In 1995, one month before my wedding, a friend and I went out to lunch. Our office building was on a busy four-lane street, which was generally quiet during that time of day, and there was a pedestrian traffic light right outside the entrance to our building.
On the way back to the office we again crossed the street at the pedestrian traffic light. The driver of the only car in sight had been distracted by his little daughter in the back seat (as he later explained) and didn’t notice me until the car and I collided. My friend had been walking a few steps behind me and was able to avoid a collision. I, on the other hand, was catapulted a fair distance behind the car before I landed on the pavement. A witness called 911, who dispatched the police and an ambulance.
Something wasn’t right with my left shoulder, and I thought that it might be dislocated. I agreed to be taken to a hospital so that it could be reset. Upon my arrival at the hospital, the doctors confirmed that I had suffered abrasions and contusions. Furthermore, they told me that instead of a dislocated left shoulder I had a broken collarbone. I explained to the staff in the emergency room that I was a Christian Scientist and did not want any pain medication, and this was accepted with understanding and respect. Other than cleaning the wounds and taking X-rays, no treatment was given at the hospital, and when my future husband came to pick me up a short time later, I went home.