You're my hero

I was walking down the road. A man came off his motorbike turning the corner before me, and slid across the tarmac.

I've always asked myself, 'What would you do? Are you the kind of person who would jump right in there, cape billowing at your shoulders, a red S stitched across your chest? Or would you just stand there, helpless, struck dumb?

I stood there.

For a few seconds, I watched other people, better people, run over to him.

The road was puddled with purple oil, and it terrified me. It made me think of blood.

When I made it over, the better people were already asking the right questions:

'Are you okay? Can you move? Should I call an ambulance?'

The better people helped him up, and held him up.

What did I do? I took his helmet and gloves off the road, and put them on the wall. And then I too, desiring to be one of these better people, resenting my slowness, furious that I had fallen victim to a paralysing shock, attempted to be a better person. I peeled his jacket off, not very effectively though, my hands were shaking.

Under the jacket, his left arm had begun to swell and bruise. He didn't want an ambulance. He wanted to call his girlfriend and say, 'I've come off my bike, but I'm okay.' Because in his near-death, he was suddenly very alive. He wanted his own voice to reinstate him as very much here, a boyfriend, a father, survived.

The other people left. I said I'd wait with him. I don't know what we were waiting for. We watched his arm. It grew worse with every minute, black from his wrist to his elbow, angry. His ribs were suffering too. He asked me what I thought. Are you supposed to lie? Maybe yet again, a better person would've said, 'It will be fine.' I said:

'God, it looks awful, horrendous. We need to get you to the hospital.'

When Ginger Beard arrived, he helped move the bike out of the road. The man wouldn't accept a lift. We weren't far from the hospital and he wanted to walk.

I didn't blame him. I bet everything looked instantly incredible. I bet he wanted to be with his working legs, his working brain.I bet he wanted to call everyone and announce himself as a small miracle.

Mostly, we find ourselves saying, 'It could've been worse', about everything we face. And it could have. Luckily there wasn't a car to collide with, lucky the bike didn't end up on top of him. Lucky, lucky, lucky. Probably just a broken arm and a second chance.

Other than making me realise that my reactions to emergencies are somewhat lacking, it also inevitably fills you with a 'live for the moment' whim, a kind of appreciation.

So take it, do something you wouldn't normally do. Don't take it all for granted. Try harder. We all need reminding that it's short, and it's special, so make something of yourself now.