Unless you've spent the last few days hiding under a rock, you've heard about the massive brain hemorrhage that former Poison frontman Bret Michaels suffered late last week. A lifelong diabetic, Bret had barely gotten over an emergency appendectomy earlier this month before he was rushed back to the hospital with a brutal headache.I kept my eye on the news all weekend - I admit, I was sort of expecting a tragic update. I mean, I'm all for positive thinking, but the initial reports sounded pretty grim, what with words like massive, brain stem and subarachnoid being thrown around.
Me and Bret go way back. As a pimply adolescent, I taped glossy magazine pictures of him on my bedroom walls and thought Every Rose was the most moving ballad I'd ever heard. Poison was the shit back then - I had all their cassettes, I knew all the words. I saw them in '01, and it was awesome. But lately, since his Rock of Love gigs, Bret's kinda given me the rock slut with a bad weave vibe, and his recent ballad with Miley Cyrus really gave me the no feeling.
All that aside, I truly feel bad for him - this is some serious shit he's dealing with. Beneath his oversexed exterior there seems to be a pretty good guy, and I hope he pulls through this.
Bret's still in the ICU - in critical but stable condition and awake and talking slowly, according to People magazine. He's suffered a minor setback - a side effect that causes seizures - but despite that, it sounds like he's going to come out of this okay, though he's likely got a long road ahead of him.
I'm going to have to dig up my Flesh & Blood CD now and give it a spin. (Yes, I have it on disc. Cassette, too.)
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