When I was 12 years old, I had a stupid accident. I was cycling home from town when a colossus of a truck passed too close, causing me to swerve my bicycle. It was over in a moment: I put out my left foot to steady myself, and my heel jarred down hard. The impact tumbled me off the bike and onto the pavement where I lay in the dust, relieved to be alive, but unable to straighten my leg. The truck didn’t stop. [time-brightcove not-tgx=”true”] An X-ray showed that the topmost piece of my shinbone, the “tibial plateau,” had splintered, and I was taken to an operating room where a surgeon wrenched the pieces of bone back into place. A cylinder of plaster was rolled around the leg, an
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