Memories of a Country Store

No one knows exactly when the old store building was built.  The ones that knew have passed away.  My mother, who just turned 89,  remembers that in the 1930's the building was used as a mill.  It was probably erected sometime in the early 1900's.  Mr. Robert Weaver decided to become a merchant since he already owned the building, he made a few repairs and set-up shop.  I feel compelled to write this story because it represents several generations of my family.  I was reared in the country store as were my own two sons.  If only those walls could talk, we would laugh, cry and shake our heads in disbelief at was heard and seen there.

Frith's Grocery 1955-1990

As I said earlier,  no one knows exactly how old the building is, but we do know a little bit about the soul of the place.  Mr. Weaver updated the building with some siding and put in a few staples for his neighbors in the Hiatt community of Rockcastle County.  Whenever he had customer, they went to the house next door where Mr. Weaver lived and got him to go with them to purchase what they needed.  He carried coffee, flour, and cornmeal, as well as farming supplies like nails, tacks and fencing supplies.  The small farming community of Hiatt was like the rest of communities in southeastern Ky., just a wide place in the road.  There was a post office, but it closed a long time ago.  Most people alive today don't even call this location Hiatt.  Some how the name has been changed to Brindle Ridge.  Times chancge and we all accept them and move on.

Mr. Weaver and his wife, Eunia, decided to sell the grocery store business in 1955.  My grandparents, Tom and Hallie Parkerson Frith purchased the store and the 22 acres that went with it and named the store, Frith's Grocery. They lived in the house next door, but decided to remodel the store once again and add on a room behind the store building for them to live in while my parents, Jack and Ila Wade Lambert, lived in the house.  Years later my grandparents attached a mobile home to the back of the store and lived there.  They knew they could make more money if they were always available for the customers and also added gasoline tanks to better serve the community because by then most of the neighbors drove cars and used tractors on their farms.

I was born in 1957 when the store was in it's heyday.  I was raised by my parents, grandparents and every customer who came to the store.  Granny and Grandpa opened the store early and kept it open late. Once a week a "drummer" from Berea Wholesale would stop by and take Granny's order.  What she ordered would be delivered the next day.  Sometimes Granny let me stock the shelves.  She did all the paperwork while Grandpa pumped gasoline and tended to their farm.  My mother cooked the meals and tended to me.  There was always someone at the store.  They would come in, offer to buy everyone a Coca-Cola, then sit-down in one of the chairs Granny provided to visit awhile.  Sometimes there would be as many as 15 to 20 people sitting and standing in the small room.  Granny always sat in a rocker in the back of the store.  If seats were scarce, customers just turned a wooden "pop" box on it's end and sat there.  Granny didn't like it if someone sat on the bright yellow drink box.  She wrote a sign that said, "Please don't sit on the box" just to keep people from bending the lid in.  She didn't care to tell you verbally that she "didn't allow no sitting' on the drink machine."  Every night when everyone had gone home, my grandparents would fill up the drink box so the first customer the next morning would have an ice cold drink.  The most popular drink was a small bottle of Coca-Cola.  

The store was located three miles out of Brodhead on the highway 1505.  This was the main road off highway 150 from Brodhead over to Conway where you could pick-up highway 25, which led you to Berea and interstate 75. There was a lot of through traffic, so Granny fixed bologna sandwiches for passer bys as well as the locals whose wives were too busy or not at home to fix them lunch.  She kept a roll of Fischer's bologna in an old Frigidaire refrigerator as well as a block of American cheese.  Boy,  those sandwiches were good.  People still say they can just taste those bologna sandwiches and wonder why they can't find any bologna that good anymore.  

Me with my dog, Ida February 1960
Store in background

Since highway 1505 was busy with workers on their way to Berea to work, gasoline was a big commodity.  Granny's store was located at the perfect spot to stop and get gas and cigarettes before heading out to work.  Granny sometimes jokingly called her business the "Jot 'em Down Store," because she had so many customers who bought on credit.  

My favorite memory of my childhood was the late summer nights when it was too hot to stay inside so all the neighbors gathered in the yard.  My cousins and I pulled up a chair or a pop box and sat around in a circle listening quietly while the adults told tales.  When the topic moved on to something we weren't interested in, we would start a game of tag or play under the lights above the gas tanks.  If I didn't have anyone to play with, I enjoyed just listening to the adults talk.  Several men had served in World War II.  They wouldn't talk about their time overseas very much, but every now and then they would open up.  Their voices would become softer as they relived the battles.  I didn't understand why everyone spoke in hushed tones sometimes and a feeling of sadness hung over us all.  I remember feeling such sympathy for them when they told how cold and wet they were, or worst of all, how homesick they were.  I learned early on that war was the worst thing a human would endure.

There was something so special about sitting outside on a warm summer night with lighting bugs silently passing over our heads and the smell of the mimosa blooms in the air. The silence was only broken by an occasional car whizzing by on its way to some important place. 

If the mosquitoes were biting, Granny would start what she called a gnat fire.  If the speaker was on a roll, even the bugs wouldn't run us inside.  I learned how to farm, cook, clean, tend to sick livestock, take care of babies and vote democrat.  I learned cuss words as well as prayers.  I also learned how to fish, hunt and how wonderful Coach Adolph Rupp up in Lexington was. 

Daytime at the store was great too.  Grandpa had a great idea that I'll never forget.  After the customers got their bologna sandwiches, they wanted to eat under the shade of the maple trees.  Grandpa tied a huge industrial sized fan that his brother who worked in the Champagne, Illinois Dump, brought him.   I thought to myself, "Wow! This is better than air conditioning."

Whenever a member of the community passed away, Granny and Grandpa closed the store during the funeral.  She told me never to count the cars in a funeral procession for that was bad luck. 

Granny was terribly afraid of thunderstorms.  She had a storm cellar built when she and Grandpa first bought the place so that is where we headed anytime it thundered.  If there was a customer in the store, Granny would tell them a storm was coming and she was going to the cellar.  They were invited to go with her or go home, most went home if they could.  Granny kept an axe in the cellar in case a tree fell across the door.  She also had a kerosene lamp for light and she always carried a bottle of Coke as well as her nerve pills.  I hated going to the cellar and wasn't the least bit afraid of storms.  The cellar was dark, damp and smelled.  It did make a cool play house in the heat of the day though. 

