My story begins in 1956.  I was about six years old and playing music in my Grandparents' band. My Father played anything with strings and my uncle Rodger played upright bass and other stringed instruments, my aunt Theda played sax and my Grandmother played drums and reed interments and my Grandfather played all the reed instruments had a blind guy that played banjo and other reeds and Flute and a heavy set woman who sang and yodeled.  I played a dozen or so songs on steel guitar and played drums on many tunes.  The name of the band was The Gene Page Road Show. We would do 180 to 190 one-nighters in a year. I played with them until 1961 when I struck out on my own with my first rock-n'-roll band named the Prophets.  We played weekends mostly.  My first gig was at the Down and Under, in Toledo, Ohio. We played Friday and Saturday night. There were 4 guys in the band and we did a lot of Beatles and Herman Hermets and stuff on the top 40. My first song that I sang lead on was "I'm Henry the Eighth" .  We each made $8.00 a night per person ,$16.00 for the weekend. The first week we got paid, the four of us got on a bus and went downtown and went to a movie and bought matching Nehru shirts , black pants and "Beatle boots" and still had money to get home on the bus and a few bucks in our pockets. I thought it was the big times. Throughout the sixties I played with different bands and occasionally would sit in with my father's country & western band, and that was always $50.00 a night. I kept on playing whenever I had the chance. It didn't matter what kind of music...as long as it was music. By this time I had been smoking ciggs and pot since I had been 9 or 10 years old.  And by the time I was 15, I was smoking 2 1/2 to 3 packs a day. Your lungs are not fully matured until your 22 to 24, so I had a lot of damage by the time my lungs had developed. I got married at the sweet age of 18 and graduated the same year. At 19 I received my draft notice.  I went down and joined the Navy , thinking I would have less of a chance ending up in Viet Nam. The Navy gave me about 11 months at home that would count as time served. I had a 4 year enlistment. I tried to get in the Navy band thinking I've got all this experience how could they refuse me. Well, I didn't get by the first round of tryouts. These kids were able to sight-read music as well as I could read a book. So I ended up serving 2 years 6 months and 28 days. Getting back to "69", I was so lucky to make it to Woodstock.
Me and 2 other guys left Toledo on a Wednesday night heading for Woodstock, , New York. We had about $150.00 between the three of us and no tickets.  It was an adventure.  We never thought it would turn out to be history, we were just looking to get high and have a road trip. By the time we got there on Friday afternoon you couldn't even get close to the show. We parked about 5 miles from Woodstock in a farmer's field and he charged us $5.00. When we got to the site there was no fence nor tickets. They had printed about 50,000 tickets and when we got there, there had to be at least 150,000 people.  It was a blast.  People from all walks of life gathering together and not one fight.  Everybody was helping everybody else. Sharing food and water. It started to rain hard on Saturday I think. The hill became a mud slide. What a blast! There was a big pond where people were bathing and sex was rampant everywhere. The Army flew in food and water and facilities to use the restroom. They announced over the PA the bad mescaline or acid that was going around. I don't really remember to many of the bands that played that weekend. I could count them on one hand..
It was real Hell finding our car. We just kept walking with the crowd until we came across the car. It took about 4 or 5 hours to find. When we got there , there were many cars blocking us in so we had to wait another couple of hours, and then finally on our way headed for Toledo, what a lost weekend, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime fun event!
Now the 70's are here and I'm smoking like a chimney, one after another and a couple of joints in between. Not knowing that I was literally killing myself.

I got out of the Navy September of 1971 and by October, I was on the road traveling with a hotel band. The money was good and you got your room free and 50% off on food. I was making $450.00 to $500.00 a week, and the only payment was for my car which I had the band leader take out of my pay, about $175.00 a month.  The rest I blew on ciggs, pot, rum and cocaine. I was living in the fast lane. I was drinking around 4 to 5 fifths of Rum a week and at least 2 eight balls of cocaine plus an ounce  of pot .  In addition, I was smoking close to two cartoons of ciggs a week. I was heading toward Death at an alarming rate.
The music was fairly boring. Top 40 AM radio crap. Every once in a while we would do some jazz and show tunes. We wore three piece suits with matching shoes and ruffeled shirts. Most of the 70's I wasn't very conscious.
Now the 80's roll around and I decided I wanted to play rock n' roll. It was a hard change for me but I did it. The drugs were even more prevalent, and by now it's at least 3 packs a day if not more. Not so much drinking but everything else was still a go.
In the early 80's I met two of my best friends, Joe and Jason. When I met them they were in a band called Why On Earth and I was in a band called 10:01, Time to Rock. We stayed friends all of this time and in the middle 80's I started to play with Jason in a band. Joe was in California playing with the GODZ, they were big in the 70's.  Jason and I were trying to figure out a way to get Joe back here from Hollywood to Indianapolis. Finally he came back in the late 80's.  We started a band called Stonewall/Weekend.  It was the three of us and Dwayne. I kept on smoking nothing could slow me down, even though I knew I was becoming more short of breath. It was getting so bad that by 1993 I wasn't sure if I could even finish a 70-minute show.  I only had one choice and that was to retire so I wouldn't be ashamed that I couldn't finish a show.

