Thursday, April 30, 2015

My Sunday morning started with a bit of self-motivation to get myself out of bed early & on the running trail by my house. I needed to get a 14 mile run in before church. 

The run started out a little rough, still feeling tightness from last week's half marathon, but by mile 5 or 6, I'd found my adrenaline high & I was enjoying the quiet hours of a Sunday morning. 

I always pause on long runs and take a picture of whatever scenery sticks out to me the most that day because it helps me appreciate the world around me & live in the moment. I loved the font on the back of this building & made a mental note that Steven & I needed to try the restaurant there in the near future. 


The sun was getting brighter outside & the sleepy city was beginning to wake up all around me. Church goers were starting to arrive in parking lots & while most of the restaurants around me were still closed, there were a few workers starting to prep for the day in some of the little cafes along Central. 

I ran by Lux, a bicyclist shop, some condos, enjoying the downtown scenery & feeling so alive & fortunate to get to spend quiet time to reflect.  

That was mile 8. My pace was good, my body wasn't hurting.

One mile later, I had crossed over at the Camelback and Central intersection to obey the flow of traffic law, running north directly across from Postinos.

I was mid-way across a very small, harmless side street when I was hit by a car, thrown onto the hood of it, then tossed down to tumble across street pavement. 

 It was a quiet morning & the driver wasn't paying attention as he took the turn, probably on auto pilot, driving to work. 

I didn't lose consciousness, I knew what was happening, and I was hoping in desperation the driver wouldn't run over me.

He didn't. He pulled over immediately. 

Thoughts and adrenaline surged through me quickly. 

I remember first desperately wanting to pick up my phone with my running app & finish my run. Only five miles. I felt so good. 

Intense pain in my shoulder surged up. I was coming to the realization that my run wasn't going to happen that day but maybe my marathon wasn't toast? 

An off duty paramedic rushed over from across the street, thank God for him because the driver (I was later informed by the police officer) was mostly deaf & unable to communicate very well, so it would've been much harder to get assistance if it had been just him & I there.

The paramedic asked if I was ok. He went through the list of questions they always ask. 

I was able to talk. I told him the adrenaline was making it hard to tell what else hurt beside my shoulder & that pain was creeping up fast. 

My face was very bloody but I could tell my teeth & nose were somehow intact. 

I gave him Steven's number & my name. Steven didn't pick up. The man called an ambulance and I begged him not to. I didn't want that ambulance bill. I begged him just to have Steven drive me.

I'm so lucky he was a paramedic and knew not to listen to me. 

The driver stuck around. He was such a sweet man & I could see remorse and guilt written on his face- I think the pain of guilt was probably worse than what I was experiencing. I really did feel bad for him. 

I could hear the paramedic tell 9-1-1 that the car was going 20-25 MPH & that I'd busted through the windshield & I looked up to see that my body had slammed into the glass. 

I started to get very dizzy & lose eyesight but I managed not to lose consciousness completely. 

The ambulance arrived. Standard procedures occurred (I took a class in college called The Care & Preventions of Injuries so I knew what to expect, which was helpful). 

My clothes were all cut off and I was strapped down to the board. They loaded me into the ambulance in swift motion. 

I was very talkative to the paramedics the whole way to the hospital & told them that getting hit by a car going 25-35 mph was still not as painful as natural childbirth (sorry ladies), how it wasn't on my bucket list to get hit by a car & survive but I guess that made me a "ballah!", how I still really wanted to run my marathon & make my mom's birthday dinner that night. 

 I think I even told them how I'd put on my lulu lemon capris that morning (the stupidly overpriced ones I bought right after having Ezra- a hormonal purchase, I'm sure) & for some reason took them off. It was silly, but I was relieved that they weren't the ones being cut off of me. 

We got to the hospital & I received immediate care in the trauma center with a large staff. They all had wonderful bedside manners & while I was in a ton of pain, I managed to laugh & joke with them. They were all so sweet to me, telling me that I was the nicest patient they'd had in a long time because they typically deal with mostly grouchy, belligerent, and high/drunk patients. It was, honestly, helpful to know that they enjoyed being around me. 

Steven arrived and the nurse stopped him from entering. My face was very bloody and bruised & they wanted to wash me up before Ezra saw me. 

After talking to the paramedic on the phone, who assured him I was ok, Steven said his expectation was to come pick me up with a few minor scratches & take me to breakfast but I was in a much sorrier state than he'd expected. 

My whole family started to arrive & sat with me through what ended up being a painful afternoon. I kept refusing morphine because I was nervous about side effects & then gradually took small doses that were ineffective. 


After awhile, it was confirmed I didn't have any head trauma or internal bleeding & it was just a nasty break on my humerus bone in three different areas that would probably need surgery but the orthopedic doctor wanted to consult another specialist who, in turn, consulted another specialist. 

Pain meds finally worked with higher dosages (I gave in, thank goodness) and was assigned a room. 

They decided not to perform surgery that day so at 4:30 pm, after hours of waiting, I finally got to drink water & eat food. It felt so good to feel a little more normal. 

I remained in high spirits & still am, maybe partially due to the morphine & Percocet I'm on, but in large part due to the fact that I should've received much worse trauma to my body, and very well could've died yesterday. 

Instead, by God's provision, I'm walking away with a break in my arm, a contusion on my radial artery, and some road burns on my face and hands & Angelina Jolie lips.  That's it.

I get to go home, surrounded by supportive friends & family, and begin rehabilitation. 

Not many pedestrians fair as well. 

I know this happened to me for a reason and I am far from bitter or angry. I hope, as time goes on, I begin to uncover more of why this happened. 

In the meantime, I hope this story will remind you to pay attention & be alert when you drive. I hope it reminds you that life is valuable and can be taken from you in a matter of seconds. 

And, I hope it reminds you to value every moment you are given as a gift, because it has reminded me of that. 

And lastly,according to my Nike app I didn't get a chance to turn off, I ran a mile in 1:51 seconds. ;) 

Ballah!!! 

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