Love thy neighbour – Who? Me??

Not a biblical theme, but a sad reflection on some of the good uncaring folk who inhabit our suburbs and the unexpected kindness of a cab driver…..

Today was “Walk to school” day at the littlest grandflea’s school. So, she scootered there, accompanied by her mother, the oldest flea. It’s quite a long walk, and on the way home my daughter rode the scooter to save time – and … she fell off, flat on her face, resulting in copious amounts of blood and a broken and torn nose. As she was on her hands and knees struggling to her feet, a woman from a nearby house drove past her and continued on her busy way. A bit further down the street, as she walked by trying to manage the scooter and staunch the bleeding which was profuse, a woman watering her garden called out “Good Morning” and continued watering.

A bit further on she turned into a busy main road, where almost immediately, a Silver Service cab pulled up and the cab driver jumped out and asked her if she needed any help. She was very grateful, but was nearly home, so thanked him and kept on walking. A visit to the local doctor, an emergency appointment with a plastic surgeon, reassurance by the nurse who told her she could expect to have two black eyes, and she was just in time to collect the littlest flea from school.

But, there are funny sides to most things. When she rang her husband to tell him what had happened, his response was very quick: “So they fell for that story did they?”

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4 responses to “Love thy neighbour – Who? Me??

  1. Cabbies — the good ‘uns are beyond value.
    Many, many years (ahem, several DECADES) ago my mother, severe winter ulceration of balls of feet, and pads of toes, was hobbling home after treatment (read – scraping!) of ulcers at local GP.
    Cabbie pulled up beside her, would not take ‘No, thank you’ for an answer, drove her home, helped her to the front door, and skedaddled before she could get any money to pay him.
    I still think of him, and thank him.

    Gae, in Callala Bay

    • Cheers for the cabbies – they can be worth their weight in gold. I was rescued by a cabbie too, when I was just a little tot – not even 5. I’d started school at a little private school in a country town. I think my mother may have been expecting my brother hence my early start as she didn’t keep good health. Anyway, Dad dropped me there early one morning on his way to work to save my mother taking me (she didn’t drive – but we didn’t have a private car anyway 🙂 ) There was not a soul there. I remember being very frightened and thinking it was really a school holiday and that I’d be there all day by myself. Of course I started to cry and tried to find my way home – a cab driver stopped and asked me if I was lost – now I’d been told to NEVER get in a car with a stranger and when he told me to get in the cab and he’d find my parents, I didn’t know what to do. I can still remember how conflicted I felt – my need to be “found” versus my fear of a stranger. In the end my need outweighed my fear and he took to the local police station where the police recognised me (my father was a Fisheries Inspector) and rang Dad. So all hail to the cabbies.

  2. As you know, I fell over in the street a few weeks ago. About 6 complete strangers came to my aid, phoned for an ambulance, and stayed with me even helping the paramedics get me into the ambulance on some sort of hammock contraption. People couldn’t have been kinder. So don’t give up hope. There ARE some great people out there – they didn’t happen to be in the vicinity of your daughter when she needed help, unfortunately.

    • You had a great experience, Sally, with the better side of human nature. It may have helped that you were in a busy public place. I imagine people in a quiet suburban cul-de-sac (there are little lanes linking streets together in that area and my daughter had come into the cul-de-sac from one) faced with a strange woman with blood all over her shirt and bleeding profusely from the head, may have been a bit worried about their own safety and didn’t want to get involved. It still doesn’t excuse them in my book – I’d feel the same way if I’d heard the story and it involved a stranger rather than my daughter.

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