Everyone feared she was brain damaged

THEY say a fool learns by his own mistakes, but a wise man learns by the mistakes of others.

A nice idea, but nonsense, of course. No one learns by the mistakes of others. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having Iraq; we probably wouldn’t have had World War I and we certainly wouldn’t have had World War II.

And probably my daughter’s face would look different.

It’s what happens when you try to force your head through the windscreen of a car.

There was a bad moment there last Saturday morning when everyone feared she was brain damaged.

I’m sure the doctors wanted to add: “Assuming she wasn’t already.”

Which is a good point.

No seatbelt; too much booze. She wasn’t driving. She gave the keys to someone else. Unfortunately he was pissed, too.

One tree later she was left with the car engine in her lap and the windscreen in her face.

So… she hardly qualifies as wise.

But is she a fool who learns by her own mistakes?

I guess we won’t know that until the next time. And if there is a next time then the answer will be: no ­ she’s a fool who doesn’t learn by her own mistakes. And even a laboratory rat can do that.

I ought to be angry. I tried. But it’s hard to be angry with your daughter when she’s flat out on a stretcher with blood where her face should be and an oxygen mask to help with the breathing.

And it’s hard to be angry when all she’s done is exactly what you did; so, wise or foolish, it’s probably genetic.

I jumped over a fence into a garden in the dark. Except that the garden was six metres further away than I thought.

Straight down.

The alcoholic haze that surrounded me must have cushioned my fall because I only fractured my skull.

In the days before breathalysers I can remember being woken up by the sound of the tyre mounting the kerb in time to see the tree racing towards me.

I didn’t hit it. I was protected by that famous prayer of all mortals: “It won’t happen to me.”

So was my daughter. Except that she wasn’t.

I remember saying to her — to all of them: “You will have an accident. Don’t ever imagine you can escape. The only unknown quantity is whether you come out of it one piece or whether you lose a limb, your life, your brain function — or your face.

Now I should be saying: “I told you so.” But I don’t have the heart.

The doctors say there won’t be much scarring.

I told them they were crazy… that the scarring was deep and irreparable!

“No dear,” said my wife. “They’re talking about Ellen, not you.”

Good.

So, looking on the bright side… she escaped, kind of. And contrary to the words of the old saying, if she’s wise she’ll learn from her mistakes; if she’s dumb — dumber than a laboratory rat — she’ll do it again.

So what about me? Despite the horrors that five children can inflict, would I have ’em again if I could live life over?

Of course I would!

Hang on… mean that I’m dumber than a laboratory rat…