Everyone Refused to Give CPR to a Homeless Man with No Arms – I Stepped In, and the Next Day, a Red Mercedes Was Waiting on My Porch
I began chest compressions. I counted under my breath like I’d practiced a hundred times before, though this felt different.
The grit dug through the thin fabric of my pants. Sweat ran down my back in slow, anxious rivulets.
I didn’t stop. I didn’t let myself think.
In the distance, I heard the faint cry of a siren, growing louder with each beat.
When the EMTs finally arrived, I stepped back, my arms aching. They took over with quiet efficiency, checking his vitals and loading him onto a stretcher with practiced calm.
I didn’t stop.
I didn’t let myself think.
“You did good, Officer,” the paramedic said.
The other paramedic glanced at me and nodded in acknowledgment, but no one asked any questions.
He was stable, but he never said a word.
I stood there until the ambulance pulled away, and long after the crowd dispersed. And long after my heart had calmed to a dull thud in my chest.
“We’ll take it from here.”
I remember brushing gravel off my palms and feeling the sting, not just from the scrape but from everything.
That night, I barely slept.
No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t get my brain to switch off. I packed school lunches, helped my son, Alex, with his English paper, comforted my other son, Adam, after a nightmare, and softly sang while brushing little Aria’s hair.
I moved through each task like muscle memory. I didn’t even realize how exhausted I was until I felt my own bones ache.
The next morning, as I poured cereal, a honk cut through the quiet. I’d already dropped off the kids at school and was looking forward to my day off. I had nothing planned other than laundry and meal prepping for the next week.
I checked the clock: 10:38 a.m.
I walked to the window, then froze.
A bright red Mercedes was parked in the driveway. It wasn’t just any ordinary car — it was polished, expensive, and gleaming in the early light. The driver’s door opened.
I checked the clock: 10:38 a.m.
And out stepped… him.
He was wearing a dark suit, the kind that fit like it had been tailored just for him. His hair was neatly combed, and his shoes shone. Even with his arms ending just below the elbows, he moved with poise and confidence.
I opened the door slowly.
“Good morning, Officer,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
He was wearing a dark suit…
“I… I remember you!” I exclaimed. “You’re the man I helped yesterday, aren’t you?”
“My name is Colin,” he said, gently nodding. “And yes… you helped me. You saved me. I… I came to thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Colin. I was just doing my job.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It was much more than that.”
“I… I remember you!” I exclaimed.
He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts.
“I was walking through the city the day it happened,” he said. “That was two nights ago. I do that a lot… Some days, it’s the only way I feel… like a human. Not something to pity or avoid. In that moment, I’m just a man walking down the street.”
He glanced at the ground for a moment before looking back at me.
“Some days, it’s the only way I feel… like a human.”
“I was stepping off the curb when a car sped too close. The side mirror clipped my hip, and I lost my balance and fell hard against a brick wall. It knocked the wind right out of me. I couldn’t get up on my own.”
“No one helped you? Seriously?” I asked, my breath catching in my chest.
“Not one person,” he said. “A few slowed down. One man took out his phone and filmed me. A woman crossed the street to avoid me entirely.”
His words weren’t angry or bitter — they were just facts.
“It knocked the wind right out of me.”
“I sat there for nearly an hour,” he continued. “My face was bleeding. I was dizzy, winded, and embarrassed. I don’t know where the night went, to be honest. But the dizziness and hip pain just got worse. And when you found me yesterday… you didn’t hesitate.”
I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was listen.
“When I came to, while you were checking my pulse, I caught a glimpse of your badge. And I remembered hearing your name, Elena. When I woke up in the hospital, I asked the nurse if I could speak to someone at the precinct. She said it wasn’t standard protocol.”
