Crash! David Cronenberg-worthy horror for the Canadian band’s frontman. Yes, it’s disgusting.
BY ROB HIGGINS
Wow. I’ve experienced some fucked up shit in my time. Where would I begin? That girl that got smoked by a speeding car when I was on acid? Skid Row doing weird-ass party tricks with their junk for a bunch of girls backstage at a Rush concert when I was a kid? Fifteen DEA agents storming my motel room the morning after my first gig in Cincinnati? Waking up to our tour van rolling over at high speed in a snowstorm? The movie Jesus Camp? I’ve had a complication from major surgery that led to internal bleeding that traveled to my scrotum turning it blue and swelling it to the size of a grapefruit. That’s pretty fucked up, right?
But, sadly, even more fucked up than that is the story of how I broke my nose for the third time.
The first was a hockey incident where I took a stick blade right on the beak. It crushed my nose and the whole thing pretty much sucked all the way around. I even had to wear a face cast to school for 4 weeks. We’re talking Grade 6 here. Face casts don’t become cool until much later in life so, needless to say, I stood out in a way that wasn’t exactly favourable.
The second time was as fluke as it gets. I was watching a baseball game from behind the screen, right behind the catcher and umpire but safely protected by a chain link fence enclosure built keep the batted ball in play. Of course, the team warming up behind me launched an errant batted ball directly at the back of my head. Fortunately, it missed me a by an inch or so. Unfortunately, it hit the screen fence I was standing behind and launched back off of it right into my face. I was knocked out cold, blood streaming down my face from my re-flattened nose.
The third time was more … dynamic. I was on my way to pick up my tuxedo for my high school prom with some friends. I was in the passenger seat (Note: do not ride in the passenger seat if you and your friends are driving around being idiots) and my buddy Andrew was driving. Well, wouldn’t you know it. Andrew drove us right into a parked van doing 70 miles an hour. And we didn’t have seat belts on. I tried to steer us away at the last second before impact which led to me being launched face and shoulder first through the windshield. The next thing I remember is a woman screaming like she was in a movie and someone pulling me away from the car because it was on fire.
The next bits are like key frames but feature me covered in blood, head to toe, on my hands, in my hair, passer-bys screaming and pointing, an ambulance guy asking me if I’m ok and me wiggling my nose, saying “Yeah, totally. I have my prom tomorrow,” as though I go through windshields all the time. My nose, in fact, was broken again and I had all kinds of non-recommended bleeding inside my cranium. Of course, being an idiot, I downplayed my injuries at the time and shuffled away to get cleaned up enough to call my friend Jeff to come pick me. He rushed over and I just left the scene without telling anyone. I was in total shock so, really, had no idea what I was doing.
I went to bed and when I woke up in the morning it felt like I had the shit kicked out of me by every bully in town. Everything hurt, but especially my face. Right in the middle of it where the important bits live. I went into the bathroom, as one does in the morning, and when I went to blow my nose felt the contents of it shift much further back in one’s head that it normally does. I mean, like behind my eyes. I pulled on what I thought to be a simple booger, thinking it would relieve some of the pressure, but like a scene from an early David Cronenberg film, what I pulled on seemed to have no end and was actually stretching my nostrils in a way that led to watering eyes, the loss of all senses and the desperate gurgling and fits of a horror movie murder victim. It got ugly fast. As I screamed for help I kept pulling on the endless, way too big mass and eventually it flopped out of my face and into the sink, landing with a hollow thwack that I’ll never forget. Like throwing a new, large mold of Jell-O into the sink from four feet away.
It. Was. Fucking. Disgusting. They rushed me to the hospital and immediately performed some kind of laser surgery to weld the blood vessels back together in my face. They loaded me with pills and got me home in time to suit up for the prom that night. I went with two black eyes, a busted face, a pocket full of pills and enough rye whiskey to kill an overweight moose.
I’m not proud of how I “took care of myself” that night. I can’t even tell you just how fucked up things got between 2 and 5 am. Police, fights, drama. You know, it was high school. But of all the fucked up shit I’ve seen and done, nose break number three takes the cake.
That and drum solos to a click track. Talk about fucked up…
[Photo Credit: Ingrid Johansson, aka Miz Monday]