http://hepatitismag.com/features/default.asp?HepStoryID=50"
Resurrected Days, Resurrected Nights
After overcoming obstacles such as drug addiction and jail time, music legend
Freddy Fender now faces hepatitis C and kidney failure in a fight for his life.
By: Brad Dodson
To his fans, Freddy Fender is a Southern blues legend. Some might even call him
immortal if they did not know the irony attached to the word. Because - as
Freddy's true fans know - failing kidneys and a battle with hepatitis C have
brought this beloved star down to Earth in a fight for his life.
On a recent Saturday afternoon in Louisiana, Freddy's fans packed themselves
into the main foyer of the Isle of Capri Casino - ignoring the lure of the slot
machines just feet away - just to catch a glimpse of him before his evening
concert. A rumor has circulated that this might be the last public performance
in a career that has spanned five decades, and it is hard to tell who would miss
the other more: Freddy or his fans.
"It gives me a feeling of professional accomplishment," Freddy says of the
assembling throng who are waiting to rush the concert hall for the best seats,
"and at the same time, a humble feeling of gratitude."
When the wait is finally over, and Freddy - guitar slung over his shoulder -
strolls on stage and up to the microphone, it seems as if talk of his early
demise is certainly premature, until he reminds the audience himself.
"I'm very happy to be here tonight. . Of course, I'm very happy to be anywhere
tonight!" he proclaims before breaking into his first song of the night - the
appropriately titled Tell It Like It Is. Before the show is over, Freddy will
have everyone out of their seats and dancing in the aisles.
The Rise and Fall
Freddy Fender is no stranger to tough times, or adversity. Born in the
Depression, he grew up as Baldemar Huerta in a barrio in the small Texas town of
San Benito. Freddy's family struggled to make ends meet in a time of scarce
jobs, working as migrant laborers around the Rio Grande Valley in Texas. The
hours were long, and the pay was minimal; however, it would not be long before
Freddy would prove true the saying, "tough times never last, but tough people
do."
"Growing up and working in the fields gave me the caring attitude I now have for
my fans," Freddy says. Looking back at his beginning, he adds, helps Freddy keep
his feet on the ground and his ego in check when he thinks of the people who
support his music.
Freddy had an ear and voice for music from an early age, and it would be this
"gift" that would change the course of his life. At the age of 10, he made his
first appearance on radio, singing Paloma Querida. Not long after, another
performance of that song would earn him first prize in a talent contest in
Harlingen, Texas.
Feeling the sensation of performing for others, Freddy began to take in earnest
the lessons of the blues he heard sung in the fields by the African American
workers. Combin-ing the Mexican music of his family, with the polka he heard
played among the German/Czechoslovakian settlers, and the blues, Freddy
developed a style all his own.
As Baldemar Huerta, he had number one hits in Mexico and South America in 1957,
with Spanish versions of Elvis Presley's Don't Be Cruel and Harry Belafonte's
Jamaica Farewell. Soon afterward, success came calling in the form of a contract
with Imperial Records. With the hope of crossing over to the "gringo"
mainstream, Baldemar Huerta became Freddy Fender and in 1959, Freddy would hit
No. 1 in the states with his own song, Wasted Days and Wasted Nights.
The song would prove prophetic. Before success could be further capitalized -
Freddy and his bass player would be arrested and sent to prison for possession
of two marijuana cigarettes. He would leave prison three years later and
eventually wind up back in the Valley, working as a mechanic and taking classes
at the local college, his music career derailed into playing the clubs on
weekends.
The Rise Again
Like a cat with many lives, and over a decade since he had been a rising star,
Freddy was determined to make it to the top again. In the 1970s Freddy turned to
country music and in 1975 hit the No. 1 spot with another song, Before the Next
Teardrop Falls. On April 8, 1975, he made history when the song became the first
debut single to make it to the top of both the Billboard country and pop charts.
A remake of Wasted Days and Wasted Nights made it to the No. 1 spot on the
country chart and with two follow-up No. 1s, Freddy's album went multi-platinum.
By the end of the year, Billboard would name him Best Male Artist of 1975. The
Gavin Report would award him single and album of the year honors.
With a career in full motion, Freddy would follow singing with a move into
acting, most notably with a breakthrough performance in the Robert Redford film,
The Milagro Beanfield War. In the 1980s and 1990s, he would also earn
recognition and acclaim for his work with the Tejano super group, the Texas
Tornadoes. Everything was great - until it got worse. Somewhere along the way to
the top, Freddy would lose something he wasn't even aware he needed - his
health. But he would also gain some perspective.
The Human Side of Stardom
Since 1976 Freddy has been dealing with life as a diabetic. To combat the
disease, he has been giving himself insulin injections daily for almost 25
years. He treated diabetes as little more than a scratch. After all, millions of
people were living with it around the world. So Freddy continued living the life
he loved: traveling, performing, and having as good a time as possible.
Grammy awards for his work with the Texas Tornadoes and critical acclaim came
and, by the 90s, life was as good as it could get. Then, in November 2000, the
wake-up call arrived. He was told he had hepatitis C. He was also told he needed
a kidney transplant; the diabetes was wearing out his organs. And just like
that, much like the 1960s, Freddy Fender found himself in transition, having to
start over again.
A New Challenge
Freddy found out he had the hepatitis C virus after going to the doctor to find
out why he wasn't feeling as good as he thought he should. A former reveler, he
figured he might need to slow down and get some rest. But just to be sure, he
got a professional opinion.
"I had no idea what it might be," says Freddy, "although I had been thinking for
a while that it might be something, because I was always exhausted." The doctor
confirmed it when Freddy's blood work tested positive for the hepatitis C virus.
