It's So Easy - Duff Mckagan [127]
The other thing I did was add running to my routine. There were plenty of dojos in Seattle that I could use—because of Benny’s reputation, the doors were always open—but I had never found one to replace the House of Champions. Instead, I continued what Benny had taught me on my own. But I still wanted—no, needed—more pain, another challenge. So I joined a regular old gym in a tall building downtown and found myself running not on its treadmills but on the building’s staircases. Then I decided to sign up for a marathon. I ran my first one the next year in three hours and forty-five minutes.
At the beginning of 2001, a letter from Seattle U arrived at the house. I opened it.
Dear Michael:
Congratulations on your outstanding academic achievement during the preceding quarter. Your grade point average of 4.0 should be a source of satisfaction and pride for you. It is evidence of your ability to focus your intellect and energy effectively to achieve academic excellence. It is also evidence of your continuing intellectual development. Your name is included on the President’s List, a recognition for which only those who have completed twelve or more credits at Seattle University and who have earned a term grade point average of 3.90 or above qualify …
I had made the President’s List! I went out and had the commendation framed and hung it proudly on the wall of our kitchen.
Near the end of that spring semester, Chloe, who had been slowing down for a few years, suddenly took a turn for the worse. I had to lift her from her latest guard post—by Mae’s crib—and take her to the vet to see what was wrong. Chloe had developed liver cancer, it turned out, and the vet would have to operate.
That summer I devoted my attention to nursing Chloe, finally paying her back for all her love—especially for the time she’d stood by me as I’d been alone and recovering from my own organ failure. But several months after her surgery, she still hadn’t rebounded. The old girl tried to hang in there for me despite the steady worsening of her pain. Finally I had to put Chloe down.
I took her to the vet on a Monday morning in the fall of 2001. It was one of the worst days of my life.
“I’ll be okay,” I told her as I gently petted her. “You don’t have to worry about any of us now.”
I miss her.
PART SEVEN
FALL TO PIECES
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
I went back to L.A. every once in a while and one time in early 2002 I met Matt Sorum for lunch at Swinger’s in Hollywood. We were joined that day by Randy Castillo, a drummer friend of Matt’s. Of course, I knew who Randy was—he had played with Ozzy for years—and I had probably met him a few times in my using days. But it had become clear to me that meeting people sober was meeting them anew. Randy had throat cancer, though he told me and Matt that he’d gotten through the worst of it and was on the mend. A few months after that lunch, however, Randy’s cancer returned and he died.
Randy had neither health insurance nor sufficient spare funds to cover everything out of pocket when this tragedy hit. After his death, the costs of his treatment trickled down to his parents and other family members. I guess they must have cosigned for a loan or a hospital stay, or both. Matt decided to put together a fund-raiser and memorial concert for Randy at the Key Club on Sunset Strip. His first calls were to me and Slash. We both agreed to do the gig, and the event—scheduled for the last Monday in April 2002—sold out in something like ten minutes. We were all rather surprised, but obviously happy to be able to help Randy’s family in some small way.
Classes were still in session for me, so I flew in the weekend before the Monday-night gig. I had a statistics exam on the