You people are incredible. I’ve been inundated with messages the past few days asking me for “the link to the fundraiser”, and I hadn’t even gotten to that yet! I was still learning the schedule, what awaits me, and figuring out where I stand on everything.

So the fun officially starts with a surgical implant of a port for chemotherapy injections the second week of September, injections which will continue for six months. Among all the other fun side effects, this stuff progressively weakens your bone marrow, which results in some pretty egregious fatigue. This increases cumulatively as the treatment progresses and your marrow gets weaker.

Upon learning this, I immediately started calling booking agents and venues, trying to work out what dates I could still do while undergoing this treatment, and how I could handle all the travel, and, to their credit, they basically said, “Just STOP. This ain’t gonna happen. You have to take care of yourself.”

And all of you - my friends and colleagues - said the same thing. To quote one old friend (literally yelling at me), “Knock it off with this whole hero routine. You have to STOP. You have to take care of yourself. The only shot you have at coming back from this is making a commitment to healing. Go home. Be with your wife. Rest. Get better.” Everyone has hit me with this same dose of reality, and I appreciate it. Your true friends are the people who tell you the stuff you DON’T want to hear.

Last year it was the medical expenses that put me in the hole. I had the tumor surgically removed in late April, which only sidelined me for a couple of weeks. But I was able to keep working; by mid-May I was back out on the road and salvaged the rest of 2023’s live dates, paying those bills as best I could, and you folks did the rest. I am still extremely humbled by that. But I’m realizing now how debilitating this is going to be. Loading up a van full of gear and bouncing around the country doing 16-hour days is just not at all realistic.

The good news this time around is that I have a really good insurance plan. It won’t cover the entire cost of treatment, but it will definitely help. The bad news is that I’m losing six months of income, and this “job” doesn’t come with sick days. I haven’t gone six months without playing a gig since I was in the NINTH GRADE, so this is going to be quite an adjustment.

I’m assuming that if everything goes well, I might be able to return to duty early in 2025, and since January and February always tend to be very light on the live front anyway, I’ve based my projection of lost income not on six months, but just the final four months of 2024, and the grand total of income I’m losing for those four months is $18,150.

Because I’ve been playing my ASS off this year, I have already been able to pay off everything incurred so far (diagnostics, lab work, radiology/scans) on my own. Now that I’m sidelined, incredibly, my out-of-pocket costs for the treatment itself come to ONLY $7,382.76 (I say that’s some DAMNED good insurance!).

So our grand total here comes to $25,532.76. I apologize for sounding so clinically detached, like a CPA or something, but if I’m going to put myself out there and ask for your help, I owe it you to you account for every penny.

In closing, let me say this: since learning I had cancer last year, I made draconian lifestyle and diet changes, to which I have proudly adhered. I am now in the best physical health I’ve ever been in my entire life, and my job now, in order to win this battle, is to make sure my mental and emotional health follow suit. And I’m there. It may sound strange, but I am actually looking forward to this. If I have to be a chemo patient, I’m gonna be the best damned chemo patient there ever was. Maybe it’s because football season is here, but I’m psyched for the WIN.

I would be completely negligent if I did not mention how my wife, Rike, has been a godsend here. She has copiously researched what foods cancer likes and doesn’t like, and has had me on a diet cooked completely from scratch, as well as a cocktail of natural supplements that inhibit its growth. Her efforts have been tireless, her support unwavering. I frankly don’t see myself getting through this without her.

Some have suggested that I’ll have some great new batch of music after going through this, but I say no. Music is what I do and who I am. Cancer does not get to have a seat at that table. It does not get to have a chapter in my book. It is wholly unworthy of being represented in any creative endeavor.

I cannot put into words what your support has meant. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.