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A year ago this Wednesday I was hit by a car crossing the street near my office. I was in the crosswalk, and I thought I had the light. I also thought it was clear, but apparently it wasn't, because the car sent me flying the air, changing my life forever. I landed on the windshield, totaling the car, before bouncing across several lanes of traffic and landing in the middle lane in at the midpoint of two intersections.
I thought I had tripped and stumbled, and I was annoyed that I was caught in the kind of stumble where you can't stop or catch yourself, and I thought (and then said), I'd like to stop falling now. I worried that I wouldn't, and the light would change, and I'd be in the middle of the road against a green light, turning my body into a traffic target.
When I stopped, I had a severely fractured left leg and left arm. My bones were confetti. My iPod was still playing Rat Patrol from Fort Bragg, and the glasses I had clipped to my shirt was not broken. I lost my back pack in the tumble, at least one of my shoes, and at least one of my socks. They were later brought to the hospital.
They bypassed the hospital down the street for one with a "better" trauma center. When we arrived, the nurses asked how old I was and I panicked. Did I really just turn 23, suffer the worst birthday ever, just so I could get hit by a car, in a crosswalk? I was a transportation writer! I thought 23 would best the best year ever.
You'll notice my "statement" says the following:
Pedestrian Katherine Hill state that she was waiting for the pedestrian cross walk to signal to allow her to cross the street at Corporate Blvd and Shady Grove Road when she became impatient. Hill stated that she crossed the street, southbound on Corporate Blvd, against the do not walk cross signal and was struck by Unit One traveling west bound on Shady Grove Road.I don't remember speaking to a police officer or representative of the law. If I did, he didn't identify himself. I don't remember making those statements, and quite frankly, I think much of the "statement" is fabricated, because I did not knowingly cross the street against the walk signal.
I blurred out everybody's information, but mine, and I want you to note that only one name is blurred under the witness section at the bottom left. It's the passenger. If the driver made a statement, it wasn't recorded. The drivers at the intersection that remained at the scene, the several commuters at my bus stop, and those who showed up to gawk weren't interviewed either. The Rockville police will not tell me why the driver isn't listed, why the officer didn't identify himself, or speak to me, or interview the driver. There's another, similar, official document somewhere that says I was hit where I was found, in the middle of the road, yet states that I was hit in the crosswalk.
Much has changed in a year, in ways I hadn't anticipated, and in ways I certainly haven't welcomed. I was dumped by my on-again but mostly off-again boyfriend (his new girlfriend didn't have a broken leg), and abandoned by the bulk of my friends at the loneliest part of my life. I was accused of ruining my family's Christmas, and they implied that I ruined their Christmas too (I didn't). I've also been accused of lying and making it up. (But I have pictures!)
But some of my friends and all of my family went above and beyond. They visited me—in not one, but two hospitals (I was transferred to National Rehabilitation Hospital after a one week stay in Suburban Hospital)—bringing Slurpees, activity books, and outside food. At home my family rallied around me, near and afar.
I had physical therapy at home from my release after Thanksgiving until the end of December. I went to an outpatient physical therapy from the beginning of January through the end of July. I talked my doctor into letting me go to the gym on my own when I convinced him I had trekked through Warped Tour for a full day without dying. (I think he was kind of annoyed, actually.)
Though I had far exceeded expectations, I'm not in the same physical condition I was a year ago. That is, my fatty deposits have been redistributed. I have subtle stretch marks on my upper arm, and my muscles are atrophied. I can not run, anywhere, for anything. I can not skip. I was accused of living a slovenly lifestyle by a co-worker, but the allegation was wildly unfair. While it was not untrue that I have a passion for lazing about in front of an episode of Real Housewives, or in front of a SNES controller, I was also a great runner, jumper, dasher, kicker, and cyclist.
But I'll eventually do all of that again too, and fingers crossed, year 24 will shine as an awesome year in comparison.

