Our Mayo Clinic Experience
Helping Us Weather the Storm of Our Lives
Sunday, September 21, 2014
The drive started slowly, with us immediately hitting heavy construction for a long stretch of I-90 just outside Chicago. It seemed like forever to get through Rockford. In another twenty miles, we would finally cross the border into Wisconsin - progress.
I looked at my wife Kristy, reached for her hand, and smiled. She did the same. No words were necessary. We both knew how important this trip was.
The past summer had been a rough one. It started with excitement as Kristy gave birth to our son Eric in late May. From there, we envisioned a relaxing summer together, enjoying our new baby boy and his adorable two-year-old sister, Elizabeth. But those dreams quickly changed when doctors diagnosed Kristy with cancer on June 11th - less than two weeks after Eric was born.
Kristy underwent surgery at the beginning of July. Chemotherapy quickly followed. Her doctors told us that her treatments would be over by November. Ever the optimist, I looked forward to driving back with our family to my mom and dad's for Thanksgiving, with Kristy having a clean bill of health. But I would soon discover that someone else was writing this script.
During Labor Day weekend, Kristy sensed a change in her body. She did not feel well and wanted to get checked out immediately. She went downtown to Northwestern Hospital the following morning. Kristy's instincts were correct. Something was seriously wrong - the doctors had found a large new tumor in her abdominal area.
We thought she had been getting better, but this stunning development told us otherwise. The Northwestern doctors explained the latest plan to us. They recommended a more aggressive round of chemo.
At that time, I realized that a significant shift had occurred. The situation had suddenly become even more urgent. From working in computer technology for many years, I had a sense of when people were not sure of the root cause of a problem. Her doctors were not giving us straight answers. And it was because they did not know. We had confidence in Northwestern Hospital, but our patience had run thin. I immediately called the Mayo Clinic.
Here we were three weeks later, driving up to Rochester, Minnesota. A few hours before, we had dropped off Eric at my best friend's house. We then drove Elizabeth to stay with Kristy's mom and dad in downtown Chicago. While I knew they were in loving hands, I already missed the kids. It made no sense for them to come with us at this juncture. But the circumstances made me ache for them even more.
Our drive through the Wisconsin countryside was hauntingly beautiful. If this had been a movie scene, the skies would have been gray with a steady rain pelting our windshield. But, no, this was a sunny, glorious midwestern fall day. Kristy had drifted off to sleep, tired from the toll of chemo administered over the past several weeks. As my eyes shifted between the horizon ahead and Kristy napping beside me, the weight of the trip descended on me.
We were searching for answers, looking for help. We were headed north.
Kristy
I knew very little about the Mayo Clinic at that time. In my mind, it was where other people went, not us. Some of my best friends had been there over the years for various medical issues. They fervently recommended that we go to Rochester. We arrived full of hope.
But within our first days there, Kristy's tumor grew even faster. We heard statements like, "We typically do not see tumors this aggressive here." The doctors started radiation treatment on her. They patiently explained the process to me. Every day, they would take a new scan of Kristy's tumor. I got excited and said, "Oh, ok. So, we can see how much of the tumor is disappearing every day. I get it." Her doctor's reply stopped me cold: "No, sir - it is to see how much the tumor has grown each day." As we went to more appointments, it became tougher to escape the brutal reality of our situation.
Mayo Clinic's palliative care team immediately got involved. They were always looking for ways to make Kristy feel better for that day. They listened. They cared. Their presence allowed her to maintain her incredible, fearless attitude as she smiled her way to various operations and procedures. She trusted them.
As Kristy's condition worsened, each day presented a new decision - one with no good choices. In our second week at Rochester, Mayo doctors recommended a relatively low-risk procedure. The goal was to remove some of the intense pressure caused by her growing tumor. Before her surgery, I was in a room with Kristy, her mom and dad, several nurses, and the anesthesiologist. Our doctor was an energetic, friendly man who looked to be around 60 years old. He was familiar with our hometown, a suburb of Chicago. He asked about our kids and helped put us at ease. Our Mayo Clinic team strived to keep things light for us during this tense time. I vividly remember that scene, the smile on Kristy's face before her surgery as we all huddled around her bed.
