Patient Story of: Jennifer Hershey

In 2019, I retired from a long career in theater and set off on a bicycling adventure with my partner, Michael. We packed up our bikes, fully loaded with gear, and pedaled across North America to write about climate and community for our newsletter, Carbon Stories.

 

Sometimes that meant loading our bicycles onto Amtrak and starting in cities like Birmingham, New Orleans or El Paso. Other times, we mounted our bikes on our old car, drove to places like Sydney, Nova Scotia, parked the car and hopped a ferry to explore Newfoundland. We are deeply committed to our project and spend an average of five to six months a year on our bicycles.

 

In October 2025, while reporting on closed coal mines in the back hills of Virginia near the West Virginia border, I had a serious crash.

 

Michael was about a mile ahead of me. Because I am the extrovert who stops to sketch and talk with residents about how local issues affect their lives – while Michael focuses on writing and research – it is common for us to ride at different paces. On this day, however, I never came down the hill.

 

I took a bad fall and have no memory of what caused it or what happened immediately afterward. According to my bike computer, my bicycle did not move for seven minutes. Somehow, I managed to stand up, push my fully loaded bike and walk across the narrow road toward a man standing outside a small cabin. When Michael rode back up the hill to find me, I was bloodied and disoriented on the other side of the road, speaking with the resident, who communicated with the outside world via ham radio.

 

The crash left me with a severe concussion, stitches on my arms and finger, bad scrapes on my knees and a hematoma (a deep collection of blood outside the blood vessels) on my thigh that swelled to the size of half a cantaloupe. There was no hospital in that part of rural Virginia or nearby West Virginia, only an urgent care and emergency facility about 10 miles away. The staff performed a CT scan of my head and placed me on a heart monitor. Because there was nowhere for me to be admitted overnight – and our car was parked a couple hundred miles away – we stayed in a roadside motel for a few days until I could shield my eyes from the sun and travel home. Our focus quickly shifted from the coal industry to rural healthcare.

 

Once back in New York, follow-up testing showed that my brain had healed well. However, my thigh remained badly injured. I was initially told that I had a resolving hematoma that would go away on its own.

 

Three months after the accident, I was determined to get back on my bicycle and continue our mission. Refusing to give up, I adapted by transporting our gear from town to town by car and doing day rides out of local motels. Yet 10 months after the crash, the hematoma still had not resolved.

 

That is when I went to HSS to see primary sports medicine physician Tiana S. Woolridge, MD, MPH, who specializes in the nonsurgical treatment of sports and activity-related injuries. I knew right away that Dr. Woolridge was the right doctor for me because she views surgery as a last resort and gives straightforward, practical guidance. "This is what you will need to do to get better," she told me.

 

Dr. Woolridge recommended physical therapy. As a natural skeptic, I initially rolled my eyes, but she made me promise to attend at least two sessions to learn the exercises and practice them consistently. She also encouraged me to use targeted massage and heat therapy on my thigh. I kept my promise, followed her plan closely and continue to practice those techniques every day.

 

I recently returned from a 600-mile bicycle tour along the southern coast of Nova Scotia – even riding through a nor’easter. Most importantly, it was my first trip since the accident where I left the car behind and rode a fully loaded touring bike again.

 

At 74 years old, thanks to the guidance of Dr. Woolridge, I am back on the road and hopeful for a full recovery.