Two weeks

The year was 1972 and it was another hot, dry and dusty January (Clunes is situated on the dry side of the Great Dividing Range in Victoria), the wind blows pretty constantly over the heat-baked plains as it approaches the hills of the Great Divide so anyway to escape the heat was a plus. 

Fortunately the town had a small but well used swimming pool and during our pre-work years spent almost every summer’s day at the pool, from the moment it opened at 10:00 am until it closed at 6:00 pm.   My younger brother James and I almost lived at the pool each summer, and as you can imagine were as brown as coconuts (no sunscreen in those days!).   

One Saturday instead of going to the pool using my usual route down Ligar Street, fate intervened and for reasons that is completely lost on me now I decided to go to the pool via a rather circuitous route – down the primary school hill.  

The school hill as it looks today, looking toward the pool
- it doesn't look as steep as it did back in 72'!  :-)

In those days the primary school hill was still in use, at the bottom of the hill it joined with the main road to Campbelltown which ran toward the town’s main street.   The pool entrance was less that 50 yards from where the school hill joined the Campbelltown road, with a very sharp right hand turn into the pool entrance.   Hiding the entrance from view was a tall hedge, which ran along the entire length of the house in front of the entrance.

I remember pausing briefly at the top of school hill before I took off down toward the pool gathering all the speed I could muster. Approached the Campbelltown road junction I quickly checked for traffic – both ways were clear so I continued pedaling hard toward the sharp turn into the pool.  Eyewitnesses say I careened across the road, taking the corner on the wrong side of the road so as to make the turn without slowing down.

My next memory is waking in hospital…my mum sitting beside my bed her eyes red and puffy from crying, now looking back I’m not sure if they were tears of joy or anger?.   I didn’t really know what was going on, but soon realized that every part of my body hurt, especially my face and as I felt gingerly ran my tongue around my mouth I noted with some concern that I had broken my front teeth.   The left tooth was broken diagonally from root to tip, the right broken almost at the gum-line.   My nose had been bleeding profusely (noted by the deep red blood stain on the hospital sheets and t-shirt), and frankly I was a mess.   Fortunately no broken bones other than my nose which would heal with a bump, my poor nose was going to be broken a number of subsequent times playing football – but that’s another story ☺   

Here’s what was pieced together after the accident, apparently after barely making the corner; I ploughed head-on into an oncoming Ford ute (pick up truck for those of you in North America) that was exiting the pool grounds, I was unable to see around the corner until it was too late.  My face plant on the front bonnet of the ute was a classic and it left an enormous dint, before rolling straight over the cabin into the back of the ute.   

The quick thinking local, instead of stopping to check to see if I was still breathing backed up, threw my bike in the back with me and drove directly to the town hospital where he kindly deposited me.  The hospital staff notified the local police (we didn’t have a telephone) who then came to the house and told my mum.   

Mum was as mad as hell!   Not one to hold back, she tore into me right then and there in the hospital “what the bloody hell do you think you were doing?”   Clearly I was lucky to survive relatively unscathed but now thoroughly embarrassed by mum's tirade in front of the nurse tending me..ouch! 

Lake Learmonth as it looks today

The very next weekend, my elder brother Gary his wife Lynne and two boys were up visiting us from Melbourne, and it was decided that we would go for a picnic lunch on the Sunday at a local lake (Lake Learmonth) before they headed back to Melbourne.  My sister Glenda, her husband Max and young son Clinton were going to be there, as well as my mum, dad and my younger brother James.   

Shortly after lunch we decided to go for a swim in the lake.  The water was cool, but the lake had a muddy bottom so it was pretty murky, still in this heat it was a godsend!

I was splashing around with the other kids in about thigh deep water when I suddenly felt a sharp pain on my left foot.  I lifted my foot high to take a look and noticed that I had a cut on the top of my foot…hhhmmm that’s strange I thought to myself.  As I placed my foot back into the water a large red blood cloud appeared almost immediately, so I lifted my foot to take another look and to my horror notice that blood was now pouring from the open wound.   I yelled for help and dad quickly waded into the water to retrieve me.   He snatched me up in one quick movement and splashed toward the bank, yelling for all of the kids to get out of the water. 

My mum and sister quickly wrapped my foot in towels to try and stem the bleeding but to little avail, clearly I needed help and I needed it fast.  Without any conversation, dad grabbed me and placed me in the back of the car, my sister who was a trained radiographer sat with me.  The closest main hospital (Ballarat Base) was almost 13 miles away.   

In those days we had a 1959 FC Holden sedan which had a top speed of about 50 miles an hour before it shuddered itself almost off the road.   I remember I kept saying sorry to dad for ruining the picnic, but he didn’t say much.  Clearly worried he drove like a man possessed, my sister holding my hand and reassuring me that everything would be okay, but even I could see that this was not good, especially as there was a large pool of blood dripping from the drenched towels and now pooling on the floor of the car.   I felt the panic starting to rise in my throat and chest as we drove, it felt like an eternity…shock setting in I guess.

Dad drove straight into the emergency roundabout, screeching to a halt before lifting me from the car, the hospital orderly standing nearby ran to help and I was whisked into emergency room and quickly surrounded by doctors and nurses to try and stem my bleeding foot.

1959 FC Holden Sedan - same colors as our old car

That afternoon they put 36 stitches into my foot and I eventually hobbled out of the hospital on crutches many hours later into the hot summer night air.

I was unable to sleep that night because of the excruciating pain in my foot…   My sister who worked at a nearby hospital sensed something was awry and the next morning went into the hospital to review my x-rays.   As soon as she saw the x-ray she realized what was wrong - the doctors had missed a large sliver of glass inside the wound.   I was quickly summoned back to the hospital and they operated to remove the sliver.   I had stepped onto a broken beer bottle - based on the color of the glass they removed.

To this day I live with the legacy of those two weeks in late January 1972.   The four small toes on my left foot, and the inside of my calf from my ankle to my knee are completely without feeling where the nerves were severed in my foot after stepping on the broken bottle.   My teeth have now been fixed permanently and my nose still has a bump…did I hear you say traumatic for a 12 year old?    

I must have looked like I’d been to hell and back in the weeks following – two broken teeth, my face still black and blue from the bike accident and the piece-de-resistance…crutches to support my slowly healing foot.  I endured six long weeks of crutches but the worst of it was not being able to go to the pool for the remainder of the summer…crap!