“Chemo is like being on the worst international, overnight flight where you can't sleep or get comfortable,” he told me. But he could pay only intermittent attention to what he'd unleashed. “Throughout the day as I'm getting chemotherapy and more bags of chemicals are being dripped into my body, other people are reaching out and they're like, ‘Dude, what's going on?’ ” Hoppus remembered. He quickly took down the post, but the genie was out of the bottle. And then a fire hose of frantic text messages from friends Hoppus hadn't yet told. A tragicomic oopsie.Īnd then, a mess: First in the form of a concerned text from his manager, asking if he meant to do that. One cancer treatment, please”-was transmitted not to his green circle of “close friends” on Instagram, but to his entire following of more than 1 million. Thus the photo-the caption read, “Yes hello. But being woozy from the Benadryl and cocktail of cell-destroying drugs, his clumsy fingers made haptic contact with the wrong cluster of pixels on his phone. This was back in late June, and Hoppus had just taken a photo of himself strapped into a chemotherapy chair, an image he wanted to share. It was another perfect spa-blue morning in Beverly Hills when Mark Hoppus, a pop-punk legend, accidentally told the world that he had cancer.
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