Honestly: My Life and Stryper Revealed (28 page)

Reborn
continued to garner press and attention but the most enlightening developments to me were the sporadic comments from fans saying,
“Eh, this is just another Michael Sweet solo record.”
This surprised me. Word had spread that I had previously written and recorded these songs and then turned the material into a Stryper record. Keep in mind it was Oz who suggested the idea of this becoming a Stryper record (and Rob agreed), yet there was this spin on it within the Stryper community that I was somehow forcing my solo material into becoming a Stryper record.

These comments from fans were eye opening for a few reasons. First, they were from the same people who for years had been complaining
“Why don’t you put Stryper back together?”
and now were quick to pass judgment that this was just another solo album. My knee-jerk response to the naysayers was
“Look, it was YOU that wanted me to put Stryper back together. If it weren’t for this album, Stryper wouldn’t be back together. Which would you prefer? Us back together or not?”

Secondly, what exactly
is
a Michael Sweet solo album versus a Stryper album? I’ve always written most of the songs for Stryper. I’ve always led the band musically. It’s the same songwriter, same singer and same guitar parts. Sure, there are subtle differences between a Stryper record and a Michael Sweet record (mostly in the style of songs and edge), but certainly not major ones, especially regarding
Reborn
. And lastly, the accusation of this just being another solo album was simply wrong. The guys come in to record their parts. It was a Stryper record created in a similar fashion to all the other Stryper albums that have been created.

The reviews of
Reborn
were overwhelmingly positive, but within the tight-knit circle of Stryper fans I got a solid lesson in
“You can’t please everyone.”
They wanted Stryper back together, but apparently only on their terms. I’m not exactly sure what those terms would have been. Did they expect us, now in our 40s, to all move into a house together in Southern California, write songs collectively during the day and drive around Sunset Strip at night in our yellow-and-black van tossing demos to everyone we passed? What did the naysayers want? The reality was that this was the real world, where we were all living in separate parts of the country and living separate lives. Basically, we made the record the same way we had always made albums, but it was difficult for some people to believe that.

We started the tour in August of ’05 in Puerto Rico, and we toured the U.S. through the end of November doing what I call a “House of Blues” tour. Essentially, we were playing at House of Blues and similar-sized venues throughout the country. We toured overseas the following year, in 2006, playing primarily festivals.

In August of that same year I released another solo album,
Him
, a collection of traditional hymns on which I rearranged and wrote new music. It would be my fourth full-length studio album (fifth if you count the two versions of
Truth
). It was a small independent release through a company where my friend Jamie Warden was working. I went to the Gospel Music Association (GMA) week in Nashville and did some promotion and interviews to surround it but it never really got the push it deserved. I presented a lifetime achievement award at the televised Dove Awards (part of the GMA week), alongside my friend Bryan Duncan and gospel music icon Andrea Crouch.

We were on a limited budget with this release, but thanks to one of my best friends and publicist Brian Mayes, we managed to get that album some solid attention in the Christian music world. In a business where publicists come and go regularly, Brian has been a solid rock. He’s always been there for me, even when I didn’t have the money to pay a publicist. He’s always quick to jump in and lend a helping hand. He worked hard getting
Him
as much attention as possible given its limited budget on a small label. I’m proud of that album, and I still think it holds its own as a creative and respectful approach to some of the greatest hymns of all time.

The year 2006 was tumultuous in my personal life. Kyle and I had been going through a stressful legal battle with her brother, Brock. The cranberry bogs where I had been working had been in Kyle’s family for more than 100 years. They were one of the top cranberry producers in the state, selling to Ocean Spray from the very beginning.

Kyle’s father, Paul Tucy, had married into the family business when he married Kyle’s mother, Marion. Unfortunately in the ’80s they wound up divorcing. In the divorce, Paul purchased the 800+-acre piece of property (one of the largest privately owned lots in Massachusetts) from Marion for a ridiculously low price. Still, Marion got some money and the house they had built together overlooking Buttermilk Bay. Paul got the cranberry business and the campground.

