A year ago today I broke my jaw in 2 places. In respect of that, I thought I’d write down all I remember of the days around it. It’s something I meant to do right after, but never got the around to:
I remember it being a clear early spring day, warm enough for just a light jacket. 51% Spring, 49% winter. I had just gotten back from SXSW, the first time I had been there without actually playing music. It was awkward to be there (always is, really) and I was glad to be back in New York. I left my house, took the train to go to work and, feeling like I wasn’t too late, thought it would be time-effective to pick up my under repair guitar amp on the way in. The amp needed to go where I was going anyway, it was to live in my friend’s studio. I remember the distinct feeling of “I can either get this now or get this later” as I made the decision to jump off the train. It would be a quick pick up and go. So I got off the train and skateboarded in the direction of the music shop. For the last couple months, I had taken to skateboarding as an effective mode of metropolitan transportation. Being always late and living about a 10 minute walk to the closest subway, the skateboard afforded me the luxury of saving roughly 15 minutes every day in travel, and was especially helpful at night, when I didn’t want to walk all the way home through my neighborhood carrying my computer (which I used for work). It’s smaller and less bulky to carry on a train than a bike. I used to skateboard when I was a kid a lot. There’s a cool factor to skateboarding, but it didn’t interest me. Like, say, sunglasses, there’s a function that’s more important. I wasn’t too good at it, but was learning and I liked it. I used to just skate around the back of Union Square Park where the pavement was nice and smooth, late at night. Kevin got one too but he never used it and gave it to me. His was way better than mine, it glided so nice and the wheels kept going forever when you spun them with your hand.
So I picked up my amp and paid my bill, and then started back towards the train, carrying my amp and skateboard. Then I thought, well that’s pretty cumbersome, so I put the amp (it was a little Fender Vibro Champ about a foot tall and 15 lbs) on the skateboard. That too was cumbersome, so I thought I walked to where the street leveled and got on the board and skateboarded with the amp. I was going pretty slow, basically walking it, when I turned a corner and ran over a pothole in the street. Going too slow and without enough momentum, the skateboard wheel caught the pothole and the pothole didn’t give it up.
BOOM, down I went, amp and all. Right on my chin.
I got up and my immediate reaction was just an all-encompassing “FUCK”. I had somehow thrown the amp almost clear across the street but it was fine. I was bleeding pretty bad from my chin and spat out blood and a bit of a tooth (a wisdom tooth, something I didn’t realize until months later). I just sort of stood there dazed when a construction worker came up to me and told me I had to go to the hospital. I didn’t think it was that bad but as he was handing my some napkins and water from his van, he said I was going to need about 8 stitches. A bigger, more cavernous “FUCK” went through my head. I’d had the same job for almost 5 years, but didn’t have health insurance. This was going to cost me a lot of money.
I parted ways with that kind construction worker and took off to get a cab on Grand St. Nothing. My chin bleeding profusely into these brown napkins, I didn’t know what to do. I walked up Grand to Bedford to try to flag a cab but again nothing. I was still carrying the amp and board. It was in front of that public pool on Bedford that I ditched Kevin’s skateboard. I walked to the L train stop and got on the train, trying to look as incognito as I could while holding up blood stained napkins to my chin. It didn’t work and people asked me if I was ok. I got off at Union Square, called work to say I would be late andwalked to the NYU Free Clinic I had been in a few times. I showed them the chin and they said they couldn’t do anything about it at this facility and that I would have to go to New York Eye & Ear on 14th St. They put me in a cab towards there. I later received a bill from them for $89.
I walked into New York Eye & Ear and was able to be rushed past the seemingly hundreds of waiting people and into a room. The nurses there were able to ice me down and I got a look at myself, not so bad. One of my bottom front teeth was knocked a bit back. The doctor came in and told me they were going to stitch me up but it would be best to get Xrays. That sounded expensive. He left the room and the nurses, who were two dear Filipino ladies and I chatted. I spoke to them a bit in Tagalog, which I learned a few words in growing up. They liked me enough to level with me. They said to go somewhere else if I didn’t have insurance. They told me to go to Bellevue. It’s a public hospital and would be better. They were very motherly and comforting, but when the doctor came back they immediately got quiet and receded into the background again. The doctor came back and I told him I wanted to go somewhere else and he said, ok let me stitch you up first. So he did and I left.
