In the fall of 2015, I attended a concert by the doom metal bands Lucifer, Pallbearer, and High on Fire. My friend and I paid extra for a private table, where we sat drinking beer and enjoying ourselves through the first two bands. During High on Fire’s set, in the middle of the song Carcosa, I decided I couldn't go to the concert and not go into the mosh pit at least for a moment - for old time’s sake.

But no sooner did I set foot into the seething mass of humanity that is a mosh pit, than an enormous man, at least 6'7 and probably 260 lb, with long ginger hair, fell on my leg, knocking me to the floor. Hands grasp me from every direction, and pulled me back to my feet - only for me to collapse again. I looked down and saw my foot flopping uselessly at the end of my leg. Pulling myself to my feet once more, I threw my arms around the largest man I could find and said, can you please carry me out of the pit, my ankle is broken. I was placed on a stool in front of the venue while my friend went to get his car, and given a free tshirt. I felt nothing the entire time, Even when it broke - no sharp stab, no ache, not even a twinge of pain.

But my ankle, it turned out, was broken in three places. My tibia and fibula had shattered into dozens of tiny pieces, that were even now spread throughout my ankle joint. I required surgery, but they had to wait for 2 weeks for the swelling to go down. Waiting this out - stuck in bed, with an ankle that was still broken and encased in a heavy cast - was tedious and painful, and required enormous amounts of painkillers, and no small amount of The Witcher 3. The cycle of video games, sleep, and opioid haze completely destroyed my sense of time. I remember finally going into surgery, listening to the doctors argue about what playlist to put on. As the anesthesia began to kick in, and I started to drift away, I could hear the opening sample of Orbital's Halcyon. Clearly they were men of taste.

I woke up several hours later, my leg now bolted together by several dozen screws and a long plate of surgical steel. I was in a bright recovery room surrounded by other people from other surgeries. My wife was there, and she leaned over and said, “I'm pregnant.”

I had to double check the next day, in case the whole thing was an anesthesia hallucination. It was not, and so my daughter was born several months later.

Happy Father's Day.