November 9, 2017 is a date I will not forget for the rest of my life.
I was in the home stretch of a bike ride, just two blocks from apartment. As I pedaled across La Brea Avenue, a black, current generation Chevy Camaro cut a left hand turn with zero regard for the concept of right of way and plowed into me. I had zero time to react. By the time my unplanned flight over the Camaro ended with a body crunching thud on the concrete, the car was nearly half a block away.
Not only did the driver fail to stop, a witness apparently stated that they didn't even tap their brakes.
And just like that I found myself on the wrong end of real life version of Grand Theft Auto.
Another witness at the scene was able to provide a partial license plate number to the LAPD but if you ride bikes for long enough in Los Angeles you unfortunately know that the likelihood of a hit and run driver being brought to justice is very slim.
As I write this, I'm very aware that things could have been much, much worse.
However, things aren't exactly the best.
In the collision and subsequent landing, I suffered multiple lacerations and contusions across my entire body. My right side took the worst of it. Multiple tendons in my elbow and hand were torn and I suffered a complex laceration across my knee. My six day stay at Cedars Sinai included three hours worth of surgeries and I will be returning soon for a skin graph procedure to replace what the concrete sheered off.
Fortunately, my health insurance will be covering a large part of my medical expenses but the remainder is shaping up to be a life altering expense. I hope to be back at work within a couple of weeks and begin the process of returning my life to normal.
In the meantime, I must humbly ask for your support.
All my best,
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