Tomatoes

tried to Kill me

but Banjos Saved My Life show

An Award Winning, Inspirational True Story

I remember my dad playing the banjo. He wasn’t a professional musician, but played at home and at Bluegrass festivals. That sound carried with it laughter, comfort, and a sense of home.

2017 was a strange, heavy year. Dad died in the spring, and by the autumn, I had my own battle to face—breast cancer. Everything felt emptier, quieter. The banjo was gone, and with it, the soundtrack of my childhood.

This summer, I went to the Fringe and saw Keith perform. His music caught me completely off guard. There I was, surrounded by laughter and the hum of the crowd, and suddenly—I was back at home with Dad playing the banjo. I cried, overcome with a wave of grief, love, and memory. It was one of those moments when the past and present collide, where joy and sorrow sit side by side.

I cried, not just for the loss, but for the continuity—the way music can reach across time, touch a part of us that nothing else can, and remind us of those we’ve lost. That day, Keith’s music wasn’t just a performance. It was a bridge. It was Dad playing again, if only for a moment, in the room of my heart.

When I was 70 I met a man that was near 85 and he told me his story of cancer. He said 20 years ago I was given 18 months to live. He said he was included in a study of 400 men with his type of cancer and he was the only one of the 400 that survived. I was as you might imagine totally amazed, so I asked him what he thought the secret of his success was. He said that doctor was a good man and he did his best with all his patients; but there was one thing he forgot to tell me, he never told me which 18 moths would be my last, so I determined live them all and let the calendars figure out the rest. I tell this story to every person that shares their cancer journey with me, so that they can decide for themselves which 18 months they want to be their story ending.

I was a Paramedic for almost 35 years and I saw a lot of death. Lost my Wife of 42 years to lung cancer in 2013 and I wanted so much for her not to have pain, not to be sick, not to die but the only thing that was mine to have was to learn from every minute we had together. To do better to be better and to listen to peoples stories and share what I have learned.

Pat was a hospice nurse and she gave us a master class in how she wanted to die. She wasn't sure I could do what she needed because I was one of this life saving paramedic guys. In the end it is always our honour to serve and she thanked me for the job I did for her. With every patient that I got to serve it was always my honour to make their journey just what they wanted.