Can You Repeat That?

For a very long time, what felt like forever, the doctors kept changing my medication.  The seizures were happening at a rate they couldn’t control.  A few of those lovely machines they had wired to me could give a little warning to someone in the room but I was already lost for a few hours by that point.  In the end, after poking around the side of my head we found a balance, but the cost was something I wish I fully understood before agreeing.

Tonight a few hundred people will gather and sit in their chairs waiting for the band to take their positions.  Five guys are going to play for a little over two hours their latest album.  It’s been met with mixed reviews from the public, but the “experts” have said they enjoyed the differing direction.

While I was in the stages of the seizures I wasn’t sure I would even make it to the point where I would ever hear the album.  Four months is a long time when things are up in the air.  Add in the notion of actually seeing them perform, I honestly thought I would be in a different location where music commonly is played on harps!

But I purchased a ticket anyway.  It was only $45 and these things do have a resale value to someone.  Now I have to fake my way through portions that I won’t understand.  The sounds will be flying past me at rapid key signature changes and altering rhythms.

Pretending to hear in an ear that no longer functions the way it should.  The sounds will be muted with a little added bonus of a slight buzzing.  And unlike when I am home and can adjust the stereo into a unbalanced mono, tonight turning my head slightly to the right will hopefully compensate for the imperfect tones.  My chest will easily feel the beat pulsating.  And luckily remaining in your chair is expected for most of the performance.

There are plenty of occasions where I can fake my way through things.  Admitting I’m a little tired when in reality I want to crawl back into bed.  Or letting someone know I’m full because I ate a large lunch when in reality I barely at that day.  Those are just a few of the things someone with cancer does to assure those around that a little normality surrounds them.

I’ve gained back enough weight that no one really can tell unless they look into my eyes.  And I’ve kept my hair so short that most would just assume a combination of style and male pattern baldness have become the routine for my 44 years.

But my hockey jersey with the bands name is all laid out.  A gift to myself 15 years ago at a different concert, with different people.  The crowd will overwhelmingly be male and middle-aged, the cost of listening to this band.  It’s not that the music isn’t accessible,  it tends to attract that demographic by its nature of loud guitar and drums.

So if you’re walking around the area near The Freedom Trail in Boston this evening and your eyes are cast upon a rather tall guy with a black jersey that says Dream Theater with the hat pulled down just above his eyes.  Say hello, it’s me.  I don’t bite.

But do me a favor, talk into my left ear.  The right one has some issues these days…

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