Well, it finally happened to me.
I just made fifty back in December and very thankful to still be around, fifty years old and working in my second career….as a musician. Previous to that I was a cab driver for fifteen years.
Fifty years old and never missing a day of work or a gig due to illness.
Fifty years old and I have never even seen a dentist much less a doctor. (I know dentists are doctors, too. You get my point).
I have had a fear of doctors my whole life. Doctors used to represent death to me. Maybe I watch too much television. Me and my band had a three day road trip back in April during the first weekend of the New Orleans Jazz Fest.
We left early Thursday morning, drove up to do a show in St. Louis on Thursday night, April 22, and a two-night stand Friday and Saturday in Chicago. While on this trip I was called in to do a studio dubbing/voice-over session. We got back home Monday morning. It was just enough time to catch a nap and make the session.
On Tuesday the day after the dubbing session while walking out of the house, my brother asked, “Is that lipstick on your lips? Your lips are red.” Turns out it was my own blood on my lips!
Since I hardly ever drink alcohol I immediately blamed it on the few drinks I had the night before.
I was bleeding from the mouth and during the course of the day these bloody blisters began to grow/hemorrhage inside my mouth and on my tongue. I also noticed bruises beginning to crop up on different parts of my body. I had a gig at Bon ton Roule that night (Tuesday) that I was determined to do and a rehearsal on Wednesday for my Jazz Fest spot the coming weekend!
Well, it finally happened to me.
I just made fifty back in December and very thankful to still be around, fifty years old and working in my second career….as a musician. Previous to that I was a cab driver for fifteen years.
Fifty years old and never missing a day of work or a gig due to illness.
Fifty years old and I have never even seen a dentist much less a doctor. (I know dentists are doctors, too. You get my point).
I have had a fear of doctors my whole life. Doctors used to represent death to me. Maybe I watch too much television. Me and my band had a three day road trip back in April during the first weekend of the New Orleans Jazz Fest.
We left early Thursday morning, drove up to do a show in St. Louis on Thursday night, April 22, and a two-night stand Friday and Saturday in Chicago. While on this trip I was called in to do a studio dubbing/voice-over session. We got back home Monday morning. It was just enough time to catch a nap and make the session.
On Tuesday the day after the dubbing session while walking out of the house, my brother asked, “Is that lipstick on your lips? Your lips are red.” Turns out it was my own blood on my lips!
Since I hardly ever drink alcohol I immediately blamed it on the few drinks I had the night before.
I was bleeding from the mouth and during the course of the day these bloody blisters began to grow/hemorrhage inside my mouth and on my tongue. I also noticed bruises beginning to crop up on different parts of my body. I had a gig at Bon ton Roule that night (Tuesday) that I was determined to do and a rehearsal on Wednesday for my Jazz Fest spot the coming weekend!
I played my Tuesday night show (sneaking around spitting and rinsing out blood) but, the rehearsal I had planned for the next day (Wednesday) turned in to my first trip to the hospital as an adult. My condition was getting worse, and I couldn’t wait any longer. It was my turn!!! I realized that this was the something I had been waiting for to scare me into seeing a doctor.
Wednesday afternoon I found myself in University Hospital’s emergency room. Little did I know that my first visit to the DOCTOR since my mother took me as kid would last twentydays!
They put me in a bed in intensive care right away and said, “Mr. Shannon, don’t move!” It turns out that I had come down with a condition called “I-T-P” (Idiopathic ThrombocytopenicPurpura). It attacks your blood platelets. Platelets are what clot the blood. If I were to make a wrong move and hurt or cut myself, I could have bled to death!
The treatment involved several platelet replacements (intravenously of course), special antibiotics and steroids. It felt as if I had close to a hundred blood “draws” during my stay at the hospital!
Thank God for seeing me through it all.
All that aside and as serious as my illness was, that is notthe reason I have offered up my story here. My main reason for writing this is to use what notoriety I have here in New Orleans to encourage men, particularly African-American men, to start taking better care of themselves and get medical care.
Go see the doctor. Don’t wait for something to happen. Don’t be like me, thinking that the doctor represents death or that they are only there to tell people that they’re going to die. I nowknow that doctors can represent “life.” They can tell you how to live!
And to all my fellow musicians out there who don’t have insurance and can’t afford medical care, please take advantage of the “New Orleans Musicians’ Clinic.” After all– it was established for us.
I really want to thank all the nurses, aides, and doctors on the seventh floor oncology unit at University Hospital. You all really treated me with kid gloves. Thank you to all my friends for looking in on me and for your prayers and well wishes.
That was my first stay in the hospital and it really meant a lot. You are very special people.
Thank You.
– Mem Shannon “aka” Regular Check-up Charlie