Other than when there was a funeral, the store never closed.  Sometime on a snowy Sunday afternoon, my grandparents locked the door early, but if someone drove up needing something, they would open for them.  Granny had no tolerance for those who may have drank too much alcohol.  She would throw them out personally.  This would upset me.  I would cry and beg her to be good to them.  One serious drinker ended up hiding in our dog's house.  One got hit across the chest with a broom and knocked backward up against the tree.  It didn't pay to rile her up.  She made a lasting impression on me in so many ways.  She was tough on the neighbor boys too.  They enjoyed teasing her took to calling her Blue like the color of the rinse she put on her hair.  One teenager, Ray Lear, will probably never forget the trouble he found himself in when he rode his pony in the store.  He rode it in the front  door and out the back door, passing Granny on the way.  

I got married in August of 1975 in the yard behind the store. Grandpa had developed cancer and was very sick.  I thought that if I married at home maybe he would be able to attend,  but he was in the hospital when Mike and I married.  Grandpa died not even a month later.  After Grandpa's death, Granny just didn't have the heart to run the store, so my mom took it over in 1976.  My father had died of a sudden heart attack in 1971 and to make ends meet, Mama had worked odd jobs.  It seemed like the thing to do would be for mom to take over the running of the store.  In 1978,  our son, Kyle was born and followed by son number 2, Neil, in 1981.  Sadly, Granny passed away in her sleep in 1982.  Kyle remembers Granny, whom he called Na-Na, but Neil, who was only 4 months old, doesn't.  I was working so Mom got the job as babysitter.  She was working too, but tending the store allowed her to watch the boys and do her job at the same time.  The customers in the store had huge influences on their lives just like they had on my life years earlier.

Mom ran the store much the same way Granny and Grandpa had.  She sold the mobile home that they lived in and also made some updates.  She replaced the old Frigidaire with a bigger milk cooler, installed air conditioning which meant now no one left the comfort of the store for a shade tree.  

Mom was a widow for 19 years.  In 1989, she met Hershel Taylor whom she later married.  In March, 1990, she closed the store for good.  The old building is still standing.  So many memories are alive in there.  Many of the daily "loafers" have passed on.  Sometimes we see people who were small children when the store closed and they always tell us they have such good memories of getting to visit the store.   They remember exactly what their parents would let them buy, such as a pop, chips and maybe some candy. We all encounter changes in our lives, I lost Mike in 2014 to cancer and in 2015, Mom lost Hershel,  also to cancer.  I have 4 grandchildren, Jack, Camden, Gray and Layla.  Neil lives in Georgetown, Kyle lives on Granny and Grandpa's farm in a new house located behind Mom's house, the same one she's lived in since the 1950's.  I have such fond memories of friends, family, and life lived in that little old store.   

February 2016

I originally wrote this story in 2007 with revisions made in 2016.

I Love Boys

When you get my age and reflect back on how you've lived your life, some things just stand out.  On this snowy, cold day in February, I am remembering of when my sons, along with their cousins and a numerous bunch of friends, made every weekend of my life a happy journey.

In the late 90's and up until Kyle got married and Neil went off to college, there was something happening at my house all the time.  Neil's best friend, Dustin Crawford, lived across the road from us so he was always with my boys.  My nephews, Kevin and Adam Childress plus friends,  John Renner, Michael King, David Coffey, Eric Benge, Dustin's little brother, Robert, just to name a few, could come up with the craziest things to pass their time.  Looking back, I think they watched too much TV, no way they could have come up with this stuff on their own.  I'm sure I only know a little bit about what went on.  I wasn't born yesterday and am sure if I knew everything they did I would be horrified. Here's some things I did know.

An old mattress showed up from somewhere (I never asked) and the boys decided it would make a good thing to ride on behind one of their trucks.  Somebody found a rope and some bungee cords and a new game was invented.  Dustin's ole red truck must have had more power then the others because that's the one that did the pulling.  It was fun to all pile on the mattress, but you could go faster if you rode solo.  There was a pasture field next door that became the mattress playground.  It was complete with ditches, rocks, ups and downs plus trees and weeds that were the makeup of the obstacle course.  Kyle had a beautiful Husky dog named Jake.  He went everywhere with the boys but drew the line on the mattress riding.  He just ran along side, nipping at the mattress and boys upon it.  I guess since we knew where the boys were that we must have thought this was a good thing because I can't remember none of us saying, " No, you can't ride a dirty mattress being pulled behind a moving vehicle."  I'm glad to report no one was injured, that I knew of.

The same boys loved going to the Brodhead Fair.  When I remind them of this, they give me a look like they think I'm lying, but, it was true.  There's not a whole lot going on around here during the dog days of summer but the Little World's Fair. Plus, the guys were too young to travel very far so just driving 3 miles down the road to see friends, ride rinky dink rides, hoping your friends would puke was accepted as a decent way to have a good time.  Just so happened that my husband, Mike, always loved going to the fair.  We were married for 39 years before he passed away and during that time, he only missed the fair once and that was the fair that was held a month before he died.  He would always volunteer to keep an eye on the boys, but I'm sure they kept an eye on him instead.  One fair story was big talk about a verbal argument between two boys involving a female, which happens every year at the fair as we well know, but this year the boys were really interested because it was hilarious for some reason.  Mike and I were listening to them re-tell the story by saying, "He was so made because so and so kissed his girlfriend on the zipper."  Mike's reply, "Well, I'd be made too if someone kissed my girlfriend on the zipper."  We all thought he was pretty upset and we finally told him the "zipper" in this story wasn't the zipper on her pants, but that "The Zipper" was the name of one of the amusement rides on the Fair's Midway.  (Insert smiley face.)

The summer before most of them started college, they started camping every Friday night on a family farm close to home.  By this time, girls were being added to the friendship circle as we all knew was bound to happen.  Anyhow, a mannequin named Shequisha came to be.  I don't know where she came from, but she was a real looker.  The boys dressed her up, put her in the back of Dustin's truck and parked the truck by the side of the road.  From my front porch, they enjoyed watching heads turn to get a better look at the semi-nude mannequin.  I think one of us mom's finally intervened and declared the old girl needed to go to the dumpster before she caused an accident.  This Friday night camping also came to an end when it became the, "Place to Be."  We were afraid that someone was going to get hurt because what had started as a small group of 10 had now became a group of 20 or more.

One morning, we were all up preparing to go to work and school.  When we went outside to get in our vehicles, one was missing.  It seems someone had come in the night and stole Neil's truck.  It wasn't a new truck or anything, just a descent one that got Neil to school and ball practice.  Like all boys, he had a stereo in the truck and several CD's.  Everything was gone, including his tent which he had in the truck bed.  Later that day, we noticed the dog was carrying something in her mouth.  I went to check it out and she dropped Neil's cap.  Later she had a CD case.  Upon investigation of the tobacco patch next door, Neil found most of his stuff.  The next day the sheriff office called us, seems they had found his burned out truck on top of Copper Creek Hill.  I felt sorry for Neil.  He got another truck, but we all remember his first one. Kyle always says that Neil left his truck setting too close to the road on garbage pick up day and the squasher got it.  Neil was not amused.

