Side Note: Doing hospital linger longer dance for few days. Here till Sunday/Monday
After posting Chpt2 in the next few days I'll go Back to regular Wednesday Sloggs blog -- Small announcement coming then.
Sloggy
I brawl with cancer recalling so many who left a powerful legacy of slogging on. The happenings from Sept. 4th through the 9th chronicled in 5 Nights 6 Days CHpt 1 and CHpt 2 is dedicated to the memory of Dsylvers Chris.
Thank you Dsylver
CHpt 1 of "5 Nights & 6 Days
Sept 4th- 2:34am Road
I tell myself the sinister sky will go blue by the time we pull into Oroville. Tyler deserves a blue sky.
We have 12 hours of driving ahead of us. Tyler, my de facto drum tech, will play guitar this week for City Zu he is driving.
He asks if it is ok to stay in the left lane.
I shoot him an are you serious look?
Now I am nervous.
I reflect on the call 3 weeks ago. Tyler 21, stoically telling me his Mother earlier that day (late 40s) had passed away sadly and unexpectedly.
This trip is the first time Tyler has had to unstring his bow so to speak.
It is cloudy, dark and rainy outside.
I vocalize a lame observation about the car next to us. I glance over at Tyler. He is laughing.
I nod my head smiling.
I hope this will be a good week for him. I hope the hallmark of these next 6 days will be a surplus of laughter and music.
I start counting the smiles and laughter thus far. Solid start
Life is good.
3:57am: Phil Collins DVD is playing quietly in the background.
As we proceed South on I-5. The cloudy dark night begins giving away to a starry clear sky.
A shepherd moon appears.
I had spent the previous day exacting my meds and hydrating myself. Every trick I know is employed to not be a burden these next 6 days. I feel good.
We talk about how on the way to Tahoe 3 months ago I was in full puke mode. Cancer had spread to my lungs again.
Not the case today. Cancer is safely resigned once again chirp chirp to the soft tissues and bones in my back, hip and joints.
6:12am: Out of my Gourd
I am so enchanted with the trucks/semis on the road. Every truck is an extraordinary unsung marvel. I am in awe.
I cant help but turn my head every time we go past a long hauler. Why I am feeling this way? I have no idea.
For 12 hours I interrupt myself numerous times pointing out these marvelous do good machines
Articulating these feelings causes new smiles from Tyler. He knows my bravado is honest.
9am: Wow
A passing Kenworth truck gives me pause. Its front hood ornament looks like a tom mount.
Wait just a sec I brood over if indeed a mount/arm for my rack tom was packed.
Oh no.
My mind endeavors to remember if I packed an extra snare stand.
Oh no. Wait This could get worse.
I jog my memory if any snare stands had been packed.
Oh no. Drastad!
Wow, nice Forrest. Thank you.
9:12am: My wife is on the cell phone. Peggy says wow 17 times while looking online for a music store.
I ask her if the wows are necessary.
Wow she says emphatically again. This starts an ugly battle of name calling.
Youre a pelt I say.
Really? she says acerbically Youre a fat pile of feverish peat bog.
Note: Peggys aptitude for name calling is much better than mine.
Two unpleasant minutes later she locates a Guitar Center a few hours ahead in Medford.
I point out she forgot to put the bananas in the Suburban.
I then launch into a stream of wows.
She hangs up on the 8th.
11am: Medford Guitar Center
$115 dollars later we are back on the road. The tremendous feeling of wasting money dissipates as I begin once more explaining my heartfelt admiration/esteem for the various semi-trucks sharing the road with us.
Tyler groans, Oh God, here we go again.
3pm:Greetings Oroville
Arriving we are immediately welcomed by a fan of the bands. We sign her CD.
This is a new hotel. A solid place to stay.
10pm: I arrive back in my Hotel room. Sound check is behind us. The stage here is rather small. We ran a few songs. We decided to use the Casinos sound shield around my drums.
These shield reminds me of pit drumming for Les Miserables and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat in my late teens. The last time I played drums for 10 years.
I empty my luggage; i.e. clothes, medicines, snacks, Ipod, computer etc. etc. onto my large King Bed.
Everything keeping within arms reach whilst lying down is the plan.
.
10:34pm: The Reach
I lay down at last. I am shaking after staying on my feet to long
I look at the ceiling.
