Out of Paradise - Chapter 3 - Headaches and Hospitals, Or by the Time I get to Lompoc

Out of Paradise - Chapter 3 - Headaches and Hospitals, Or by the Time I get to Lompoc

Out of Paradise - Chapter 3 - Headaches and Hospitals, Or by the Time I get to Lompoc

My first destination is actually Lompoc, along the California coast about 50 miles northwest of Santa Barbara. I'm on my way to see my father, an amateur Jazz musician, professional photographer and high school math teacher turned vice-principal, before setting off on my epic journey to Europe. I can still remember, as a toddler, toddling 'round behind him to smoke infused Jazz clubs around Tucson, Arizona listening to him belting out jazz classics on the trumpet. As you can imagine, I was weaned on Jazz - the likes of Louie Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Charles, Miles Davis, Harry James, Dizzy Gillespie, Nat and Cannonball Adderley to name a few - little did I know at the time I would actually be working with most of them in years to come.

By the time I get to Lompoc, the entire left side of my head, face, neck and shoulder are near paralysis. The pain is excruciating, totally incapacitating, totally unbearable. My first mission on arrival is to see a doctor. I tell him my condition and symptoms. He gives me a dose of codeine and says call me in the morning. No relief. I'm in serious agony. I spend a few days with my father and the codeine to no avail. I give up and journey down to Goleta, just up the coast from Santa Barbara to see my grandmother, an acclaimed amateur abstract artist, before setting off on my epic journey to Europe. Again, she takes me to the doctor. I tell him my condition and symptoms. He gives me a dose of codeine and says call me in the morning. No relief. I'm in serious agony. I spend a few days with my grandmother and the codeine to no avail. I give up and decide, "Fuck it, I'm wasting precious daylight here and Europe isn't getting any closer." The next morning I strap my pack on my back, bid farewell to Gram and go, "Headaches or not, Matterhorn or bust."

And, by God, with that notion, as I set out on the road again (hey, sounds like a Willie Nelson song, don't have any Willie Nelson stories though) phew, just like that, the pain was gone - after a week or more of constant agony - the pain was gone.

Two years later, 1974, I'm in Switzerland working with the Swiss National Office de Tourism, the Montreux Jazz Festival and WEA International and bam, like an ax to the brain, back come the headaches. The constant drilling, the constant needles piercing nerves - I go to the doctor. I tell him my condition and symptoms. He gives me a dose of codeine and says call me in the morning. No relief. I'm in serious agony. I spend a few days or more with the codeine to no avail. My boss, Claude Nobbs, R.I.P., master chef, Assistant Director of the Montreux Office de Tourism, music promoter and founder and organizer of the Montreux Jazz Festival, suggests I try acupuncture and takes me to an old Chinese medicine man living up the street in Territet. I tell him my condition and symptoms and he nails it - he tells me exactly the cause and effect - the blockage of the nerve passage to the left cortex of my brain. Now, I've been to MDs and hospitals from up and down the California coast to the peaks of the Swiss Alps and not one of them had yet offered any explanation as to the cause and effect. He feels his way around the left side of my head, my neck, my shoulders and my back then jabs two needles into either side of my spine, between the fourth and fifth vertebrae, and whoosh, like the opening of flood gates after a heavy monsoon, instantaneously, the pain drains from my head - rushes from my head - gushes from my head. My entire body wilts into a limp lump of lethargic jelly, cold sweat streaming down my body. I'm totally immobilized, paralyzed, like a Dali pocket watch melted on the branch of a dead tree. I'm out, poured into the car and then into bed. Now, this is all happening first thing in the morning and I don't wake up till the next day - 24 hours later - feeling like a freshly minted million dollar bill.

One year later, 1975, I'm back in San Francisco having hitched a ride on a chartered flight with the Warner Bros. Music Show - a promotional concert tour across Europe featuring the likes of Lowell George, R.I.P., and Little Feat, The Doobie Bros. with Skunk Baxter, Tower of Power - masters of San Francisco soul, Ronnie Montrose - a Led Zeppelinesque clone of Jimmy Page, Graham Central Station with Larry Graham - the bass player and baritone voice of Sly and the Family Stone, and a one album wonder called Bonaroo - a collection of session musicians including the bass player from the Seals and Crofts band and 2nd guitarist with the Steve Miller Band.  The concerts were played at 9 different venues throughout Europe on two consecutive nights featuring 3 bands on each night - 1 headliner and 2 featured opening acts (considering the strength of the lineup, trust me, it was some opening).

