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At the age of eleven, together with my six-year-old brother, I was cycling away from a road. It was August 31st 1973. (Dates seem to have significance for me, numerology perhaps.) I saw a few friends across the road and wanted to join them. I said to my brother as I leaped from my bike, "Don't ever do this." Then I ran out between parked cars. I cannot remember if I was aware of a car approaching from my right, but suddenly it was there traveling about the local speed limit (between 30 to 40 mph). It was about two feet away and I could not run back or forward to escape, so I jumped up as if to allow the car to go under me. According to my brother, the car clipped me and I spun violently upward about 20 feet then came down headfirst. My right arm was in front of my skull, causing an open fracture to the humerus. I was in the road, in and out of consciousness, and in enormous pain.

I was in the final stage of labor after several days, sometimes knowing but most of the time not knowing what was happening. My husband did not come anywhere near the delivery room then.

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