Even in some of the most upsetting experiences, seeking out humor can help us heal.
Sometimes my life is like an episode of MAD TV. Always has been; I guess, always will. This week specifically reminded me of this classic skit called Shot In The Head.
I got “shot” in the head, all right, but it was to my face and repeatedly. (Warning: Slightly graphic.)
Now, imagine receiving the following questions, as blood is pouring out of your nose and down your face: “Did you say or do anything to provoke the attack?” “How did you get yourself in this mess?” “Can you fill out this form? It will be an hour wait.” And the best one, “How can I help you? … Have a nice day!”
This week, a few days before going on vacation, I began one day looking for my partner Maurice’s long-lost button. Later in the day, I was physically attacked. That’s quite the leap, no? It was unprovoked and was not a gay bashing. I was just in the right place—I guess you could say—at the wrong time. And I didn’t see it coming.
Isn’t it always this way? Oh, I’ve been in similar situations before. Like the time I arrived home nine years ago and hit play on our, at the time, old-fashioned answering machine to hear, “I’m going to tag your toe.” That was left by a neighbor at our former residence. It seems I’ve always been able to rely upon the kindness of such strangers…
I remember, clear as yesterday, my partner and I immediately went to the local police station to see what could be done. We were told, “This is not a criminal offense.” Since we knew the name and address of the caller, we asked, “Couldn’t an officer come out and talk to him?”
“If that would make you feel better, yes.”
We were shocked at this reaction at the front desk—and from a female officer, no less. As she took down our information, my partner stated loudly, “I guess, Donald, you’d have to have your ‘toe tagged’ before charges could be pressed!”
“Battered women go through this all the time!” I chimed in.
Silence from behind the desk.
Three hours later (after midnight), an officer arrived to listen to our taped recording of the threat. I asked, point blank, “Can he just do this?” As he paused, my partner piped up. “I understand the House of Commons recently passed Bill C-250 making it illegal to propagate hate based on sexual orientation.”
The officer replied, “I’ll be honest. I’m not too familiar with that bill. But, listen, I’ll go over and ‘warn’ the man. Do you mind if I take the tapes as evidence?”
Indeed, the telephone threats stopped. In fact, months later, I bumped into the offender. Apologetically, he chirped, “I was inebriated.”
“Have a nice day,” is all I could muster in reply.
Going back further in my Rolodex of “encounters”, I was attacked outside a gay club in the 80’s (as was my then partner). The injuries were insignificant next to the shock of the experience itself. I know it’s hard to believe, but I had never even thought of the possibility of being attacked as I parked outside that building and walked in scores of times before. My partner and I didn’t let this bother us and we never considered not visiting the bar because of the incident. Within a week, it was business as usual.
Personally, I accept no responsibility for being a possible target of misplaced anger, but by incident number three, please forgive my jaded feeling that my life is a series of skits and I just happen to be the featured performer. As I stated, the most recent attack was due to me being in the line of fire, you could say. If it weren’t me, it would have been someone else.
People think they know what they will do in such a situation. The truth is, initially, one is in shock. I did not realize or see the blood initially. I was knocked out of balance; I needed to assess the situation and develop a strategy quickly. Since I was being repeatedly pounded this time, I fought back and was able to free myself.
I called a friend who was nearby and asked her to take me to a walk-in clinic. I thought of the worst, and wagered an emergency room at one of our hospitals would be in more in line with that MAD TV skit. So we arrived at closest clinic, and a full room of patients reacted to my face in silence.
The receptionist said, “How can I help you?”
“I was just beat up. How long before I could see a doctor?”
“An hour.”
My friend suggested another clinic not far away. We drove to walk-in clinic number two.
Another E. F. Huttton moment happened (see above) as I walked, in dripping blood. Everyone froze, staring at me. Their expressions all suggested: What the hell happened? This time, I didn’t wait for the receptionist’s, “How may I help you?”
“I was just beat up so how long before I can see a doctor?”
She verbally counted her files, then OHIP cards and once again, I heard, “An hour.”
This time, we waited. We couldn’t sit beside each other because the room only had single seats. I thought of the MAD TV skit and had my friend laughing at the comparison.
“I can’t believe not one person at either office didn’t offer to let me in line sooner. How much blood do I have to lose to break the line? Maybe if I had a weapon stuck in my face, I could have gotten in sooner. I mean, they’re not even moving so we can sit beside each other!”
You should have seen the people stare when both of us were laughing and in a good mood as I dabbed the blood on my face with a cloth.
By the time I sat in the doctor’s office and heard, “How did you get yourself in this mess?”, as well as based on mine and Maurice’s experience being grim at the police station years ago, I wondered if humor would move things along quicker.
“You should see the other guy! I just want to know if anything is broken, please.”
A smirk and no small talk later, after examining me, the doctor says, “Besides the marks on your face, you have a broken blood vessel in your nose. You’ll be fine.”
What a relief. I was happy I was okay. Certainly I was shook up, but on the ride home, I joked, “All in all, a good day. At least I found Maurice’s button!”
In the hours and days following, when I heard it suggested that I was the instigator of an urban legend here and asked if I could solve this problem immediately there, I just smiled; they’re just commercial breaks in the MAD TV episode that is my life.
Read more Gay Pride stories on The Good Life.
Images courtesy of the author
I wasn’t sure if you were seeing it as a continuation of gay-bashing, since the title of your article has the sub-heading of “reflections on gay-bashing”, which doesn’t seem to be what you’re reflecting on at all. I wasn’t saying you felt your treatment by emergency workers was based on your sexual orientation, just the sub-heading of the article had me expecting tales of discrimination based on sexual orientation instead of a look at the accuracy of satire. As for giving up your space in line, I think the wailing baby at the hospital was bothering me more than my… Read more »
Wow, I think I need to improve my writing because that IS NOT the case…First of all, my experience in the waiting room reminded me of a MAD TV episode that had nothing to do with sexual orientation and I do NOT think the reaction I received had anything to do with my sexual orientation either. If you read my reaction to the prior experiences I definitely had a strong reaction ie. going to police etc. this time all I did was go to an outpatient clinic. I agree with you that you have to be near dead to receive… Read more »
You seem to be more frustrated and angered by your treatment after your assaults than by those who assaulted you for nothing more than the basis of your sexual orientation. I have received similar treatment (taking an hour or more at the emergency room in Bracebridge after cutting the tip off my finger, for one example… long wait times are pretty standard if you’re not dying), so I don’t think their treatment had anything to do with your sexual orientation, just the same laissez-faire approach to assaults and injury of most people in general.
Thanks so much for the feedback..appreciate it!
I needed to assess the situation and develop a strategy quickly. Since I was being repeatedly pounded this time, I fought back and was able to free myself.
im glad you were able to return some blows upon the beast-made-flesh. hope that mitigated some of the shock of the incident.
don, you managed to physically free yourself from an ambush, hope you take pride from that