I never got to see those kids. I never got to see the ambulance driver. I never got to see the doctor in Humansdorp. I never got to see anyone that afternoon, all I got to see was the point I focused on directly above me. I regret that, I wish I knew who they were, I need to thank them.
In hindsight stopping to pick those kids up was a master stroke, I was starting to panic. Fear of what was coming was starting to take over. Those kids sitting next to me brought things back into perspective. I assume they were young, the age of my boys, they were inquisitive and calm we chatted about what had happened, they asked why I had a big hole in my forehead. Really!!! a big hole in my forehead, Jesus no one had mentioned that before.
Everything was so calm and civilized, was this an African thing, did African kids take blood and gore as just another part of any normal day or was this just a normal day for these kids who had an ambulance driver for a dad ? My mind was working again I had stopped obsessing on the pain and the fear it was almost good, almost. Kids seem to bring things into perspective.
After we had dropped them off, it was only a few minutes more and I was being pushed through the doors of the hospital. I am not a religious person everyone who knows me knows that but when I heard the sound of those horrid swing doors swing open as my stretcher banged into them, I closed my eyes and silently said a little prayer.