What I learnt from being bashed

When I was a kid, my nickname was Gonzo, because my nose was so big. So, when I was viciously assaulted in a pub when I was in my early twenties, I was excited.

Why?

Great question. I’ll tell you after a bit of background!

I had gone to someone’s leaving party, and as I walked past a pool table, a local slapped me on the back of the head.

I turned around and confronted him. He poked his finger in my chest and said, “do you want to take it outside?” (Yes, that old chestnut.)

I said, “No, I just don’t want you to slap me in the back of the head.” A fairly reasonable request, I would have thought.

Later in that night, I pointed him out to a friend and told them the story. The bloke saw me and motioned threateningly at me. I thought nothing more of it.

Then, I went to the toilet.

The next next thing I remember is waking up on the bathroom floor, blood everywhere.

I stumbled to my feet, and saw myself in the mirror. My face was caved in. My shirt had a huge rip in the shoulder. And I had a boot print on my face. 

And my nose? Well, that was spread across my bloodied face.

The rest of the night is a blur.

I remember people being frantic when they found me. I remember being bundled into the back of a car and taken to hospital. I remember waking up in hospital, not really knowing what had been going on.

The next day I reported the assault to the police, but they basically said they couldn’t do anything as there was no CCTV. I still wonder if the guy who bashed me woke up the next day wondering if he had killed someone.

I had that footprint on my face for two weeks afterwards. 

But, the good thing was, as my nose was so badly broken I was going to get nose surgery! 

(Oh, and I hadn’t been kicked to death. That was quite good news.)

Maybe out of all of this misery, I’d go under, and wake up with a beautiful nose, and no longer would I be subjected to all the nose jokes.

Stuff like did people have to duck when I turned around? Were people were worried about flooding when I had a runny nose? And is it good to have a nose large enough to provide shelter for others when it rained? Classic stuff.

So, I come out of surgery and have a huge plaster cast covering half my face. The surgeon tells me I have to wear it for four weeks.

I was so self-conscious wearing it. I barely left the house, which made it difficult to, you know, be a human.

After about two weeks, I couldn’t stand it anymore. So, like that scene from Batman when The Joker (played by Jack Nicholson) peels off the bandages, I removed the plaster cast and looked in the mirror.

Where two weeks earlier there had been a complete destruction of a face… I now had a nose that was perfect.

It was symmetrical. 

It didn’t look too big. 

It looked just right.

So, I left it off, went outside and walked around.

The sun was shining.

I had a spring in my step.

And all was good with the world.

For a bit.

Over the coming weeks, my nose started to lose its shape. It became bent. Wonky. And, did it get bigger again?

I was compared to Balki Bartokomous, the naive idiot from Perfect Strangers.

Then, Manu Ginobili, the superstar basketballer from Argentina.

Nose-tradamus was a good one, actually!

I learnt several lessons.

First, don’t go to pub where people assault you for walking past a pool table.

Second, my impatience had got the better of me. Who knows, maybe I might have picked up a lucrative, international modelling career if I’d left the cast on for another two weeks!

And thirdly, I should just love who I am.

So what if my nose isn’t perfect? That’s okay. It’s mine. It’s the only nose I’ll ever have. 

We all have faults. We all have things we’d like to change.

But sometimes, you just have to accept who you are, faults and all. 

So, bring on the nose jokes. I nose I can handle them now.