[dark electronic music]
- My wife and I, uh, we had a, uh,
a 19-year-old dog, okay?
Fucking 19-year-old German Shepherd.
That is fucking old.
Like, that is--that's done.
Like, it literally just sat in the corner
of a room, it was like a fucking pillow
with bones in it and a head.
It just sat there.
Like, the dog wanted to be done.
And it was just being kept alive on pills.
That's it--we just gave it pills
to fucking keep it alive.
So anyway, uh,
there was one Christmas.
I was having a panic attack and feeling shitty,
and not to get too dark,
but I was feeling, uh, suicidal.
I was struggling with some mental health issues
that I didn't know that I had, and anxiety,
and, um, uh, and then all of a sudden,
and remembered that one day,
when my friend was in the house,
he had walked past the dog pills,
and he had noticed
that one of the jars of pills
was like, "Oh, my--oh, fuck, you have those."
You know what I mean? He didn't say what they were,
but he made a face that went, "That's good."
Like, there's something in those pills
that might be something
a depressed person should take on Christmas Eve.
So... I take one of the pills.
I'm not really sure what it is, but I take one of the pills.
And then I read the j-- and I--and it fucking--
it's like a sweater for your insides.
It's magical. It levels me out.
I'm like, oh, my God. This is amazing.
Something called hydrocodone, right?
And I--and as an alcoholic, I'm like,
I'm never doing that again. Just the one time.
Just gonna do it the one-- just the one--
next week, I'll take one other one.
Later in the month, then two, maybe--five a day.
So, like an alcoholic drug addict,
I escalated, and by that-- then, I was taking
seven a day, and at that point, I just had lost--it--
[sighs] fuck, one day-- here's a perfect example.
One day, I just fucking showed up in the kitchen
of my own house with a-- I had cut myself a Mohawk,
and told my wife I was starting a ska band.
If--that, guys-- if you--first off,
if--if your 50-year-old husband
comes in and says he wants to start a ska band,
just take him to rehab, just right away.
Just take him--if anyone wants to start a ska band today,
fucking take them to rehab.
Uh, my wife was very upset.
I was a total fucking mess. They took me to rehab.
So now, I go to rehab.
I pull my shit together, and I'm feeling good.
And I kind of miss the ska band.
I really did want to be a rock star.
You know what I mean? But I had to give up the--
you know what I mean? Not for--I mean,
not that anyone noticed, but anyway, so,
things are good.
My career's coming back.
My wife likes me again.
I get asked to go to Australia
to perform for 22 nights in-- in Melbourne.
Uh, a one-man show that I've written.
Very exciting. Career's on the comeback.
Got a big tour after that. It's all good.
I have a little stomachache. It's fine.
It's a little stomachache.
I went to the doctor before I left for Australia.
He said it was gas.
Eight shows into my run in Australia,
uh, I'm on fire.
My insides are burning. It's awful.
I go to the doctor, they give me some drugs,
which I--oh, my gosh. I remember these.
Uh, they had to--they had to give me some drugs
because I was in so much pain, I forgot even about drugs.
I forgot that there were--like, I was in "Kill me" pain.
I was literally like the dog, just end this.
Just fucking end it. I was in so much pain.
They give me, um, I don't know, whatever.
Some sort of pain reliever.
And then they take a photo of my insides,
and then they wake me up, and they say,
"You have tumors in your stomach--you have cancer."
Fuck. I was on my way to a comeback.
Um, but it was in Australia, so I have to say,
and I'm not saying get cancer.
I'm against it. I'm against cancer.
I just want to come out right now and say I'm against cancer.
I don't want you to get it.
Should you think you have it,
go to Australia to get the diagnosis,
because just the way they say "Cancer"
sounds a tiny bit less bad.
That's all. "Cancer." It just goes up at the end.
It just--"Cancer, mate." They say "Mate" a lot.
It just feels cheerier, like you're doing it together.
"Hey, you got cancer mate."
"We all do?" "No, you do."
Anyway, cancer. They told me. I had it.
Uh, they thought I did.
I had tumors in my stomach,
they weren't sure what they were, but they were--
there was a cluster of tumors, right?
They think I have cancer, and they say,
"You have to go home," and I was so high
on whatever it was they gave me, I'm like,
"To my apartment in Australia?"
And they go, "No, to America."
You have to take your cancer home.
You have to take it home. Can't have it there.
They--they don't want you to die in there.
And they, uh, they said, "But you're gonna be in pain
"until you get to the hospital.
"You need to get there within the next 72 hours.
But here is a box of OxyContin."
I'm like, that could be a mistake.
A box. Not just a few.
A fucking box. Like, with trays.
Do you understand?
We're talking about a street value
of about a million dollars!
To a drug addict!
Who's already high from whatever it is they gave them--
I went out and bought a hat.
So...
Here's how high I was.
I had my manager with me. I said, "Take the pills.
"Give 'em to me, and let's be responsible about this.
"I just want to get home. I want to see my family.
If I'm gonna die, fair enough, but I just want to get home."
So, uh, I go, uh, to, uh, the airport,
and they stick my manager in fucking economy
and they put me in first class, so I know I'm dying, right?
I know it's a Make-A-Wish thing.
Put him in first class, it's probably
the last time he'll be on a plane.
And I'm sitting next to a guy who I don't know,
who turns out to be this drummer for the band Switchfoot.
Do you guys know Switchfoot at all?
Yeah? Yeah?
That's usually the response I get.
Yeah...
So, uh, anyway--
they're a fine band, they're a fine band.
I don't know them, but the guy's super nice,
the drummer, so we start talking,
I say, "Look, I'm gonna ask you a really weird favor,
"but I'm dying--maybe-- probably--
"and, uh, I have to take these pills,
"and would you give them to me and not let me
"take more than I need and make sure
I take them when I'm supposed to?"
And he said, "Yeah, sure."
So, we get to Los Angeles,
and, uh, he says, "Let me walk you to baggage claim."
So the drummer from Switchfoot walks me to baggage claim,
gets my bags for me, and then he goes,
"Hey, man, I just want to tell you that I love you.
"I said a prayer for you.
You're gonna be fine."
And I was like, wow.
And I bent down to pick up my bags,
and I turned around,
and he was fucking gone.
Gone--not, like, oh, in a crowd.
Like, fucking-- there was nobody--
he was gone!
I was like, fuck!
Did I dream that?
Were these my last moments?
I had a lucid dream?
Why the guy from Switchfoot?
♪ ♪
Thank you.