My end-of-year task for yesterday was a visit the local police station. Ticking off another box on the road to recovery – picking up the remains of my bicycle post-accident (in September). A quick once-over suggested that, unlike me, the bike had not benefitted from the skills of the highly talented surgical team. Sitting in the police lock-up for the last few months, it remained a sad 'snapshot' of the few seconds that changed the course of 2017 for me and the family. As the bike emerged from storage, our little party, me, my wife Ruth and the jolly female officer, reviewed the wreckage silently. I caught the officer staring at my face – you could tell she was looking for something to say. People do that a lot these days. Illogically (as I know what they can see), I wonder whether they are looking below the skin for the plates and screws holding my face together. More likely she was considering the Frankenstein-like zip across the top of my head, the now vacant eye and or the oddly misshapen eye socket. It's like I need to give permission for the conversation to continue, so I catch her eye and give her biggest genuine smile I can muster. "I'm alive" I say, and smile again. We all laugh (slightly nervously) and the tension is broken. She turns to my wife and says "It must have been awful for you." We all laugh again. "She kept me alive" I said. and it reminds me that there are debts to pay. On occasions like this the term gratitude feels understated – I am indebted to a host of people who, before September 26th 2017, I hadn't met. Perhaps it is the euphoria you feel post near-death experiences, you often feel the universe provides y0ou with opportunities to give something back.

Looking the officer in the eye: "I have to say that your guys were brilliant.“ As often happens following traum, a simple trigger and you find yourself whished back to relieve your experiences. Immediately after the accident, I was trying to get up off the floor – it’s almost primeval, part of your animal brain, as though getting up will prove to you that everything is alright (despite all evidence to the contrary).  All I could see was blood. As I was helped to the side of the road my face started to swell. The blood, no longer able to to escape through my nose, mouth (or eyes) started to go down my throat. I began to choke on my own blood. Panic sets in when breathing becomes an issue – and that is not a great survival trait. Flick, and you are back to the conversation. It can be disorientating, you don’t know how long you have been standing, speechless. I find myself gabbling to cover any awkward silence. “Your blokes were on the scene in what seemed a few brief minutes. Whether or not he realised that I was struggling, he held me. “Stay with me mate,” he kept repeating. It would have been easy to drift off – the pain was overwhelming, the struggle to breathe and not panic was using the little bit life I had left in me. He continued to hold me, implore me to stick with it, giving me that human contact, that in-your-face reason to live. He didn't leave me until I was handed over safely to the hospital staff in A&E. What a great guy." All true – a great guy.

The officer asked if I knew the attending officer’s name. I said I didn't but I would be really grateful if she could look him up and give him my heartfelt thanks (and that of my family). Another box I hope to tick as time and healing progresses. We all smiled again and she said "You seem to have a very positive attitude about the accident." I answered "You have to. I owe so much to so many people who worked so hard. If it wasn't for them, I just wouldn't be here and my family would be facing Christmas without me. As it is, I am happy to be alive." An understatement.

So, healing continues – both physically and mentally. Previous counselling for post-traumatic stress certainly helps – I would advise it for anyone planning to have an accident anytime soon. Thanks to that I presume it is easier to find the positives and consider lessons learned. As we rush through life, we are so caught up in our day-to-day concerns that we forget to see the individual acts of kindness and heroism performed by those around us. The challenges of our everyday lives leave us focusing on ourselves, our desires and our fears. But we are simply cogs in the wheel of life, we should value ourselves not by what we can grab (you can’t take it with you) but what you can give (you can be remembered fondly). I solicit you not to miss the little acts of magic, not to waste a second. I think it is best summed up by the character 'The Ancient One' played by Tilda Swinton in the recent Doctor Strange movie (that I enjoyed watching with my sons before the accident). She says "Arrogance and fear still keep you from learning the simplest and most significant lesson of all," she tells Strange. "It's not about you." And that is what I have found, perhaps my acts of thanking people have released me, in some small way, from the many twenty-first century distractions that end up making our lives a misery. I am humbled and grateful for the gift of life. I don't know how long the feeling will last but life is a rush – enjoy it!