A tradition that lasted for years, was a flag football game held every year on the Friday after Thanksgiving.  Dustin's family owned a airstrip which provided the best place for a football field.  They worked hard to paint the field and everything.  This tradition just stopped a few years ago when the players started to worry that they would break something and wouldn't be able to work.  Also, the wives were around now and wives have a way of needing their hubbies.

One afternoon, all the gang was playing basketball when David Coffey came down and his finger scrapped Neil in the eye.  Neil tried to play on, but was having a hard time recovering from the finger-in-the-eye thing.  A day later,  Neil's eye looked awful and he was seeing a "floater." I took him to Dr. Cain in Mt. Vernon who sent him to an eye surgeon in Lexington that same day.  The surgeon determined he had a detached retina which would require surgery.  The surgery took place that evening.  It was a success, but the anesthesia made him terribly nauseous.  Since this happened on a Friday night camp out night, all the guys came or called to check on Neil.  To this day, David apologizes to Neil every time he sees him. 

 All in all, these boys were good boys that grew up to be great men.  They went away to college and the adventures really began.  Neil, Dustin, and Dackery Larkey rented an apartment in Richmond where they were all enrolled at EKU.  Us parents checked on them every now and then, but we mostly let them assume this rite of passage on their own.  They did need a lawyer once, but that's a different story. 

 Everything worked out in the end as all graduated from college on time. Kyle is an Industrial Engineer, Neil a Personal Trainer, Dustin a Crime Scene Investigator, Kevin a train Engineer for CSX,  and Dackery, Michael and Adam are Ky. State Troopers.  New friends were added and some old friends were remembered.  I remember Dustin's bachelor party wasn't a party at all, but rather a hike and camping trip in the Red River Gorge.  The guys became interested in rappelling, kayaking, fishing, camping, frog gigging, concert going where Kyle was the designated driver,  and all the usual things, but the ladies won out in the end. Kyle married Melanie, Neil married Ashley, Kevin married Jess, Adam married Tracy, Dustin married Jenna, Robert married Allyson, John married April, Michael married Tracey, Dackery married Chelsen, David married Marcia, Eric married Starla, and Tanner married Sarah. Seemed like Kyle and Neil were in a wedding every so often.  The other night at Kyle's annual Super Bowl gathering, I noticed David Coffey talking into his wristwatch like Dick Tracy.  I thought back on the days and nights he spent at my house while back in high school.  I sure didn't think I would ever live to see him or anyone for that matter talk into their watch.  The times, they are a changing.  I can't list all the good friends Kyle and Neil have.  Some they made in kindergarten, some in high school and some in college.  It makes me so happy to have known them all.  

The Dark and Dangerous Journey

I never was so glad of anything as I was when the winter of 2014 was over.  It seemed to go on forever.  I hate winter so badly that I was afraid to enjoy the first warm days in April for fear the good Lord would take them away just to punish me.  For some reason, I've never felt I deserved some of the blessings I've received.

Christmas 2013 hadn't turned out very well.  My 86 year old mom had gotten sick and was admitted to the Rockcastle hospital.  We all took our gifts to her hospital room and opened them there.  Mom was so sick and so medicated that she doesn't even remember anything about Christmas.  When New Year's Eve 2013 rolled around, I was glad to say goodbye to that year and had positive feelings about 2014.  I thought it would be one of the best years we would have.  My husband, Mike, and I have two grown sons, Kyle and Neil, who are both married to wonderful wives. Both sons have two children; Kyle and Melanie have Jack and Layla, while Neil and Ashley have Camden and Gray.  We were looking forward to Mike's retirement and hoped to spend more time with the boys and their families. At one time, I would have never thought Mike would ever retire because he was such a work-a-holic, but lately he had even mentioned retiring.   Retirement was something I had been looking forward to for most of our 38 years together.  Mike has worked for the same company, Ky. Powder Co., since 1978.  He has also worked at a second job as a substitute custodian with Rockcastle County Schools, where he mowed the grounds of the five schools in the county.  Mike never missed work.  Just half days when our boys were born and a couple of weeks when he had surgery for prostate cancer in 2003, and a few days when he lost his finger in an auger while he was on the job.  He really did like to work.  It was his livelihood more than just a job. Mike had complained all winter with stomach pain.  Every time he would mention it, I would recommend he see a doctor.  He said he didn't have time.  He took every over the counter medication he could, but nothing made the pain go away.  I tried to imagine what could be wrong and about all I could come up with was his gallbladder.  He was losing weight also and he didn't have a whole lot to lose. When Mike's oldest brother, Lee, came down from Louisville to visit one weekend in April, he made Mike promise he would go to the doctor the next week.  He was worried because of the weight loss and he could tell that Mike didn't feel good just by looking at him.  I remained positive, still thinking it would be an easy fix.  I made Mike an appointment with our doctor for one day after work.  Mike dreaded going because our doctor was always over booked and you had to sit for at least two hours before getting in to be seen, then you usually sat another hour.  It was April 15 when Mike had his appointment.  He had blood work and a CAT scan of his stomach.  The doctor told him his office would be calling him with the results that week. We all prayed. 

On Wednesday, April 17, the doctor's office called Mike on his cell phone to tell him that he tested positive for a bacteria, H-pylori. We had never heard of it, but it is common, according to the doctor. Mike was given several medications for it.  His scan also showed a small spot on his lung and one on his stomach. These results sent him to more doctors--a lung specialist and a surgeon. Our family doctor called Mike on a Friday afternoon right before we were to meet at the baseball park to watch our grandson, Jack, play baseball, to tell him he had another spot on his lung.  I remember Mike ended the call by saying, "That's a hell of a way to start my weekend, Doc."  A MRI showed he had a mass on his adrenal gland and two spots his lungs. Another test showed that his gallbladder was only working at 30%, but that was the least of his worries.  The surgeon wasn't concerned about the mass on the adrenal gland.  He said he didn't even know anyone who would agree to perform a biopsy.  He also said Mike had an ulcer, but he thought that if he got his gallbladder out, he would probably be okay.  Fortunately, our family doctor knew more severe things were going on.  During the last days of April and the first couple weeks of May, Mike spent a lot of time seeing doctors and taking new medications.  His stomach pain had gotten so bad, that he was barely eating at all.  He had lost almost 20 pounds.  He was still working everyday, but was so tired when he got home that  he went to bed before 10:00, which he never did.  He still enjoyed being with his family and friends every weekend in his "man cave" he had set up in our garage.  I could tell by looking at him that he felt awful.  I would ask him how he felt and he always said, "I'm alright."  He spent a lot of time in the garage by himself.  I would go out a few times just to check on him to find him just sitting in his barber chair staring at the walls.  I was really worried, but wouldn't allow myself to go 'there." There, the place where Cancer lived.  The place that took so many loved ones, including my grandpa Frith away from us. 
 While all this was going on with Mike, my mom had spent six weeks in Rockcastle Rehab or what we called the Nursing Home.  She had put herself in.  She knew she was wasting away at home.  She was just lying in bed all day afraid to get up for fear she would fall.  She had fallen earlier and broken her wrist. She worked so hard with the physical therapy department.  She didn't like having to stay there, but was determined to walk.  She had left home in an ambulance, but on May 7, she walked in her house by herself.  Mike had been to visit her twice.  Mom was worried about Mike and Mike was worried about her.  I was in such a state that I just existed. I was afraid I was going to lose them both. 

