Listen to this as you read...
Once upon a time, the first time in fact, I was dying of cancer. I had just been diagnosed with a cancer with a 30% survivability rate. Ordinarily, these things don't respond to surgical intervention. Nevertheless I opted to give it a shot, and quickly, since it was so damned invasive. And I thought I went it alone...
At the time, I was fresh out of school, had a new child to provide for, one who could barely speak, and I doubted I would ever know. I had a wife; one who was hostile for reasons that I suspected, but only later were verified.* I was working a shit job tending bar at a French restaurant. It was a fun job: I had great friends, with no sense of fecklessness, and met others like me...at the Kings Cross of Life. One of the things we loved to do was to go an artsy Jazz club, which -twice a week- played indie/goth/metal music. And there have been few times in my life that I've had more fun. Until my world crumbled around me....
I found out I had cancer on August 5th of that year, and decided to have the fastest surgery possible, which was scheduled for August 8th. I spend August 6th crying to those who would not listen, or those who would not care. But then came August 7th. My birthday. Gratefully, two of my friends, the Ballerinas coaxed me out. I met them at the place we worked, and they smiled as they hopped in my car. Both gave me hugs that I thought would break my ribs, and tears were drying on their face. Then they gave me a CD from a local band who I did (and still) respect a great deal...which is hard to do in Montgomery, Alabama. And Blond Ballerina said that she had another present to give me...I opened the flapping package, and it was a black t-shirt that read "Sleep with me before I die". And we all cried together.
But, my Birthday/impending death day was only half over.
We went to said Artsy Jazz club, but the club had been closed. However, we got inside, and everything, literally everything had been blacked out or was black: the windows, bar lights, back doors, floors, wallpaper, beverage napkins, plastic glasses, vodka, the clothing on the select patrons and bartender. And, the sign above the bar read "Happy Birthday Shadow: We love you and believe in you"
I have rarely wept as hard as I did then. And I hugged and spoke to every single person there, some old friends, some new acquaintances, and others there by reputation alone. It was divine. To no longer be alone, to face death with equinamity and poise and joy. And it still wasn't over.
Later that night, the Ballerinas led me to a bed, and we danced and cried and made love as more than humans, as souls reaching out in sadness and pain and hope. We cried and laughed as though there were no tomorrow. For any of us. And while a troika sounds perverse or at least non-normative, I can't think of a single thing that meant more to me at that time
And everything I did, everything we did, we did it all to this song. And I never said it, but I say it now: Thank you, you saved my life.
*It's ok. We understand one another now. And, the above is not new to either of us.
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