- Two of Us
- National
- Good Weekend
At 19, Tom was feeling ‘a bit fluey’. Within months, he’d lost limbs
By Katie Cunningham
International DJ Tom “Hookie” Nash (left), 41, was 19 when he contracted meningococcal disease, which caused him to lose his arms to his elbows and his legs below the knees. His best mate, Christopher Hutchison, also now 41, visited him in hospital every day.
Tom Nash, left, says of the time Chris Hutchison spent visiting him in hospital: “It was the first indication that this was someone who’d be there for me, no matter what.” Credit: Joshua Morris
Chris: When I first saw Tom 26 years ago, I just wanted to be in his orbit. He was new to school in year 8 and just had this swagger about him. But a part of me didn’t want to show him that I liked him. We found ourselves arguing a lot of the time, mainly about rock versus hip-hop and, on one occasion, we almost came to blows. Neither one of us would back down. We got in each other’s faces and he swung a punch but missed me by a centimetre.
From that day on, strangely, we were exceptionally close; the walls came down. We could just sit and talk for 12 hours straight – about politics, music, life, things we’d do together after school. Sometimes, we’d just sit on the phone in silence while we did other things; we just wanted to be around each other.
One morning in 2001 – we were in our first year at uni – Tom said, “I feel a bit fluey; I’m going home.” I didn’t think anything of it but, late that night, I got a call from a doctor at Sydney’s RPA Hospital. When I got there, he was almost unrecognisable: purple and swollen like a balloon. His odds of survival were less than 10 per cent. I was dismissive of that, though; I just knew he’d pull through.
Tom was in a coma for two weeks. When he woke up, he was there, but not there – but even that half-measure of Tom was enough to put a smile on my face. We had regular conversations because he wanted to get back to normal life as soon as possible. It was my job to just be there – and be normal. He showed no sign of weakness, never talked about giving up.
‘His odds of survival were less than 10 per cent. I was dismissive of that, though; I just knew he’d pull through.’
Christopher Hutchison
He was very matter-of-fact in telling me they were going to amputate his legs below the knees. The only period he was properly down was a couple of months later when the amputation of his arms at the elbow became a necessity. His hooks are now part of his charm.
Tom was a formidable guitarist before he got sick. We talked a lot about that during his recovery, with him endlessly brainstorming ways to play again. He takes a problem and sits with it for hours, working out how to solve it. It was during this time I realised he’s got this, nothing’s gonna break him. Finding a way to play the guitar again was the first and most significant step he took towards reclaiming his life [Nash’s memoir, Hook, Line and Sinner, was published last year].
During the first 18 months, I’d drive him around to bars, pubs, cafes. The doctors were monitoring him for depression, but he was okay. Still, I was very protective of him, hypersensitive to gawkers and anything that might make him feel uncomfortable. If we were stopped at a set of lights and he had his hook resting out the window holding a cigarette, people would stare. He’s had to learn to deal with that attention.
We’re very different. I’m risk-averse, focused on covering worst-case scenarios, whereas Tom doesn’t even consider them. It’s a trait that’s helped him a lot in life. There have been occasions in our working relationship [the pair are nightclub entrepreneurs] when things have got so heated we’ve had to walk away from each other but, within a minute or so, we’re back and apologising. We both hold our ground, just like when we were in high school. It annoys me that he’s always right, but we’ve never come to blows again. We’ve gone through so much together, nothing can sever this bond.
“When I first saw Tom, 26 years ago, I just wanted to be in his orbit,” Chris says.Credit: Joshua Morris
Tom: My first impression of Chris was of somebody who was struggling to fit in at our very affluent high school – but didn’t. And I was in the same position. We were 14-year-old boys trying to form our identities and using our taste in music as a proxy for that, so we argued a lot. Of course, there was a degree of theatrics involved in our headbutting, but we became close. His mum calls me her third son.
Chris visited me every day in hospital – and I was in there for 18 months. We rarely talked about medical stuff, just trivial bullshit like what he was watching on TV. But, in that moment, that’s what I needed – glimpses of normalcy. It takes a level of commitment, not just logistically but also mentally, to visit someone in hospital every day. It was the first indication that this was someone who’d be there for me, no matter what. He became my north star.
I opted for hooks because they were more functional and lightweight than prosthetic hands; they happen to look pretty badass, too.
“We never talked about medical stuff in hospital – just trivial bullshit like what he was watching on TV.”
Tom Nash
After a month or so of going through many different design iterations in my head, I worked out how to play the guitar again using a sort of slide. Chris’s immediate response was, “Now we can make music again!” That had always been our favourite thing to do after high school – just sit around, have a few drinks, write a few songs. We even started a short-lived band. He was the perfectionist and I was the one who’s like, “Hey, it’s good enough, let’s just get it out.” Without him, the music we released probably wouldn’t have been as good; without me, none of it would ever have been released.
The most challenging thing for both of us in our relationship is managing each other’s shortfalls – his being that he worries too much about bullshit and overthinks things, mine being that I don’t worry enough about things that are probably important. But we’ve known each other for such a long time that we know exactly how the other one’s feeling at any given point in time.
In meetings with people who want to collaborate with us on events, I know when he thinks their idea is bad, even if he’s not saying it; I can see his forced smile and overconfident nods. And that’s probably a result of us having spent so long testing each other’s limits, like we did back in high school.
That fight in year 8 ... I would’ve said something rude and cutting, then just walked away. He pushed me from behind; I wasn’t one to shy away from conflict, so I turned around and took a swing at him. If it had connected, it would’ve been a good one.
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