About an hour into the procedure, our doctor came into our waiting room with tears in his eyes. He explained that something had gone wrong while he was putting Kirsty under. The doctors had warned us of this possibility, but it was unexpected. The other doctor was able to get her stabilized, but fluid had gone into her lungs. A tube was now necessary to keep her breathing. The doctors hugged Kristy's parents and me, crying as we walked back to see her. Our doctor came into Kristy's intensive care unit the following morning to check on her. He again expressed how sorry he was about how the procedure had turned out and that he was praying for us.
A few days later, I went to breakfast with Elizabeth, Eric, and my parents at Mac's Diner, a small place around the corner from Mayo Clinic facilities. As I walked in, our doctor immediately noticed me and stood up to ask about her. He again stopped by our table to say goodbye when he and his colleague had finished their meal. About fifteen minutes later, we were ready for the bill. Our waiter said there was no need for that - our doctor had picked up our check. I looked over at my mom and dad. Our eyes glistened with tears.
My extraordinary wife Kristy passed away the following evening.
The Mayo Clinic Story
...if we excel in anything, it is in our capacity for translating idealism into action.
Dr. Charlie Mayo
As the years went by and our family got back on our feet, I continued to feel a pull from the Mayo Clinic. After Kristy passed away, I read a lot to help cope with our loss. During my reading, I came across a terrific book called "The Mayo Clinic Guide to Stress-Free Living" by Dr. Amit Sood. I returned to Rochester in October 2016 to attend a class that Dr. Sood conducted on resilience. During my visit, I walked around the campus and learned more about the incredible Mayo story. I discovered that the recovery from a devastating tornado in 1883 had led to Dr. W.W. Mayo and the Sisters of Saint Francis coming together to form what is now the Mayo Clinic. The story resonated with me, about somehow turning tragedy into something good.
When I returned home to Chicago, I continued my research. I thumbed through a worn-out copy of Helen Clapesattle's excellent biography. I watched the Mayo Clinic Heritage DVDs and waited anxiously for the upcoming Ken Burns documentary.
I was intrigued as to how a group of people could create such an organization. It had been over seventy-five years since the Mayo Brothers and Sister Mary Joseph, the heads of the original St. Mary's Hospital in Rochester, had passed away. Since then, the Mayo Clinic has grown tremendously and employs over 65,000 people across multiple locations. Yet, the founders' core values were evident within the Mayo Clinic staff who had cared for Kristy. We felt that spiritual connection back to the Mayo family and the Sisters of Saint Francis.
In the 2 1/2 weeks we were there with Kristy, we met over a hundred different Mayo Clinic staff members - doctors, nurses, assistants, and front desk personnel. As we walked through the maze of buildings and subways, we would randomly bump into Mayo employees, many of whom we had barely met. Many times, these friendly people would see us first and walk over to greet us. They would somehow know Kristy's name, my name, our kids' names. They would ask how we were doing. Or already know without asking. Tell us that they were praying for us. It was surreal.
While there, you quickly realize you are speaking to doctors and staff at the top of their fields. You walk through top-notch facilities with cutting-edge technology. It is a remarkably efficient operation, yet no conversation feels rushed. They listen and value what you have to say. You witness the incredible teamwork across multiple departments and disciplines. You feel the caring, the warmth, the smiles of people who love working there - people who would not want to work anywhere else. Their primary value of "the needs of the patient come first" is embedded within their organization, acted out daily.
Before taking Kristy up to Rochester, my image of the Mayo Clinic was that of the smartest doctors and the latest medical breakthroughs. And that is all true. However, I was surprised to discover that the Mayo Clinic is more about the heart and soul than the brain.
I am forever grateful for all of the Mayo Clinic doctors and staff who cared for Kristy and our family. I cannot imagine trying to weather the storm of our lives anywhere else.
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