Forced to slow down, I’m struck by the gentle kindness of strangers

At the end of a week where two of my immediate family had been to hospital twice, I ended up in the emergency department myself, having been felled agonisingly on a gentle walk, my left knee suddenly refusing to bear weight or do anything other than radiate pain.

In an era where speed and greed seem to be the order of the day, it has been a heart-warming two weeks.Credit:Shutterstock

A few hours and a bunch of X-rays later and the mystery was solved, a pulled hammy – an injury more associated with AFL footballers than someone of my vintage.

In the fortnight since, I have sported a pair of crutches, and oh the joy of independence when I got them first and was able to get myself to the bathroom! Now I am down to one crutch, feeling quietly cocky, able to carry a mug of tea from the kitchen to my desk without mishap and well on the way back to full walking throttle.

In the interim, I have been cheered by reflecting on three things.

I have a renewed respect for the silent processes of my body that heal steadily and with no fuss. Into my seventh decade, everything still does what it should – inflammation eases, the muscles knit and strengthen, pain subsides.

There’s also been a degree of zen that comes with accepting that for a while, I can move only at the most glacial of paces. Normally I bluster and scurry around, trying to fit one more little chore in before I race to wherever it is I am going, obsessing over the steps I’ve worked up on my Fitbit. For the last two weeks, I have allowed ample time to get anywhere I need to go. I have enjoyed being the slowest person on the pavement. I have felt more patient with the stumblers.

Most of all, I have been struck by the gentle kindness of strangers – passers-by in the street or on the train. Staff in shops and on public transport who have been eager to help. The Indian man who gave me his seat twice in three days, who chatted to me about his cricket-induced hammy injuries and exited the carriage with a wink and a thumbs up. The two young guys at the pharmacy who watched anxiously as I made my awkward, painstaking way down a flight of steps, ready to spring into action if required and, when I got safely down, gave me a generous round of applause. In an era where speed and greed seem to be the order of the day, it has been a heart-warming two weeks.

Clare Boyd-Macrae is a Melbourne writer.

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