No Broken Bones Yet

I count myself lucky that I’ve never had any broken bones or been kept in hospital for a
long period of time. When I speak to people of a similar age, it’s unusual to find someone
who hasn’t had an operation, even a minor one, or broken a leg or an arm at some point.
I was into sports as a kid; football, rugby, a bit of tennis over the park. I even trained in
a karate class for a few years and fought in competitions. Of course, I had the odd scrape,
bruise and muscle strain. My right ankle is still weak from the many times I sprained it while
playing football.
The nearest I came to a long stay in hospital was because of road accidents. On my eighteenth
birthday I was speeding down to the local train station in my mum’s car to pick up my girlfriend.
My friend was behind me and we were having a race. Suddenly, a car pulled out in front of me
and I couldn’t stop in time. I crashed into the back of him, and my friend, Roger, very nearly
crashed into me.
I’ve been knocked off my bike twice. Once by an idiot who opened her car door without looking,
this resulted in me riding straight into it and flying over the handlebars. The other incident involved
an even bigger idiot who pulled out suddenly on his motorbike without looking and sent me flying
through the air. On both occasions I went to hospital, but with only minor cuts and scrapes. I was
sent home the same day.
Let’s hope I’m not tempting fate with these confessions. I know I’ve been lucky and the last thing
I want is for my luck to change for the worse.

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