NOT ALL DAYS ARE THE SAME.
I realized it on a cool summer night 9 years ago in San Francisco, when I woke up confusedly in the hospital. Brain concussion and a broken knee. And those words of the doctor: “We suspect a spinal injury.” A few hours earlier I was happily riding home on my 883 and now I was told I was in danger of paralysis. It matters little that the fault was not mine and that a car had run over me without seeing me. The new reality was that maybe I couldn’t walk anymore.
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