My recovery after a hit-and-run driver nearly killed me

Me on Dec. 10, eight days after the crash, and on Jan. 31.

My big fear as a cyclist has always been that I’d pull out in front of a driver at an intersection who had the right of way. I’ve become very cautious at stop signs as a result.

On Dec. 2, a Saturday, the opposite scenario happened at an intersection in rural Montgomery County, Maryland, during a randonneur ride on my single bike.

I had the right of way with no stop sign facing me. A driver in a white Dodge Ram pickup truck failed to heed their stop sign and drove right into my path. I had on my bright pink reflective visibility vest and a flashing front headlight.

I was powerless to avoid it. I heard the sound of their revving engine from my right and I glanced in time to see their hood bearing down on me.

The impact was the hardest thing I have ever felt.

The driver gunned it and drove off, leaving me heaving on the ground with a deep cut around my right eye and large drops of blood falling on the pavement. A driver who stopped at the opposite stop sign came running over along with his passenger and they called 911. A few minutes later the rest of the riders on the event arrived and waited with me until the ambulance came.

When I first drafted this post on Jan. 31, my birthday, I was through the worst of it. I spent five days in the hospital with a punctured lung and facial surgery, then six weeks in an arm sling.

As of April 25 I’m still not riding a bike yet because my right shoulder has been very slow to heal, but physical therapy has been effective and I expect to get back on the bike soon enough.

As I was told more than once, I’m lucky to be alive.

I thought it would be helpful for anyone in a similar situation, or a loved one of someone hit by a driver, to read about my experience. It sure has been a tough road for me and my wife Mary, but we’ve gotten through it with the help of friends, family and mostly good medical care.

Alive, but it might be worse than you think

I never lost consciousness from the truck’s impact. After some initial panic about the bleeding, I hoped I might have sustained relatively minor damage: A bad cut over my eye and maybe a broken collarbone. My helmet was intact and the bike’s handlebars were damaged but the bike was in one piece.

I spoke to fellow riders and gave a short statement to a police officer who showed up with the ambulance. The EMT asked if I could walk into the ambulance and I was able to do that, though very slowly.

I called Mary on the way to the hospital, saying I’d need stitches for sure. “I’m pretty banged up … nothing terrible,” I said, trying to sound calm.

I also called a friend of ours to meet her and provide support. By then my shoulder and chest were starting to hurt and the EMT put an IV line into my hand.

A lot happened upon arriving at the trauma unit at Suburban Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland.

A room full of staff got to work evaluating me and more was revealed. I could move my arms, legs, eyes and head in response to directions, so that was encouraging. But then I heard them say my right lung was deflated and they were inserting a chest tube.

A series of X-rays and CT scans showed the scope of the damage: a double break of my nose and a major laceration all around my right eye. A double fracture of my right clavicle. A shattered right cheekbone. Sinus damage. Two broken ribs on my right side, one of which had punctured the lung, and another one on my left. A wingtip crack and slight disk compression of a lumbar vertebrae.

They got the lung to reinflate — “it’s back up!” someone said — and I was admitted to the hospital. I’d learn later the lung had to seal and I’d need titanium plates put into my cheekbone. The cut around my eye was bandaged but not sutured in anticipation of the facial surgery.

The scans showed no brain injury and no injuries to my legs or other internal organs. My eye did not detach from the inside of my eye socket. I would not need surgery on my clavicle.

The nurse practicioner who lead the team summed things up in a optimistic tone: “You’ll heal,” she said cheerfully.

Mary was allowed to visit me in the emergency room, with a nurse warning her in advance to be prepared. “He has very serious injuries,” Mary was told.

My right eye was swollen shut, I had blood on my head, and I had a large bandage around the socket. We talked but I don’t remember much of that moment. Our friend was there too and it was good to see him.

The first night is a rough one

I was sent to a private room and put on IV painkillers and antibiotics, and I tried to get some sleep between nurse visits and another trip to the CT scanner.

A doctor from the maxillofacial surgeon’s team came by to tell me that they might operate that day to install the plates, but it could be the next day. He pressed on my cheek and it made a crackling sound. “That’s the bone fragments,” he said.

I called my sister to let her know that I was in the hospital so she could tell my mom.

That night was the worst. I was either too hot or too cold and my shoulder and ribs hit me with a piercing intensity when the painkillers wore off. It was very painful to take a deep breath.

I had no appetite. I looked like a truck hit me, which was the truth, with my blackened eye, swollen face, and bandages. Mary stayed overnight and would stay every night.

I was alive, which seemed like a miracle. For the moment, that was enough of a counterweight to all the pain and uncertainty. It all seemed so unbelieveable to still be around after such a violent impact.

