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Jinx squatted next to me. “Your relationship with him has changed. This isn’t a fling. You’re not trying to get in his pants. This is serious, huh?”
I nodded.
“You love him.”
Again, a nod. I didn’t think I could speak without sobbing.
Jinx patted my back. “I think he loves you too. But that’s also part of the problem. You need to address that. I know you’ve been working on it, but maybe he doesn’t know how to do that love relationship thing. I mean, this is me thinking just now, butif he was kicked out young by hateful parents, maybe he never had the examples of what love is supposed to look like.”
I hugged him. I hurt for my Ziggy. I was terrified to lose him. We had to figure this shit out. “There’s a lot to unpack. And you’re right. One step at a time. Doc in Reno, and we’ll go from there. Deal?”
“Yes…”
The guys left us. They still had a show to do. And it was Simon’s turn to step up. I would have liked to see that. Simon was a good kid and a talented drummer. Eventually, he’d leave us and join his own band. Maybe.
Right now, I could only worry about Ziggy. I rubbed his hair and spoke softly to him, checking his pulse every so often, but it was strong. We would get it all worked out in time.
fourteen
Facing the Facts in Reno
Being a rockstar had its advantages. The first being a family that loves you. Midnight Hunt played music with me, but they were also the best friends I had ever had in my life. And Coleman? Well, his caring, and not judging me had me falling harder and harder for him.
The other advantage was that you could get the best fucking back doctor for drummers in the fucking world to come to you. He brought all his equipment, including a portable X-ray machine. I met with him in the hotel room at the Grand SierraResort, where we would be playing the next day after having run through all of the testing in one of the hotel’s conference rooms.
Doctor Harter sat on the chair adjacent to the couch, where I held on extremely tightly to Coleman’s hand. He didn’t say a thing about it—simply supported me. “Well?” I asked.
He shook my free hand and turned to shake Coleman’s as well. “There are no injuries or major issues on your X-rays.”
“What’s wrong?” There had to be something wrong. The pain was bad and getting worse.
“That’s actually the good news, Mr. Ziggy.”
I waved my hand. “No mister bull shit. Just Ziggy, thanks.”
“Fine, Ziggy. As I was saying, that’s the good news. And honestly, from what you told me about your yoga and stretching, I’m pretty sure that’s why. It’s kept you going this long, and it’s an extremely important aspect of your back health. So keep that up.”
“But it doesn’t seem to be helping him if he’s in this much pain.” Bless my Coleman for voicing exactly what I was thinking.
“It’s helping more than you realize. However.” He cocked his head to the side. “There are other things you need to address.”
“Like what?”
“Posture and position during drumming is crucial. You need adjustments. And understand it may take practice to get it all right, but even from the start, it will help. But first, you need a brace. This is only a posture correction to keep your back straight with your shoulders above your hips. It’s all about alignment. But it’s not so rigid that you can’t move freely. I know as a drummer, you need to move.” The doctor mimed drumming wildly, and he was pretty fucking accurate. “But the spine likes to be aligned and when you repeatedly do this…” He mimed his drumming again. “Without the spine aligned…” He ran his hands up and down along the sides of his body. “It’s like carpal tunnel. You’ve heard of that, right?”
“Yes, so like carpal tunnel for the back?” I was a little confused, but he was making sense as far as positioning the body.
He tilted his head back and forth. “Not exactly like that. But it helps as a description. Basically, your spine is not aligned correctly, and your muscles are spasming. It’s at the point now where every time you play, it triggers that muscle memory. It’s your body trying to protect the spine.”
“Okay. Got it. So the brace will take care of that?” Coleman asked.
“Not by itself. It’s a tool, but you need more tools. For instance, you need to look at the seat height on the kit and adjust it to the right level. You may have been sitting too low. And you need to be aligned in front of it correctly.” He held his hands out with his elbows tucked at his sides. “I’ll go with you to your kit and help you get the best position and show you how to repeat it every time. We’ll put a block of wood under the back legs to get the seat angle a little higher as well.”
“That’s not a lot. I was afraid this would be too much.”
“It’s not a lot, no. But it’s important. If you don’t pay attention and do this right, you’ll end up never playing again.”
“Oh fuck no.” I stood. That was not ever fucking happening. Playing the drums—playing with Midnight Hunt—was my life.
