For Damien Waddell, the night of Sept. 23 was marked by “one big unlucky and many, many luckies,’’ not the least of which is the fact that he’s alive and still has two legs.

He realizes that were it not for the help of a number of Good Samaritans — two especially — he would likely have bled to death on Wellesley St. following a freak bicycle accident.

Waddell, 34, had worked late and was cycling home around 8:45 p.m. when he came across a car parked in the bike lane. He went up on the sidewalk to get around it and when he came down again, his bike suffered a catastrophic failure: the handlebars broke. One end punctured his left leg.

“I fell down and I was thinking I was just going to be embarrassed so I stood up and was getting ready to move my bike, when I looked down and there was this big hole in my pants, which was getting darker. The blood was coming out and I could feel my boot filling up with it.

“I realized I was in real trouble. I remember trying to call 911 on my BlackBerry and someone saying, ‘Are you OK?’ I said, ‘No . . . I’m not.’ Then . . . I was lying on the ground . . . my eyes were suddenly very open to my mortality.’’

A passing cyclist, Jonathon Hock, noticed Waddell and rushed over. He said a young woman was by Waddell’s side as well calling 911.

“He was bleeding a lot — you could tell he was in shock. . . . I started applying pressure on his wound with my hand. Then someone handed me a scarf,’’ said Hock, 24, an actor and server at Second City with first aid training.

Hock said a motorcyclist then stopped and ran up to help.

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Michel Mersereau said he didn’t even bother to take off his helmet. As a motorcycle safety instructor who gets certified every year in first aid, he knew there was no time.

“His colour was bad and he was talking but incoherent. I knew from the volume of blood that he need something more substantial so I asked someone to get a towel from the (nearby) restaurant,’’ said Mersereau, 39, who also works in the communications field.

With Hock’s help “we cinched it up near his groin, as tight as we could. We were both holding his leg up and then someone gave us a box that we could prop his leg up on.’’

Waddell was kept covered and warm. People continued talking to him to maintain his consciousness.

The ambulance came soon and he was taken to St. Michael’s Hospital where he was brought to the attention of vascular surgeon Dr. Mark Wheatcroft.

Waddell had lost a lot of blood from the puncture to one of the major arteries in his leg, the profunda femoris, said Wheatcroft. But the action taken on the scene contributed greatly to his survival. Waddell was in surgery for a couple of hours and needed a massive blood transfusion.

The next day, Waddell awoke to see his wife, mother and boss. “I was in a really good mood then. . . . I saw all those ladies there and I was alive.’’

His close shave with death came only three weeks after his marriage to his wife, Miyako.

Waddell later asked police for the contact information of the people who had helped him, and got the names of the two most instrumental: Hock and Mersereau. He immediately called to thank them, but is also grateful to everyone else who stopped to assist.

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“It’s not often that you almost die,’’ said Waddell, who was in hospital about five days. He now has more of a “seize the day’’ attitude and a desire to be more productive.

Waddell still has a hole in his leg “as big as an eye socket,’’ but it’s an improvement from when it was so big “you could put two ping pong balls in there.”

“It’s only getting better. I’ve got a bit of a limp but that should go away. And I’ll have some really cool scars.’’