So there was this kid who fell off his bike. (Not me for a change!) The whole neighbourhood was alerted by the vocal chord siren. Since I was already outside (and looking at him) I was nominated by my street to be the first responder. As I got closer, the cries turned into messages that he had 'a broken bone'. While not entirely coherent, he was repetitive and pretty sure about what seemed to be his knee. Crouching down, I asked him if he could move his foot. He could and did - quite easily too. I told him that because of this, that it probably wasn't broken. This is where the period of rapid healing started. I said I'd carry his bike home (two houses down) and that he could lean on me as he limped home. Although I didn't say anything, after about four steps he was pretty much 100% and I suspect it was the attention that I paid him mostly.
Kids are like that. Something hurts, often only until they are bored being hurt. And adults sometimes don't notice that they are hurt until they see blood or some other indication of injury. Maybe as you get older you start to cry in reverse order.
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