Sunday, October 21, 2007

Rocky Road...


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Billy and John immediately returned to Portland, after Billy spoke with his doctor and told him about the lump. He didn't let on to John, or any other members of the band that he was waiting for the results of x-rays and tests.



The news came on a Saturday afternoon, "The cancer is back, Billy." He was with Karen at her apartment in Eugene when the bomb was dropped. The problems between Billy and Karen immediately vanished when reality hit.



The rest of the band were on their way down to Eugene. Even though he didn't feel like playing, Billy managed to put on a show, knowing full-well that it might be a while until they played together again.


Billy would be subjected to 12-weeks of chemotherapy. Billy's treatments would be alternated five straight days chemo sessions, then two-weeks off to recover. This was repeated for the entire twelve-weeks.



The day of the first treatment, Billy's Mom dropped him off at the hospital on her way to work. Billy was taken to a room with six other cancer patients and placed in a reclining chair. A nurse strapped thick rubber tubing around his arm and forced in the two-inch IV needle. Billy leaned back and watched the drugs seep into his body, as his insides began to tingle.



The needle stayed in his arm 10-hours. When it was over, he could barely get off the chair or stand, he was so weak and sick from the treatment. On the way home, Billy asked Mom to pull-over...he couldn't make the trip without vomiting.



After his first week of treatments, he awoke to find clumps of blonde hair on his pillow. Then his fever shot up due to an infection. He was rushed to the hospital where he received blood transfusions for 6-days, to increase his platelet count and get his fever down.



In the meantime, the boys decided to play a few shows without him. It was a total disaster, but they had to pay the rent somehow.



Midway through his treatments, Billy made his first public appearance. John Lennon had been killed and Billy insisted on playing at a Memorial Show. He was one of the last performers. He took the stage and cradled an accoustic guitar.



He wore a woman's wig in an attempt to hide the fact that he had lost his hair. He had also lost a lot of weight. He had blisters lining the insides of his mouth and his fingers ached as he did the best he could.



He started his performance by telling the audience about his trip to LA and finally about the lump. As the word 'cancer' came from his lips across the loud speaker system, the auditorium gasped.



He began to strum and dedicated the song to Karen...it was, 'In My Life' that Billy chose. The next day, he was back to get another treatment.



None of the other worries went away either. He was still being sued for $25-million, and each chemo treatment ran $1500. Even though his mother had bought him a health insurance policy, the deductibles eroded his finances badly.



Billy lived to play again. Looking forward to the stage, was what kept him going.



His last chemo treatment was over the 15th of January, 1985. His doctor had scheduled surgery for February 7th, to remove the shrunken tumor.



In between, he planned to play a few gigs with the Unreal Gods...just like the old days. Sadly, he was still very weak. Not long into the first show, Billy started to feel tired and sent the band into an extended reggae jam.



Bill Flaxel wasn't at all happy about the low-energy jam. He got frustrated, stood up, put his drumsticks down and walked off stage.



There was nothing Billy could think to do but sit down at the drums and play in his place. When he did, Flaxel ran back on stage to Billy's microphone and started singing.



That was the ugly end for Billy Rancher and the Unreal Gods, but not the end for Billy. Everyone was scared, not just for themselves, but for Billy. Everyone reacts differently to tragedy.



Billy would not be daunted, and in between frequent hospital visits he managed to form a new band called Flesh and Blood . These were members who had been with him before the Unreal Gods and a couple other talented, young musicians.



Because of the cancer and the contact he had with all others who were afflicted with this disease, Billy had emerged a more spiritual and thoughtful person. He was not only the Billy with a smile that lit a room and charisma that magnetized everyone in it; he was enlightened and driven all over again.



His concern for other people grew. He was concerned about wars, starvation, Indians, everything. He wrote a letter to President Reagan, with an idea how to end the famine in Ethiopia.



There wasn't anything that he didn't think he could fix, before the cancer came back again.



Billy tried everything and anything to fight this time: magnets, herbs, diet, meditation...everything except chemotherapy. His condition deteriorated quickly. His doctors cornered and told him his only chance to live was chemo. Reluctantly, he was checked back in the hospital for more transfusions and another round of chemo.



After checking out and trying to help his sister with a musical production project, he got an infection that sent him into septic shock. His temperature skyrocketed to 106 and what couldn't get worse, did.



After further tests, it was discovered that chemotherapy was not working anymore. The cancer had spread from his back this time, to his kidneys and his liver. Billy was given the word that he had 3-months to live.



He did not give up, or give in. Billy was as driven as he ever was.



He wrote songs as if he was running out of time now...relentlessly writing. He couldn't perform anymore, so a make-shift recording studio was set up in Karen and Billy's apartment. A non-stop flow of Portland musicians, came over to record with him.



Instead of writing about go-go boots, Billy was writing about world peace and brotherhood. He found God and took advantage of every minute he had. Billy wanted his music to be heard but not for commerical reasons. Despite his deteriorating condition, Billy talked more about dying in his song lyrics than he did in real life.



Flesh and Blood had some legal issues with Arista and only allowed Billy to record 5-songs on an EP. Billy was still under contract with Clive and that was all he would allow to be released, though Billy would have gladly laid down a hundred songs, no matter the quality...he had stuff to say.



After Flesh and Blood was done, Billy put together a solo act called, 'Mr. Groove.' Mr. Groove only appeared a couple times for benefit shows and fundraisers. He took a chair on stage because he had no strength to stand. He never let anything stop him from being what he had to be.



One day, he coaxed his oldest friend, Glen Baggerly, to take him fishing. Even though he felt like "shit", he wanted to go. They fished for about 10-minutes and no bites. Billy reeled in his line and said, "That's all I wanted to do, just throw my line in the water one more time."



They arrived back to some friends house and Billy excused himself to go lay on the couch. Glen knelt down beside him and asked what was the matter. Billy somberly replied, "Just take me home."



Gingerly, he was placed in the front seat of the car, and the seat was reclined to make him more comfortable. Billy was the only one who was not crying.



Right then, Billy was in too much pain to sleep for the long ride home, but cheered up when 'Brown Sugar' by the Stones came on the radio...he turned it up loud and listened. It reminded him of the old Malchick days, trying to make enough money to buy some beer. What happy and simple times those were.



As they approached Portland, his friend said, "Ranch, give me some advice...what do you say to anyone who wants to make it?"



Billy wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he had an answer: "You know, you hear it all your life, but I'll tell you, no matter what you do, if you want it bad enough, no matter what it is, you never, never, never give up."



Billy paused with exhaustion, just saying those words.



After a bit, he looked at his friend and said, "You know what Bags? They can't say the Ranch never tried."



No they can't Billy. No they can't.





(I'm a mess as I write these words and remember everything that Billy gave to me and to the world. There is one last entry I have to write, and I'll take my time finding the right words. Meantime, thanks for reading. It's meant a lot to me to get to share this story and to be an instrument of continuation in sharing the message in his music...the singular thing Billy wanted to leave behind.)




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