My brief claim to the Paralympics

When I was 6yrs old I decided to rush across the street to read my new comic. I was hit by a car. Fortunately as this was the 1970’s, the car was rubbish and I managed only to break my leg/ankle whilst flying across the road.
Months later after having my leg broken again whilst in hospital I was sent home and told I probably wouldn’t walk. They gave me a huge wheelchair that weighed approximately 4 metric tonnes.
Now, being in hospital meant that I had 1-1 tuition for the best part of a year. Also, being in traction meant I couldn’t run across any roads or climb any tree’s. Instead, I learned to love reading. I was discharged smarter but couldn’t walk.
For the best part of a year I was in a wheelchair. I didn’t feel any different, I still had the same sense of humour, liked the same music and still refused to clean my teeth as any British child does.
However, people assumed I was some kind of imbecile. I was given sweets by old ladies, who would say ‘ahh’ or totally ignored by adults.
I did try to do stunts in my wheelchair, such as the bob-sleigh or bunny-hops (which nearly killed me).
Fortunately my dad got me walking again despite the pain it caused me and the sheer exhaustion I experienced.
I soon abandoned the chair and limped about. Soon, the limp disappeared. I have some amazing scars on my leg/ankle and a gruesome bit of muscle that hangs out of where my tib/fibula knotted.
I’ve been a pretty fit person ever since, I’ve done cross-fit, Olympic weightlifting and martial arts.
Just think, if my old man hadn’t pushed me I could have been one of those Paralympians.