Surgery and the battle to sleep

On Sunday afternoon I had facial surgery. According to my medical records, I was under anesthesia for exactly 99 minutes, but I was out of the room for more than four hours. I came back with my eye cut stitched and bandaged and and a protective shield over my nose.

I had additional stitches in my upper mouth and tubes in my nostrils. I also had numbness in my forehead and my gums from nerve damage caused by the laceration.

Sunday night was another ordeal in terrible sleep and pain. The chest tube, which had been put between my broken ribs, led to a suction machine that pulled out fluid from my chest cavity. The amount of blood, or lack of, in the fluid indicated how much the puncture was healing.

That suction would be necessary and uncomfortable over the next few days.

My Garmin watch reported a total overnight sleep time of 2 hours, 8 minutes. That seems about right. I’d drop off, then a nurse would come in or I’d be woken up by a pang and would squirm around trying to find a pain-free position. I’m a side sleeper but it was 100 percent back sleep given my injuries, which made it nearly impossible to get comfortable.

The uncomfortable bed made things worse as did the too-hot/too cold swings in room temperature.

I was on the edge of a breakdown a couple times, and had to just hold it together.

I’d get more sleep on successive nights, but I had a lot of awake time, at least two hours awake per night.

Don’t expect to go home quickly

Monday was largely spent in bed, aside from one difficult foray to get a standing X-ray to evaluate my spine. The pain in my shoulder, especially my scapula, was blinding. I about passed out standing up.

I tried to eat, drink and sleep. Mary got me a latte from the coffee bar and I started figuring out what hospital food I could eat, which was barely any. It had to be pureed or liquid, like soup, because of my facial surgery.

Sweet potatoes and soup rose to the top, along with ice cream and ginger ale. I tried turkey and gravy and it was a pile of shredded gray protein, with no discernable flavor, and I managed only a few bites. Same for scrambled eggs.

The bed was far too firm. I felt like I was sliding down every time we raised the head end. Mary helped me get pillows arranged behind my back that helped, but only so much.

There were regular chest X-rays, one at about 5 a.m. daily, along with morning doctor visits. I talked to the orthopedic doctor about getting surgery on my clavicle, and he said due to the nature of the fractures surgery would not speed up the healing and would risk infection.

So much for getting a plate and getting back on the bike, like I hear about when other riders fall. I’ve since learned about how tough it can be to kill off an infection, and I’m glad he didn’t operate.

At that point my discharge day was dependent on the chest tube. A nurse told me discharge would probably occur the day after the tube came out. It would also depend on my ability to walk and function at home.

On Tuesday I got out of bed into an upright chair, as urged by the nurses to aid my lung function. I was given the arm sling, a back brace, and a spirometer to exercise my lungs and prevent pnuemonia. I was able to inhale just enough to lift the spirometer indicator to the target.

Mary took me for a slow walk around the hospital floor that evening with my tube apparatus. This all seemed like great progress and my spirits lifted.

Wednesday afternoon the tube came out and my pain level fell. The nurses reduced my painkillers. I was sitting up most of the time and I was able to use the restroom. The surgeon looked at me and said I was doing ok and to come see him a week after getting out.

They discharged me on Thursday with a prescription for a low-dose painkiller. I was ordered to wear the sling and brace for six weeks and schedule followup appointments regarding my clavicle, vertebrae, and face surgery.

One of our friends came to pick us up and take me home, and that was that. There was no applause on the way out, just a wheelchair ride down to the front doors and a “good luck” from the nurse.

All support is good

I got a flood of emails and social media messages while I was in the hospital, and a few visitors, and each one was a true gift. If anyone you know is in the hospital, let them know you care. It’s an odd existence and visits helped me remember the outside world.

Our friends visited the day after the crash, when I looked like hell, and gave me a Coke and flowers and acted like this would be behind me soon. Another friend brought over a burrito bowl that tasted better than anything I’d eaten.

Another friend, who I had not seen in years, dropped by and cheered us up. I talked by phone with a fellow rider who had been hit by a driver and he gave me some tips and things to expect during recovery.

I posted a photo on Instagram and it made me feel good to read all the well wishes. I also responded to emails. Those all made a huge difference in terms of keeping up my morale.

Also, I can’t say enough about the kind nurses at Suburban Hospital. As a group they were always caring about my pain and comfort, and cheerfully handled my repeated requests for room temperature changes (turns out freezing cold was best at night).

A couple of them went above and beyond by showing genuine interest in my progress and offering encouragement. Mary and I both needed that.

Your loved one needs a hand

Mary went through the wringer during my hospital stay. She saw me just after the collision looking like a ghost, stayed bedside while I was suffering though the initial days, and had to deal with the shock of my brush with death. She also had to keep up my spirits, and she told me she would go for walks outside to cry so that I would not see her weep.

