Part 1 of Putting the Can in Cancer: Let the man sing

(Written June 8, 2008)

Craig wants to start singing again, so he booked an appointment for two days of training with an acapella group. Before cancer took his voice, he was pursuing lessons at Swallow Hill. Just by chance, his old teacher, who now lives in NY, emailed asking C if he wanted to partake in a two-day workshop. And the timing couldn’t be better. Craig’s been dipping more than a toe in the water after over three months of involuntary confinement. He was able to go the whole month of May without a trip to the hospital – a feat considering he had spent nearly every week of March and April there. Though he’s not completely out of the woods, he’s feeling well enough to take advantage of the good days by playing harmonica, meeting up with friends, and taking longer walks outdoors (though he usually "pays for it" afterward).

So, in the frailest of voices, Craig told me on Friday that he had an appointment for Saturday -- his first voice lesson in months. When he mentioned this, I thought, well good for him. Now that’s what I call overcoming adversity. Though his voice is not quite there, and he typically vomits before and after singing and harmonic events, Craig’s been going after the things he loves, and why not?

The first day of lessons went well. He lasted the full two hours without vomiting; he became sick just shortly after. He was even able to muster enough energy to attend a party that night. today, he returned for another two hour lesson. Unbeknownst to him, today’s lesson would end in a group performance; at 3:30, he called and invited me to attend. (I was pulling Craig duty, after spending the morning with mom, and her new assistant.)

I entered the building around 4 to find C sitting by himself, but in a room with about fifteen other students. He looked tired, but otherwise excited to sing. C and the acapella group kicked it off with a rendition of “Hit the Road Jack.” I captured as much as I could on my cellphone video camera. Unfortunately, the camera stopped just as Craig belted his solo – HIS SOLO. My God. Just a few weeks ago, he was having a terrible time with intractable hiccups and vomiting. Now he’s leading sections in an acapella group. I wish so badly that I had it on tape; I’ll never forget his voice as he sang Ray Charles’ standard. His voice sounded strong, and had he not had the TPN bag by his ankles, it would have been hard to tell he’s living with cancer. Call it tacky, but I told him he sounded better than everyone up there …and they don’t have cancer pushing against their diaphragm.

Craig rejoined me after singing his second and last song, “In the Still of the Night.” His eyes were a bit red from emotion, and he looked overwhelmed and tired. I told him he sounded great, and put my hand on his shoulder. His eyes misted, as did mine, and he simply whispered “thank you.” I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of Craig. Despite feeling crummy, and despite having cancer in and around his diaphragm, he went out there and gave it his all. Just as he hasn’t shied away from cancer, he didn’t shy away from singing.

Once out in the car, I told him thanks for letting me experience that with him. I hope D, mom and dad can see him shine, too. That’s what you call, putting the CAN in Cancer. -- J

[Just as an aside, Craig’s acapella experience inspired D and me to sing our own acapella song, with a trapped mom our only audience. Our song? None other than Fleetwood Mac's "Gypsy," complete with faux scarves and a metronome-like voice.

And it all comes down to you
Well, you know that it does
Well, lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
Ah, and it lights up the night
And you see your gypsy
You see your gypsy

Gypsy as an acapella performance. Can you imagine?? That'd be hilarious.]