Smart choice

Earlier this week, I forgot my bike helmet when I left the hospital. There I stood outside the hospital, looking at my bike, trying to decide whether I should go back upstairs to get my helmet or just bike home without it. I was tired and really, really wanted to just go home. But I turned around and went upstairs to get my helmet.

On the elevator ride back down, the elevator stopped at the surgery floor. A man about my age limped inside the elevator. He had a black eye, his mouth was swollen on one side, and he was leaning on a single crutch. He looked down at my helmet and said, "Smart choice. A car hit me a month ago. They had to take out two feet of my small intestine, and I banged my head pretty good."

"Were you wearing a helmet?" I asked, a stupid question because I already knew the answer.

"No."

The elevator doors opened to the ground floor. I thanked the man for sharing with me and wished him a speedy recovery. Then I walked away on two good legs, carrying an atraumatic head on my shoulders, thankful that I decided to go back upstairs for my helmet.