I walked over to First Avenue and got another cab up to Bellevue and walked into my third emergency room of the day. I was pretty out of it and tired. I had only eaten a bit of oatmeal that day. Bellevue is huge and full of people with all conditions imaginable. I was shuffled from room to room and was able to make a few phone calls before my phone died. I got my Xray done and was waiting on the results, my girlfriend had arrived with some soup and kept me company. After the day I’d had, it was the best feeling to see her. I was laying on a hospital bed in this kinda bed-farm-room full of other emergency patients. I felt akin to everyone. The guy next to me was this big man and he was speaking loudly in praise of Jesus. He was also causing a bit of trouble. I was too contracted in my own despondence to like him for that, sadly. The ER nurse came by and nonchalantly told me I had fractured my jaw in two places, and would need to have surgery. How could this be! I deep, engrossing FUCK wave came over me.
My friend arrived with my computer, work hard drive and a phone charger. It was great to see him. I felt it would be at least a few days before I returned to work, so I wanted to have all I needed to work from home. My girlfriend told me it would be wise to call my parents. I didn’t want to do this, it would be too much for me to deal with and they would lose it. I thought it would be better to tell them after things had simmered a bit. But I was convinced to. My dad would be on the next flight to New York. I was told I might be able to get surgery tomorrow if I was lucky. They moved me to a room with another guy about my age. He had been stabbed in the eye. He was very gentle and patient with the nurses. He had been there for some time. I felt very akin to him as well, and hope he is doing good wherever he is. I didn’t want to be nosy but I overheard he might be able to see out of that eye after a period of time.
I liked Bellevue, and not just because they pumped me full of morphine that night. The nurses and staff were really nice. It was night time and I was fed some more soup. I wanted to do something distracting, but I couldn’t watch TV because it costs extra to be turned on. So I listened to music. Something about being injured and in pain, on drugs, in a vulnerable state and new surroundings made whatever I listened to shine in more dimensions. In the months after, this extra sensory hearing still stuck with me. I could hear that every musical note was translating a direct emotion and that by choosing specific notes, you are creating a melodic monologue of emotion. There is only one right note(s) and one right time to tell your story, find it however you choose.
That night there was man in another room, yelling loudly at the nurse about every little thing. Constantly. Wantonly.
They woke me up at 5am in order to be ready in case I was to get surgery. I immediately was freezing and my jaw, which now hurt like all hell would not stop chattering from the cold. I walked down the hall to the shower, which I couldn’t figure out how to get hot water on. So I took a cold shower and ran back to my bed. That was probably the low point. My jaw uncontrollably chattering, fresh from a 5am shower. I was taken for more Xrays. A few hours later, I took the picture above. They filled up latex gloves with ice and we rigged up a sort of helmet for me, which would work for about 20 minutes. At 7am, a team of doctors, headed by a tall one with a deep voice, stood at the end of my bed. The stood in this awesome, almost comical power formation, like they were posing for a picture as League Of Scary Awesome Doctors. The tall one with the deep voice told me “We’ve reviewed your Xrays and will most likely be able to perform surgery on you at 12 noon.” They then left in formation. It was pretty rad.
That morning some patient walked up and down the hall singing Copacabana. A man came by giving out free magazines, I took one about aviation.
A few hours later my dad arrived and it was good to see him, tho I didn’t want to explain the whole thing again. He hung out for about a half hour and then disappear to get some food. Noon rolled around and tho I kept bugging the staff, no one heard anything from the doctors. Finally about 2:30 I was told to pack up and they wheeled my bed down through endless hallways and elevators. As I went into the OR I gave a firm grip to my dad’s hand. I felt like I was then wheeled into the cavernous epicenter of the hospital. It was dimly lit and had dark green walls. It was like being in a cave. Finally the team I had seen earlier that morning arrived. But they parted, and in walked their leader (basically their Professor X), a short man who I swear was wearing a fez. I had been joking with the staff but this guy was the funniest of them all. Tho that might have been the nitrous oxide. Lights out for me…
I awoke with a startle back in the green cavernous room. My mouth was secured in two arch bars banded shut with heavy duty rubber bands. They had installed a titanium bar in my chin where the fracture was. The other fracture would heal on its own with time. Thus begun a particularly interesting period in my life. It would be 2 months before I could eat solid food. In that time, I would also lose my job and be burdened with the stark reality of the cost of health care. I’d have to build myself anew, from the ground up. It was a challenge I didn’t know I would have to face. I couldn’t have done it without the love and support of those around me from the moment I fell. But here it is a year later, I’m standing on firmer ground.
This was 4 months after I broke my jaw.
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If you’ve just broken your jaw – you will get through it. It sucks but our bodies are resilient and you will heal. <3
