Three weeks ago, I was walking home on a dark, snowy night in Concord, Massachusetts. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital, hooked up to some kind of machine. I could not lift my legs or even my head.
The doctors told me I had been unconscious for hours. They explained that I had been hit, full on, by a car whose driver apparently could not see me in the dark and the snow; that I had suffered a concussion; that I had four broken bones in my back; that I would probably be unable to walk for days; and that the recovery period could be long and tough.