The bacteria was supposed to be gone now, the gallbladder needed to be taken out, and he had an ulcer.  No wonder he was having so much pain. He was taking three different meds for his stomach, but none seemed to be working.  Mike, my cousin Kaye Rigsby and myself drove to UK Medical Center early on the morning of May 20.  He was to have a lung biopsy at 9 a.m.  At 3 p.m., we were still waiting.  He was in such pain that he tried to lie down on a chair.  He asked to leave and come home more than once, but I talked him into staying.  No one seemed to care that a very ill man was lying in the waiting room.  He hadn't eaten nor drank anything in almost 24 hours.  Finally, they called him back.

The University of Kentucky Medical Center is a big place.  It is a cold place and it doesn't have a heart.  It is filled with people who are there to learn and to teach.  Human kindness gets lost.  While Mike was having his surgery, Kaye and I were asked to go to another part of the hospital to wait for the results.  The new waiting room had windows which the other one had not.  It was a beautiful, sunny day.  I was in pretty good spirits; I think the sunshine had tricked me.  Somewhere around 6 p.m., we were called to a little room about the size of a closet. Mike's thoracic surgeon came in to talk to us.  She said that Mike had stage 4, non-small cell lung cancer.  It was Adenocarcinoma, which is only caused from tobacco use.  Mike had smoked two packs of cigarettes a day for 45 years. I can honestly say, I was surprised.  When she told me, I felt sick.  Kaye was with me which was good because she knew enough to ask some questions.  About all I remember was that without chemotherapy, Mike would not live until Christmas. Then she gave me a piece of paper with the kind of cancer he had and his next appointment written down on it.  We went back out to the sunny waiting area.  People were still sitting or standing around waiting for their loved ones just like they were a half an hour ago before I got the worst news of my life.  Nothing had changed, but yet everything had changed. While Kaye was in the restroom, her cell phone rang.  I answered it and a good friend was on the other end.  I sobbed uncontrollably into the phone.  I remember I made a sound that I had never made before.  I didn't even think it had come from me.  It was loud and it was painful.  I had to throw the phone down and run to the restroom myself.  No one was in there.  I went in a stall and sat down in the dirty floor.  The pain was unbearable. I cried for all the pain he had been in and all the pain he was going to have.  I cried for my children and my grandchildren.  I cried for vacations, church plays, baseball and soccer games, proms, weddings and six packs in the garage.  I cried for loneliness that I knew would soon over take me.  I got up off the floor, looked in the mirror and saw a scared little girl looking back at me.  For some reason I thought of Jackie Kennedy.  I remembered how brave she was after she lost her husband.  I had to be brave too.  They let Kaye and me go back to recovery and see Mike.  I helped him get dressed and get us out of there.  He couldn't wait to get something to eat and drink.  I was driving and talking just like usual.  After he ate, he asked me what the test had showed.  I said, "We will talk about it later."  He just said, "Okay."  After one of the longest days in our lives and the worst day in mine, we were finally home.  Before we went to bed, he asked me to tell him what the doctor had said.  I said, "They say you have cancer and I don't want to lose you."   He said, "I figured I did and I'll be alright."  and just like that May 20, 2014 had finally ended. 

Life went on for us.  Mike went to work, I babysat our granddaughter, Layla and was always there waiting for her brother, Jack, to get off the bus.  I helped mom some, but she had gotten so much better there wasn't a lot I needed to do.  On Memorial Day, we had a huge family cook-out.  We all came together just to be together.  The Childress family is unique.  They are more like a clan than just a family.  We talked about everything but Mike having cancer while the kids played baseball. The little kids walked around with blue mouths from the blueberry cupcakes they had all enjoyed. Laughter was everywhere.  I tried my best not to cry that night.  I had cried daily since we got the news. but never in front of Mike.  Funny, I have been treated for depression since 1988, but now I didn't feel depressed at all.  I felt determined and so did Mike. 

The doctors said he needed a PET scan to be sure the cancer wasn't in his brain because that would determine his treatment. On June 4, he had the PET scan and a MRI.  On June 9, we saw the lung specialist who told us the scan of the brain looked clear, no tumors there.  We were so excited.  He said he really thought Mike could beat this and he would do all he could to help.  We left there with some hope.  Mike was scheduled to see the Oncologist just 3 days later on June 12.  He wanted to have his chemotherapy at Rockcastle Regional Hospital.  I had wanted second opinions and from Vanderbilt, Louisville or one of the Cancer Centers of America, but Mike thought having the treatments close to home would be the best and the least trouble.  He said we didn't have the money to go all those places anyhow.  We were already worried about money, because his insurance had a $5000.00 deductible.  The hospital that did the PET scan had wanted their money up front.  We had to come up with over $900.00 in a short time.  So, like I always had, I gave in to his wishes and we found ourselves waiting to see the oncologist, still riding the high after finding out he didn't have any tumors on the brain.  