Kyle became estranged from her father in the ’80s and moved to LA to pursue a career as a make-up artist in the film industry. Although she had graduated with honors from Colby College with a degree in child psychology, she decided to become a make-up artist and wound up being one of the most successful ones in LA. When we moved back to The Cape in 1995, Kyle mended ways with her father, and he eventually hired us both on to work at the campground. Brock didn’t seem to like this, as he had been working there throughout her time in LA and, in my opinion, viewed us as a threat. Brock and Paul had a really odd relationship. They were constantly arguing and yelling at one another, or so it seemed to me. It was obvious Brock didn’t like Kyle and I being a part of the family business.

Paul eventually became ill with prostate cancer. As his health was deteriorating, Brock somehow managed to obtain power of attorney for his father. Paul signed over the campground and cranberry business to Brock, who became the sole owner. Paul eventually passed away, and by this time Kyle and I were not working there much at all.

Paul’s intentions were to always leave the business to Kyle and Brock, collectively. But as time passed, Brock refused to give Kyle her half of the estate. For months Kyle patiently waited for Brock to do the right thing. We eventually consulted with our pastor who suggested that we hire an attorney and proceed with legal action. So we did. It was a spiritually, mentally and emotionally draining battle, to the point where I had to rush Kyle to the hospital multiple times due to exhaustion and borderline breakdowns. Barely a day went by throughout this process that Kyle wasn’t in tears or close to it. It took a significant toll on her, and I witnessed it first hand. Stress can weaken your immune system, and I believe it to possibly be the primary cause of many major illnesses.

Eventually we won the long and drawn-out lawsuit, but we were beaten up pretty bad. To fight with your own brother like this, over something that shouldn’t have been a fight in the first place, made Kyle an emotional wreck. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as
“Judgment in favor of Kyle Sweet”
and we’d move on with our lives. After the judgment, we received a payout from Brock, but later we discovered that the IRS had accessed the value of the property to be substantially more. That meant more taxes were due on the property, and now we had to pay a large portion of the bill to Uncle Sam. It was one mess after another. Eventually, Brock declared bankruptcy and after more than a century, the banks would now own the family business.

As we moved in to 2007, the plan was for Stryper to begin working on the next studio album for Big3, but Kyle got sick and life got complicated.

She had been complaining of bloating and cramping, and she began putting on some weight. Her doctors passed it off saying she was nearing the stages of menopause. Believe it or not, this went on for more than a year. On the night of February 9, 2007, as we settled in to bed, I noticed a protruding lump in her abdomen. Kyle was becoming more and more uncomfortable, so the very next morning we went to Jordan Hospital in Plymouth where they ran some inconclusive tests and an ultrasound. They discovered a large mass near her ovaries, but they were uncertain as to what it was until they performed a biopsy. Kyle and I didn’t want to admit it, nor did we say it out loud, but we had an idea what it could be. We prayed and hoped for the best, though.

The following day she was transported by ambulance to Boston’s Brigham and Women’s hospital, which is ranked among the best hospitals in the country. As a result, it’s difficult to get seen on short notice, but they rushed Kyle in and began testing, including biopsies. It was a sad time as it was Mikey’s 20
^th
birthday and approaching Lena’s sweet 16, plus Valentine’s Day right in the middle. We spent those birthdays and Valentine’s Day in the hospital.

Thankfully, I had Pastor David Johnson with me. He was a rock and incredibly helpful with things both small and large, from helping with the kids, running errands, and he was there with sympathetic and unwavering spiritual guidance.

The biopsy came back and revealed ovarian cancer. The hospital scheduled surgery immediately, and we were able to get one of the best surgeons, Dr. Colleen Feltmate, at one of the finest medical establishments in the country.

Throughout all of this the days and nights were much longer. I slept every night in a chair in Kyle’s hospital room. The operation was scheduled to take about two to three hours, but instead it was lasted more than five hours.

David Johnson and I sat in a waiting room. We were the only two there. We talked and prayed and also sat in silence. I told myself everything would be okay. David told me everything would be okay. But, intellectually, I knew the possibilities of a bleak future were very real.