Out of habit I begin counting the stucco. 1, 2,3,4,5,6,7 Wait, is that 7 or 6? Drastad! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
10:45pm: 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, , ,
10:59pm: 392, 393, 394 stuccos,
I reach for my meds. Where are they? I shuffle through the pile on my bed.
Not here. Not here. Not here.
I raise my head off the pillow to scan the room.
Drastad!! My meds are across the room atop the desk.
Taking a deep breath I begin the protocol for standing up.
On three I swing to the side of the bed into the seated position.
I stretch my legs and begin the count to three. If my radiation burns arent bad this usually takes only just a few minutes.
On three I stand. After a few minutes my legs signal it is safe to take a step.
11:17pm: My meds now share the space next to me as I lay upon my bed.
I am comfortable once again.
I create the precise sound John Candy made taking off his socks in Planes Trains and Automobiles. This makes me laugh.
I do it 8 more times laughing each time.
I call Peggy and show her. She is unimpressed. I say wow and hang up.
I put my nights 8 pills in my mouth and reach for a drink to swoop it down. I survey the bed.
No drinks manifest themselves.
Drastad!!
I repeat modus operandi for getting out of bed and head over to the fridge.
Finally I lay down again.
11:39pm: Drastad!!
My computer is not plugged in. I repeat laborious process of getting out of bed.
Finally, I lay down again frowning with disgust. Nobody can be this dumb I think.
11:59pm: I stop sulking realizing a friend will be on Leno soon. This warms my spirit.
I reach for the remote.
Drastad!! Drastad!! Drastad!!
The remote is on top of the TV!! It mocks me.
I begin visualizing Navin atop the 32 inch Sony ridiculing me.
15 minutes later I continue to flip off Navin the remote.
Eventually I roll over and sob myself to sleep.
Navin is the demon of hell.
Sept 5th 7:15am:
Housekeeping is knocking.
Forgot to hang the do not disturb. Drastad!!
Returning to my bed I give the remote a spiteful shove as I hobble past it falls into the dark bliss behind the TV.
Cya Navin! I am now smiling as I fall back asleep.
Side Note: Flipping off your remote is perfectly civilized. Shoving it however is classless.
I know. I looked it up.
8pm: Behind my drums. 3 piece Yamaha oak set. 24, 13, 16. I am using the Ludwig 402 snare. 17 A fast crash on left, 20 Constantinople ride on right, 14 Armand hats immediate left.
I start the count and were off
10pm: I say hello to some friends who drove a few hours from Redding. They didnt know I drummed. They had visited me in the hospital 4 years ago. They are stunned Im still alive (Sounds like every doctor I owe money to)
Sept 6th 8am: Like a little girl
I begin writing Sloggs Blog. I hit proof on ezboard upon finishing. The phone rings.
I set my computer upon the end table to answer the phone.
A work associate is on the other end. As I speak my arm jostles the end table.
I watch in horror as my computer commences to teeter-tot. I scream like a little girl as it begins its fall.
Landing hard my computer flickers before shutting off. Sloggs Blog is gonzo.
I turn my attention back to the phone.
I apologize profusely for my outburst but he seems genuinely disgusted.
8:32am: I call my Peggy. I duplicate to the best of my ability the shriek. I ask her how bad it is.
Her silence speaks volumes.
Wow is all she can say.
I feel sick.
After all Ive been through how could such a reverberation come from me? I hang up with Peggy thoroughly disgusted with myself.
Note: Possibly caused by lingering effects from that damn albatross Navin I think.
8:54am: Friends
I am horizontal on my bed staring at the ceiling. I rally a grin imagining somewhere in the ether above is my horrific Girly Shriek and Lost Slogg Blog making sweet love.
I look forward to playing drums tonight.
I log into the forum for some reading between conference calls.
I read ScottG chasing a feeling thread. Very solid.
I read the replies to last weeks Sloggs Blog. 1968z, Yamaha, Dsylver, Billy, BBunks, Amba etc. very powerful.
I reflect on there words.
Life is Good.
8pm: I am sitting on stage. Its Go time. The members of the band turn to me waiting for the count... we smile.
The count of 4 begins the union is now elevated aboard a flight of music.
I peer down toward the 402.
Earlier words immersed in my heart morph into a feeling of affection. The presence of my drumming friends is tangible. I feel you my friends.
Life is Good.
Sept 7th- 1:05am Horizontal
On my back in the dressing room meditating over the evenings 4th and last set. (Notice all the laying down I do?)
