He was in a terrible car accident that left both of his legs badly injured. And just like that everything ended.
A promising business career, where he was on the verge of becoming Managing Director with a handsome salary. A skiing holiday in the Lake District with his wife. Regular get-togethers with friends on weekends. All of it vanished.
His legs were pieced together as best as the surgeons could manage, then he was sent home. What else could they do? All that was left was to depend on God and a bit of luck. He did hope, but each night he would scream from the pain. Only injections, given twice a day in the morning and evening, brought him the tiny mercy of sleep.
For months he couldnt get up from bed, so the bedpan became a daily reality. God bless his wife for her patience and care. When he finally started to stand and hobble on a zimmer frame, the pain became nearly unbearable, ten times worse than before.
You may not know what injections in the belly are like, to prevent clots and bedsores, when youre forced to lie still for so long. Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell youevery movement is agony. You cant sneeze, you cant cough, norpardon mego to the loo like you used to. It takes nerves of steel.
But nerves? By that point he had none, and no strength left to endure it all.
Still, time moved on, and bit by bit he managed to walk again. Slowly, stumbling, nearly falling with every step. Yet, it was progress, and progress is hope.
His friends faded awaythey stopped calling, stopped asking after him. At work, they filled his management spot with a new face. How long would this trial last? How would it end? No one could say.
To put it bluntly, my spirits were in tatters. The future looked bleak, shadowed by disability. Thank goodness my wife never gave up on me.
The first time I went outside, leaning heavily on crutches with my wife close by, the sunlight hit my eyes so unexpectedly that it took my breath away. I burst into tears. A useless invalid on crutches; was that really all that was left of the person I used to be?
My wife stepped back to give me a moment alone. I tried to take a few awkward steps, wincing against the bright day and easing myself into the soft spring breeze.
From somewhere near my foot, there was a firm meow. I looked down. By my left crutch sat a little grey kitten.
What do you want? I asked.
For years, I hadnt given animals a second thought, and I had no idea how to interact with them now. The kitten looked up at me and gave a plaintive little cry for food.
Could you bring out a bit of meat for him? I asked my wife.
When she returned, I took the treat and, leaning down carefully, offered it to the kitten. He looked right at meold man and crutchesand began to eat.
The following morning, when we made our way out again, I found three cats waiting in the same spot. Clearly, theyd been there for a while.
Well, you lot dont waste any time, I chuckled.
For a brief moment, the pain loosened its grip. My wife grumbled, but still fetched three bits of meat for them, and I doled out a portion for each, even though every bend sent a jolt through my legs.
The next day, we found five cats and two little dogs waiting for us. My wife protested, quite loudly, but I insisted she pop into the local shop and buy a kilo of sausages, which I divided evenly among the furry lot.
After their snack, they darted around me, wagging and yapping, practically dragging me into their game. I grumbled and laughed at the same time, forcing myself to take a few more steps, while the dogs cheered me on with happy barks.
When it rained the following morning, my wifes patience wore thin, and she threatened to take away my crutches. Still, I was stubborn. I made my way downstairs, on my own for the first time in months.
They’re waiting for me, I told her. How could I not come? I have a duty.
And so, I went. Five cats and two little dogs danced circles around me in the gentle warm rain. Even as I shuffled along, held up only by hope and crutches, they brought me a kind of happiness Id thought was lost for good. My wife stood near the doorway, umbrella in hand, smiling as she watched me move about the rain-drenched courtyard.
Time kept moving. After a while, I was down to one crutch, then none at all. Crutches were useless when I was chasing after my tail-wagging, tail-flicking friends. It dawned on me thenmy legs hadnt ached for ages.
Work never called me back. They didnt need a limping manager. I received a generous severance package in pounds sterling and resigned on my own terms. With time now in abundance, I decided to write about everything Id been through.
Somehow, my scribbling became a playquite a substantial one, in the end. When the last page was done, I took it around to the various theatres in townLondon has quite a few. But everywhere, I was met with polite refusals. No calls back, no interestexcept one from a tiny community theatre in a half-basement not far from our home.
A week later, the director rang:
Well put it on, he said, but itll need trimming, and some rewriting.
We spent a month working side by sidetempers flaring, arguing every line. Finally, the premiere night came.
The little hall was barely half-fullmaybe fifteen in the audience. But for me, those fifteen were the most important people in the world.
I was so nervous, terrified really. After the last lines were spoken and the curtain fell, a heavy hush settled over the hall, and my heart nearly died. The silence felt endless, but in truth, it was just a few seconds before
Thunderous applause shattered the stillness! The actors beamed and bowed until they were called for another encore.
The second showing played to a packed house. People stood in the aisles and the corridor. The ovations were so wild, the old curtain looked ready to give in.
Soon, our company hired the citys central hall, and soon it was filled with Londons theatre-goers, eager to debate the latest production from its rising star.
I treated myself to a very handsome suit, and for every bow, I took the stage with my wife. How could it be any other way? Without her, none of this would have happened.
You might ask, ladies and gentlemenwhat became of those two dogs and the five cats from our courtyard? Well, we adopted the two dogs and two of the cats. The other three found new homes with admirers from the theatre.
What is this story about? Perhaps nothing. Or perhaps, its about how, if you see hope reflected in the eyes at your feet, you can no longer fall. You must stand.
