The Man No One Could Help

Seldom seen in this whole darn blog: a shot of us together. In just under 300 posts, 
Bruce and I show up in four. This one, this one, this one and this one.

Shortly after 1 p.m. on Tuesday this past week, I looked through the glass walls of my new office and saw, just outside my door, a member of my new team, his clothes spattered in blood, his face badly injured. He was surrounded by other members of my new team.

Deeply confused about how someone with a government desk job could end up this way, I went to go see what was going on.

The wounded man was already being hurried out the door to go to the hospital. He tossed over his shoulder the quick explanation that he had tripped and fallen while on his lunchtime run. Apparently his only option had been to break his fall with his face.

Seven stitches and two days later, I got the full story:

My team member, let's call him Hank, was running along the sidewalk near Christie Pits and Bloor when his right foot landed half on and half off the edge of a small flower bed. Hank lost his balance, tipped awkwardly, was still trying to figure out how to break his fall with his hands when his face hit the pavement.

He banged himself up pretty good. There was one person close by who helped him up and gave him a tissue to put over the gash on his face. The helpful stranger asked if there was anything else he could do for Hank, but Hank said no thanks.

Hank was four kilometres away from the office. He had nothing with him: no money, no ID, no health card.

He stopped at a cafe and asked if he could use the washroom to wash his face. They let him do that and gave him a wet cloth to cover the grandly bleeding cut on his cheekbone. They offered more help. Hank again said no. 

Hank walked east on Bloor Street, kind strangers stopping him frequently to see if they could help, all of which offers he rebuffed until he got to the corner of Bloor and Bathurst. 

There he was accosted by a middle-aged woman who demanded to know what had happened to him and insisted she help him.

She explained why. She had been having a bad day herself. She'd been riding her bike on Bloor Street when she got into a disagreement with a man in a car. The man stopped his car, got out, pulled the woman off of her bike, threw her bike under the wheels of his car and drove over it. Then he drove away.

There were many witnesses. Police were called. She'd just finished up talking with them when she came upon Hank.

She said, "you have to let me help you."

She took him to a cash machine and withdrew $60. She gave him the money and put him in a cab. She did not tell him her name so he can't pay her back.

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That "new team" I mentioned is the nice group of folks in the Strategic Policy Branch at the Ministry of the Environment and Climate Change. I'm the Director.

That's my new job. I started on the first of May. So stay tuned for more fun and adventure on the Yessir Yessir Highway, Strategic Policy Edition.

Thanks for reading!

Happy Victoria Day!

Karen