Categories > Celebrities > Slipknot > Heartache every moment
Chapter 1 - 'Burning in water'
Joey stood huddled over the railing, seemingly trying to hurl all the contents of his stomach onto the grass below. It was normal for Joey to feel sick before a show, or to throw up, but today seemed different. This was the fourth time he’d thrown up this evening - 3 times too many. He hadn’t had too much to drink the night before - just a couple of beers - and today’s show was exactly the same as every other one they’d played on this tour.
Another convulsion and it felt like his stomach was trying to twist itself small enough to leap out of his body. He doubled over with the pain, hugging his arms to his body. He had nothing left to throw up and yet his stomach still felt the need to empty itself. His head ached and his eyes misted with unwanted tears, and he felt shaky as he rose to his feet. Clutching to the railing for support, he tried to steady himself.
“Joe? You ok?”
An anxious looking Mick stepped outside to the catwalk where Joey was standing. Worried at how fragile and upset Joey looked, he stood next to him and supported the smaller man with an arm around his shoulders. Joey nodded. He didn’t want to talk, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d throw up again.
“We go on in 10. Are you going to be alright?”
For the first time in a long time, Joey was reluctant to play. He didn’t know if he had the energy, and he felt dizzy and ill. But he could hear the screaming of thousands of fans beyond the stage, and he knew he couldn’t let them down. He nodded again, staring up at Mick through his black hair. He hugged his arms closer to himself, and as he and Mick set off to join the rest of the boys, he leant on Mick for support. Tightening his arm around the drummer, Mick was concerned. He didn’t think Joey would make it through the set, but they needed him to play. Shawn could always play of course, but he didn’t know the songs as well as Joey.
Joey was the glue that held the band together on stage, and without him, he was afraid the gig would be disastrous.
*
As they approached the other guys, grouped together at the side of stage, Joey felt as though he wanted to throw up again. Swallowing hard and hoping the sensation would disappear, he tried to concentrate on remembering the setlist.
It was no good.
Breaking free from Mick, Joey turned and gagged again, feeling his stomach convulse and jerk. Hands on knees, he struggled to breathe. Mick came up behind him and gathered his black hair up, and stroked his back. He appreciated Mick’s concern, but at the same time he was embarrassed this was happening in front of the guys.
Mick shot a worried glance at the others and said, “I don’t think he’s ok.”
His stomach having stopped heaving, Joey straightened up and mumbled through clenched teeth, “I’ll be fine.”
“I dunno Joe, you don’t look too good. We can delay the start if you need some time,” Shawn said, moving towards them.
“Is there anything the medics can do?” Sid asked.
“Won’t hurt to ask,” Corey answered. In his usual, slightly arrogant way, he motioned for an aide and demanded a medic.
Mick helped Joey sit down, who promptly leant against the guitarist as he sat next to him. He knew he was being weak, but at that point he didn’t care. He felt like absolute shit, and as the start time for the gig came and went, started to feel even worse. The screaming was getting louder, and he could hear Slipknot chants. He hated to let down his fans.
Blinking back tears, he took solace in the figure supporting him. Turning his face into Mick’s shoulder, he felt the guitarist slide an arm around him. Chris knelt on his other side, and took Joey’s hand. Squeezing tightly, Joey fought more tears as he realised how incredibly supportive his bandmates were being. Glad no-one could see his face, he swallowed sobs. The pain in his stomach got worse.
Pounding feet alerted him to the fact the medics had arrived. Corey was stalking around impatiently, angry at the delay in getting them there.
“Is there anything you can do to help him?” The concern in Mick’s voice touched Joey. Cold hands felt his forehead, and he heard someone say he had a fever.
“How many times have you thrown up?” Joey heard one of the medics ask. Still afraid of opening his mouth, he held up his hand. 5 fingers.
“I can give him a shot that should stop him throwing up. But he’s very weak. He needs fluids,” the medic said.
The next thing Joey felt was a jab in his upper arm. He hoped it would do what the medic said it should. He didn’t think stopping his drumming to throw up every few minutes would go down well. Someone forced a cup of water to his mouth, and he drank, despite feeling nothing should be entering his stomach, which had taken on a mind of its own. For a few minutes he sat huddled up to Mick, and slowly realised the shot was working. He no longer felt the desire to gag often, although the feeling of nausea remained.
Feeling stronger, he wrapped an arm around Mick’s shoulders, silently asking him to help him stand up. The guitarist obliged, and helped lift a shaky Joey to his feet. They remained standing like that for a few moments as Joey’s dizziness disappeared. Someone handed him his mask, and Mick helped him put it on. Chris slid his Ahead gloves on his hands, and a pair of drumsticks was thrust at him Mick looked annoyed at this, couldn’t they see Joey still needed a few minutes?
As if in response to the angry look on Mick’s face, the band’s crew took off, leaving the two together. Corey and Shawn approached, having spent the last few moments speaking to each other.
