"Scaffolding" on the author's husband's crushed foot. Photo/supplied
Sorry seems to be the hardest word.
Chris Welch has waited eight months for the man who smashed into her van, John Mackay, to apologise for the suffering he caused her.
Mackay admitted in a restorative justice meeting that he hadn't thought of Ms Welch since the crash.
In fact, he was just down the corridor from her in the hospital and didn't once ask after her.
How that must eat at her.
This once independent woman, a motorcycle instructor, is now wheelchair bound and the person that caused her injuries appears not to care.
Almost two-and-a-half years ago, my now husband and I decided to move in together.
He had spent the day moving things from his place into my flat and was making me dinner when he got a call from someone who wanted to buy his old bed.
He got on his motorcycle and nipped around the corner to his old flat, sold his bed and got back on his bike.
About 1km away from home, a man in a Volvo pulled out of a driveway and smacked straight into him, crushing his leg between the car and his motorbike, then sent him flying through the air, his helmet grazing along the curb before he came to a stop.
I was sitting in the living room waiting for him, dinner half-way done, when I began to worry that he hadn't returned home.
I sent him a text message and, minutes later, got a call from the police.
Getting into my car, I rushed to the hospital, tears running down my face as I drove past the crash scene, and saw him lying on the hospital bed in obvious agony.
His right leg was an absolute mess and later the surgeon told us it was touch-and-go whether it needed to be amputated.
I had to listen to his screams as hospital staff tried to straighten it.
His next three weeks were spent in hospital and he needed three surgeries all up, one almost a year later. The bones in his foot will never fully heal and the rod and pins in his leg ache in the rain and cold.
He is still in pain every day and, at 31, arthritis is setting in.
My husband doesn't remember much from that night - the driver who crashed into him might have apologised, he might not.
But we certainly never heard from him again.
The police let us know that he had been before the court and had lost his licence, but I was hoping to get a letter or a message asking after my husband's well-being.
It still plays on my mind today - does this man realise that my husband, who used to love skateboarding with a passion, now struggles with his favourite boards?
Or that he almost lost his leg?
Does he know my husband will forever live with the effects of the crash?
Does he think about us at all?
Recycling bins in public spaces are among services cut to achieve this.