While in San Francisco, I tag along with the Doobie Bros. to Kezar Stadium,  the former home of the San Francisco 49ers, who are playing at Bill Graham's S.N.A.C.K. (Students Need Athletics, Culture and Kicks) benefit concert (the Doobie Bros., not the 49ers) along with Graham Central Station and Tower of Power - three of the groups I had just finished touring with in Europe - Joan Baez, Santana (both of whom I have also toured with in Europe), Mimi Farina, Jefferson Starship, Jerry Garcia and Friends, The Miracles (less Smokey Robinson) and Neil Young with guest appearances by Marlon Brando and Willie Mays, among other celebrities. This was actually among the very first benefit concerts of its kind (after George Harrison's Concert for Bangladesh) - and the precursor to the likes of Live Aid, Farm Aid and all the other cool aid concerts that followed. I'm backstage with the Doobie Bros. after their set smoking a joint with Skunk Baxter when Neil Young comes on stage. After a couple of songs into his set, Bob Dylan comes brushing by me. He joins Neil on stage for a totally unannounced and unexpected surprise appearance and finishes the show off with a couple of Neil's songs, a couple of his songs, and a couple of the Band's songs with a finale of "Will The Circle Be Unbroken".

That evening I decide to go watch a movie. "Tommy" is on, and just as Elton John is racking up a zillion points on the pinball machine, I start to feel a headache coming on. I leave the theater half way through the movie and stagger home in complete agony. The next morning I go to the medical department of the California State University at San Francisco. I'm in consultation with group of interns and their adviser. I tell them my condition, symptoms and medical history. I'm in monumental misery at their magnanimous mercy. They prod me and prick me, jab me and scan me, give me a dose of codeine and say call me in the morning. No relief. I'm in serious agony. I spend a few days with the codeine to no avail. I'm off to Chinatown in search of the nearest acupuncturist.  I tell him my condition, symptoms and medical history. He pulls out a few needles and starts jabbing them in my ear. I go, "What the fuck?" and proceed to relate my episode a year earlier with my Chinese acupuncturist medicine man in Switzerland and the two needles into either side of my spin, between the fourth and fifth vertebrae. He tries that with limited success. Minor relief but nowhere near the flood gate release that my Chinese medicine man evoked back in Territet. 

Two years later, 1977 to 1978, I'm back in Switzerland working with the Swiss National Tourist Office, the Montreux Jazz Festival and WEA International and bam, like an ax to the brain, back come the headaches. I'm off on a quest to locate my Chinese acupuncturist medicine man but he's nowhere to be found. I'm in serious agony. Now these bouts of headaches are becoming progressively longer. Having started out lasting a week or so, are now lasting a month or more. I suffer until the headaches dissipate and subside.

Two years later, 1980, I'm in Chico finishing the last semester of a ten year marathon attempt at a BA from the California State University at Chico - ranked among the top 10 party schools in America by Playboy magazine at the time, and bam, just like clockwork, the headaches are back. Knowing traditional doctors, hospitals and codeine are a waste of time, I'm off on a quest to locate the nearest acupuncturist. With limited relief, I suffer for next couple of months until, at last, the headaches dissipate and subside.

Two years later, 1982, I'm in Japan having just opened my first language school, and bam, just like clockwork, the headaches are back. Again, I go to the doctor. I figure, what the hell, I've been to doctors, hospitals and clinics on two continents already perhaps the third continent is the charm. I tell him my condition, symptoms and medical history and say "Forget the codeine, it's a waste of time." I'm off on a quest to find the nearest acupuncturist. With limited relief, I suffer for next couple of months or more until, at last, the headaches dissipate and subside.

Two years later, 1984 (hey, sounds like a George Orwell novel, don't have any George Orwell stories either though), my wife and I are on a ski trip to Zao in the northern Japan Alps when, you guessed it, the headaches are back. 2:00 am, with no doctors, hospitals, clinics or acupuncture within a hundred kilometer radius, I stumble out to the roten buro (outdoor hot spring), clutching my head in serious agony, and immerse myself in the scalding hot spring waters. Whoa, the pain subsides. Temporarily, albeit, but the pain subsides. With limited relief, I suffer for next couple of months or more until, at last, the headaches dissipate and subside.

