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 20th 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 norma
l, 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.
I wrote a few paragraphs online about Brad and what he meant to me. From what I understand, Tom Scholz and his wife, Kim, had read what I wrote and were deeply touched by it.
Feeling alone and confused after finding out Kyle’s cancer was back, I was out in the yard one day doing some work, trying my best to cope with everything at hand. Yard work was my therapy. It gave me a chance to think without all the congestion of phone calls and emails going on. I remember feeling abandoned by God. I felt as though He was nowhere to be found. I continued to ask, “How could God do this to a woman who has devoted her life to Him and given up everything for Him? Now she’s stricken with Stage 4 cancer and has to suffer.” Not that God owes me, or anyone anything, but those were just the honest thoughts going through my head at the time. It was a tug of war between all that I knew and all that I thought I knew.
At a time like this you want to have hope. You want to have faith. But you’re faced with the statistics that less than 5 percent of women with Stage 4 ovarian cancer survive longer than two years.
With all of these thoughts going on in my head, my yard looked immaculate during this time. I mowed, raked and cleaned the yard regularly.
Kyle came out on the back deck one day and motioned for me to turn off the mower. “You’ve got a call,” she said. I didn’t want to take any calls. “It’s Dave Rose. He says it’s important.” Dave, my manager, tells me that he had just heard from Kim Scholz—Tom’s wife—and they had asked if I would like to be part of the last-ever Boston show, which was going to be held in the city of Boston. It was a show to honor Brad Delp and to raise funds as a benefit to Brad. They were calling it their last show ever and their intention was to bring out a variety of guest singers to participate including Ann Wilson, Mickey Thomas, and Sammy Hagar.
Almost immediately, my stomach turned and all the questions you would assume might run through my head did. “Maybe I’ll get to sing ‘More Than A Feeling’ or ‘Peace of Mind’ or ‘Rock and Roll Band’! It would be awesome to sing one, two or even three of those classic Boston songs.”
Not long afterward, I had that conversation with Kim who suggested I sing a song called “Higher Power.” I had to Google that song. It wasn’t necessarily one of their hits. I could only assume they chose this song because I was a Christian and they thought this would be the most suitable song. She didn’t say that of course, but it was the only thing I could imagine at the time. Inwardly I was slightly disappointed but on the phone I said “Absolutely. Anything you want me to sing. Count me in.”
A few days passed and I continued my daily yard work routine when again the phone rings, this time my cell phone. I looked at the screen and it read “restricted.” I never answer restricted calls, ever. I don’t like talking on the phone in the first place, never mind to people I don’t know. Since I’m not aware of any friends who have a restricted number, surely it must be a sales pitch. For some reason I shut the mower off and answered the call. It was Tom Scholz, obviously calling from a private number.
I tried to be calm and collected, but I was talking to Tom Scholz! I was floored and nervous. We talked for a while as I paced back and forth in my backyard. He admitted to having never heard me sing prior to reading my post, so he had gone out and bought some Stryper records. I don’t know how many he bought or specifically which ones other than he did mention purchasing our most recent album, Reborn. He shared with me that he was really impressed by the songwriting and my singing.
To be told that by Tom Scholz was beyond huge to me. Boston was a band with one of the best singers of all time, and a band with some of the best rock songs in history. So I’m on the phone with Tom in my jeans and tee shirt with a smile on my face thinking, “Wow. This is unbelievable. I’ve probably just heard the biggest and best compliment I’ve ever received in this business.”
And then it got better. Because Tom had heard me sing and had heard my songs, he said he wanted to open up the opportunity for me to sing more than just “Higher Power.” I mentioned how it would be amazing to sing more, and he said he would also like me to sing “More Than a Feeling”, “Rock and Roll Band”, and possibly “Peace of Mind.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!
After reality set in, I realized how much I needed to rehearse and prepare. “More Than a Feeling” is a tough song to sing, and I don’t think any singer would dispute that. I had a lot of work to do.
I went into my studio and started learning the songs both on guitar and vocals, as I assumed I would be playing guitar at the show as well. I learned these songs note-for-note, or at least to the best of my ability, rehearsing for hours on end.
Rehearsals with Tom and the band had been scheduled for a few weeks prior to the show. In my first rehearsal it was just Tom, Gary Pihl and I. I was a nervous wreck, but it all hit me like a ton of bricks when I went to plug my
guitar in. I walked over to the pedal board that controlled my amp and written in black Sharpie on a piece of tape it read, “Brad.” I was playing through Brad Delp’s rig.
We didn’t do any singing on the first song, which was “Rock and Roll Band.” We just played. I could see in my peripheral vision that Tom was pleased. We paused after part of the way through the song and Tom was grinning ear to ear. He said to Gary that he had never heard the guitars sound this good. He told me about previous encounters with players and that this just felt better than he could imagine. He was really excited about the guitars and for that, I breathed my first sigh of relief in months.
Honestly, I was surprised by how little singing I did the first few days of rehearsals. I had just assumed that my voice would be the deciding factor. Fortunately I had practiced those guitar parts relentlessly in the week’s prior.
The first full band rehearsal for the show, with drums, had me a bit nervous as well. We started with “More Than A Feeling.” I sang that song my own way. Aside from me sounding nothing like Brad, I had my own style and interpretation of that song, so I was a little apprehensive with this being the first song that we’d rehearse together as a band. But as we got through the song, I could see it was working. Tom was smiling, and everyone in the room seemed to be doing so as well. After it was over there were high-fives being passed around and real sense of celebration in the air. They seemed to genuinely approve of my interpretation of the song.
Show day came on August 19, 2007. The show was taking place at the Bank of America Pavilion in Boston. It was a sold-out show. I had never had so many knots in my stomach. I was so nervous, and I couldn’t seem to overcome it backstage. I had Dave Rose there. He’s always been a great support. He was giving me lines like “I feel like a proud Papa.” He was really encouraging. Kyle was also there, and she helped sooth my nerves as well. I think she was partially just happy to see me doing something other than Stryper and on such a grand scale.
Honestly: My Life and Stryper Revealed Page 22