GREENSBORO — As the debate about health care rages in Washington, a sleepy-eyed guitarist thinks about life and death.
He’s Britt Uzzell. Everyone calls him Snuzz.
He doesn’t have health insurance. He can’t afford it. He’s never made more than $16,000 a year. So, he’s always tried to stay healthy by hiking, walking his dog, Stray, and biking with his wife, Nicole.
Now, though, he has cancer, a rare form of lymphoma. He found out in July. It usually strikes men older than 65. Snuzz is 45, and he doesn’t know if he’ll live one year or five years or longer.
He just knows he’ll start chemotherapy treatments this week. He’ll receive a cocktail of two drugs to try to kill the cancer that has caused his fingers to swell, his knees to weaken and his blood to thicken, which could cause a blood clot or a stroke.
He’ll do it for a year. The cost of chemo for one month: $50,000.
Snuzz has applied for Medicaid because he’s exhausted all his savings, and he needs help paying for care that’ll cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.
And that’s not including a bone marrow/stem cell transplant.
It’s a load of unknowns. And a load of money.
The bills make Snuzz dizzy. He’ll know whether he gets Medicaid in a month. If he doesn’t, he’ll reapply. And if he doesn’t get it at all, he’ll forgo treatments.
“I’m not afraid of dying, but I’m petrified of the process of lingering and leaving Nicole saddled with debt,’’ Snuzz says. “I don’t want that to happen. I think about that, but I don’t let it impact me or cut into my soul in any way.
“I’m an eternal optimist. But I have no choice.’’
No choice. Nicole hates to think about that.
“You always think about growing old together, and you always want that opportunity, but right now, it’s so scary,’’ says Nicole, 41, an education and exhibits program coordinator at Piedmont Craftsmen, an artists’ guild in Winston-Salem.
“He has so much more to give to the world, and I don’t want that cut short.’’
For more than two decades, local music fans caught Snuzz onstage.
He’d scissor-kick, rip off a guitar solo and bend his rubber-limbed body all kinds of ways before leaning into the microphone and singing in a thin, wobbly voice that sounds like a kid at a talent show.
And the British cap he always wore on his head never moved.
He sang his own stuff, all written on some scrap of paper — a napkin, an envelope, a receipt, anything — that he scattered around his house.
And he played with everybody — from Bus Stop, the Greensboro band that almost broke big, to Ben Folds, one of the Triad’s most famous pop musicians.
Now, he has to think about life and death. About a cancer that could silence his guitar forever.
And he’s broke.
We have 46 million Americans — more than 15 percent of our population — who can’t afford health care. And according to the U.S. Census Bureau, that figure is going up.
But far away from the wide, well-lit aisles of Washington, you’ll find the faces — and the names — behind those figures. In all kinds of places. Like a dark, crowded bar in Greensboro.
That happened Sunday night.
At The Blind Tiger, a crowd bellowed “Snuuuuuuuuuz!’’ as three dozen musicians played Snuzz tunes and a crowd of music fans raised money for a nonprofit helping money-strapped people hit hard by a health crisis.
People just like Snuzz.
The benefit raised $4,515. It’s not nearly enough. But two months ago, friends raised money in Chapel Hill. And last week, Folds held a fundraiser outside Boston. All for Snuzz.
He’s humbled by it all, and he worries about his future. But as Sunday night turned into Monday morning, Snuzz stayed anchored at The Blind Tiger and talked to everyone he saw.
He wanted to say thank you.
Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jeri.rowe@news-record.com
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