Accidents Happen!

It was the first day of our autumn vacation in Germany. The twenty-eighth of september 1970. A Monday. The sun was shining, there wasn't a single cloud to be seen in the sky and the air smelled of freshly fallen leaves. The trees shone in their autumnal colors: brown, golden, red, green. A sea of colors as one could only wish for a golden autumn day. My father had taken an extra day off to take us, my sister and me, to the city forest and let the kite fly there. My mother wasn't exactly thrilled about it, but when she saw how happy we were, she just said that she wished us a nice day.

That the day would end with a horrible accident for me was still in the stars at this point in time.

It was already quite fresh outside and so we wore our new anoraks and both of us had a scarf wrapped around our necks. Gloves weren't necessary, because we wouldn't have been able to hold the leash of the kite with them either. We drove through the city in my father's company car and couldn't wait to get to the forest and the large meadow where everyone was always flying their kites. The drive took about thirty minutes, and we had a parking space right away. We all got out and my father took the kite and led us through the forest to this huge meadow area. The German youth games were also always carried out here. There was a light wind and we started the first attempts. It was a bit difficult to get the thing in the air, but after a few tries it worked. The kite, a red kite with a black tail, waved over our heads. Further up on the meadow there were other children with their parents who also let their kites fly. We could see all sorts of things, but the biggest kite was a huge mickey mouse, and at its end dangled a little boy. His father helped him to keep the kite in the air.

Our kite had been standing in the wind for quite a long time when suddenly a gust of wind blew our kite into a tree.

Well, that wasn't really a big problem for me. I climbed around on trees every day and so I swung myself onto the first branch, the second and higher and higher to get the kite out of the branches. I was about 10 meters high when I stepped on a rotten branch. It cracked and the branch broke off under me. I was so scared that I let go of the branch I was holding on to. I fell head over heels into the depths. My father jumped forward but wasn't fast enough to catch me. Somehow, I turned in the air to avoid hitting my headfirst. Everything happened so fast that to this day I don't know how I hit the little bush below. But I can still remember exactly how I heard it crack loudly twice in my body. At that point we had no idea what was coming up for me and my whole family. I didn't feel any pain, but somehow, I couldn't move either. My father asked me if I could move my toes, which I did, and it worked. He carried me carefully to the nearest bank and ran towards the parking lot to get the car. My sister stayed next to me and held my hand. Then I saw my father's car. He picked me up carefully, put me on the back seat and raced with me to his private doctor.

Until now everything was still in the fine... but with my father's private doctor the suffering really started. The arrogance of the so-called white coats became now visible.

My father's private doctor had no time for a patient who had an accident!

He just left me lying there, but not in his practice, no, he sent me home! I should come back 6 hours later.

So, I lay at home, didn't move much, and hoped that things wouldn't get so bad. Six hours later my father picked me up again, put me in the car and took me to his private doctor.

I had trouble walking but made the best of it. I kept myself as stiff as possible. I was only ten years old. The private doctor looked at me briefly, turned to my father, handed him a referral to the x-ray practice and disappeared again with his blowing white coat he was so proud of. What an arrogant asshole.

My father led me carefully across the street to the x-ray practice. When I got there, my father was asked what had happened. He explained that I had an accident, six hours ago and that the doctor now sent us for an x-ray. Then everything happened very, very quickly. The head of the practice stormed out of his treatment room, laid me carefully on a stretcher and rolled me into the x-ray room. The recordings were made immediately, and the result was terrible.

I broke my spine in two different places. Aha, that was the crack what I had heard when I hit the ground. The x-ray doctor already had the phone in his hand and spoke quickly to the hospital. He told my father that all the doctors are on the alert and are waiting for me. Then he picked up the phone again and called my father's private doctor. I will never forget this call. He yelled into the receiver and told his colleague that he would personally ensure that he would lose his license to practice medicine.

Not to treat a child after an accident, but to leave it there for 6 hours with a broken spine, which can lead to possible paraplegia, that was outrageous. I don't know what else he was shouting into the receiver, because the next time when I was able to really perceive everything around me was when I was lying in a special bed in the hospital and the doctor treating me was crying by my bed.

It was his last day as a resident doctor in this clinic. He took over the position of chief physician in a children's hospital. I asked him if I would ever be able to walk again and he told me that the next eight to ten days would be crucial. He did not know. His eyes, green blue, looked at me sadly. His look was so magical despite the tears, or maybe because of the tears, I couldn't take my eyes off his. It was as if he gave me his soul. I had the feeling as if my back was glowing. It was just a short moment that changed my life.

I only had one thought: I can do it and will leave this hospital on my own two feet. No matter what I would have to do for it. I promised him that I would make it and when I was fit on two legs again, I would let him know. It was a long way with a lot of pain, but my will was stronger. I managed. After four months I left the clinic on crutches and after another two years I was as fit as a fiddle again. I sent a message to the doctor to whom I had promised that I would be able to walk again. His joy was enormous.

My father's private doctor had closed his practice and his license to practice medicine was revoked.

Of course, I’ve been suffering from back pain and severe migraines since the accident, but I can walk. Just the thought of being in a wheelchair for the rest of my life gave me strengths I never thought would be possible. I was only ten years old, but I wanted to be able to walk again.

I can still see those eyes of the doctor in front of me today. I wouldn't have made it without those eyes. I reached my goal. I reached our goal.