Please let me preface this writing with a caution. I’m going to be me in the telling. I am going to swear too much and I’m going to be honest and a smartass. It’s who she fell in love with, and Mark has no room to f’n talk! Thank you, I feel better with that off my chest. As I like to say, there are two kinds of people in this world, those who swear, and those who lie and say they don’t. There ain’t no denying my swearing, not even a little f’n bit. Your grandmother swore also…a lot…    

Kindred spirits…a wondrous thing. We have many, and very different, kindred spirits throughout life, if we are so blessed, but they are not all the same. Kindred spirits come in all shapes and sizes, and all personages. Friends that share an interest and stay…or go. Brothers and sisters and other family members. Like minded sports fans, music fans, book fans, etc. And then there are the big ones, the ones that share a part of you that the intertwinement is almost inextricable, or IS inextricable. The first, and by far, the prettiest, is the love of my life, my soul mate Nicolette, or Nikki. I found her on September 23rd of 1981. Her best friend was a girl I had started seeing and she asked if her friend could come to my buddy’s birthday party with us. I said of course, and we went and found her. She was 16 at the time, I was 19, and we became fast friends…love at first sight will do that to ya. And it was love at first sight, just not THAT love at first sight…that love built over the next 14 months into a force we had never felt before and lives unto this day. There is more to that story that we will get to, however, for right now, on to my other Kindred Spirit, Mark Waldron.    

Mark and I knew each other very casually from parties and whatever, when I found out he played piano. Having been writing lyrics and poetry for a few years, I stopped by the gas station he worked at in December of 1982 for gas and talked to him about getting together and writing some songs. He told me he would only do it if I sang them also. I told him…I’m not a singer. He said bullshit, he’d only do it if I sang them. I said ok, they’re your ears. We discovered that we had the same birthday, and that he was…and still is…a year older than me (he hit the big 65 this year, while I’m still in my late early mid 60’s!). Anyways, he gave me a cassette with a few things of his on it and I went to work. 42 years, a couple arguments here and there and years together and apart, and we are still creating together. This time, in a way neither of us saw coming.       

So, there’s the sorta back story, now on with the show. August 27, 2024 was a day I had looked forward to for 5 years. Diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma anal cancer in September of 2019, I had had my world turned upside down. It was a growth on my bottom that had turned painful…VERY painful. Just kill me now Lord, PLEASE…painful. And then it was gone, taken away forever by a wonderful surgeon, a yearly fixture in my life since. Scheduled for radiation and chemotherapy, I was told by my doctors that there was no need, they couldn’t find any more after a PET scan. So yearly colonoscopies towards that “magical” 5 year marker and then peace of mind. Yeah, riiiiight… The first 3 colonoscopies were unspectacular, some polyps that tested benign, a pat on the back and a “I’ll see ya next year”. 

Until August 27, 2024.        

My (hopefully...at the time) final yearly colonoscopy was scheduled for 9:00am, Wednesday August 28, 2024. On August 27th around noon, I started my prep and purge to get ready for the next day. It was a different solution this time than the other 4, pills instead of powder mixed with water, and by the time I was done a couple hours later, I was tired and nauseous, so I laid down on the couch at 2:45 and closed my eyes. At 3;30, I opened them and stood up…and felt pain such as I have never felt before in my life. It made kidney stones and cancer feel like kisses from my grandbabies. I kinda staggered around in a 10 square foot area trying to say something besides “fuck, fuCK, FUCK!!!”…but couldn’t. I made my way to our deck to see if the outside heat would ease it…nope. I was sure I was dying, thankfully Nikki heard me from her office off our bedroom at the end of the house, got off of her Zoom meeting and came running out to see what was the matter. She immediately said we need to go to the ER, and I immediately said “Yes.”, so off we went to St Joseph’s Hospital in Elgin, 10 minutes away.  Got there quick, got in quick…and sat…and sat…for an hour and a half, then Nikki was told that four ambulances were arriving and would take priority over the guy dying in the waiting room. We left. On to Sherman, still in Elgin and 5 or so minutes further up the road. Even with some terrifying details of that stop to come, it will be our first destination from here on out. 

Into Sherman’s ER we go, and it is packed, little kids, old people, middle aged and all…packed. Oddly enough, I noticed that roughly 90% of the countries of this world appeared to be represented…go figure, we all suffer. Nikki signs me in and I try to find a hole in the wall to crawl in to, so as to not have to “entertain” when I really just wanted to die and get it over with… We sit, and sit, and sit, for about an hour, during which the hospital informed my surgeon and he called to talk to me and find out what was up. Nikki and I told him and we decided to "postpone" my colonoscopy in the morning. Now they take me back in the ER and put me in a room, hook up an IV and start pumping fluids, morphine and Dilaudid into me. This makes the pain somewhat bearable. I figure that I’m waiting for a cat scan, but nope, the doctor, who I shall not name, asked questions, poked and prodded and…did nothing else. He came back in at 10 or whatever and said to go home and take Tylenol and ibuprofen if needed. What the fuck. I was stoned outta my mind, and half crazed…or more…from this all-encompassing pain, while Nikki, as fierce an advocate for those in her care as you will find, was just wiped, and dare I say, somewhat relieved that a doctor had “cleared” me. Who can blame her? Not I. Home we went. I remember getting into our bedroom, and laying down, somewhere north of 11:30, I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, so that’s what I tried to do, and did, sorta kinda. Around 3:30 or so, I get up to go the bathroom. Done with that, I turn around, and the pain came back all at once two/five/ten fold of that which had happened earlier. I fell into the doorjamb to Nikki’s office and kinda crumpled to the floor with a hopelessness like I had never felt before. I was still stoned stoned, I was almost unable to move…and I wanted to die. Nikki was having none of that. She obviously heard me, me being about 10’ away, so she jumped out of bed and asked if she should call an ambulance, and I said no, I don’t want to wait. She said let’s go. 

