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chkinpotpie · 2 years

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How Hip Hop Saved Me

I stood at my locker, trying to find my algebra book. My constant nervousness was causing my long legs to shake. It was my first day at Meyzeek Middle. A white Jewish girl bussed to an inner city school. For once in my life, I was the minority.

A boy approached the locker next to mine. His name was Jermel Van Moon. He looked at me and smiled. My nerves calmed slightly. Jermel and I saw each other every day after that, rushing to our lockers to get our books for our next class. We would say hello to each other but that was about it. One day, he handed me a cassette tape, in an unmarked white case.

“Take this”, he said quietly, “It will change your life”. I quickly put the tape in my backpack. I felt, special. “Thanks”, I said to Jermel.

I couldn’t wait to get home that day. When I did, I ran straight up to my room. I locked my door, pulled out my jam box, popped in the tape and hit “play”. The words and music flowed out of the jam box, and into my head.

Yo EMD Yeah, what’s up man? There goes that girl they call Roxanne. She’s all stuck up Why you say that?

Cause she wouldn’t give a guy like me no rap.

She was walking down the street so I said “Hello I’m Kangol from UTFO. "And she said "So?”

I played it over and over and over again. The whole tape. Songs like “Bite It” and “Fairytale Lover” filled my ears. Made me want to dance.

That is how my love for hip hop began. I listened to songs by LL Cool J, Run DMC, Newcleus, The Fat Boys, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, NWA, Luke Skywalker and the 2 Live Crew, but Roxanne, Roxanne was my favorite. I even convinced my two best friends to learn the words as well. We spent hours playing the song, writing down the lyrics, play, rewind, what did he say? We finally got it. We practiced all the time, until we had it down perfectly. Most people looked at us like we were nuts, but we didn’t care.

As I got older, I continued listening to hip hop. It became more popular and more mainstream. It was more than just ear candy to me though. Hip hop represented strength. It represented struggle. It was raw, real and had a beat that touched my soul. I do not know why it touched me so deeply. It just did. That is the funny thing about music. It is a living, breathing entity. Just like people. You will like some, you will hate some, and some will take hold of your heart and never let go. That was me, falling in love with a new genre of music that I connected with on a deep level.

I had just turned 40 years old. My two best friends threw me a killer surprise party, complete with tequila shots, dancing til our feet went numb, lots of laughter and shenanigans. A night to remember, for sure.

After a few days of recuperating and resting, I decided to workout and lift some weights. As I lifted my arms above my shoulders, pushing the weights into the air, I felt a strange lump in my left breast. I decided to finish my workout and check it later.

When I got home, I peeled off my sweaty shirt and did a self breast examination. Yes, definitely a lump. It was about the size of a golf ball. Probably another cyst, I thought. I had been to the doctor at least 5 times worried about a lump in that same breast, and every time it had been a cyst. Apparently I was prone to them. I hopped in the shower and quickly forgot about the cyst. I didn’t have time to worry about it. I had too many other things on my plate.

Several months went by and the cyst seemed to grow. I still ignored it, convinced that it was nothing to worry about. One day, however, I was standing naked in front of the mirror and noticed that my left nipple was sunken in. So strange. It was concave. I immediately grabbed my laptop and googled “sunken nipple”. Two words I never thought I would be googling. Many sites popped up and all of them advised to see your doctor immediately. Shit. I was terrified.

I sat in Dr. Runk’s office, after a mammogram and ultrasound, waiting for her to come in and give me the results. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. My heart was pounding, I was fidgety, I could barely breathe. I knew before she even came in that it was bad. I just knew. I think I knew the first time I felt the cyst in my breast. I was just too scared to do anything about it.

The door opened. Dr. Runk entered the room with a blank, but serious look on her face. In that moment, time slowed down. The distance from the door to me was only about 12 feet, but it seemed to grow to about 50. Her mouth began to move. “You have breast cancer”, she said.

Long pause. I was unsure if my heart was even beating at that point, it was so fast. I felt the need to be very calm, like it was no big deal. Like being told I had cancer was an everyday occurrence for me. “Okay”, I said. She put her hand on my leg to comfort me. I guess I wasn’t doing a very good job of appearing calm. “How bad is it?”, I asked, my voice trembling. “I want to do a biopsy to confirm, but in my years of experience I already know it is a cancerous tumor. There are more than one, actually. The largest is the size of a grapefruit. I also see some activity in your lymph nodes. That puts you at a stage 3”, she replied. Stage 3?! That was bad. I know because I had a dear friend pass away from stomach cancer a few years back. He was a stage 3. Holy shit. From that moment on, I was operating on auto pilot. I was a robot. A robot with cancer. In that moment, everything changed.

The biopsy confirmed that I did indeed have stage 3 ductal lobular ER PR positive HER2 positive invasive grade 2 breast cancer with lymph node involvement and a splash of lime. My therapy regimen was to include immediate chemotherapy, in hopes of shrinking the tumors, a single mastectomy, to remove the cancerous breast and lymph nodes, radiation, and by my choice, another mastectomy as a preventative measure. I decided early on, actually, three days after my diagnosis, that I was going to kick cancer’s ass. I allowed myself three days to scream, cry, pray, scream some more, and then I went into action mode. I am the mother of a beautiful 9 year old daughter, and I do not have the luxury of being sick or dying. That was not and is not an option for me.

