Karl Roy: Kapatid

Everyone has their Karl Roy story. Here's mine:

It was 2008 and I had just suffered my second near-death experience. This time it wasn't heart attack but sheer exhaustion from sleepless nights outside the ICU guarding my comatose mom and the pressures of putting on the biggest concert in my whole life. That and a severe potassium deficiency ensured my second date with destiny.

But to hell with my heart, what hurt most was my ego. Weeks of physical ineptitude, crapping in front of nurses, being bathed and powdered in bed like a baby was more painful than the two-inch needles thrust into my abdomen on a daily basis.

I was never in the mood for social calls. But there were a few exceptions.

Surprise hospital visit

Karl surprised me with a visit one day. I almost fell out of my bed. Last I heard, he was still undergoing therapy from a massive stroke that left half of his body paralyzed. And now here he was in my hospital room paying me a visit.

But I was grateful from the moment I saw him drag his feet through the door. Karl always put me at ease. There was never any need to be other than who you truly are.

There was the requisite poring over our own respective ailments, but we quickly got bored by grave subject matters and proceeded to make each other laugh.

Karl mocked: 'Magda-drive ako hanggang Baguio…'

Whenever we saw each other, he would mock me by doing an Ely impression: shoulders hunched carrying a very heavy air guitar, singing, "Magda-drive ako hanggang Baguio" in his best, most annoying falsetto while listlessly strumming with his tattooed right arm.

I would, in turn, do my best Karl Roy with, "Sige na pee-powl, let's get on down..." in the most exaggerated soul brother voice I could muster. We would always crack each other up.

This time though, with the current state he was in, I didn't think he could manage. He still gave it his best shot, his disability notwithstanding and, in fact, making it sound even funnier. There was never any question, he always won our mocking contests.

He left me that afternoon still awed and humbled by the sheer effort he exerted to wish a comrade well.

Karl would never fully regain full mobility, but that doesn't matter now. To paraphrase Doc Brown, "He don't need roads where he's goin."

Ely Buendia has written for The Manila Bulletin and Esquire. He is the frontman of the rock band Pupil and co-author of "Against the Light: A Pupil Tour Diary" available now.

Read more of Ely's blog posts:
Part I — Highway 54 Revisited: The making of '20/20'
A ballad for the birds
The Sounds Family