Photo provided by the office of Assemblymember Jessica González-Rojas
It could have been anyone, but on January 4th, it was me.
One second I was crossing 35th Avenue in Jackson Heights to meet friends for dinner, my feet between two white stripes of the crosswalk, and the next, I was lying on the ground, my arm throbbing and my knees scraped. I’d done everything “right”: waiting until I had the right-of-way, carefully crossing, watching for cars – but in the end it didn’t matter. A driver still hit me, throwing my body to the pavement.
The crash left me badly bruised and disoriented. I had a broken arm, but I felt lucky. I felt grateful to walk away with my life – especially when so many New Yorkers weren’t as lucky as I was. Not even a month later or a mile away from my crash, a hit-and-run driver killed a 61-year-old woman from my neighborhood.
The doctors and nurses at Elmhurst Hospital took incredible care of me and wrapped my arm in a cast. After eight hours in the hospital, and finally back in my own home, I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the mothers, fathers, parents, and children who never made it back. The next day while on the phone with my chief of staff I realized the shock and fear had caught up with me – this could have been worse. Last year, car crashes killed over 250 New Yorkers – and this year, we know that number could include any one of us or our loved ones.
Four days later, I was back in Albany working, but I couldn’t shake the memory of that night. I couldn’t even go a few hours without being reminded of the crash; not when brushing on mascara, pulling a shirt over my head, and just opening the front door of my office brought instant pain. This could have been worse.
My doctors told me I had a long road to full physical recovery, that included over a month in a cast and three of physical therapy. Working towards a full recovery will take even longer. My muscles tense every time I have to cross the street,…
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