Michael

There are certain people who have impacted my life in special ways since I began my brain tumor journey. Michael is one of those people that I met early on. He, his mother and father were living at the Joe Lee Griffin Hope Lodge in Birmingham when I was there from late October through early December 2009.

Michael had been diagnosed with glioblastoma multifome (GBM) nine and a half years earlier. I knew from research about my tumor that his diagnosis most often comes with a life expectancy of a year or less. It is almost unheard of that someone would live as long as Michael had. I have since made contact with a few people online but I have never personally met anyone who has lived as long with this diagnosis. This is significant to me because my tumor (an astrocytoma) is a grade 2 glioma and Michael’s tumor was a grade 4 glioma. The difference between grade 2 and grade 4 is the aggressiveness of the tumor growth. Left unchecked, my tumor would be expected to eventually change to a more aggressive type.

Michael was easy to notice at Hope Lodge. He wasn’t the only person in a wheelchair but he also had large bald patches in several areas over his head and was paralyzed on one side of his body. His speech was usually limited to yes and no responses because he had trouble searching for the correct words to say. Physically Michael was not in good shape when I met him but mentally he was still stronger than many people knew. You just had to take the time to talk with him in ways that allowed him to respond with a “yes” or “no.”Michael’s mother mothered us all. She sat and talked with me about parenting, and priorities, and about how plans change when things happen, and about how God takes care of us through it all. Michael’s dad tried to sell tickets to the elevator and played tricks on people and kept everyone laughing.

My first week at Hope Lodge I was in good spirits. I was settling in and was not feeling any effects yet from the daily chemo or radiation treatments. We had a group room on the first floor where we ate our meals and visited with each other. I was talking to Michael and his parents about what they had been through. We talked about the importance of a positive attitude. I made some comment along the lines of that while that I don’t believe that positive thinking cures cancer, I sure don’t think dwelling on the negative does me or my family any good, so I choose to believe in the most positive outcomes. Michael, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly thrust his good arm into the air in a fist and yelled, “Yeah!” I think that’s the first word I ever hear him say and it has stayed with me ever since.