A pretty lady opened the door and introduced herself to us.  The first thing she said after that was, "Well Mike, since you have these tumors on your brain, we need to take care of them first."  What? Did you say tumors on the brain?  Yes that's what she said.  Two of them, both the same kind of cancer as the lungs, the kind caused from tobacco use.  What had happened?  Who messed up?  It didn't matter because our world fell apart again. She went on to tell us that Mike shouldn't drive.  This was a death sentence to Mike because driving was what he did for a living.  He was a salesman, and salesmen drive.  He explained this to her and she said, "Mr. Childress, I don't think you understand.  Those tumors could kill you at any time.  You do not need to be driving and putting other people's lives in jeopardy."   When she left the room, Mike looked at me sadly and said, "It's just one thing after another ain't it?"  So, the brain tumors meant another doctor and surgery.  They couldn't start chemotherapy until after the brain tumors were gone. He was to start taking massive doses of steroids to control the swelling on the brain.  Both of us were in such a hurry to get the chemo started, but no one seemed to be in a hurry.  On June 18 we meet with a doctor once again at UK who was going to use a Gamma Knife and zap the tumors.  There was a chance he would have more than two.  If there were more than five, they wouldn't be able to do anything, but under five they would use the Gamma Knife.  The Gamma Knife was not supposed to leave Mike with any disabilities. They would sedate him, drill holes in his head, put a "halo" on to keep his head still and use lasers to zap the tumors to oblivion.  After that, he could start chemo, but at some point would have to have full brain radiation therapy because the tumors would always come back. He would have to take the steroids off and on forever.  Those steroids turned out to be something I absolutely hated. 

Sitting in the hospital room, on July 1, just Mike and me, before they came for him, Mike cried.  He was so scared.  He told me a few things he wanted me to do and how much he loved me.  I didn't cry. I hadn't let him see me cry since the night we got of the lung biopsy.  Kaye was waiting for me in the waiting room.  I sat with her and listened to all the other patients talking about their lives and their illnesses until they came to get me.  There were only 3 tumors and the doctors and the Gamma Knife had blown them away. Now, bring on the chemo. 

My favorite holiday has always been July 4th.  Usually the Childress families had gathered at a friends house on Lake Linville for a cookout and to watch the fireworks.  I loved summertime and the water.  Fourth of July had them both.  Those summer holidays at the lake will always be the best moments of my life.  The last two years, we didn't go to the lake because our good friend with the house on the lake had passed away.  He died way too soon.  We all knew things would never be the same.  At least this July, I had some plans.  My cousin Connie, who lives in Ohio, was coming down for the weekend.  We had things planned for every day.  She was worried about us both, so she said we'd all feel better if we could just spend some time together.  She and I laid around the pool all day that Friday July 4.  Mike was doing what he loved, mowing at the schools.  We were going to grill hamburgers later.  Mike's niece, Shay, was with us and Kaye was going to join us later . I felt guilty having such a good time when Mike was going through so much. The steroids and probably the gamma knife, had made changes in Mike's personality.  He was very talkative and a ball of energy. He was quick to anger one minute and be in tears the next. Kyle, Melanie and the kids came over to swim.  I thought they must have had a disagreement because they hardly talked to us.  Melanie even took the kids and went home.  I heard the lawn mower starting up and I thought maybe Mike was doing a little too much.  I looked to see if he was alright just in time to see him turn the mower over in the ditch.  I started toward him, but Kyle had saw him also and got to him before me.  He was able to right the mower and see that Mike was okay.  He convinced his dad to rest awhile while he finished the mowing for him.  Mike then did something strange.  He came to me and said, "Please do me a favor.  Fix your supper and have a good time then I want you to take me to the hospital."  I was ready to take him to the hospital right away, but I didn't know what was wrong.  He went on to tell me that something was wrong with his throat and it hurt so bad to swallow that he hadn't ate anything since Tuesday.  He was barely able to swallow water.  He said he was dehydrated and thought he was going to die.  I couldn't get him to stop crying. he had told Kyle and Melanie his plans already so that's why they were acting so odd and the reason that Kyle had hung around.  I didn't understand. Why didn't I know he was this sick?  I had asked him every day how he was and if he was eating.  He usually ate supper in the garage so as far as I knew he had been eating. I took him to the E.R. with Connie, Kaye and Shay following us.  The ER doctor determined that he had Esphoghitis, which is an inflammation of the Esophagus. In Mike's case, it was caused from the steroids he was taking to control the brain swelling.  He was very sick.  His BP dropped to 77/55.  His potassium and sodium were dangerously low and his mental status was poor.  He was admitted to the hospital and slept for two days. He always had a habit of sleeping with the cover over his head.  That's how he slept for those two days.  He would uncover his head long enough to look around and then cover his head back up.   IV fluids helped get his electrolytes back up, but he still couldn't swallow.  He spent the weekend in the hospital getting antibiotics and fluids.  He got to come home on Monday, July 7.  It was two weeks later before he was able to eat solid fluid.  The weight loss had progressed and the steroids had taken the Mike I knew away.  He was now a man who seemed drunk all the time, but he was very happy.  Too happy. 

In February, before we knew about the cancer, we made plans for our summer vacation.  For years we had gone to Destin, FLorida with our boys and their families plus a couple of brothers and their families. There would be 15 or 16 of us going this year the week of July 12.   We usually stayed at the same condo, but this year we rented a house.  We were all looking forward to it.  We needed a vacation from all the craziness and I wanted us all to be together.  Deep in my mind, I felt like this trip to Destin might be Mike's last.  When Mike was so sick on July 4, we wondered if we would get to go on vacation. Things worked out and we spent a week on the sunny beach in Florida.  Mike's personality changed hourly. he only slept four hours a night and now he had begun to fall a lot.  He fell at home twice before we left and while we were at the beach, he fell almost daily.  He had me drive him to Lowe's so he could buy materials to make himself a walking stick.  He worked on that for a couple days in the garage of our rental house and when it was finished, he insisted we all sign our names on it.  At least it kept him from falling.  He went to the beach with us everyday.  He sat there for hours drinking Gatorade and eating chocolate pudding.  We thought he was probably dehydrated the whole time we were there, but as long as he was eating and sleeping a little, we thought he would make it through.  I had the feeling that everyone, including me, was very uncomfortable all week.  Things were so different especially Mike. I will always remember this vacation and how happy Mike was.  It seemed he laughed all week.  He enjoyed the grandchildren so much. We had some great family pictures taken by our daughter in law, Ashley.  We were all smiles and you can see Mike's walking stick lying at his feet in the sand. 

On July 21. we went back to see the oncologist. Mike's treatments were going to be once a week for three weeks then off a week.  He had several projects planned for the weeks when the chemotherapy got the best of him. He liked to cook and was so proud of his tiny garden.  He had plans with his brother, Steve to do a lot of canning.  His dill pickles were so popular that he had to hide them.  In his mind, he thought he wouldn't be very sick and that he could probably still work. He wanted all of us to continue with life as usual.  He finally had his first chemotherapy treatment on July 22.  He went by himself.  He decided there was no need for me to mess up my day by sitting with him.  The room was little and hardly anyone else had someone with them he said, so I stayed home and he went to chemo.  He missed work the day of the chemo, then worked the rest of the week and also mowed on the weekend.  I couldn't tell any change in him, except that he didn't complain with stomach pain as much.  He seemed to actually be a little better.  

