Cancer doesn’t stand a chance now that the Coheed And Cambria family is on Team Hedgehog.
It was a coincidence that we had meet-and-greet tickets to see Coheed And Cambria the night before I started chemo. We’d gotten the tickets months ago. It would be Oscar’s seventh time seeing his favorite band, most of which I’d gone with him, and this was the redo for the tour that we had Vegas tickets . . . in May 2020. We had some making up to do and some extra income to play with, so I insisted he get the upgraded tickets.
When we confirmed the hydra was back we were concerned about what to do with the tickets. It was possible I’d start chemo before the show and might be in too rough of shape to sit in the ADA section. If it came to it, I would have insisted he still go and either sell the other ticket or have someone else go with him. Avoiding either scenario was the only upside of the delayed chemo authorizations.
The concert was wonderful, especially toward the end when I got to dance to “A Disappearing Act” once again, but the show itself was second to what happened before any songs were played.
After we decided what merch we would take home we got in line to meet the band and receive an autograph. I was excited to meet Josh, the drummer. Claudio is fantastic and has magical hair, but every time I see Josh play he seems to be having the time of his life. He’s entertaining to watch and happens to be extremely talented. He’s also the second musician who’s made me forget my own name when asked, not an easy feat. I managed to let him know what I loved about him and apologized for the bugs from last year. It was a surprise to learn that was one of his favorite shows because it was so weird.
We looped back to the end of the line, this time for a photo with the band. I was determined to hold my composure this time and mentally rehearsed what I wanted to say. The practice paid off. Oscar got a picture on his own with them, doing his best to not let his excitement get out of control. Before I joined him for the next shot, I successfully let the band know how much this night meant to us since I was starting chemo the next morning. The photographer got his shot of Oscar and me with the band, and then a shot of me. They let me know how much they wanted nothing but good outcomes and were grateful I could make it.
Oscar and I made our way to a spot as close to the stage as possible and sat on the floor. My legs had been feeling weak most of the day, so I took my moments on the ground when I could get them. We finally met the guys who provided the soundtrack and background of our lives (for example, I walked down the aisle to “2 Is My Favorite 1” ). Suddenly, we heard a concerned person ask us if I was really starting chemo the next day. I thought it was another fan who overheard what I’d told the band. The night elevated when we saw it was Josh himself.
He joined us on the floor (reminded us both how old we were getting when his back complained) and chatted with us about my experience with colon cancer and the latest developments. He offered a hug, and I accepted and can confirm Josh gives Brady-level hugs. I think hugs would have made the pandemic chemo more tolerable. I love that I can get as many hugs as I want this round.
Josh and I share a superpower where we can become instant friends with a total stranger. He took it to heart when I told him to help people get screened for colon cancer, especially if they have a family history of cancer. We swapped stories about the weird things our bodies were doing that had no clear answers for the physicians working with us. He stayed for another 10 or 15 minutes and seemed to forget why he was at that venue until the lights dimmed on the stage, signaling the band was about to come on and perform a song for the VIP ticket holders. Before leaving to join the rest of the band backstage he took down the Team Hedgehog site and again wished all the best for us.
Only after he was gone did Oscar dare to start losing his mind. They say never meet your heroes, but every now and then you find genuinely kind people who happen to be famous.
Josh, if you happen to read this, thank you again for becoming one of our favorite people and letting us know the whole band has our back. Also, tell Claudio I said, “Hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye.”
One of Oscar’s friends gave us his season pass tickets to a Real Salt Lake game two days before I started chemo, so we made a weekend of it. The game was great, even though the ref used a Magic 8 Ball to decide when to use his whistle. I know we were on the jumbotron the first time the crowd sang “Believe”, the team’s battle hymn. Thanks to Taylor for adding to our pre-chemo shenanigans.
Team Hedgehog 