My body is shaking. I throw up a diminutive amount of blood. Fireworks are going off in my back. I am getting pinged pretty well.
I listen to tonights recording of Kiss Me. Pleasantly surprised how well it came off. I listen to the playback of Vehicle. It felt spotty live but the playback is essentially forgiving. Very powerful.
I consider how the drum set has evolved into such a musically powerful gizmo. I experience enchantment and relief to be a drummer in 2007.
402 snare drum is used as a head rest. I reach down to change my heating pad. I am alone so I survey the blistering skin ulcers covering my body.
I realize living these drumming dreams are not free. We each pay a price.
The pain throbs as I consider a multiplicity of ways my drumming friends put up with chafe for drummings sake;
A discouraging choir director for CPThrasher, a poodle singer for Jeff Halpren, a church band playing Dixie for DrumDoug, a harsh new room for Rich, a fashionably erudite producer for Billy. (Thanks but wrong pants.)
Nonetheless, these guys slog on drumming. I resolve to always do my best. Every drummer hurts.
I look at my shaking hands. Hard to believe minutes ago using these same hands drumming. I remember how I learned to overcome the shakes while playing last year thanks to a good friends "Big Time" DVD.
I think of this friend.
I shut my eyes to keep the room from spinning. My mind races forward to next month when for a few days it will be Billy time
I slowly ready my regime of 50 pills for swallowing.
Note: Taking pills straight away, following the evenings drumming allows my health to crest for next evenings drumming.
My shaking hands fight to steady themselves. I try to latch onto my chemotherapy pills.
For now taking my meds without help is an unfeasible charge.
I catch a fleeting look in a side mirror as my head turns. Alas as projected the volumes of prescribed hormones, prednisone and steroids have been adding a ton of weight despite scarcely eating these last months.
I peer at my feet to see if my shoes are on. Cancer in my joints and surrounding soft tissues has effectively shut down any sensation/feeling in my feet. I use my cane to nudge them. Very surreal.
Feeling sleepy I begin wondering what the next few days will bring. Will Navin's horns grow? Will I feel as content tomorrow night? What will life reveal...?
As I'm dozing off my mind identifies what's clear.
I love being a drummer...
Slog On, Forrest
Dedicated to the remembrance of drummer Chris D'Sylver
After posting Chpt2 in the next few days I'll go Back to regular Wednesday Sloggs blog -- Small announcement coming then.
Sloggy
I brawl with cancer recalling so many who left a powerful legacy of slogging on. The happenings from Sept. 4th through the 9th chronicled in 5 Nights 6 Days CHpt 1 and CHpt 2 is dedicated to the memory of Dsylvers Chris.
Thank you Dsylver
CHpt 1 of "5 Nights & 6 Days
Sept 4th- 2:34am Road
I tell myself the sinister sky will go blue by the time we pull into Oroville. Tyler deserves a blue sky.
We have 12 hours of driving ahead of us. Tyler, my de facto drum tech, will play guitar this week for City Zu he is driving.
He asks if it is ok to stay in the left lane.
I shoot him an are you serious look?
Now I am nervous.
I reflect on the call 3 weeks ago. Tyler 21, stoically telling me his Mother earlier that day (late 40s) had passed away sadly and unexpectedly.
This trip is the first time Tyler has had to unstring his bow so to speak.
It is cloudy, dark and rainy outside.
I vocalize a lame observation about the car next to us. I glance over at Tyler. He is laughing.
I nod my head smiling.
I hope this will be a good week for him. I hope the hallmark of these next 6 days will be a surplus of laughter and music.
I start counting the smiles and laughter thus far. Solid start
Life is good.
3:57am: Phil Collins DVD is playing quietly in the background.
As we proceed South on I-5. The cloudy dark night begins giving away to a starry clear sky.
A shepherd moon appears.
I had spent the previous day exacting my meds and hydrating myself. Every trick I know is employed to not be a burden these next 6 days. I feel good.
We talk about how on the way to Tahoe 3 months ago I was in full puke mode. Cancer had spread to my lungs again.
Not the case today. Cancer is safely resigned once again chirp chirp to the soft tissues and bones in my back, hip and joints.
6:12am: Out of my Gourd
I am so enchanted with the trucks/semis on the road. Every truck is an extraordinary unsung marvel. I am in awe.
I cant help but turn my head every time we go past a long hauler. Why I am feeling this way? I have no idea.
