Tragedy's Gift: Surviving Cancer (8 page)

I remember more doctors running into the room, and as I drifted in and out of awareness, I felt as though my spirit was leaving my body and watching the entire scenario from above myself on the table.

I was rushed by ambulance to a cardiac hospital and I heard things being said like, “We will have to crack his chest open,” and “I can’t lose this one.” In my mind I was thinking that he better not lose me. I have come too far to lose the battle in such a crazy way. As we got to the hospital, I heard someone say that he was going to give the arterial wire one more shot because this guy was too young to have his chest opened. At that point I passed out.

When I woke up it was over. I didn’t have to have open-heart surgery after all. The last shot at the wire had worked.

It wasn’t easy finding a bright spot in that situation, but I remember my first thought was how great it was that I didn’t have a huge scar running the length of my chest.

This situation was one more piece of evidence that I had more to accomplish in my life and that I was being spared. I was curious to find out why.

Rebuilding a Body and Soul

The first step to my destiny was to repair my leg as best as it could be. I couldn't put on my own sock or shoe; sit in the back seat of a car or anything else that required bending my knee. The radiation had basically cooked the muscle in my leg until it would no longer stretch. I needed two surgeries and a painful two-week stretching treatment to help the process. I endured them with the hope of regaining some sort of normalcy in my very abnormal life. I went through another fight to repair the effects of cancer and I again took home the victory.

Although I won back the use of my leg, something was still tormenting my soul. I was still allowing small matters to become huge dragons in my life. I wondered if I would be able to find a girlfriend or wife who would want a man that could never have children, walked with a limp, could never be athletic, have a tough time making a living, and who had scars all over his body? I was consumed with these questions. I also had a very bad case of survivor’s guilt. I would lie awake wondering why so many kids on the ward had lost their fight and died. Why I was spared and not them? I began to question my mortality and would do reckless things, like driving very fast when I was behind the wheel of my car.

Then one day I started doing something that I never dreamed was in me to do. I began cutting myself on my arm and chest with a razor and a knife. I convinced myself that the pain of the cut would ease the pain I was feeling inside. I was so preoccupied with cleaning up the blood and tending the new cut that I would forget my problems for those few minutes. But there was one problem with my new coping method. It didn't fix anything. Surely you can lie, cheat and steal to avoid your problems but now you only have more problems. I still had my other problems and now on top of them I had scars on my chest and arms that I had to explain to my mom. When she realized what I was doing, and saw my self- inflicted wounds, it broke her heart. It was the look in her eyes that made something change in my heart. I realized at that point that the lie I had convinced myself of was just a bunch of bull. I was not feeling any better by cutting myself, it was not a great coping mechanism and I was not the same Kevin I used to be before my illness. Now that I was going to be living a long life I knew I had to pull myself together and start climbing out of this deep darkness I was in. I prepared myself for another fight. This time it was a battle to win back the rest of my life.

As time went on I was still on daily pain and depression medications. I could not function as the same person I was before my illness. That boy was long gone. I couldn’t put my finger on the exact direction I was heading and I wasn’t sure of my destiny. I struggled with so many questions and not enough answers. I felt alone and helpless. I just wanted to be back to the Kevin I was so many years before. I needed to find a way to start over, but the thing I needed to do most was to stop taking the drugs that the doctors had prescribed and get free to live again. I had to find out what was worse, the pain or the side effects of the many drugs.

I made a drastic (and not so intelligent) decision. I quit all of my narcotics on the same day! I imagined it would be difficult, but I never actually comprehended how life threatening it would be. In a way, I’m glad I didn’t know. The only thing I was certain of was that I had reached the end of my rope of having crazy thoughts, feeling lethargic about life and not knowing what to do next.

I decided to stop the anti-depressants, the pain meds and the drinking all at once, cold turkey! At this point I was on methadone (a form of heroin) for my pain. This wasn’t going to be easy.

What came next was grueling, painful and inhumane, but I was in control of my destiny for the first time in years. To me, this move was a positive one. Despite my agony, I could almost envision a ray of sunshine peeking out from the dark clouds.

For the next twenty-eight days, my life was exactly what you would see in a movie about a drug addict going cold turkey. Shaking, convulsions, sweating, throwing up, and insomnia were typical behavior for my level of addiction. My body was going to fight me every step of the way, but my will to fight back was stronger. I lay on my parents living room floor day after day trying to survive, promising myself that if I wasn’t better by morning I would go to the hospital. Finally, on day 28 I kept that promise to myself and went to see my doctor. He couldn’t believe what I had done and was relieved to see that the process didn‘t kill me. He immediately had me admitted so I could finish the self-inflicted journey I started on my own almost a month before. As much as I hated hospitals I had to admit it felt good to be taken care of for a few days. I completed my quest and was now determined to get my life in order. I was on the hunt for the Kevin I left behind almost three years before. Although I was clean for a while, I would continue to struggle with the balance of pain relief and a functioning lifestyle. The reality of chronic pain is not feeling like me while on the medication but without it, the pain makes me crazy. It’s the hardest balancing act to pull off and most of us can’t.

