Great White Shark Mark Kendall Battles Kidney Cancer With A Little Help From His Immune System And A Pen That Writes Good. 🎸🩺💀
In a stunning revelation that probably made his oncologist nod sagely while charging $500 an hour, Great White guitarist Mark Kendall has gone public with his battle against stage four kidney cancer. Because nothing screams “rock and roll” quite like a 13-centimeter tumor trying to jam in your kidney, right? 🤘 Initially, Mark noticed something was amiss when his urine decided to audition for the horror movie genre. “Holy crap,” he told Detroit’s WRIF radio, which is exactly what you say when your plumbing starts leaking red fluid. He rushed to the ER, where a doctor, after performing the medical equivalent of turning it off and on again, diagnosed him with the “worst urinary tract infection ever.” They threw a Z-Pak at it, the infection went away, and for two weeks, Mark probably thought he was in the clear. But this is a metal story, and metal stories never have happy, uncomplicated endings. 🚫🎉
The drama returned when his pee decided to change colors again, shifting from horror movie red to “mystery liquid” yellow. Urgent care dropped the “C-word” (Bladder Cancer, not the other one), and suddenly Mark was headed for the “monster probe.” 🌭 Ultrasounds and CT scans ensued, and the doctors found a 13-centimeter mass in his right kidney. For the metric-ally challenged, that is roughly the size of a softball, a mango, or Mark’s ego after nailing a solo. He kept it quiet initially, probably to avoid fans spamming his Facebook wall with essential oil recommendations. But after consulting a neurologist friend (because who doesn’t have a neurologist on speed dial?), he got referred to a kidney “monster guy” at UCLA named Dr. Shuch. 🧪
This is where the sci-fi kicks in. Mark is on immunotherapy, a treatment where one of the doctors on his team literally *invented* the stuff. Every three weeks, Mark gets an infusion of Keytruda, followed by daily pills of Lenvima. It’s a regimen that sounds expensive enough to pay for a small island, but it forces Mark’s immune system to stop slacking off and actually fight the cancer. And guess what? It’s working. 📉 The tumor shrank from 13cm to 11cm, then to 8cm, and now it’s down to a petite 5cm. Mark admitted he Googled what 5cm looks like (about an inch) but refused to Google 13cm because “that sounded too big.” Classic rock star logic: denial is just another verse in the song of life. 🎶 The cancer is isolated, and Mark is feeling pretty good, calling it “manageable” and noting that people live with it for 20 years. He calls the treatment a “pain in the ass,” which is fitting since it costs an arm and a leg. 💰
While his body is fighting cellular warfare, Mark is also looking back at his life with a new autobiography titled *Soul Of A Man*. Because nothing says “I’m baring my soul” like getting a ghostwriter to help you remember the name of that groupie from 1983. 📖 He’s 14 chapters in, and he’s refusing to hold back. He started working with a Canadian company that wanted him to talk *only* about guitar techniques. Mark, being a human being and not a YouTube tutorial, said “screw that.” 🖕 He wants to talk about what Billy Gibbons does on the weekends, not just sweep picking. Enter Jeffrey Mangus, a ghostwriter who has written 38 books and recently finished Al Di Meola’s bio. They are going album by album, exposing the truth. Mark warns that feelings might get hurt, but hey, if you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the recording studio. 🔥
The book is dragging up childhood memories and emotions, which is great for literature but terrible for the heart rate. Mark grew up in Huntington Beach in a family so musical it probably hummed when you put a fork in the toaster. 🎺 His dad played jazz trumpet, his mom sang jazz, and his grandfather played piano. Naturally, Mark picked up the guitar, citing Jimi Hendrix, Cream, and The Doors as influences—basically the Holy Trinity of guys who died too young but played really well. Mark loves the guitar because it lets him express feelings without having to use words, which is lucky for him because writing a book is apparently hard work. 🤯
He believes music should be delivered with passion that makes people cry, because nothing says “entertainment” like making a stadium of grown men weep into their beers. 🍺 Great White (formerly Dante Fox, a name that sounds like a rejected Harry Potter villain) was formed in 1977. They eventually changed their name because record executive Alan Niven noticed Mark’s blonde hair and thought “Great White” sounded catchy. It also sounds like a shark, which is ironic considering the band’s career trajectory involved a very non-shark-like 2003 nightclub fire tragedy that killed 100 people—but let’s ignore that dark cloud for this SEO-friendly update. 🦈
The band, which has sold over 10 million albums and got Grammy nominations for hits like “Once Bitten, Twice Shy,” is still chugging along. Mark has been married for over 20 years to Bridget and has four kids: Jonathan, Taylor, Shane, and Ashley. So, while the kidney cancer tries to rock his world from the inside, Mark is busy writing his memoirs, shrinking tumors with futuristic drugs, and likely wondering where he left his guitar picks. 🎸🩺📈
Chord F. Discord, the Beethoven of Buffoonery, is a self-taught expert in music who once claimed he could “play the kazoo in four languages.”
Born in Crescendo, Indiana, Chord’s first brush with fame came when he accidentally entered a yodeling contest thinking it was a pie-eating competition—and won both categories.
Chord F. Discord: proving that laughter, much like a poorly tuned ukulele, is truly universal.