And I didn't want to embarrass the guys.

I kept on playing in Church and recording with the boys and teaching.  By 1995 I couldn't walk much...no climbing steps and I was tired all the time.  All I could do is work and sleep.  I wasn't much of a
husband. .  I knew all along that there was something seriously wrong with me, but I didn't want to know.
              So later in the year I went to the doctor, and after about three months he called me into his office and said you will die in ten years if you don't have a lung transplant.
I freaked. Then Maddie was born, and I bought a house for $90,000.  Man, I went into a spiral heading straight down not knowing where the bottom was.  The doctors then said that I had C.O.P.D. (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease), Chronic Asthma, and Chronic Bronchitis with none curable. I had Bolus disease in the right lung. That's where the lung tissue dies from the inside out, and emphysema in both the lower lobes and the upper lobes. I was in serious trouble. There is no cure.  I became so depressed, but I had to keep on working. The doctors told me to file for disability in '96 but I kept working until August 30, 1999. By this time my marriage was in shambles, and I could  see a divorce was coming. My wife became so bitter to me for shutting her out of my life.  I was trying to save her from the pain by having no interaction with her. She struck out and hurt me like I've never been hurt before. Somehow I ended up in the nut house. I think she had me sent there but maybe it perhaps was just the circumstances.
Cataracts formed, and they had to remove my lenses and put implants in. Acid reflux or Gerd was an additional problem, and I needed the cartilage removed in both knees...all from the steroids. My left knee is so bad that the bone specialist wants to do a knee replacement. My insurance company said my life expectancy wasn't long enough for them to stick that kind of money into. Plus I don't want to go through that much pain. That's the reason I'm not having a lung transplant. Life expectancy with a new lung is only 19%. So many die in surgery, and only 50% survive more than 5 years. On top of that you have to take about 40 drugs a day to suppress your immune system. You're the "boy in a bubble."  So I chose a DNR, that means Do Not Resuscitate even if it's a reversible condition.
            I'm still alive, but it's not a very productive life. I'm still in a lot of pain for which my Doctor gives me morphine. I did find a great doctor. He cares about his patients.  I asked him to keep me as comfortable as possible until my time comes, and he does.
As for my family, well I really don't have a marriage.  I have a roommate, but at least my daughter has two parents that care a great deal for her in one house. Every day I pray to die, and I know one of these days the LORD will come for me.
As for me, I turned my life over to GOD.
I let him worry for me.
And I'm thankful for every minute of borrowed time I have left. The last pulmonologist I had was in 2002. He put me in a glass bubble...completely airtight to check my pulmo functions. He said 60% of the people with my scores would die in 5 years. His name was Robert Shellman. A great scientist, but unfortunately, he had no "bedside manner". I nick named him "Bobby Butthead".
               So life goes on for me one day at a time. I'm in a great deal of pain 24/7.  I use a nebulizer about 9 to 11 treatments in a 24 hour period.  I'm on liquid oxygen, 4 liters 24 hrs a day, and I have a chronic infection in my lungs that I can never get rid of. When it flares up I go to 5 liters during a 24 hour period.  I'll be on oxygen the rest of my life.  I take about 15 drugs a day to help with different things going wrong inside of my body. I use two inhalers to help me breathe when I'm outside the home.
I used to be so strong and very independent. Now I have lost almost all my freedom, and I can't make it through a day by myself.
I need someone to take care of me.
It will continue to get worse until I'm completely bed-bound and after that it shouldn't be too long to be with Jesus. I will most likely die of heart failure or suffocation. I still have a hard time believing that this broken body is me. I'm trapped in here, and there will be no escape for me.
              So lesson learned, put those ciggs and pot and cigars down. Do it now!  Just throw them away!.  Live the life our LORD meant you to live. It's all most never to late to quit smoking.   It's indeed YOUR choice!
Submitted by Denny Melman