OZZY OSBOURNE: On the bus en route from Salt Lake Ci...
OZZY: [talking first to publicist Michael Jensen] ...on January 20, Nineteen Seventy-f***ing eight, my father died. The f***ing ironical thing about the whole deal was -- he was f***ed, he had like cancer from his throat, what's this tube down to your stomach? esophagus, testicles; he was riddled with it -- he died in the same hospital that my daughter was born seven years prior. My daughter was born 11:20 on January 20, and my f***ing father died seven years later in the same hospital at 11:23 on the 20th It was f***ing weird, man.
In England, they don't tell you, y'know. What they did to my father was, he hadn't eaten a f***ing thing because of his -- whatever the f***ing tube -- he had a lump here like a f***ing black ball, in his sagophagus or whatever the f*** it is; he couldn't eat any food. Plus the fact that he had cancer of the f***ing intestines, the bowels, so he couldn't s***. He never ate a thing for thirteen weeks.
They operated on him about a f***ing week before he died. They took the whole tube out and put a plastic one in. I don't know what it's like in the states, but in England...they put him in a f***ing closet with the f***ing mops and buckets, because he was on the death ward and it was too distressing for the rest of the patients so they put him in a cot, sort of a crib thing, a giant crib. They strapped him...like a boxer, f***ing bandages on his hands, with a glucose drip going into his arm. He was stoned out of his head. You know, the most amazing thing he said to me. I told my father one day, "I take drugs. I said to him, "Before you go, will you take drugs?"
He says, "I promise you I'll take drugs." He was on Morphine. Totally out of his mind on Morphine, because the pain must have been horrendous. They had the operation on a Tuesday, and he died on Thursday...No one could understand what he was talking about, because he was so out of it. He says to me -- he only understands drugs as "speed" -- he says, [whispers, a drawn-out, rattling imitation] "ssspeeeeed." And he died in my arms.
I haven't got over it yet. The twentieth of January, I'll go freaking like a werewolf. I'll cry and I'll laugh all day long, because it's the day my daughter was born and the day my father died. Like a f***ing lunatic.
(here's the whole article: http://www.levity.com/gans/ozzy.html