“We’re gonna cut ‘Three Nil’ and ‘Metabolic’. The others know. You still want to do your solo, Joey?”
Joey shook his head furiously. His upside down solo was exhausting, and he knew there was no way he could handle it today. He felt bad for their fans, but there could be a bad accident if he tried to play upside down in the condition he was in. He knew it wasn’t safe.
The other members of Slipknot made their final preparations, and headed for their positions on stage. Mick and Chris helped Joey to his drumstool, and Mick made a member of their crew sit behind Joey incase anything happened.
Joey was feeling better by now, but he was still glad two songs had been cut. He had the hardest, most tiring position in the band, but it was also the most important. He forced himself to focus, and grip his drumsticks.
*
He had no idea how he managed to make it though the show. There were several moments where he wanted to toss away his drumsticks and walk off (or crawl, whichever) but something dug deep within him and he stayed. Each song took a little more out of him, and it was only looking out at the sea of fans in front of him that he knew he had to do it. While he didn’t feel the need to throw up, his stomach was churning and agitated, and the pain was nearly unbearable. He couldn’t sit up straight and that affected his playing, as he struggled with some parts.
The others did their best to help him, which Joey was incredibly grateful for.
Corey talked for several moments after each song, giving Joey time to recover. Sid added several minutes to his solo, and Mick and Jim also did a guitar duel. The benefits from this were two-fold - it gave Joey a chance to choke down some water and be checked by the medic, and it made up for his own missing solo. Despite regret that the fans would miss out, Joey was glad he didn’t have to do it; he could barely play normally, and he thought playing upside down would kill him. He felt as though he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up - he never wanted to go through this again. He could see Mick look back at him frequently, making sure Joey was still upright and moving. There was one moment Joey wanted to throw down his sticks and run to him, just to feel the bigger mans support and care again. But he resisted, and carried on playing, pushing through the pain.
The end of ‘Surfacing’ came as utter and blessed relief. Slamming down his drumsticks for the last time, Joey collapsed, sliding sideways off his stool. A commotion behind the kit alerted the other members, and Mick felt his heart slam against his chest. Throwing his guitar at a roadie he ran. Joey lay on the harsh base of his revolving kit, and Mick pushed several people aside to get to him. Kneeling down, he grabbed Joey by the waist and pulled him to his chest. Joey was still there; the black curtain of unconsciousness flirted with his senses but he held on. When he realised Mick was finally there, and the comforting sensation of arms around him held him tight, he succumbed.
Joey stood huddled over the railing, seemingly trying to hurl all the contents of his stomach onto the grass below. It was normal for Joey to feel sick before a show, or to throw up, but today seemed different. This was the fourth time he’d thrown up this evening - 3 times too many. He hadn’t had too much to drink the night before - just a couple of beers - and today’s show was exactly the same as every other one they’d played on this tour.
Another convulsion and it felt like his stomach was trying to twist itself small enough to leap out of his body. He doubled over with the pain, hugging his arms to his body. He had nothing left to throw up and yet his stomach still felt the need to empty itself. His head ached and his eyes misted with unwanted tears, and he felt shaky as he rose to his feet. Clutching to the railing for support, he tried to steady himself.
“Joe? You ok?”
An anxious looking Mick stepped outside to the catwalk where Joey was standing. Worried at how fragile and upset Joey looked, he stood next to him and supported the smaller man with an arm around his shoulders. Joey nodded. He didn’t want to talk, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d throw up again.
“We go on in 10. Are you going to be alright?”
For the first time in a long time, Joey was reluctant to play. He didn’t know if he had the energy, and he felt dizzy and ill. But he could hear the screaming of thousands of fans beyond the stage, and he knew he couldn’t let them down. He nodded again, staring up at Mick through his black hair. He hugged his arms closer to himself, and as he and Mick set off to join the rest of the boys, he leant on Mick for support. Tightening his arm around the drummer, Mick was concerned. He didn’t think Joey would make it through the set, but they needed him to play. Shawn could always play of course, but he didn’t know the songs as well as Joey.
Joey was the glue that held the band together on stage, and without him, he was afraid the gig would be disastrous.
*
As they approached the other guys, grouped together at the side of stage, Joey felt as though he wanted to throw up again. Swallowing hard and hoping the sensation would disappear, he tried to concentrate on remembering the setlist.
It was no good.
Breaking free from Mick, Joey turned and gagged again, feeling his stomach convulse and jerk. Hands on knees, he struggled to breathe. Mick came up behind him and gathered his black hair up, and stroked his back. He appreciated Mick’s concern, but at the same time he was embarrassed this was happening in front of the guys.
Mick shot a worried glance at the others and said, “I don’t think he’s ok.”
His stomach having stopped heaving, Joey straightened up and mumbled through clenched teeth, “I’ll be fine.”
“I dunno Joe, you don’t look too good. We can delay the start if you need some time,” Shawn said, moving towards them.