At first the news was a shock to Freddy. He likened it to Pandora's box. He knew
he needed to find out what was wrong, but "sometimes you don't want to take the
lid off, because you might not like what you find on the inside." And what he
found at first glance wasn't something he wanted to see. "I guess it was a
blow," he recalls, "but like a boxer, I've learned in this life that more than
anything you have to roll with the punches. I've also come to realize that the
only way to mature is to take your hits and get up again."
Freddy's approach toward the disease has been different than many other's facing
the same diagnosis. He's not in denial, but he doesn't see the need for dwelling
over how he contracted the virus. "I can bet you that most of the people who
were diagnosed were surprised - it's a jolt," says Freddy. "But to me, people
spend too much time asking the wrong question. The question should not be 'Where
did you get this disease?' it should be, 'What are you going to do now that you
have it?'"
A New Road, Similar Sights
This is easy for Freddy, because it's similar to another road he traveled in the
1980s - addiction. While it's not something he remembers fondly, he appreciates
the similarity between accepting that he was addicted to alcohol and drugs and
that of living with hepatitis C.
As a person who was trying to figure out addiction in the past, he remembers
always wanting to know why people became alcoholics and addicts, with the hopes
of stumbling onto some hidden criteria. "Then one day a lady said to me,
'Freddy, don't worry about how the cow got into the ditch, just worry about
getting it out of there!'" The approach has worked. Freddy has since maintained
16 years sobriety with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous. That attitude is now
the stance he takes towards hepatitis: Don't get caught up in the how, instead
focus on dealing with it head on.
For this, spirituality and the help of others play a large role. "When you first
go to AA meetings, you have to learn to believe in God," says Freddy. "This was
difficult for me at the time because subconsciously I probably thought I was
him." Freddy's barber helped put it into perspective, telling him, "the only
thing you need to know about God, Freddy, is that you're not him."
"Which was right," says Freddy. "I've gotten a lot of spirituality since then
through what I do." Much of it comes in the form of unwavering support from his
fans, many of whom offer their support through letters posted on his Web site,
www.FreddyFender.com.
Learning to be a Recipient
For a man who's made a living out of giving hope and joy to others, one of the
hardest lessons Freddy has learned since he began battling hepatitis is how to
take instead of give.
"There are days when I feel that no one knows how heavy the sack is except the
one who is carrying it," says Freddy. "It used to offend me when others would
write, or call, to say they were praying for me, as if I was going to die that
day. Then I realized that I was carrying a burden by myself that I didn't have
to. I realized their words and prayers came from the heart.
"I used to find that acceptance was noble, as in acceptance of the disease - now
I see that acceptance of the love of others is more noble."
The words strike a chord in him. "In the past, there were a lot of times I would
call Freddy Fender fans who were terminal," remembers Freddy. "I would say
things I thought were appropriate to the situation, but I didn't know what it
was to be sick. Now I do.
"This has given me an insight, an ability to empathize, appreciate, and have a
love for others. Unfortunately, in some ways it makes you think about dying
every day. But, then you also begin to recognize what it means to be alive. You
learn to live; you realize how fragile we really are - how weak are the links of
our life."
Grace in Action
Freddy's battle for his health has led him to another important realization:
There is much to be grateful for in the world. Most notably his loving wife of
more than 40 years, Vangie. Talking to him, it doesn't take much for you to get
the picture - she's the proverbial "good woman" behind the man. More than a
wife, she works as a manager, caretaker and protector.
He quickly points out her strengths, saying with affection, "My wife is the most
devoted little soldier I've ever met, and the greatest nurse. I've never
appreciated (her) so much, until I was sick." Testament to his love and
appreciation, he is able to recite the date of their marriage without hesitation
when prodded, "August 9, 1957."
Alongside his wife have been their children, although he recalls with chagrin
the way he handled their worries before when the illness caused him to lose a
large amount of weight in a short time. "I'm very independent," he says, "and I
was unaware of the situation; I didn't recognize the sincerity in the concerns
of my children and relatives. Now I try to be more aware and sensitive."
Since going on dialysis every other day for his kidneys, and having the
complications added by hepatitis C, Freddy has agreed to lower his bookings by
about 50 percent. Now he plays mostly weekends but still performs around the
world. Vangie says, "I don't know where he gets the energy. It's not even why
does he still do it, but how does he do it?" Freddy says the cut in his touring
schedule has as much to do with being older - and wanting some time to be home
in Corpus Christi or fishing on his boat in the Gulf of Mexico - as it does with
his ill health.
Making Changes, Moving Ahead
But it's change that he's made, and it's change like this that is for his best
interest. "Medically speaking, I take no medications right now," says Freddy.
"The stage of my HCV is too far advanced for a traditional dose of medication.
I'm suffering from the early stages of cirrhosis.
"I've had to settle my diet down considerably - not much of the spicy stuff
anymore - and of course go to dialysis while I wait for a kidney transplant. But
mostly I treat it (hepatitis C) by trying to rest, maintaining my status with
the doctor, and being sensible." He says one of his biggest regrets is that his
touring and dialysis schedules do not leave time to attend hepatitis support
group meetings.
"My understanding is that you can live with HCV for the rest of your life, so
I'm learning all of the information on it. Right now, I know the basics." As for
the future.well, Freddy thinks it best summed up in two ways:
One is in the words of a song from the past that states his faith toward things,
"Starting all over again, it's gonna be rough, so rough, but we're gonna make
it. . I know we will."
And the other, perhaps the most comical when taken as a sign that, no matter
what, you're going to get what you need comes from the words of Freddy's 86
year-old uncle, Chuy, who told him, "Don't worry, no one ever dies before their
time."
And as for that show being the last one he's ever going to perform - Freddy says
don't count on it.
Brad Dodson is a freelance writer who lives in Seabrook, Texas, who has loved
Freddy Fender's music for years.
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