In the early 90s, Lloyd Glenn was on route to Washington, D.C. for a business trip.

He said it was also very ordinary until I landed in

Denver for a plane change. As I collected my case from the overhead compartment on the plane,

an announcement was made for a Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Services representative

immediately. At this point, I knew something was wrong and my heart sank.

When I got off the plane, a solemn-faced young man came towards me and said,

Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. My heart was now pounding. I called the number he

gave me for the Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma centre,

where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes,

and that when my wife had found him, he was dead.

CPR had been performed by a neighbour, who is a doctor,

and the paramedics had to continue to the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital.

By the end of the call, Brian was revived, and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart.

They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart.

He had been severely crushed.

My return flight seemed to last forever, but finally,

I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down.

All that night, and the next day, Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like

forever. Finally, at 2 o'clock that afternoon, our sum regained consciousness. By the next day,

he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical defects. Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his

afternoon nap at home and said, sit down, mummy, I have something to tell you. At this time in his

life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife.

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