Perhaps it is because I am now more aware of the question of blame in any incident, and what a thin line it can be, and I try hard to ensure I will not be seen to be at fault if anything happens. It is probably this thought that makes me put my lights on much earlier than I used to these days (our cars aren't new enough to have automatic headlights). I don't want anyone saying "I didn't see you". One of the effects of the crash is that I now find myself nervous of even the smallest potential incidents on the road, especially when I am not driving. Sometimes if I am feeling hyper-vigilant I just shut my eyes or try and sleep, or study things on my phone. What I don't see can't bother me.
I know that since June 2010 I am more aware of, and afraid of, the possibility of pain. You know how sometimes someone tells you about an injury they had, and they describe it and it makes you cringe with horror but they don't seem that bothered? I found this if I showed my x-rays to people (to be fair they did look pretty awful, but to me they were just fact). The power of the imagination is such that the thought of something is often worse than when it actually happens. When it happens to you it is usually so quick there is no time to imagine it or be afraid of it. It's done and you deal with it. But now I am afraid of what might happen and how much it would hurt.
The reason for wanting to write this was that I realised that although I am scared of accidents and pain and having another crash or being knocked off my bicycle, I do not wish our crash had never happened. This realisation was quite a revelation to me.
Of course, I wish that the other driver had not died. I wish that she had not left a partner, and a young boy without a mother. I wish that she had come out of it pretty much OK physically and mentally, like I and Mr H have.
The truth is, my life has been a whole lot better since June 2010. My relationships are healthier, I know that 'life is too short to...' , and I have a new hobby in motorsport that I love and that Mr H and I enjoy together, and a fantastic motorsport 'family' that comes free with it. I am better at knowing what is important and what is not so important. Much of this is a direct result of the crash and the aftermath, and the jolt that it gave our lives.
Not being able to run and jump any more seems a small price to pay.
Competing in our Hillman Imp at Doune hill climb in Scotland