For 12 hours I interrupt myself numerous times pointing out these marvelous do good machines
Articulating these feelings causes new smiles from Tyler. He knows my bravado is honest.
9am: Wow
A passing Kenworth truck gives me pause. Its front hood ornament looks like a tom mount.
Wait just a sec I brood over if indeed a mount/arm for my rack tom was packed.
Oh no.
My mind endeavors to remember if I packed an extra snare stand.
Oh no. Wait This could get worse.
I jog my memory if any snare stands had been packed.
Oh no. Drastad!
Wow, nice Forrest. Thank you.
9:12am: My wife is on the cell phone. Peggy says wow 17 times while looking online for a music store.
I ask her if the wows are necessary.
Wow she says emphatically again. This starts an ugly battle of name calling.
Youre a pelt I say.
Really? she says acerbically Youre a fat pile of feverish peat bog.
Note: Peggys aptitude for name calling is much better than mine.
Two unpleasant minutes later she locates a Guitar Center a few hours ahead in Medford.
I point out she forgot to put the bananas in the Suburban.
I then launch into a stream of wows.
She hangs up on the 8th.
11am: Medford Guitar Center
$115 dollars later we are back on the road. The tremendous feeling of wasting money dissipates as I begin once more explaining my heartfelt admiration/esteem for the various semi-trucks sharing the road with us.
Tyler groans, Oh God, here we go again.
3pm:Greetings Oroville
Arriving we are immediately welcomed by a fan of the bands. We sign her CD.
This is a new hotel. A solid place to stay.
10pm: I arrive back in my Hotel room. Sound check is behind us. The stage here is rather small. We ran a few songs. We decided to use the Casinos sound shield around my drums.
These shield reminds me of pit drumming for Les Miserables and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat in my late teens. The last time I played drums for 10 years.
I empty my luggage; i.e. clothes, medicines, snacks, Ipod, computer etc. etc. onto my large King Bed.
Everything keeping within arms reach whilst lying down is the plan.
.
10:34pm: The Reach
I lay down at last. I am shaking after staying on my feet to long
I look at the ceiling.
Out of habit I begin counting the stucco. 1, 2,3,4,5,6,7 Wait, is that 7 or 6? Drastad! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
10:45pm: 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, , ,
10:59pm: 392, 393, 394 stuccos,
I reach for my meds. Where are they? I shuffle through the pile on my bed.
Not here. Not here. Not here.
I raise my head off the pillow to scan the room.
Drastad!! My meds are across the room atop the desk.
Taking a deep breath I begin the protocol for standing up.
On three I swing to the side of the bed into the seated position.
I stretch my legs and begin the count to three. If my radiation burns arent bad this usually takes only just a few minutes.
On three I stand. After a few minutes my legs signal it is safe to take a step.
11:17pm: My meds now share the space next to me as I lay upon my bed.
I am comfortable once again.
I create the precise sound John Candy made taking off his socks in Planes Trains and Automobiles. This makes me laugh.
I do it 8 more times laughing each time.
I call Peggy and show her. She is unimpressed. I say wow and hang up.
I put my nights 8 pills in my mouth and reach for a drink to swoop it down. I survey the bed.
No drinks manifest themselves.
Drastad!!
I repeat modus operandi for getting out of bed and head over to the fridge.
Finally I lay down again.
11:39pm: Drastad!!
My computer is not plugged in. I repeat laborious process of getting out of bed.
Finally, I lay down again frowning with disgust. Nobody can be this dumb I think.
11:59pm: I stop sulking realizing a friend will be on Leno soon. This warms my spirit.
I reach for the remote.
Drastad!! Drastad!! Drastad!!
The remote is on top of the TV!! It mocks me.
I begin visualizing Navin atop the 32 inch Sony ridiculing me.
15 minutes later I continue to flip off Navin the remote.
Eventually I roll over and sob myself to sleep.
Navin is the demon of hell.
Sept 5th 7:15am:
Housekeeping is knocking.
Forgot to hang the do not disturb. Drastad!!
Returning to my bed I give the remote a spiteful shove as I hobble past it falls into the dark bliss behind the TV.
Cya Navin! I am now smiling as I fall back asleep.
Side Note: Flipping off your remote is perfectly civilized. Shoving it however is classless.
I know. I looked it up.
8pm: Behind my drums. 3 piece Yamaha oak set. 24, 13, 16. I am using the Ludwig 402 snare. 17 A fast crash on left, 20 Constantinople ride on right, 14 Armand hats immediate left.