She got me into the van and away we went at 4:30 in the morning, back to Sherman’s ER.  At this hour, it was far quieter and we got in pretty quickly…where they hooked me up again, gave me the good stuff again…AND… sent me for a CAT scan, something this carpenter from South Elgin knew was needed well before the very first wave of pain had ended. There was a man tech and a lady tech who were wonderful, they had me in and out in 10 or 15 minutes and I was brought back to the ER room. A doctor came in and told me that I was fu…uh…experiencing the unique feeling of a ruptured colon, that a surgeon was on the way and that my colonoscopy was definitely cancelled for later that morning, seeing as my colon wasn’t gonna make it. We said ok. A couple doctors came in, though at this point, I was just burnt and don’t fully recollect them much. A lady doctor and a man doctor, they looked towards me, but talked towards Nikki, thankfully.     

Then I met our surgeon, our new best friend for life…literally. I focused hard on what she was telling us, basically that life as we had known it was going to come crashing to a halt in the blink of a fucking eye…and boy did it. My colon was perforated and filling my abdomen with poison. I had to have emergency surgery very soon and would likely get to the other side of that decked out with a colostomy bag. My excitement was palpable, away we went to a surgical prep room, or closet. It was small, but I had my own gurney and wasn’t moving for anyone. The anesthesiologist came by to say hello, as did an associate I believe, a nurse came in and shaved my belly…and…Brian from the surgical dept at St Alexius called to find out where I was at, seeing as my colonoscopy couldn’t happen without me. I told him we talked to the doctor the night before and canceled, and I figured I was about to get a more extensive one anyways. I live as a smartass, I’ll die as a smartass.     

Laying there waiting, with Nikki, always Nikki, to be taken into the operating room was a very surreal life defining set of moments. We both knew that this wasn’t just another Wednesday morning in the ol’ operating theater…and that this may be it. I do not remember either of us voicing that thought though. We talked and looked at the clock, and she Nikki’d, as she does when she has someone to hold up and care for and no one is better at it. An aside…if you wanna know what a doctor has in their exam room cabinets, just ask Nikki, she’s looked in every one! But back to the story. Knowing I was headed into no-dreamland very shortly, and that, for me, the waiting was over, was cold comfort knowing that Nikki was there by herself. Unfortunately, there was no way to see this coming, otherwise that would not have been the case. Scheduled surgery is so much more convenient, I highly recommend it over the emergency variety. Speaking of which, at roughly the same time I was set to roll into a procedure room at St Alexius…scheduled, that is, I was rolled into a wholly different one at Sherman. 9:30 in the morning, Wednesday August 28, 2024. 

In what seemed like all of ½ second, I opened my eyes and saw a large 9 on the wall at the end of my gurney, to my right was a nurse sitting at a desk. She said something to me and I asked her if I had an ostomy bag and she said yes…I said "motherfucker" and rolled my head sideways in the pillow. I kinda sorta remember being guided through hallways and an elevator to my room on the 5th floor and finding Nikki there…finally. The entire day and night of the surgery is essentially the tornados in the Wizard Of Oz or Twister…without cows. I do, however, remember waking up wide enough to see Nikki there and saying, “How ya doing baby?”, and having her laugh and say she was ok. I asked why she laughed and she said that I had been doing that every 10 minutes or so for quite a while. I also remember thinking, “That’s gonna make an awesome song.” And boy oh boy, did it ever…writing her love songs is what I do best. Being more than worthy of them is what she does best. Have I mentioned yet how much I absolutely love and adore Nicolette? She is simply the best person I’ve ever known. I couldn’t live without her. How ya doin’ baby?     

So, where are we now? Ah yes, day 2, the scary day. Day one was so blitzing that getting to the other side of the surgery and into a room was a major victory and accomplishment. I would have patted myself, and Nicolette, on the back if I was awake. I wasn’t. Day 2 though was a weird day, and as I have come to be aware, still a very dangerous time for me, yet also a life changing time. Nikki is the story teller wholly for these hours, as I was hallucinating and fevered and poisoned and burning up with my BP through the roof. A learning moment…Nikki is a tried and true, long time professional caretaker. She has worked in nursing homes, home healthcare and hospice…along with being a certified therapeutic massage therapist, mother of five sons and Grandma of soon to be nine amazing grandbabies. There’s a couple more letters and whatnot, but suffice it to say, the lady is steady under fire. This fire was very tough for her though. She journaled from the beginning of this nightmare turned milestone in our life together. She documented a conversation with God with me…and then my response to it after a little sleep. As of these words, I have still only seen but a portion of this letter…and it was life changing. So, since I was there, but remember just incidentals, I’ll pick up on day 3...in the book, that is if we do, in fact, write one.  Suffice it to say here that I spent 5 days in the hospital, bitching and moaning (almost) the whole time and pushing to go the fuck home. I do believe that my doctor was a bit annoyed that she laid out the criteria that would allow for that a bit too specifically...and I held her to it.        

As a whole, the experience sucked, as it also did in part...but my hero stayed with me the whole way, holding me and not letting go. So as much as this is all about me, it's really also all about Nikki, the best person I have ever met. I really needed to write her n' me some songs, so I did. As a whole, “The Song Inside”.