Two Years Coming Up

April 23rd will be the two-year anniversary of my accident. Two years ago, I was hit by a Ford F-150 on my way to my 9am Psychology class on Riverbend Road. My knee was crushed between the truck and the gas tank of my motorcycle. My bike was totaled, and my knee was shattered. On April 25th, I underwent orthopedic surgery to put my leg back together, resulting in seven pins, a bar, and a plate of titanium.

I spent four weeks almost confined to the 10 foot distance between my bed and the bathroom. Then there were six months on crutches and almost a solid year of physical therapy. The prognosis is that I cannot run ever again unless the little bit of cartelage I have left wants to be ground up into dust. My leg gets stiff. I feel it when it gets cold and my bone constricts around the metal. On the better days, I don't feel *much* pain.

So in two weeks, I'm not sure if I want to have a party, go downtown, or stay home alone to get slowly and progressively drunk.

Last year on my first anniversary, I was forced to have a get-together. I did not enjoy myself at all. The whole ordeal, from start to finish, was very personal. I mean that in the strictest definition of 'personal'. Most of it, I'd say 90%, was me handling it alone. Truth be told, being forced to "party" last year was despicable. I resent the people who pretended I didn't exist while I was injurred and had the audacity to celebrate (in my own home) a year later.

The more I think about it, the more I'm leaning towards staying home and boozing. My birthday is Christmas Eve. I've never been able to celebrate THAT on my own terms. Sure, I was born on December 24th, but that day is more about my family and Christmas; always has been. My life was changed forever on April 23rd in a single instant. April 23rd is my day and no one else's.

So Ok. I think that settles that question. I have no intention of sharing April 23rd with anyone.