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I kept waiting for the bad times to end but they didn’t. They found another tumor and had to check it out. I spent more time in the hospital in 1972 than I did at home: I was in nine times.

But the headaches kept going into 1973 and 1974. I went to a brain man, a neurosurgeon, I believe the word is. He sent me to a gynecologist. Then last year, I found out I had high blood pressure. It’s supposed to be around 120, but mine was close to 160. That really scared me. That’s what led to my Daddy’s stroke—high blood pressure. The doctors told me it would help to lay off all salt, so now I carry a special salt substitute. These days my blood pressure stays near normal most of the time.

But even so, the doctors say migraine is caused by some kind of pressure, something you try to push out of your mind. I guess it’s understandable why I’d be getting headaches in my business, where there’s so much tension all the time.

People are always giving me advice on how to help the migraines. The doctor told me not to take any more sugar. Someone else said to try acupuncture. Somebody else said to try black coffee. Other people tell me to try pain-killers. I’ve always felt that aspirin wasn’t good for me, made me feel woozy. But when I’d start feeling nervous before a show, when the migraines were coming on, I’d take a certain brand of aspirin, prescribed by my doctor, to get rid of the headache. I would either carry some with me or borrow one from somebody. Sometimes the pills would make the headaches go away, but I’d start feeling dizzy, or I’d seem to be confused or sleepy. That’s probably when the rumors started about me being on some kind of dope.

I certainly wasn’t taking aspirin to get high, I just wanted my headaches to go away. To tell you the truth, I’ve always been scared of dope. If somebody ever had dope around me, I think I’d be scared to death. I guess there are people everywhere, in show business, too, who take stuff to get high. But I don’t need that.

Anyway, we finally found out what the problem was—the hard way. It happened early in 1975, when me and Conway were supposed to make a record. Me and Doo checked into the King of the Road Motel on a Monday morning. I was just getting over the flu, and I felt all achy and tired. Conway was smarter—he had gotten flu shots right away, on the road.

I didn’t eat after breakfast on Monday, and the flu was still bothering me, so I took an aspirin. That night Doo said he was going out to get us some Chinese food, which we both love. But he didn’t come back for a long, long while.

I found out later he was out partying with Faron Young.

I was still feeling bad, and worrying where Doolittle was, so I took another aspirin. Then I waited a couple of hours and took another one. When he finally came in around four o’clock in the morning, I was so mad and so nervous, I didn’t sleep all night.

Tuesday morning I went to the doctor for a double shot for the flu and I finally got something to eat—a bowl of oats. But I still felt bad, so I took two more aspirins because I knew we had to go out and record. Altogether, I think that made nine pills in twenty-seven hours, which isn’t too bad—unless you’re allergic to ’em.

Anyway, as soon as I got into the motel room, I just passed out. Doo thought I was fooling around, but when he saw me hit the floor, he knew it was bad. I started going into convulsions, just rolling around on the floor. He called for the ambulance, and they carried me out of the motel on a stretcher. When I woke up, I was in the hospital.

They fed me through tubes and ran all kinds of tests on me. Finally my doctor came in and said, “The next time you feel like taking an aspirin, you might just as well take arsenic, because this brand of aspirin is just like poison to your system.” So I was allergic to ’em and didn’t know it. They kept me in the hospital until Friday, when I got back on the bus to hit the road. We did a bad show that night, but at least I showed up. I figured, if I’m gonna die, it might