I start the count and were off
10pm: I say hello to some friends who drove a few hours from Redding. They didnt know I drummed. They had visited me in the hospital 4 years ago. They are stunned Im still alive (Sounds like every doctor I owe money to)
Sept 6th 8am: Like a little girl
I begin writing Sloggs Blog. I hit proof on ezboard upon finishing. The phone rings.
I set my computer upon the end table to answer the phone.
A work associate is on the other end. As I speak my arm jostles the end table.
I watch in horror as my computer commences to teeter-tot. I scream like a little girl as it begins its fall.
Landing hard my computer flickers before shutting off. Sloggs Blog is gonzo.
I turn my attention back to the phone.
I apologize profusely for my outburst but he seems genuinely disgusted.
8:32am: I call my Peggy. I duplicate to the best of my ability the shriek. I ask her how bad it is.
Her silence speaks volumes.
Wow is all she can say.
I feel sick.
After all Ive been through how could such a reverberation come from me? I hang up with Peggy thoroughly disgusted with myself.
Note: Possibly caused by lingering effects from that damn albatross Navin I think.
8:54am: Friends
I am horizontal on my bed staring at the ceiling. I rally a grin imagining somewhere in the ether above is my horrific Girly Shriek and Lost Slogg Blog making sweet love.
I look forward to playing drums tonight.
I log into the forum for some reading between conference calls.
I read ScottG chasing a feeling thread. Very solid.
I read the replies to last weeks Sloggs Blog. 1968z, Yamaha, Dsylver, Billy, BBunks, Amba etc. very powerful.
I reflect on there words.
Life is Good.
8pm: I am sitting on stage. Its Go time. The members of the band turn to me waiting for the count... we smile.
The count of 4 begins the union is now elevated aboard a flight of music.
I peer down toward the 402.
Earlier words immersed in my heart morph into a feeling of affection. The presence of my drumming friends is tangible. I feel you my friends.
Life is Good.
Sept 7th- 1:05am Horizontal
On my back in the dressing room meditating over the evenings 4th and last set. (Notice all the laying down I do?)
My body is shaking. I throw up a diminutive amount of blood. Fireworks are going off in my back. I am getting pinged pretty well.
I listen to tonights recording of Kiss Me. Pleasantly surprised how well it came off. I listen to the playback of Vehicle. It felt spotty live but the playback is essentially forgiving. Very powerful.
I consider how the drum set has evolved into such a musically powerful gizmo. I experience enchantment and relief to be a drummer in 2007.
402 snare drum is used as a head rest. I reach down to change my heating pad. I am alone so I survey the blistering skin ulcers covering my body.
I realize living these drumming dreams are not free. We each pay a price.
The pain throbs as I consider a multiplicity of ways my drumming friends put up with chafe for drummings sake;
A discouraging choir director for CPThrasher, a poodle singer for Jeff Halpren, a church band playing Dixie for DrumDoug, a harsh new room for Rich, a fashionably erudite producer for Billy. (Thanks but wrong pants.)
Nonetheless, these guys slog on drumming. I resolve to always do my best. Every drummer hurts.
I look at my shaking hands. Hard to believe minutes ago using these same hands drumming. I remember how I learned to overcome the shakes while playing last year thanks to a good friends "Big Time" DVD.
I think of this friend.
I shut my eyes to keep the room from spinning. My mind races forward to next month when for a few days it will be Billy time
I slowly ready my regime of 50 pills for swallowing.
Note: Taking pills straight away, following the evenings drumming allows my health to crest for next evenings drumming.
My shaking hands fight to steady themselves. I try to latch onto my chemotherapy pills.
For now taking my meds without help is an unfeasible charge.
I catch a fleeting look in a side mirror as my head turns. Alas as projected the volumes of prescribed hormones, prednisone and steroids have been adding a ton of weight despite scarcely eating these last months.
I peer at my feet to see if my shoes are on. Cancer in my joints and surrounding soft tissues has effectively shut down any sensation/feeling in my feet. I use my cane to nudge them. Very surreal.
Feeling sleepy I begin wondering what the next few days will bring. Will Navin's horns grow? Will I feel as content tomorrow night? What will life reveal...?
As I'm dozing off my mind identifies what's clear.
I love being a drummer...
Slog On, Forrest
Dedicated to the remembrance of drummer Chris D'Sylver
