Mike

We like Mike.

When we first went to St. Francis for Tammi's "port" to be put in, Mike was the nurse that called us back to Interventional Radiology. (A "port" is a device that's put in just under a chemo patient's skin, that connects to her major vein. It gives nurses/doctor's access to mom's veins without having to poke her every time. It's kind of weird, and amazing.)

Mike took us back, and we were notably a little antsy. (See previous post "Abort the Port".) He spoke quickly, which was refreshing after sitting and waiting for so long. He told us that the kind of port mom had before was crap, and there was a new thing now, and they were going to put it in without even putting her to sleep. It all sounded good to us.

As he got her into a pre-op bed and took her information, he slipped in some commentary of his own.

"It says here you drink a 6 pack and smoke weed every day. Is that right?"

It was just the breath of levity we needed. Mike later wheeled us down the hallway for mom's brain MRI, skipping and pushing her quickly down the hills. He informed us he was training for a full ironman this fall, so pushing patients around was help for his training. He helped us to laugh, as we prepared mom for a scan of her brain (...this alone should award him some kind of gold star). 

We liked Mike this first visit, and then we got to see him again the next week when we returned for mom's paracentesis (to drain the fluid off her abdomen). 

Again, Mike came out to greet us. This time he asked if mom had had her first chemo treatment. We said yes, and he asked her what "number" it was, how many treatments she had taken now over her lifetime. We were thinking, counting, and he replied ..."I just did number 44." 

We all stood silent for a moment, processing. Tammi asked, "What are you being treated for?" And Mike, young Mike training for his Ironman replied, "Colon cancer. 44 Treatments down, endless more to go."

Cancer is an asshole. Hurting Saint Tammi, and even this sweet Mike. And I hope we can be like Mike as we continue on this road. I hope mom can skip, and laugh, and make jokes about weed.

Thanks, Mike. For the excellent care, the awesome attitude, and the inspiration. Friends, pray for Mike.