I wasn't a Toby Keith superfan growing up, but I always appreciated the singer's catalog. Songs like "How Do You Like Me Now?!" and "As Good as I Once Was" showed Keith's winking sarcasm and charisma. Keith could also be bone dry serious and moving as songs like "American Soldier" showed. But these days, Keith's songs just make me sad and a bit nostalgic — yes, even "Red Solo Cup."
The last leg of Keith's battle with stomach cancer came amid a personal crisis of my own. Doctors diagnosed my dad with lung cancer last September, the same month Keith made his final TV appearance at the People's Choice Country Awards. Upon reflection, there are some similarities between Keith and my old man. They're both a bit gruff, sarcastic, and rough around the edges. Keith worked on oil rigs before he became a superstar. My dad's smashed his hands in construction since 17 and never stopped working to provide for his family. Both Keith and my dad are also unapologetically patriotic — my dad standing by my cousin as he joined the Marines.
Lung cancer at 45 years old came as a shock to us as Keith's stomach cancer diagnosis did to his fans. There's never a time when cancer's not shocking, not devastating. Doctors found the mass in my dad's left lung, and we went through the process that so many people go through. What stage is it? What are our options? Is it treatable? I stayed up at night wondering if my soon-to-be-born son would have much time with his grandfather.
My dad was poked and prodded, and it was tough seeing him in that hospital bed. At the same time, Keith was stepping back into the spotlight. He was performing again, taking the stage with a steely determination that refused to let the old man in. Keith gave me hope in beating the odds. Someone commented to me that Keith looked so thin and frail. They said they knew he would probably pass soon. It didn't sit right with me. I guess they were right, but Keith never let the cancer beat him, not in spirit.
Photo via Matthew Wilson
Toby Keith Never Let Cancer Beat Him
Cancer sucks. It takes that strong and vibrant person and breaks them down. My dad cried when he lost his hair from chemo and later when he lost his beard. It was one of the few times in nearly 30 years I've seen my dad without one and one of the few times I've seen him cry. Toby Keith died in February. I was gutted when I heard the news. I always hoped like many that Keith would beat the odds. That same month, a surgeon removed my dad's left lung. Seeing a man who I always looked up to as strong barely able to walk broke a part of me.
But like Keith, my dad is a fighter. Doctors believe he beat it, but he's doing six weeks of radiation and more chemo to be sure. He's on the mend, looking for better days ahead. That's what surviving cancer looks like. It's ugly and disabling, and no one's ever the same after. Why Toby Keith? Why my dad? I know a girl I went to high school with, who's pregnant with Stage 4 lung cancer, brain cancer, and multiple lesions. Cancer doesn't play by anyone's rules.
So where does that leave us? Faith in better days ahead I guess. "You take it for granted on the days that things are good, and you lean on it when days are bad," Toby Keith said. "It has taught me to lean on it a little more every day." Still, it may be some time before I crack a smile at Keith trying to chat up Bobby Jo and her twin sister Betty Lou. But maybe we'll get there one day. Until then, let's pour one out for all those who get up every day and refuse to let the old man in.
