Sometimes (read often) even those of us who are fiercely independent need help. I won’t even say “want” help, but definitely “need” help. If we’re not in the habit of asking for it, it can be hard. Really hard. And really humbling.

Sometimes having FUN whilst exercising backfires. Really badly! So this was me 4 years ago today. The “roadkill” photo as someone described it. It just taken my footbike 50 km around Brisbane in the Great Brisbane Bike Ride – that’s kicking on an adult scooter; no pedals, no gears, no seat – and I was a tad tired. I was probably last out of hundreds of riders and I kicked along the final straight by the Brisbane River at West End, having circumnavigated Brisbane including going over the Gateway Bridge, I happened to notice a couple of paramedics in the queue for coffee. They deserved it. They had been driving the route too and had passed me a couple of times. Little did I know that just a few seconds later I would NEED their help.

As I approached the finish line I spotted 2 other kickers there waiting for me. One held up her hand to give me a “hi 5”. Without wanting to kick too close to the crowd, I over-stretched to try and connect with her and promptly went over the handle bars!

I was in complete pain. I knew my arm was seriously damaged. When the earliest first aider got to me and wanted to roll me over into the “recovery position” I couldn’t do it. My arm just dangled out of control like a piece of meat hanging the butcher. The pain went through my whole body. I knew my back was OK and said I just wanted to lay with my face down into the road so gravity supported my arm. I sanctioned photos and requested being left still till the ambos arrived. I hope they brought their coffee with them but I honestly don’t remember this detail.

So, from this moment and for the next 4 months to a greater of lesser extent I needed help. I didn’t want it but I couldn’t function without it. I couldn’t wash myself, I couldn’t open a tin of tuna to feed myself and I certainly couldn’t drive my teenager to school. My then husband of 25 years (at the time), after the first few days, fled to London to support his ailing mother and I was left to be supported by my dear friends. All those people who I’d previously helped and made birthday cakes for, without ever expecting anything in return… they came to my rescue. But they weren’t always mind-readers – I had to share my needs and sometimes my requests were more odd than others. Grocery shopping and being taken to the supermarket and physio were fairly obvious, but going to Spotlight to get sequin motives to sew on my slings wasn’t on their agenda without me asking!

I will be forever grateful to these special friends. They came out of the woodwork and did amazing things from bringing meals and cleaning my bathrooms to giving me pedicures. They know who they are…

For those who want the technical explanation of my injury – a “3 part fracture proximal humerus” resulting in a plate and 9 pins being inserted in my arm 4 days later. Basically I broke the ball (that goes in the socket) off the top of my arm.

Sometimes in business we don’t “want” help but we really “need” it. Don’t be afraid to ask. You will feel better for it. Remember that old saying “a problem shared is a problem halved”…