I am a broken soul….or at least a broken chest cavity area

I broke my rib. It’s murder. It hurts to breathe, roll over, laugh, yawn or cough. Don’t even get me started on picking shit up or hugging folks. It happened on Saturday night but I wasn’t at all convinced it was broken until day before yesterday. Unfortunately, I’ve had a crazy week, and as such, I haven’t had the chance to go to the ER yet. I’m well aware that there’s not much to do for a broken rib except to x ray it and make sure it’s not poking your lung, but I think that’s a pretty worthwhile pursuit. SO, right now, I’m rapping at you guys while my daughter watches Team Umizoomi (a show about math and tiny little superheroes who love breaking into song). My oldest kid’s at school. Once he gets out, I’ll ditch these two with a nanny and hit the ER like the rockinist, most child-free invalid in town.

I don’t know if you guys have ever had the pleasure of dealing with the multiple tiers of a big city emergency room while hanging out with your small kids, but let me tell you, it’s a hoot. Given the choice between heading to the ER with a 2 and 4 year old and sucking off one of Michael Vick’s dogs, I’ll take my chances with the dog. I’ve had to take my son to the ER twice already. Once when he split his chin at the playground and once when we thought (erroneously) that he had gotten into my then-pregnant wife’s iron supplements. The second time was a drag and wound up with us spending the night in the Children’s Hospital (which, despite the name, is not a happy place at all), and the first time we knocked the whole business out right there in the ER when the docs strapped his tiny ass to a board and stitched him up with no anesthesia, Civil War style. It bears mentioning that I turned green during that visit and was told, in no uncertain terms to ‘get the fuck out’ of the room where said bathtub surgery was being performed.

So yeah. Today is MY big, kid-free day at the ER. Can’t wait. I guess at this point, the question on everyone’s mind is “dude, how did you break your rib? Were you just raging too hard at Riot Fest?” Well, firstly, Riot Fest was fun. For those of you who don’t know, my old band, Slapstick, reunited to play a big festival show in front of 30,00 people and alongside a bunch of really cool bands like Gaslight Anthem, Hot Water Music, Andrew WK, Descendents, Rise Against and a whole metric dickton of others that I can’t be bothered to list now. It was a great time. The whole backstage/VIP zone was really wonderfully set up and when we played all the security from our stage (who were all honest-to-pete Juggalos, complete with Hatchetman tattoos) approached me and told me earnestly that we were far and away the best band at the festival.

Of course, since Juggalos are really into garbage, this means that we were the worst band at the festival, but whatever. When you’re a 36 year old man playing ska songs written by 16 year olds to an audience larger than most small towns, you take praise where you can get it.

Anyway, we had a great time playing. The crowd was awesome and the whole show was, in general, one of the best large festival shows I’ve ever been a part of. After Rise Against, I went to a party that my friend and fellow Slapsticker, Dan Hanaway was throwing in his not-yet-opened brand new Vegetarian restaurant and bar which is located in the Armitage/Kimball region. The place is awesome and the party had a bunch of pizza from Dante’s (which is a great place to satisfy all your punk rock pizza needs). From there, we went to Gingerman and then home.  It was a little after 1 am.

So, I’d had a big day and I’d had some beers but I was in no way hammered. There had been too many location changes, too much pizza and generally, I’d been burdened with a little too much to do to TRULY cut loose. I went to bed and promptly fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I woke up to pee. As I navigated the blackness of my bedroom, I thought to myself “god, it’s so dark in here. I’m gonna kill myself.” Well, I was right, because right then I tripped over a footstool that was pushed about 2 feet north of its usual home and fell into a chair, breaking my rib on the armrest. The clatter woke up my wife. Honestly, I don’t know how I avoided peeing all over everything in the heat of the moment, but thankfully I endured. By the next morning I thought my ribs were just bruised. By the NEXT morning I was convinced they were really, really bruised. By that evening my wife pointed out that my rib was kind of sticking out on my injured side. Asymmetry in body parts is a real red flag to me (and I think anyone, right? If you feel something weird on your tit or pelvis or something, and then you realize that you have it on the other tit too, that’s usually enough to provide a strange of peace of mind, innit?). The NEXT day, the pain was unbearable and my neck muscles were all strained from pulling the extra weight of doing all the breathing on that side.

Now, I’m sitting here like a goddamned invalid praying that my daughter doesn’t want me to pick her up or require me to bend over before the nanny arrives.

Any of you guys have any nagging maladies that need a little love from the ER? Come meet me. I’ll be at Weiss at about 11. Should be rad.

xoxoxo

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5 Responses to I am a broken soul….or at least a broken chest cavity area

  1. QueenBee says:

    Oh, you poor old man. See what happens when you turn 36? Everything starts falling apart.
    Also, I’ve been reading through your old posts. I’m up to April 2009 and ready to marry you at the drop of a hat. Just sayin’. Y’know, in case your wife decides you’re now too old and fragile, there’s always Toronto.

  2. David says:

    “So, I’d had a big day and I’d had some beers but I was in no way hammered.”

    Ha! You sound like Skiba at Metro.

  3. Barry says:

    she’ll be right, mate.

  4. Ben says:

    Saw both of your sets this weekend also had the pleasure of chatting with you for a bit at Empty Bottle was pretty incredible hope you get better soon

  5. Nicole says:

    I broke my rib the same way! Except I was 22 when it happened and was dropped and caught the arm rest on the way down, but don’t worry, it has nothing to do with age, man. It’s the slowest recovery ever. Felt much better when I wrapped an ace bandage really tight around my ribcage though, (not sure if you’re supposed to?)

    Godspeed on the recovery.

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