Two years later, 1986, and two years after that and two years after that and two years after that until 1996, I'm still in Japan, still teaching English, still getting headache bouts lasting months at a time, still getting acupuncture treatment. By this time I'm getting needles jabbed directly into the base of my cerebral cortex where a fraction of a millimeter either way could mean the difference between total paralysis or partial relief.

1996, I've sold my language school in Japan and have settled down in the south island resort of Queenstown, New Zealand. Headaches again. I go to a small medical clinic on a quest to locate the nearest acupuncturist and tell the doctor my condition, symptoms and medical history. He reaches in his drawer, pulls out his medical textbook, flicks it open to the chapter on 'Cluster Headaches' and, voilà, word for word, symptom for symptom, there on the pages of his medical textbook is the complete diagnosis of my condition, symptoms and medical history. Now, I've been all over the world, been poked and prodded, jabbed and scanned in every clinic and hospital on four different continents from San Francisco to Wakatipu and here in this tiny backwood clinic in the tiny backwood resort of Queenstown, New Zealand is the complete diagnosis of my condition, symptoms and medical history. He gives me a dose of Imigran and says call me in the morning. Didn't need to. Whoa, headaches gone - At least for now.

Two years later and two years after that and two years after that until 2004 no re-occurrence. 2004, I'm in China. I've just entered a partnership in a language school in the south China resort of Yangshuo, Guangxi Province - Xijie Waiguoyu Xiueshou (West Street Foreign Language School). Headaches again. I'm off on a quest to find the nearest Imigran tablets. I scour every hospital, clinic, drugstore and pharmacy within a hundred kilometer radius - no have. I email my doctor back in the tiny backwood clinic in the tiny backwood resort of Queenstown, New Zealand to send me a dose of Imigran. I wait and I wait - no Imigran. I'm in agony. I email my doctor, he tells me it's in the mail. I wait and I wait - no Imigran. I'm in agony. Apparently, Imigran is a controlled substance in mainland China and my dose must have been confiscated at the border. I'm off on a quest to find the nearest acupuncturist. With limited relief, I suffer for next couple of months or more until, at last, the headaches dissipate and subside.

Two years later, 2006, I'm still in China, still teaching English. By now, we've expanded and have two campuses in town. I'm still getting headaches, still getting acupuncture treatment. I take a trip to Hong Kong on a quest to find the nearest Imigran tablets. Lo and behold, the first pharmacy I come upon, "Er, Imigran?" I ask.  She reaches over the counter and voilà, Imigran! I'm ecstatic! I pay her cash and out the door I bolt like a junkie in dire need of a fix. A half hour or so later, Phew, relief at last.

Two years later, 2008, I'm in Lijiang, Yunnan Province, a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage site in Western China on the Tibetan border in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains - a stone's throw from Shangri-La and the site of the first leg of my honeymoon with my new Chinese wife, Ming, three years earlier. I've got a lawsuit pending against my partner at Xijie Waiguoyu Xiueshou, my school back in Yangshou. Ming and I are on a quest checking out sites in the back cobblestone maze of streets in the center of the Old Town of Lijiang for venues to house our new school. "Ah, Ming, chill. I've got to sit down. You go. I can't go any further. I've got a bit of a toothache and feel a headache coming on." We go to a local medical clinic and I get hooked up to an IV feed for the next hour or so. The next morning we're in the waiting queue for the next available dentist at a local dental clinic. The x-rays come back showing a tumor growing inside my jaw just beneath my bottom second left molar. Surgery's required. Upon our return to Yangshuo and a subsequent trip to Ming's hometown of Guangzhou, we check out hospitals equipped to perform the necessary surgery. I eventually end up in Guilin with an operation to remove the tumor scheduled for the next day. I get prepped and gurneyed into the operating room. I'm given a local anesthetic.

The surgery is a success with the exception of a severed nerve resulting in total numbing of the left side of my lip and chin and the last cluster headache I will ever experience.