Since the brain tumors were now gone, Mike thought it would be okay to drive. Next to God and his family, Mike loved his truck.  It wasn't even his truck, it was a company truck.  They had always provided him with something to drive as long as he had worked for them.  He could have lived in that truck for days. When we cleaned the truck out after Mike died, we were amazed at all the stuff we found.  Things from peanut butter and crackers down to lawn mower blades.  

One of the bad things about the steroids was that they changed Mike's personality.  Mike was always a quiet, humble man.  He rarely got mad.  Sure, over 38 years of marriage we had our share of disagreements, but nothing like the ones we were now having daily.  He would get so mad at me that I didn't even recognize him.  Looking back on it now, I realize it wasn't Mike at all; it was the cancer, the medications, and the gamma knife.  I didn't want Mike to go to work the week after his first chemo treatment, but he insisted on going.  He assured me that he wasn't driving very far and that he hoped to just pull over somewhere and work on a crossword puzzle or read a book.  I knew I was fighting a losing battle and I just couldn't stand his anger at me one more time, so he drove to work.  On July 29, one week to the day after his first treatment, Mike came home from work early.  I didn't even know he was home. I'm not sure how this day played out because Mike was never able to tell me.  I think he had gotten sick while at work and came home early and at sometime he tried to get out of the truck and had fallen.  He got up by himself and bandaged a cut on his arm.  Then, he got back in the truck and drove it to the back yard where he must have went to sleep.  All this time I was in the house.  At 7:00, I wondered why Mike wasn't home.  He had been coming on home and not stopping to mow so he should have been home around 6:00. I went to the garage thinking he must be there and I just hadn't heard the garage door open, but he wasn't in the garage.  I went outside and that's when I found him in his truck.  I opened the door and asked him what in the world was going on.  He just said he was trying to get warm.  It was July and it was hot.  He had his heater on and was wearing his winter coat.  I told him to come in the house and lay down and see if he could get warm.  I also wanted to take his temperature.  He moved his truck, came in the house and when straight to bed.  I worried because I was afraid he was dehydrated again and he needed to drink something, but I didn't want to wake him because I thought the sleep would do him good.  That night I didn't sleep good at all.  At one point I got up and sleep on the sofa.  When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I did was to go to our bedroom to check on Mike, but he wasn't there.  I remember thinking surely he hadn't gone to work.  I was planning trying to convince him to go to the doctor, plus surely I hadn't sleep so sound that I hadn't heard him getting ready for work.  I thought maybe he was in the bathroom.  When I went down the hall toward the bathroom, I noticed he was in the bed in our spare bedroom.  What happened after that remains one of the most awful things in memory.  I had to touch Mike and call his name several times before he woke up.  I asked him what he was doing in that bed and he couldn't answer me.  He was just mumbling.  I told him to try to get up so we could go to the ER because I knew he was really sick. He had lost control of his bowels and had been lying in it for some time.  I managed to get him on his feet, but he didn't know me or even know where he was.  I got him to the shower.  I got in the shower with him because he wasn't able to stand by himself. I don't know how I did it, but I held him up and managed to clean him up.  I got him out and onto the commode.  I left him there while I called our daughter in law, Melanie to come and pick up Jack and Layla who I was watching that day.  I went back to help him get dressed and he had fallen off the commode.  Somehow I got him dressed and back up on the commode. I asked Melanie to call her brother in law, David to help us.  When David got there, neither of us could get him to the car.  We sat him in an office chair with rollers and rolled him to the back door, but when we got him out to go down the step into the garage, he just couldn't stand at all.   I told Melanie to call 911.  All this time, Mike was talking, but making no sense.  He would open his eyes and tell me he was dying. A couple times before the ambulance got there, we thought he had died.  The EMS people got there pretty quickly.  I was so glad to see them. 

Kaye came to drive me to the ER.  The doctors were already working with him when we got there. He had a fever, was dehydrated, his heart rate was too high and his blood pressure was too low.  The discussion was made to transfer him to UK.  Kaye and I were on our way when the hospital called me on my cell phone telling us to come back to the hospital because Mike's blood pressure was too low and they couldn't transfer him until they got him stable.  His blood pressure was 42 over nothing. I had never heard of blood pressure being that low.  The doctors and nurses at Rockcastle were great. They finally got his BP up enough to be transferred.  

Kaye and I got to the ER at UK Medical Center soon after Mike.  They told us it would be awhile before we could see him because they were busy caring for him.  I had called all the family and most of them were there waiting with me.  Three hours after we got there, we got to talk to a doctor.  He said Mike had sepsis and pneumonia.  Without him having to tell me, I knew how serious this was. Recently my neighbors sister had died from sepsis.  They let us, the boys and me, go back to see Mike.  I was surprised by how much better he looked.  I just knew things would be okay. He was putting the covers over his head, which meant things were normal with him. Kaye and I looked kind of funny sitting there with a person whose head was covered up.  It took us awhile to realize they thought we were sitting with a dead body.  All the brothers, nephews, and friends got to go see Mike for a few minutes.  The ER as well as the hospital, was full.  There was no room for Mike so he stayed in the ER that night and all of the next day. It was a long night.  Mike never slept the whole night.  Kaye stayed with me and we didn't sleep either.  One nurse was assigned to Mike and I have never saw a nurse work so hard in my life.  I give her credit for keeping Mike alive. Mike tossed and turned all night but when the morning came, he sat up in bed, asked for his glasses and a Lexington Herald newspaper so he could work the crosswords.  Even his nurse was amazed at his quick turn around.  It was in the ER that we first met the "teams."  If you stay very long at UK Medical Center you will meet these teams.   They are groups of men and women all in white lab coats that follow a doctor around and stare right through you when the doctor they are following is speaking to you. Mike had a team for everything that was wrong with him. Sometimes they all arrive at the same time and seem to be in competition as to which team comes in the room first.  When we met the team for the first time, they talked to Mike, Kaye and Me about how we felt about putting Mike on a vent. Mike was well enough to speak up and say, "Whoa! wait a minute, Myrna and I haven't talked about that yet."  That doctor went on to insist we make a decision because he was very sick and sepsis with pneumonia was hard to recover from. The next day Mike was moved to an ICU unit they called 2CDU.  It was explained to us as being a step down from ER and pre-ICU.  It was a long walk through vacant hallways to find the unit. I had been having a lot of trouble with my left foot.  I began seeing a podiatrist a year ago when my foot became too painful to walk on.  The walk to Mike's room was killing my foot, but I trudged on.  After a couple days in this unit, Mike was moved to ICU.  He stayed there a day and then was moved once again to another CDU unit.  So he had been in four different locations in five days. I was with him on Monday, August 3 in the unit when a nurse came in and told us he could go home.  Mike was tickled to death, but I was worried.  Mike had a pic line in because he had so many different bags of IV fluids and meds going in that he ran out of veins. He was still talking "out of his head" most of the time, and his potassium and sodium were still not in the good range.  I had never heard of someone being released from ICU to go home.  I didn't know if I was ready for the responsibility of taking care of him at home by myself, but they sent us home.  I guess they needed his room.

