The Pain Behind the Finish Line: Lessons From a Hit-and-Run Experience

The Day My Life Changed

It was a Sunday morning, one of those crisp days perfect for running. I stepped onto the familiar asphalt, halfway across an unmarked crosswalk, when suddenly, everything shattered. My body jolted upward, smacking against a car windshield, and just like that, I became a statistic—a pedestrian struck by a vehicle.

In that split second, I processed a jarring reality: I. AM. GETTING. HIT. BY. A. CAR. I flew fifteen feet before crashing down onto the unforgiving ground. As I struggled to comprehend the chaos unfolding around me, I caught my breath and checked for damages. My teeth were intact. I was alive.

A Moment of Reassurance

The driver emerged from his sedan. Our eyes met, and I saw a blend of relief that I was okay mixed with sorrow over the incident. “It's okay,” I recalled reassuring him, “You didn't mean to. I'm okay.” Such compassion for the man who nearly upended my life shocked me. Moments later, a nearby off-duty paramedic rushed to my side, the reality of my situation slowly sinking in.

From Physical Pain to Understanding

My shoulder was beginning to throb, and though adrenaline pushed me to finish those last five miles of my planned run, I succumbed to the whispers of my body saying, “Don't pass out.” As the ambulance arrived, my mind raced, wishing I'd left my toddler at home instead of strapping him into the jogging stroller.

The Battle at the Hospital

In the trauma unit, fluorescent lights flooded the space as medical staff hurried around. “You're so sweet,” one nurse told me, a warmth in her voice I hadn't expected. I asked if people were usually unkind, and she confirmed they often were—another small reminder of human nature in times of crisis.

Despite the pain radiating from my shoulder, I hesitated to accept morphine, telling myself it was reserved for serious injuries. I found myself worrying about everything but my wellbeing in that hospital room—a pattern that would haunt me for years to follow.

The Road to Recovery

After days of hospital care and a dose of pain medication, I was sent home with a broken bone and residual confusion about how to reclaim my old life. I was grappling with the idea that I couldn't change a diaper or put my hair up without assistance. Amidst this chaos, I learned about the importance of self-advocacy, a lesson that would take years for me to grasp fully.

Moments of Awakening

During my follow-up appointment, the male orthopedic doctor brusquely asked why I was still in a sling. I longed to snap back, demanding clarity on his prescribed care. Instead, I remained quiet, a nerve-wracking reminder of the pressure women often face to accommodate others before themselves.

Historic Reflection on Injury and Healing

Years later, when a third of my shoulder's mobility was lost, I still woke in the night gripped by pain. Pregnant with my daughter three years after that accident, I found myself in yet another hospital where understanding and resolution were again in my orbit but not easily accessible. Unsurprisingly, advocating for my child came naturally, steering myself away from the compliant patient label.

Learning Self-Advocacy

Now, with a decade of hindsight, I reflect on how my accident reshaped my priorities toward health and wellness. Though I often revisit that fateful day, and the resulting injuries still haunt my mobility, I realized that acknowledging my needs had become the roadmap to self-reclamation.

Finding Balance

Today, I'm learning to intertwine self-care practices without guilt. From hiking the Grand Canyon to joining a local book club—each step I take is a rebellion against neglecting my own wellbeing. I am left wondering if the lessons embossed by trauma can instill awareness about advocating for my health.

A Call to Action

Your health needs to be prioritized. No longer will I merely exist; I must take action to ensure my well-being and recognize that self-care doesn't require justification or permission. In the end, the accident was not just a moment of chaos; it transformed into a lifelong journey of understanding and self-empowerment.

Through this reflective lens, I address those with similar experiences. You aren't alone; navigating the chaos of life can lead to profound revelations in self-worth and care.

For my fellow survivors and fighters, remember to prioritize your health and your needs. Only you can champion your wellbeing.