The doctor finally emerged from the operating room exhausted and drained from an unusually long procedure.
“I got everything I could, all that was visible,”
were her words to me. She went on to share with us the details of the procedure, and how the cancer had spread. She told us it was Stage 4 ovarian cancer due to it having spread to other organs. She shared with us some of our treatment options available and that we would be closely monitoring her progress over the coming weeks and months.

Even though Dr. Feltmate had taken the time to share so much, I heard none of it.

I only heard
“Stage 4 ovarian cancer.”
After that she may as well have been speaking German. Fortunately, David Johnson was there to help me sort it all out. I knew I needed to be strong for Kyle and for the kids, but all I could do was cry. One thing I did take away from this post-surgery briefing was the doctor telling us that from here on out the future would not be about the quantity of life—it would be about the quality. Basically, beating around the bush, she was telling us Kyle’s time here on earth was limited and all we could do was to give her the best quality of life possible until the end.

After a long process, Kyle healed from the surgery and weeks later she started treatment. During the process, it was the first time I had heard the term CA-125, which is a tumor marker used in ovarian cancer staging, and it would become a term I’d use hundreds of times daily in the coming months. A normal, non-cancerous reading typically has a value ranging from 0 to 40. Kyle’s marker was 6,000+ when first diagnosed.

After much thought as to which drug treatment to use, Kyle began chemotherapy. In the months that would follow, I’m not even sure how she got out of bed every day. It was overwhelming and exhausting, but she was a fighter. She would pull through each day with optimism and hope.

I was wrestling with all sorts of unwanted thoughts and questions in my head, as was Kyle.
“How could You do this, God?”
was a common one. I had all of these thoughts and I just couldn’t control them. I kept asking God why this was happening.
“We’ve served You our entire lives and this is what we get? We have two kids and Kyle doesn’t deserve this, we don’t deserve this,”
I would think regularly. I’m surprised we were able to hold it together. As difficult as it was, we continued going to church but we were committed to fighting and working hard on what would surely be a long road ahead.

In the meantime, we were visiting dietitians and spending time shopping for anything and everything that could possibly get her body in check and her immune system strong enough to fight this dreaded disease on its own. We prayed a lot. We also questioned God a lot. It was an up and down, all-around roller coaster ride emotionally and physically. Miraculously, after only a few treatments her CA-125 number began to drop and eventually, in the safe range, below 40!

For all practical purposes and according to the numbers, Kyle was cancer free. The doctors called it “remission.” We called it a miracle. To say we were ecstatic with joy would be a gross understatement.

Our good friends Matt and Laurie Crouch invited us to be on their program
Praise The Lord
, which airs on TBN. It was a segment about miracles, and man did we have one to share. We announced to the world that Kyle was cancer free. For a moment, life was amazing. We were so incredibly thankful and happy.

But as quickly as the cancer left, it came back, with a vengeance. Her CA-125 number rose again, and we began the journey that would test our faith and our family.

Just a few weeks after Kyle had surgery, in March of 2007, one of my favorite singers of all time died. It was Brad Delp, lead vocalist of rock band Boston. Maybe I had a heightened sense of just how fragile and precious life was during this time. Whatever the case, I felt the need to publicly express my feelings about Brad’s untimely and tragic passing. Brad had committed suicide. Here I was dealing with life being so uncertain for my wife, and one of my childhood rock hero’s had taken his own life. The world was a confusing place for me at the moment. Why was all this happening?

One of my friends, Brian Dixey, was Brad’s guitar tech. Brad’s and my path had come close to crossing many times, but I never had the pleasure of meeting him. But ever since I first heard Brad sing when I was 13 years old, I admired him. Boston was a huge influence on me. It wasn’t just the vocals, but I would work for hours trying to achieve a better guitar tone because of that band. I’ve always loved Brad’s voice, and from what I heard from friends that personally knew him, he was one of the nicest guys you’d ever want to meet. I heard he was very un-rock-star like and an incredibly humble person.