I have wondered how to start this post. In the end, I decided to start at the beginning. I strongly suggest that no one reads the whole thread - it’s terribly long.
My son’s name was Mike, since I worried he might run across this site and this thread, I gave him a different name. To my knowledge he never did see the thread. I don’t know how well a name change really would have helped if he had, there surely can’t be that many people with a kidney transplant, schizophrenia and, later, colorectal cancer.
We could always count on Mike to call us when he needed us. If he didn’t call me, he called his brother. His brother has been brother heroic throughout Mike’s life. Mike never gave up. When I said it to his brother after his death, his brother said, “no, he didn’t give up, but at the end, we had to carry him across the finish line”.
Cancer is a nightmare. Mike’s cancer was aggressive and was discovered late. He battled it with 5 lines of treatment, one line of treatment was experimental and was quite successful for over a year. Future people with kidney transplants who develop cancer and have that new line of treatment while on immunosuppressives will benefit from his efforts. He was pleased that he was able to contribute.
Cancer deaths are rough. Mike’s was no exception. At the end, bone and brain mets were racing to devastate him. The last week of his life he was treated with constantly increasing doses of Haldol for the brain mets. 48 hours before he died, he threw the Haldol across the room. I had told them they should not tell him they were giving him Haldol. I guess that particular nurse hadn’t read the notes.
He had been an outstanding cancer patient for 4 years. Never missed an appointment until the very end. He cooperated beautifully through an LAR, 5 lines of chemotherapy, and radiation on his brain and bone mets. He kept a meticulous journal for the research people. He took excellent care of his transplanted kidney (2009), the kidney functioned until the day he died. He did two weeks of physical rehab in January after his left leg and his right hip broke at the same time from the bone mets. He was delightful and humorous with the therapists, nurses and doctors.
We did refer to his mental illness in his obituary. After living with him the last 18 months, I knew that “before” Mike would have wanted it that way.