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NOTE (12/1/2017): I've been working on this letter for over a month (its now a little more than two months since the hit and run). I shelved this post for a while because it stirred up too many emotions. I feel that now is the time to finish it because I can feel a lot of anger and resentment building up and I just want to get this out once and for all. (Not published at this time).
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To the A-Hole that Hit Me and Left,
First, I would like to ask you if you care that you hit me but I know that’s a stupid question. If you cared, you would have stopped. Your actions answered the question before I even asked it.
So, knowing that you don’t care and that you have no regard
for human life, I am writing this letter in hopes that perhaps someone else
will read it and think twice about their own actions. Maybe someone will read
this and decide that they are going to obey the traffic laws and give cyclists
three feet clearance. Maybe someone will read this and they will stop and
render aid if they hit a car, pedestrian, or cyclist.
Please note, there were three of us that day that you hit.
No, hit is not the right term. There were three of us that you ran into, over, and through. We were riding single file along the white line on the side of the
road and ...ONE...by ONE...by ONE ...you took each one of us out in a different and horrifying
way. This letter will only discuss the pain and horror you inflicted on me. I
will let the other two riders tell their own stories.
The Terror
The Terror
The last memory I have while still upright on my bike was
the sound of gravel and loud sound of cracking. In the split second before you
hit me, I did not have time to process that what I was hearing was the sound of
your tires driving through the gravel on the side of the road. Yes, the gravel
to the right of the white line. Forget about three feet of clearance, I would
have given anything to have only had one foot of clearance and not to have you
directly behind me. Oh, and the loud cracking I heard, that was my friend’s
bike being snapped and broken as you drove over it and him.
That’s the extent of my memory. I was knocked out for a couple
of minutes. The next thing I remember is that I am standing up. I was dazed.
I looked around to try and get my bearings. I can only say that at that moment
I felt as if I had been picked up and dropped in the middle of a horror movie. My
two friends were severely injured and laying in the road. There were bikes and
parts and gear strewn all over.
There was a gash in my head and blood was running down my face.
I thank God that I had the wherewithal to grab my phone and call 9-1-1. Please note, I did not call for help because I am some sort of hero. I called for help because of the sheer terror you had left me to deal with!I was alone on a country road with two injured friends and I was scared out of my mind! I needed someone to help us. I should not have had to do this. It was your responsibility to stop and call for help immediately!
The Physical Pain
When you hit me, an artery was torn somewhere in my left buttock. I spent my three days in the hospital cinched in a T-Pod in an attempt to stop the bleeding without surgery. I was denied food or anything to drink for the first two days because the doctors did not know if the bleeding would stop on its own. I had stitches in my forehead. Other wounds were bandaged and wrapped. The left side of my body was covered in deep purples bruises and extremely painful road rash. |
| First day home |
Comfort was fleeting though. Trying to find a sleeping position that kept me off of the bruises and road rash was nearly impossible. Getting up to go to the bathroom or move about the room caused even more pain as scabs on my knees and elbows split open again and started bleeding.
As the swelling receded, a huge hematoma became apparent. I'm sure it was always there, I just couldn't see it because of all of the other damage you inflicted. Thankfully I was able to find a surgeon willing to drain the hematoma so it could start to heal. What started out as a swollen, numb, lump on my upper left buttock is now a hard, semi flat, tingly, painful area (and yet it was still oddly numb).
People keep telling me that it is just the nerves "waking up". Honestly, I wish the nerves would go back to sleep because the burning, itching, and zapping that strikes at random times is very disconcerting. I am trying to get back in to see my doctor to see it there is something that can be done to help.
Do you want to know what really pisses me off about the physical pain?
What really pisses me off about my physical pain (over two months out and I still have no feeling on my left side) is that I don't even feel like I have a right to complain about anything given the extent of the damage you inflicted on my two friends. I feel like I just need to shut up and accept it because I don't have any broken bones or because I am not in the hospital. I've been told this is similar to "survivors guilt", maybe that's what it is, but it sucks because I suffered and continue to suffer.
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| Hematoma after three weeks (The lump is NOT my butt!) |
Speaking of suffering. You put my husband and daughters through an incredible amount of suffering too. When you hit me, my daughters were down in southern California celebrating my oldest daughter's bachelorette weekend. They had rented a house and were having a fun weekend up until the point when my husband had to call them and tell them that I was in the hospital because of what you did. I would have given anything not to ruin their plans. However, they ended up cutting things short and coming home early. I understand why they came back early, I would have done the same if anything had happened to one of them. However, they should not have had to do that!
When my family walked into my hospital room, the pain and sadness on their faces was too much. We all started crying. I didn't want them to see me all banged up just as much as I am sure they didn't want to see their mother with stitches, scabs and bruises all over my face. You were probably at home at that exact moment enjoying dinner with your family.
I do take a bit of solace in hoping that you and your family suffered even the slightest bit of distress when the police showed up at your door and told them what you did. Did your family cry when they found out that their father hit three people and left them on the side of the road? (12/11/17 Note: After reading the police report, your family did not want you driving that truck!)
The Intangible Losses
One of my favorite activities was riding my bike. I rode with friends from the triathlon club, I rode with neighbors, I rode with co-workers, and I rode with my family. If anyone had a ride planned, I was ready to go! You have ruined, no I think STOLEN is the right word, my joy of riding. In your one single, heartless act, you have taken road cycling from me. Maybe if you would have stopped to help us, I would be able to fathom getting out one the road again. If I thought that someone would help me if the unthinkable happened, I might be able to consider riding again.
Below are several of my favorite pictures from my rides. I want to cry every time I think that I may never enjoy this again just because I am scared of some heartless jerk running me down and leaving me again. On top of that, I couldn't stand being involved in another incident where friends were injured. My husband talks about going out riding with my co-workers. I'm not sure I could stand knowing he was out on the road. I don't want to get the same call he got about me.
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| Heartbroken that we may never have our date-rides |
Riding with my daughter and son-in-law
My co-workers
Tri club friends
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| Racing |
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