Run away, deer

What's it like to hit a deer (or have one run into you), while riding a motorcycle?
First off, it hurts like hell. Second, aside from trashing a bike, it can take a long time to heal. One time is all it takes, to change one's mind about those cute little deer. Trust me, they aren't living replicas of Bambi.
Picture this: June 19, 2003, just riding along (with passenger) and out of seemingly nowhere, a 100+ lb. deer decides to run across the road but I, my passenger and my motorcycle are in the way. I saw the deer the split second before it hit. I don't know how fast the deer was but I was doing 50 mph (posted limit), around a curve. Next thing I know, my passenger dives off from behind me and my bike's front end is doing the Watusi.
I managed to get my motorcycle under control, pull over to the side of the road (gravel) and attempt to put my kickstand down. Wrong. My left leg won't work and I'm trying to figure out why, when the bike ever so gently, tilts over and deposits me onto the pavement. I receive a trip to the hospital in the local EMS wagon, along with my passenger. She had road rash but no broken bones, while I get surgery on my busted up left leg and an extended hospital stay.
It takes another surgery and a total of 3 months on crutches, then a cane.
I spent the entire summer that year, watching motorcycles pass by my house. It took til the end of September, for me to be able to get on behind my spouse (with his help) and ride with him. First thing he did, was take me on a ride past the "scene of the crime". It took two of those rides with him, before I could finally mount my motorcycle and ride on my own. First thing I did, was ride past the crime spot.
Why do I call it a "crime"? Because it is a crime that there are so many deer (over population, actually) and so many people refer to the four-legged brutes as "pets". They feed them and get them accustomed to humans and vehicles, until the deer are no longer afraid. Deer aren't smart enough to watch for traffic before they cross the road.

One family member was not enough. My spouse was riding his motorcycle to and from work. Ten months after my deer encounter, he hit one of his own. Aside from my panic that he didn't show up at home when he was supposed to, I jump in the cage (car) and rush to his job site... at midnight. What should my headlights pick up in the darkness? A motorcyle laying on it's side, in the middle of the road, less than 300 feet from the gated entrance to the parking lot at work.
Another trip to the hospital, a broken ankle and a busted up face, which took the surgeon over 3 hours to try and piece back together a shattered nose. Doc said 1 millimeter more and the old man wouldn't have been alive to live out his golden years with me. Every bit of bone and cartilage in his nose was smashed. The doc patched him as best he could, but the old man just doesn't look the same any more. Oh well, he's alive and I still love him, even if he does look somewhat like Jack Palance. ;)

Our physical wounds have healed but I still have a metal screw in my leg. We'll also always carry the scars of the memories, picked at every time another rider makes contact with another deer.