As a disabled artist with Osteogenesis Imperfecta—often referred to as Brittle Bone Disease—I know what it’s like to juggle love for music with the realities of my disability. It’s not unusual for me to break a rib or collarbone simply from coughing or sneezing. But when you’re a die-hard music lover, sometimes you push the limits for concerts—especially if it involves seeing Florida Georgia Line live.
The Allure of Great Concerts
About a year ago, I caught a nasty cold that threatened to keep me at home. Under normal circumstances, you’d want to curl up with some hot tea and tissues. However, Florida Georgia Line, Thomas Rhett, and Frankie Ballard were headlining a show in New Orleans, and that was motivation enough for me to brave the sniffles. If you’ve ever been to a Florida Georgia Line concert, you understand—missing out just isn’t an option!
The Unfortunate Cough (and an Unexpected Rib Break)
Midway through FGL’s set, I coughed a bit too forcefully and—bam—broke a rib. Living with Brittle Bone Disease means a simple cough can lead to fractures. My friend says I turned pale and froze in place, but I took a couple of painkillers and stuck it out for the rest of the show. Priorities, right?
When “Concerned Strangers” Cross the Line at Concerts
Of course, not everyone understands how best to help someone with Osteogenesis Imperfecta when a fracture occurs. A well-meaning but inebriated nurse nearby offered her assistance—which normally would be kind, except:
- She was very drunk.
- What’s taught in nursing school doesn’t always apply to how I manage my breaks.
Generally, if I break a rib, I need painkillers and maybe some heat—not ice, not immediate medical intervention. I definitely don’t need someone petting me like I’m a dog, telling me, “It’s all going to be okay, honey.” Repeatedly. Despite politely (and eventually bluntly) asking for space, she persisted. If it weren’t for my friend running interference, I might’ve screamed.
Lessons Learned (and a Laughable Memory)
Despite the frustration, the night still ended on a high note: Florida Georgia Line tore up the stage, and I got to enjoy every last bit of it. My friend and I left with a hilarious story of a tipsy, overly helpful nurse who just wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Key takeaway? If you’re around someone with Osteogenesis Imperfecta (or really any disability) who just fractured something, please don’t pet them. Offer assistance, ask if they need anything—and respect their boundaries when they say they’re okay. Trust us, we’re pros at knowing our own bodies.
In the end, the memory of an epic concert overshadows the rib fiasco. It’s a perfect example of how being a music lover with a disability can lead to odd, sometimes annoying, but ultimately amusing experiences. Even on the tough days, there’s still motivation to chase the joy of live music—broken bones or not!