“Is there anything the medics can do?” Sid asked.
“Won’t hurt to ask,” Corey answered. In his usual, slightly arrogant way, he motioned for an aide and demanded a medic.
Mick helped Joey sit down, who promptly leant against the guitarist as he sat next to him. He knew he was being weak, but at that point he didn’t care. He felt like absolute shit, and as the start time for the gig came and went, started to feel even worse. The screaming was getting louder, and he could hear Slipknot chants. He hated to let down his fans.
Blinking back tears, he took solace in the figure supporting him. Turning his face into Mick’s shoulder, he felt the guitarist slide an arm around him. Chris knelt on his other side, and took Joey’s hand. Squeezing tightly, Joey fought more tears as he realised how incredibly supportive his bandmates were being. Glad no-one could see his face, he swallowed sobs. The pain in his stomach got worse.
Pounding feet alerted him to the fact the medics had arrived. Corey was stalking around impatiently, angry at the delay in getting them there.
“Is there anything you can do to help him?” The concern in Mick’s voice touched Joey. Cold hands felt his forehead, and he heard someone say he had a fever.
“How many times have you thrown up?” Joey heard one of the medics ask. Still afraid of opening his mouth, he held up his hand. 5 fingers.
“I can give him a shot that should stop him throwing up. But he’s very weak. He needs fluids,” the medic said.
The next thing Joey felt was a jab in his upper arm. He hoped it would do what the medic said it should. He didn’t think stopping his drumming to throw up every few minutes would go down well. Someone forced a cup of water to his mouth, and he drank, despite feeling nothing should be entering his stomach, which had taken on a mind of its own. For a few minutes he sat huddled up to Mick, and slowly realised the shot was working. He no longer felt the desire to gag often, although the feeling of nausea remained.
Feeling stronger, he wrapped an arm around Mick’s shoulders, silently asking him to help him stand up. The guitarist obliged, and helped lift a shaky Joey to his feet. They remained standing like that for a few moments as Joey’s dizziness disappeared. Someone handed him his mask, and Mick helped him put it on. Chris slid his Ahead gloves on his hands, and a pair of drumsticks was thrust at him Mick looked annoyed at this, couldn’t they see Joey still needed a few minutes?
As if in response to the angry look on Mick’s face, the band’s crew took off, leaving the two together. Corey and Shawn approached, having spent the last few moments speaking to each other.
“We’re gonna cut ‘Three Nil’ and ‘Metabolic’. The others know. You still want to do your solo, Joey?”
Joey shook his head furiously. His upside down solo was exhausting, and he knew there was no way he could handle it today. He felt bad for their fans, but there could be a bad accident if he tried to play upside down in the condition he was in. He knew it wasn’t safe.
The other members of Slipknot made their final preparations, and headed for their positions on stage. Mick and Chris helped Joey to his drumstool, and Mick made a member of their crew sit behind Joey incase anything happened.
Joey was feeling better by now, but he was still glad two songs had been cut. He had the hardest, most tiring position in the band, but it was also the most important. He forced himself to focus, and grip his drumsticks.
*
He had no idea how he managed to make it though the show. There were several moments where he wanted to toss away his drumsticks and walk off (or crawl, whichever) but something dug deep within him and he stayed. Each song took a little more out of him, and it was only looking out at the sea of fans in front of him that he knew he had to do it. While he didn’t feel the need to throw up, his stomach was churning and agitated, and the pain was nearly unbearable. He couldn’t sit up straight and that affected his playing, as he struggled with some parts.
The others did their best to help him, which Joey was incredibly grateful for.
Corey talked for several moments after each song, giving Joey time to recover. Sid added several minutes to his solo, and Mick and Jim also did a guitar duel. The benefits from this were two-fold - it gave Joey a chance to choke down some water and be checked by the medic, and it made up for his own missing solo. Despite regret that the fans would miss out, Joey was glad he didn’t have to do it; he could barely play normally, and he thought playing upside down would kill him. He felt as though he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up - he never wanted to go through this again. He could see Mick look back at him frequently, making sure Joey was still upright and moving. There was one moment Joey wanted to throw down his sticks and run to him, just to feel the bigger mans support and care again. But he resisted, and carried on playing, pushing through the pain.
The end of ‘Surfacing’ came as utter and blessed relief. Slamming down his drumsticks for the last time, Joey collapsed, sliding sideways off his stool. A commotion behind the kit alerted the other members, and Mick felt his heart slam against his chest. Throwing his guitar at a roadie he ran. Joey lay on the harsh base of his revolving kit, and Mick pushed several people aside to get to him. Kneeling down, he grabbed Joey by the waist and pulled him to his chest. Joey was still there; the black curtain of unconsciousness flirted with his senses but he held on. When he realised Mick was finally there, and the comforting sensation of arms around him held him tight, he succumbed.
Sign up to rate and review this story