had listened to my mother that day!) After that embarrassment, I had to endure the torture of gravel being dug out of my body and my open wounds being cleansed with what felt like burning liquid. Shockingly, the x-rays revealed no broken bones.  However, due to the severity of the mangled ankle, my last stop was in the casting room.

Finally, I was able to go home.  Weeks went by and I was slowly healing, then one morning I awoke to find my toes looking really strange and the pain in my casted leg intense. A quick trip to the hospital and the doctor immediately cut the cast open. A horrific smell enveloped the room, so bad that I wanted to gag.  After swab results from the lab, the diagnosis was gangrene.  A new word I had never heard of and one associated with amputation. My summer immediately took on a more serious tone.

…To make a long story short, I kept my whole leg and gained an immense sense of gratitude! I will be forever thankful for the tender-hearted folks who helped me from the moment I kissed the pavement to the day I walked again. Especially to those faithful souls who prayed on my behalf when I didn’t really believe in prayer.  I now believe in miracles. I will always feel indebted to the wonderful community who stepped up and showered me with their love.

Fast forward many years to the present, I have learned that life is full of unexpected bumps and bruises that can sometimes take our legs out from under us. But one thing I know for sure – we are never alone in life. There are more who are with us than we can ever imagine. I have witnessed this time and time again, in my life, as well as in others’ lives. This world is full of compassionate people who step up to offer comfort and provide support in a myriad of ways. Their example has been there all along forming me into the person I am today.  Life is good!