It’s a team effort to get through this stuff and it’s normal for your partner to also feel a deep sense of sadness and anger. Mary’s and our circle of friends and family really rallied around her during and after the hospital stay and that also meant so much to us. Thanks especially go for the dinners friends brought over in the first few days after I got out of the hospital.

Going home is a good start

I was back in our home in D.C. a little more than five days after the crash. That’s where the “healing engine” — my term — kicked into high gear.

By that, I mean my body seemed to consume all my energy repairing the broken bones and soft tissue damage. At first I was able to only walk the halls of our apartment complex for a few minutes per day. It was five days more before I could go for a walk around the neighborhood, for all of 27 minutes.

I lost 5 percent of my body weight in the hospital, and I found my appetite came back quickly even though I was doing very little.

My clavicle and ribs continued to be the main sources of pain and I stayed on a combined dose of mild prescription painkillers and Tylenol for more than a month. I had to nap each afternoon, even though doing so might keep me from getting a good night’s sleep. I didn’t have the energy to do more than watch TV or read, sleep and eat.

In fact, sleep became a real problem. I’d wake up in discomfort every night at least once and have to take pain relief, and my pillows just didn’t feel good under my head. I was supposed to keep my head elevated and I bought a wedge pillow that a friend recommended.

While not all that comfy, I started sleeping more soundly on the wedge. I really wanted to sleep on my side but that was not happening anytime soon.

I made it to our friends’ house for their annual Christmas Eve party and that was fun, but I spent it in a soft chair trying to stay comfortable and awake.

Mary and me on Christmas day

I had two followup appointments with the maxillofacial surgeon in December who declared his work done with the removal of the sinus tubes and bandages. He warned me not to let the eye socket get direct sunlight for six months, as the new skin could be permanently tinted.

He also said by summer we’d know if there was enough scarring to discuss cosmetic work. We’d also know if the nerve damage above my eye would subside. My nose is a bit off-kilter now, and that might be something else to revisit.

I also visited the orthopedic doctor on Jan. 3. An X-ray showed the clavicle had begun to heal and he prescribed physical therapy for my shoulder, neck and arm, which I started the next day.

I bought a used recumbent bike and set that up on my home trainer, and I was able to begin exercising indoors with my arm in the sling.

What about medical bills and income?

I didn’t return to work after coming home, as I noted above. My company enrolled me in their short-term disability program and directed me to also file a claim with the DC Family and Medical Leave program, which is funded by employer taxes.

Between the two programs I had my regular paycheck covered. It took a couple weeks for D.C. to turn on the spigot but there were no issues.

My primary doctor from Suburban Hospital filled out a disability form for me, setting a projected return date to work on Feb. 1, that I submitted to both programs. That’s turned out to be an ok restart date but the first few weeks of work were exhausting.

My medical and therapy bills were covered by our health insurance and auto insurance policy.

One thing I would encourage anyone reading this is to discuss your uninsured and underinsured driver coverage with your insurance provider. It is part of the mix when you have bills from a hit-and-run, or you are hit by a driver who has inadequate coverage. Each state has its own laws regarding the two.

That coverage also comes into play if you’re injured by a driver while walking, and in other circumstances.

Will police find the driver who hit me?

It’s not expected. The witnesses did not get a license plate number, nor did I, and there were no nearby cameras. The officer who investigated the crash took the time to speak to the witnesses through an interpreter, which I appreciate.

He put the blame on the missing driver in the official report and accurately reflected my statements and I presume those of the witnesses.

I only wish the driver had stopped to help.

The big thoughts

So, where do I stand now? It’s something I think about a lot.

I have to acknowledge that my situation could have been far worse.

Still, I wish so much that this had not happened. It’s hard to lie in bed at night and replay the crash. Mary has had to bear a heavy burden.

There is also the fear that something will crop up in the future related to the crash. I sustained major trauma, and who knows what effect that had on my long-term physical and mental health.

Coming that close to death was surreal. It happened faster than I could ever contemplate. One second you’re on a nice bike ride, and a moment later there’s this car, and you’re smashed up.

This kind of thing happens every day to people, sadly. We have friends who have died and others who have had to recover from being hit by drivers. The nurses at the hospital talked about the patients they’ve seen who have been hit by motorists while riding or on foot.

Anger is the easy response to all this, but gratitude has helped me pull through.

I’m grateful for the bystanders who helped me. I’m grateful for the ambulance team and the medical care that was provided without me having to ask for it.

I’m grateful for my fellow bike club members helping out. I’m grateful that I could take time off from work. I’m grateful for the outreach from family and friends and the broader cycling community. I’m grateful for my terrific physical therapist who has worked wonders.

I’m grateful that I had another birthday.

I’m most of all grateful for Mary being by my side.

Thank you for reading.