My first course of treatment was 6 rounds of intense chemotherapy. It is kind of like having the flu times 10. You are so weak you can barely move, and sometimes are not sure if you are even alive. But I made myself get out of bed everyday, even working through treatment. I think I missed a few days when I had a few really bad spells. But overall I was able to push through the pain and find strength I never imagined I had. I came out bald and tired, with a new appreciation for my wonderful life, family and friends. I had to do a less intense form of chemo for another 18 months. That cycle was like being in a fog, having just run a race and getting hit by a truck. I got used to be exhausted and still functioning. I look back on that time and cannot believe I made it through.

People I hadn’t heard from in years were reaching out to show me their support. It was quite incredible. I honestly could not have gotten through my treatment without the love and concern of others. There were days when I just wanted to lay in bed forever. It was my friends who would give me a reason to push myself, my family and most of all, my daughter.

One day, a week or so before my mastectomy, I got a phone call from an old college friend. He had heard about my diagnosis, and wanted to chat. He had recently put some pictures on Facebook of him and Doug E. Fresh, one of my favorite hip hop artists. I asked him what was up with that. He said that he was doing some work on the side in promotions. We talked old school hip hop for awhile. He was a fan just as much as I was. He said he was going to have someone call me the night before my surgery, someone special.

My surgery date crept up fast. The night before I was packing, trying to figure out what one needs when they are about to get their boob chopped off. I was nervous. Normal nervous. Okay, terrified. But I wasn’t letting anyone know. I wasn’t scared of the surgery. I was scared of not waking up from the surgery. I know that doesn’t happen very often but I was convinced that was going to happen to me. After everything I had been through, I would just die on the surgical table. Okay, not much I can do about it except distract myself. The phone rang. Good, I thought, perfect distraction. The conversation went like this.

“Hello?”, the deep voice on the other end of the line exclaimed in a questioning tone.

“Yes”, I replied.

“Is this Michele?”, deep voice asked. I was beginning to wonder if this was like a cancer gram or something.

“Yes, this is she”, I said.

“Oh, good. Hi Michele. This is Kangol Kid. Your friend David gave me your phone number. He told me that you were having surgery tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to call and see how you were doing”, the deep voice said.

I couldn’t breathe. Heart pounding. Is this a joke? I wondered. No, i don’t think it is. What? Kangol Kid is calling ME! THE Kangol Kid who sang Roxanne, Roxanne, my all time favorite jam that I have been listening to since I was 12 and know every word. Shut the front door!

I am not sure what I said after that. I think a few screams and then I regained my composure.

“Wow”, I said, “Thank you so much for taking the time to call me. I cannot believe this is you. Can I tell you something? I have been listening to your music since I was 12 years old. I know EVERY word to Roxanne, Roxanne. Oh my gosh, I love you!!!!”, I shouted excitedly like a teenager.

Kangol laughed. Then he said, “Well if you know EVERY word to Roxanne, Roxanne, let me bust out a line and then you give me the next line”.

“Bring it”, I said, confidently. “Cause I can sing, rap, dance in just one show”, he rapped.

I proceeded to sing the rest of the song, word for word. Kangol was impressed. I was on cloud nine. We talked for awhile. He was (and is) a very nice, smart and sweet guy. I discovered that he was co-founder of an organization called The Mama Luke Foundation, which raises funds for breast cancer research. Amazing. Kangol said he would call me in a week to check up on me. I hung up the phone and started running around the house screaming. My Dad, who was spending the night to take me to the hospital at 5 a.m., ran up the stairs with a concerned look on his face.

“WHAT WHAAT?”, he yelled, “Are you okay???”.

I ran up and hugged him, rapping “Kangol Kid just called me, Kangol Kid just called me, holy fuckin shit, Kangol Kid just called me” to the tune of Roxanne, Roxanne.

My Dad took a breath of relief and said “Who the hell is Kangol Kid?”.

I forgot about my surgery. I forgot, for the first time in a LONG time, that I had cancer. I called all my friends and told them about the phone call. I couldn’t sleep. I was back in my room, 12 years old, playing that tape, not a care in the world.

My surgery was picture perfect. They got out all the cancer and I had clean margins. I got through radiation and my second surgery like a champ. Throughout the whole process, Kangol and I talked often.

Somewhere in the middle of my treatment, I met Kangol at a breast cancer walk in Cleveland. We spent 3 days together, along with legends of hip hop Rahiem from Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five and Paul Anthony and Bow-Legged Lou of Full Force. I went with them to radio station interviews, book signings and performances. It was pure bliss. I recall one moment, watching Kangol singing “Roxanne, Roxanne” on a stage in a bar in Cleveland. I was standing in the crowd. I was bald, dark circles under my eyes from the exhaustion of my cancer treatment, overweight from the hormone therapy I was taking, never looked worse in my life. Kangol smiled at me. I was dancing. To my favorite jam. Sung by my FRIEND. I never felt more beautiful and more alive in my life.

Kangol and I stayed friends for many years after that. He called me on my birthday every year and sang me Happy Birthday. He called my daughter his “niece”. We were lucky to spend more time together over the years. He was always a bright light in my life, a source of love, strength and comfort. A reminder that life is magical, the unexpected can and does happen, and angels walk amongst us. My sweet friend got colon cancer in 2021 and lost his battle on December 18, 2021. He left behind 3 sons and a daughter. They will carry the torch and ensure his legacy of love, light and music never dies. I will always remember him and the impact he had on my life. Rest in power Kang. Love always.

#hiphop kangolkid fcancer

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