By Jesse Kruger
I crawled to the side of the road, my screaming heartbeat drowning out the world. My limbs felt like phantoms but through the fog of nausea I realised that they were all there, all moving. On reaching the pavement, my body surrendered and I collapsed.
In motor vehicle vs cyclist I had been granted a last-minute pardon.
There’s never an easy time to have an accident, but being abroad dials up the intensity. Like most savvy 21st-century travellers I had thought I’d taken care of things: travel insurance – check, vaccinations – check. I’d even been organised enough to photocopy my important documents and leave them with a responsible adult (a.k.a mum.)
But I didn’t know the phone numbers for the emergency services. Oh, I knew where I’d written them down, could see the list trapped beneath the fridge magnet. But what good was that?
Despite 380 000 tourists needing emergency services in the EU each year, few health advice sites mention what now seems ludicrously obvious: learn the emergency services numbers for the country you’ll be in. 
Stranger yet, while researching this post I discovered that the European Union already has a univeral emergency number: 112. Since 1991, knowing this one fact allows you direct access to response units in 27 member states.Even better, many networks also employ interpreters – using English as the backup language. It seems I am not alone in my ignorance – 4 out of 5 Europeans don’t know it exists.
Incidentally, the international Mayday distress call results from an anglicized spelling of the French for help me - “M’aidez!” While I gasped for breath, a French knight in a shining Renault squared up against my attacker, announced himself as a witness and offered to make the call.
By some miracle my bike pedal was at bumper height when the car struck. An inch either way and my leg would have taken the full impact. Instead, both metal pedal and crank crumpled, my helmet battled with the pavement – and lost – and the rest of me spun across the tarmac, rag doll style.
Finally I’m home, watching shades of violet appear over my skin and making plans to replace my battered helmet when my ankle’s up to the task.
I’m also entering 112 into my mobile phone – under “E” for Emergency.