Building a Dream

Now that I was clean from the medications, had a knee that could bend and a bald head by choice, my life began to take on some order. I was slowly regaining more of myself. My mind was becoming clearer and my ambitions were no longer clouded in a dense fog. I started to believe that I really had something special inside me and the people around me were starting to see my potential as well.

Along with my new clean and sober life came my re-ignited pursuit of a record deal. Once again I remembered my love for music and all of the times in the past I ached to live the life of a star. I wasn’t quite clear about the proper procedures to “go for it,” but I was compelled to chase it. I would sing most of the days from dawn until dusk and the feedback was flattering. I heard comments like, “You sing that song as good as the real guy,” and “Wow, Garth doesn’t do it any better than you.” Unfortunately, those comments were the crux of the problem. My ability to sing cover tunes as well as the original singer didn’t mean anything to record labels. They wanted to hear original songs that were as great as cover tunes.

I knew that I wasn’t up to that standard of writing, so I set out to find a co-writer. That was the first piece of a very intricate puzzle. However, before I actually met anyone, my brother Richard told me about a college friend of his that had a similar dream to mine. He wanted to be a famous songwriter. I’d had too many experiences with “coincidences” in the past to ignore this twist of fate. I flew to Utah to meet Eric Bunch.

We immediately hit it off. I liked his songs; he liked my voice. We used his very simple recording system to put a song to tape and knew we had to work together in some capacity. We just had to figure out how.

I returned to California and enrolled in music and recording classes at the community college. There was no doubt in my mind that the things I learned would serve me well in the future. One day in class we started to study home studios. Our assignment was to design a studio from top to bottom, complete with total cost and equipment. Once I saw the results on paper, I instantly knew that this was the next piece of the puzzle.

With the help (and garage) of my dad and Richard, we started to plan out Sharpsounds Studio. I was overwhelmed that they believed in me enough to invest money and muscle into building a recording studio. We sent Eric the money he needed to get the equipment to start laying music tracks. We did construction, soundproofing, and equipment installation. Everything was timed so the studio would be done in time for Eric’s visit to record my vocals.

Finally, after weeks of hard work and a lot of sweat, we finished. By the time Eric arrived, I was exhausted. I was almost too sick to record, but we pressed on. Sickness was not going to interfere with my new life. It had taken too much from me already. I was in control this time. We worked in the studio for 5 days straight without more than a few hours of sleep. We recorded a demo that I could use to shop a deal and also to audition for a show on TNN called
You Can Be A Star
. It was the country version of
Star Search
and I desperately wanted to be on it. We had to work tirelessly to make the audition deadline and we did it. I was so proud of that first tape. We sent it everywhere and to any one we knew that might help us.

The feedback was excellent. Our family and friends loved it. We landed an audition and interest from a small label in Florida

Our passion to succeed was unstoppable. Eric and I knew we were on the right path; our dream was becoming a reality to us. The more we spoke it and told others about it, the more real it became. We were songwriters and I was a singer! The only thing left to do was to let the entire world know it! I had to find the courage to play it for David Foster and to get his advice. I wanted to do it in person, which was very scary to say the least. After meeting and turning down the offer from the small label out of Florida, I thought the offers would just keep coming, they didn’t. It would be two long years before the next real offer would come along.

Showcase

My newfound zest for life brought me on many new adventures. I took a job in a mortuary singing for funerals. I joined a local band, sang at “Great America” (a theme park in Northern California) and I even delivered singing telegrams. I wanted to do anything I could that would allow me to sing. Even though many months, even a year had gone by since Eric and I made our demo tape, in my mind I was going for it.

My pursuit for a record deal was a state of mind for me. As long as I continued on with my dream I would be okay. I kept on singing. I was even given the opportunity to make an album locally with a musician, Steve Sitton, who put a lot of time and money into the belief of my career.

Then one day, Jaymes Foster from David Foster’s office called and asked if I was still pursuing a deal. She had found my demo tape that I had sent almost two years previous in a box that was slated for the garbage. She took a listen to see if there was anything in there worth a first or second listen. David was starting a label and seeking talent.

One thing led to another and before I knew what was happening, I was in Los Angeles meeting with Chris Farren and auditioning for Kyle Lehning from Asylum records! I had never experienced anything like it before. I thought my audition for the summer theatre was scary; I had no idea how frightening the big time could be.

Here I was, having had one rehearsal with unfamiliar musicians, no audience, in a tension-filled room of industry big wigs. My family was back at home and David Foster had put his reputation on the line on my behalf. Part of me wanted to go home, but the dreamer in me had been preparing for this day my entire life.

Before we began, David came over and put his hand on my shoulder. His last words of encouragement for me were, “Don’t f_ _ _ this up.” Those words surely put me at ease!