Mike hadn't been home but a couple of days when he had to go back in the hospital at Rockcastle Regional.  Once again, his electrolytes were too low.  They never could get his sodium at the right level.  If he drank a lot to keep himself hydrated, then he would lose the sodium.  It was a no win situation.  Both of us were tired by now.  Our lives had changed so much so fast.  I was missing the grandchildren.  I had babysat Jack and Layla since they were 2 months old.  Now I hardly saw them. Neil was driving down from Georgetown to see Mike, but we didn't get to visit with him or his boys for a very long time because Mike was having a lot of visitors and there just seemed to be so much going on around us.  Mike knew better than to attempt to drive now, so he got a friend to take him to Mt. Vernon everyday.  He really didn't need anything, he just had to go to town. He had lost so much weight, that I bought him suspenders to hold his pants up.  He was always cold so he wore a sweatshirt and a jacket everyday.  All he would eat was jello or pudding.  Most mornings he got up before me and I would find him sitting in his truck in the drive-way.  He would be working on his crossword puzzles and listening to WRVK radio.  We wanted him to have another chemo treatment, but knew he had been too sick to have one.  I couldn't forget what the lung doctor had said, "If he doesn't have chemotherapy, he won't live until Christmas."

People all around the world were praying for Mike.  His name was on so many church prayer lists and the social network, especially Facebook, played a big part in passing along the prayer requests.  A lot of people took the "Cold Water Challenge" and gave the money to us.  We got checks in the mail with no return address.  One just said, "a friend."  Mike didn't want to accept the money at first, but I told him the people were probably led by Jesus to help us and we would need the money for gas and food on his trips to Lexington. Everywhere I went someone came up to me to say they were praying for Mike.  If someone asked Mike if they could help in any way, Mike would always say, "If you have time, just say a little prayer for me."  He still thought he would beat this cancer.  He never gave up.  Even though he had only one treatment, his hair started coming out.  He said the best part about that was that now I couldn't nag him to shave. He had gone from using a walking stick to a walker and finally to a wheelchair in two weeks.  Every doctor that he saw gave us a different reason for his lack of coordination and balance issues.  It was more than likely a combination of things.

On Saturday, August 16, our nephew, Kevin was getting married.  We had attended the weddings of two other nephews this summer. Mike had gone to the other two, but he wasn't able to go to this one. His brother, Lee was here from Louisville.  He decided that he would stay home with Mike and let his wife, Gloria and me go to the wedding.  Our niece Shay went with us also as well as Kaye. Shay and Kaye stayed close to us.  They were always ready to help.  I missed Mike so much at that wedding.  I was glad to get back home to him.  The next day he seemed so sad.  He told his big brother bye and I think we all knew it might be the last time he would say that.  He looked so small in his wheelchair.  That night, Mike came in the house and watched TV with me.  I was so happy because he never did that. He had made brownies earlier and we ate some of those.  He took his medicine, kissed me good night and wheeled himself to the bedroom.  He had an appointment to see the chemo doctor the next morning.

So far August had become a terrible month and I didn't know it at the time, but it would become even worse.  On August 18, I woke Mike to start getting ready for his appointment with the chemo doctor. I knew right away that something was wrong.  He wouldn't wake up and when he finally did, he had no idea where he was or even who he was.  All through this ordeal it seemed that bad things happened in the night.  Mike would go to bed feeling okay but would wake up another man.  This had happened again.  I managed to get him dressed and to the appointment.  He had to have blood work first.  He didn't even know it and he hated needles.  As soon as the doctor came in I knew there would be no chemoin Mike's near future.  His blood work was bad and this time his liver was involved. He was admitted to Rockcastle hospital.  They put him in a room that I didn't even know existed in the hospital.  It was like a hotel suite.  It had a sitting room with a sink and coffee pot and the actual hospital room was a lot bigger than any others.  At first I thought this was a good thing, but later I found out it was offered to us for another reason.  Par for the course, Mike slept for two days with his head covered up.  When I could get him awake, he would say a few words and go back to sleep.  He was jaundiced now, the whites of his eyes were now yellow.  Our family doctor came in during rounds to tell us that she thought he probably had tumors on his liver which would more than likely be cancer.  She told me I was headed on a dark, dangerous journey.  She went on to say she didn't think Mike would leave the hospital alive.  She was trying to prepare me for the worst.  I had been able to control the tears up until then and when the tears started they started with a vengeance.  I sobbed as hard as I did the day in Lexington when I was told Mike had cancer.  I realized I needed a shoulder to cry on so I sent a text to my best friend, Janice.  She left her job and came to me as fast as she could.  I met her in the hallway and cried on her shoulder.  I cried until my head hurt.  I felt like screaming.  It had finally hit me that this journey we were on was about to come to an end.

The doctor came in to say that she was actually surprised, but the liver scan showed no tumors on the liver.  She thought the liver had been compromised because of the pain meds he had been taking. She made changes in his medication hoping that would cure whatever was going on with his liver.
'

It was a good thing we had that big room, because family and friends filled it every day and night. There was never a minute that someone wasn't there.  It helped so much to know how much people loved us.  I thought Mike and I must have treated people good all our lives because we sure were getting paid back in kindness and love.

On August 20 at 4:00 in the afternoon, I was the only one in the room with Mike.  I was sitting beside him watching television.  I looked over at him and he was awake.  I said, "Wake up sleepy head, you have slept for two days." I asked him if he wanted to sit up for awhile and he said he did. He amazed me when he sat up and asked for his newspaper.  He even ate some supper.  Kaye had gone to pick up supper for us and when she came back and saw Mike, she almost screamed.  No one could believe it.  Just the day before I had laid my head on his chest and cried and now he looked like he had once again turned the corner.  It helped that earlier that day, 3 ministers had prayed over him. It was obvious that the good Lord was working.  When the visitors started showing up they were so glad to see Mike sitting up and talking like he hadn't in months.  He was his old self.  He sat up until 10:00 that night.  I helped him to bed and left the hospital feeling better than I had in months.  When I went to bed that night I prayed for God's will in our lives and that we be able to accept his will.  I also knew that things changed quickly and mostly over night.Mike stayed well for two days, but something was still going on with his liver.  Tests showed that his liver numbers were way too high.  The doctor came in to tell us that she was sending Mike back to UK Medical Center in Lexington.  We had come to despise that place, but she preached a good sermon to us about a procedure Mike needed that would probably fix his liver and hopefully he would get well enough for some more chemo.  She was really upbeat, totally opposite from a few days before when she had said Mike would probably not live much longer.  On Friday afternoon August 22, the ambulance took Mike back to UK.

