Holly Harding

Why? Wandering Thoughts Holly Harding

Everyone can make a difference.

A year after my car crash in Germany (1970) - caused by a drunk driver and which left me with multiple brain injuries and a scarred face (a few hours before the crash, I was suggested by a professional to become a model!) - I started volunteering at the University Hospital in Leuven, Belgium, cheering up long-term sick children by bringing library books and toys. Not much more I could do, since I could no longer read. The kids were delighted and it offered me happy satisfaction and put into perspective my own misery. My then fiancé, a gynaecologist/obstetrician, broke up with me and cancelled the wedding plans because I would always remain a patient and I was no longer 'eye-candy' on his arm. After a while, I could only 'work' briefly even on 'better' days, I had the idea of teaching willing kids, so the connection with their far-away schools would be reignited and they could narrow down their backlog. This was a brand new idea, never tried before. Schools provided the subject materials and, after the young patients read out to me the content of the 'lesson', I explained the matter, even putting it in a wider context. They regained confidence, saw a newly found future and it may have helped their recovery.

How, I don't know, word reached the Hospital Board, who, without ever hearing nor seeing me, offered me a full or part-time job (my choice) in a new department with six people reporting to me. Although feeling very honoured, I declined the offer because I could not read, was very weak and in a lot of pain.

The Board built on the idea, later on even literally, with a grand school building that government ministers once in a while visit to show their support. Almost nobody remembers where it all started.

This is one significant achievement after the crash, besides, of course, raising two daughters with my loving husband. The scars had become virtually unnoticeable after treatment and so I had regained my looks, proudly walking on my husband's arm.