Bono’s Philosophical Lyrics, Adam Clayton’s Tight Bass, Larry Mullen Jr.’s Crisp Drums, and Edge’s Vibrant Guitar Helped NYT Reporter’s Cancer Treatment
The radiation oncology department in the basement of the Mount Sinai Hospital, New York doesn’t look like an ordinary home for rock ‘n’ roll. But every day of the week for nearly seven weeks this year, the U2 played from the loudspeakers at my request.
I became a fan of the band in the late 80’s and watched nine shows, though I probably won’t make it to super fandom. I remember hearing the songs from the album Joshua tree like a pre-teen on my static clock radio, awestruck by U2’s carefully crafted music that morphs into anthems and lyrics that explore weighty but personal themes like love and religion. In the 90s, I saw the fascinating tour of tv zoo in the pouring rain on the old people’s seats Stadium of the Giants in New Jersey. My wife Amy and I dance In a little while at our wedding. In many ways, the group has provided the soundtrack to my life.
This importance took on a new dimension in the summer of 2022, when I was diagnosed with a benign lemon-sized tumor next to my pituitary gland. I had surgery to remove it, only to develop a rare bleeding complication that left me in the ICU for about a week. I needed an emergency transport and five units of blood to survive.
While my complication is (thankfully) on the mend, a small piece of the tumor remains. In March I finished a cycle of radiation 30 sessions to prevent the mass from growing back. All of my medical drama has resulted in dozens of trips to the Mount Sinai hospital. And this has brought many possibilities to request the U2.
Patients undergoing recurring treatments such as radiation can sometimes choose music, which makes it easier to relax and be still. Meditative or classical music are popular choices, according to radiation techs al Mount Sinai. My choice was a little different.
OR U2 served two purposes. One, of course, was some sort of escape. With each treatment, week after week, I would put on a gown, lay down on a table, and put a suffocating plastic mesh mask over my head to make sure I didn’t move or flinch. MRI required absolute immobility for up to 35 minutes or more.
listen to the U2 it helped, especially in the later parts of the radiation treatment when the routine got harder to bear. The philosophical words of Good, the constant bass of Adam Claytonthe sharp battery of Larry Mullen Jr. and the vibrant guitar of The edge – that was my goal. U2 songs often brought back memories that took me far from the treatment room: a school trip (I haven’t found what I’m looking for yet), a separation from college (One), a time spent in another city (Nice day).
Music also served a utilitarian purpose. The songs of U2 they usually last about four minutes. This knowledge allowed me to estimate the amount of treatment left. Radiation normally took about 20 minutes, or four to five U2 songs. The MRI lasted about eight songs.
In the MRI that started my medical journey, I had no idea music was an option. Standing silently, the MRI seemed to take millennia to complete as the machine warmed up and emitted menacing beeps and crackles. During my second scan, I asked about the possibility of audiobooks or music. yes, they had Spotifya technician said. My U2 treatment plan was born.
During my many trips to Mount Sinai, I listened to songs from the band’s five-decade catalog in random order. Sometimes I reworked the songs in light of my circumstances. Stories for boys (1980) got me thinking about my 6 year old son and how I looked forward to raising him for longer. Ultraviolet (Light my way) (1991) and eagle (2000) raised thoughts about my 11 year old daughter. Every breaking wave (2014) took me to a sunny beach. With or without you (1987) appeared more frequently, evoking that feeling you get when your best friend walks into the room.
Occasionally, Spotify would load a song I’d never heard before, usually a B-side or an obscure dance version of a track (how many times did the band rearrange Mysterious ways?). For my fifth MRI, the technicians mistakenly played a karaoke version of a wordless U2 album. Thankfully, the songs were a close enough facsimile, though definitely no better than the real thing.
The song that induced the most catharsis during the treatment? Where the streets have no name. With its ethereal organ, guitar and racing beat, the song conjures up images of a speeding desert highway. Basically, the opposite of being in a hospital bed.
Lifesaving graces come in all sizes, with the smallest ones often piling up and surprising us with their magnitude when we least expect it. I think of the people who have helped me through this health crisis. Doctors, nurses, support staff, family, friends, colleagues. My wife especially. And the U2 Between them.
Source: Terra
Rose James is a Gossipify movie and series reviewer known for her in-depth analysis and unique perspective on the latest releases. With a background in film studies, she provides engaging and informative reviews, and keeps readers up to date with industry trends and emerging talents.
