Count your blessings

My best friend’s mum fell into a hole last weekend which landed her in the A&E department when her entire leg swelled up. Feeling sorry for her mum, my friend massaged her leg to help reduce the swell.

Her mum, ever the stoic lady, said, “If you think this is bad, let me tell you what happened to Ah Soh, the lady who lives downstairs.”

Last weekend, Ah Soh went for a picnic at West Coast Park with her grandchildren. She tripped and fell so badly, most of her front teeth were knocked out leaving her with a mouth full of blood. That was some bloody picnic. Poor Ah Soh!

My friend’s mum is in a way relieved that her injury wasn’t quite as bad as Ah Soh’s. Of course by now I should keep very quiet about my injured toe but still I must tell you this story about my friend’s toes.

When he saw me with a bandaged toe, he told me about how he injured his, long ago. He was riding his bike to the barbers, carrying his cousin on the metal frame before him. They were going downhill, he tried to slow down but discovered the brakes were not working. A wall was looming ahead of them! In a state of panic, he used both feet to slow down. Boom! They crashed and he landed on his poor cousin who ended up dazed, and with 3 little stones stuck to the forehead. My friend’s shoes were totally worn out exposing 10 bloody toes!

We were both roaring with laughter when he finished his story. I know, I have learned to count my blessings.