When Kaye, Shay and myself pulled into the parking garage at UK Medical Center that Friday night, we were met by a huge thunderstorm.  Ominous clouds, lots of lightning, rain and wind.  I was now in a walking boot and was moving pretty slow.  We took the shuttle across as we had many times before. Just three worried souls riding with other worried souls or talkative nurses and other hospital employees.  My mind was numb.  I kept thinking about that dark, dangerous journey Mike's doctor warned me about.  Things were so different.  I still laughed and talked with everyone, but I don't know how I did it.  I was some kind of machine programmed to be Myrna Childress.  Kyle and Neil had gotten to the hospital before us.  Kyle works in Lexington, so he didn't have far to go and neither did Neil who lives in Georgetown.  Kyle texted me and gave me Mike's room number.  At least it wasn't in ICU.  Mike was sent to have a test called ERCP.  They would put him to sleep, run a tube down his throat to check the functions of the gallbladder, pancreas and liver.  If they found a problem, and they anticipated they would find a blockage to the liver, they would put stents in place which would allow the liver to get rid of the toxins in his body.  As soon as he got there, all those teams started showing up.  The nurses took a liking to Mike right away.  He was still the Mike I married and I was so glad of that.  When the man in the next bed started talking on the other side of the curtain, he was using foul language.  One nurse said, "We're moving your husband.  He's a keeper and he doesn't have to put up with that stuff."  so he was moved down the hall to a private room. Finally we could chalk one up for UK. Mike and I both had a living will prepared when he was at Rockcastle and of sound mind.  This team we met now was more interested in that living will than the test he was supposed to have.  Mike told them as clear as anyone what he wanted done in case he stopped breathing so they finally filled out the right papers and left us alone for awhile.  It was still raining and I was so tired that us girls decided to get a motel room and stay in Lexington.  Mike was supposed to have the procedure early in the morning so if we stayed in Lexington, we could get to the hospital quicker.  We actually had a good time that night.  I remember falling asleep and thinking nothing but good was in my future now.

When we got to the hospital that Saturday morning, I expected Mike to have already had the test or that he would be having it when we got there, but he was in his room. He wasn't allowed anything to eat or drink, but he didn't seem to care.  He was feeling bad again and skin was obviously jaundiced. He was getting weak like he had before.  His electrolytes were all out of whack again and when that happened, he just slept.  We waited all day for Mike to be taken for the ERCP and by 5:00, we three girls were exhausted and pretty aggravated.  I had asked too many times to count when they would do the test and never got the same answer twice.  They said there was an emergency, then they said they couldn't get the team together to do it, and sometimes they just didn't have any answer at all. They said before he could have the ERCP, he needed to have a MRCP, which was a MRI.  So, they started making excuses for that.  I made the decision to just come home and rest.  I doubted they would do anything on a Saturday night.  I hated to leave him knowing he hadn't ate or drank and he seemed to be getting worse, but someone had to be his voice and until I rested my mind I wouldn't be much help to Mike.  We drove home feeling so angry that I was ashamed.

The next day, Sunday they tried to do the MRCP, but said Mike was too sedated to be of any help. He needed to be awake for this test.  They brought him back to the room and I spent another day asking when he would have the ERCP test we had came over for two days ago.

On Monday, August 25, I got to the hospital at 8:00 hoping once again Mike was in the O.R. having his test, but once again he was in his room and still asleep.  I knew whatever that was wrong with his liver was just getting worse.  He was beginning to look so frail. He must have lost 20 pounds.  He couldn't sit up at all.  He still wasn't allowed to eat, but he probably wouldn't have even if he could. He would only open his eyes if I stood over him and called his name. Another one of the things the gamma knife had taken was Mike's hearing in his right ear.  He would open his eyes and reach his arms out for a hug.  Finally, at 2:00 in the afternoon, they took him for the test.  He hadn't been gone very long when my cell phone rang.  It was doctors calling from the ER.  Since Mike wasn't able to answer any questions, they had called me to answer them.  When one doctor. got done, another one came on the line.  Everything seemed to be so unorganized.  No one seemed to know what they were supposed to be doing.  I don't think any of the doctors Mike had, had ever met each other.  I thought if they would just get together and discuss Mike among themselves and come up with the best plan for him it would make more sense.  While I had them on the phone, I asked some questions.  I was told it would take 40 minutes and they were starting the procedure in the next fifteen minutes.  Two hours later, someone brought Mike back to us without saying a word.  I asked his nurse what the outcome of the test was and she didn't know.  She said the doctor hadn't finished his paperwork so nothing was showing up on the computer.  I was still hopeful that the test had been successful.  At 9:00 that night, I gave up on the team once again and went home.  Kaye and I left that hospital not knowing if Mike had even had the ERCP, if he had had it, what was the outcome, was Mike going to not be yellow the next time we saw him or was he even going to be alive. They could have called me on my cell phone, they had my number because they had called me earlier. I was used to doctors calling the waiting room and giving the family an update on their loved one.  No one even tried to get in contact with me.  We went over there on a Friday night to have one small test, Mike was doing well, he laughed and talked with us.  Now, 3 1/2 days later, he had the test, but we didn't know the results and Mike was no longer able to wake up, eat, drink or talk.  This must be the dark part of that journey.

Everyday in that hospital was worse than the day before.  Tuesday, August 26, a team member told us that they put two stents in Mike's Common Bile Duct.  They didn't make it clear whether or not he had a blockage or not.  They hoped these would clear up his liver toxins.  We would have to wait a day or so and see.  We waited.  People came and went.  Once he room was full of family all talking at the same time, and I was just staring at Mike.  I saw him open his eyes and look around the room. He looked at each brother and at his sister and at his cousins until he found me.  When he made eye contact with me, his expression changed and his eyes shined like stars.  He looked at me for awhile and then, looking at peace, he closed his eyes once again.  They told us that Mike now had cancer in his bile duct and it was the same kind he had in his lungs, stomach, adrenal glands, and brain.  His bilirubin was down a little, but not enough so he was still yellow.  His brother, Cork, managed to get him to eat a few bites of pudding.  I made him drink some water.  They couldn't keep his sodium and potassium up.  The teams would talk to us and try to sound promising, but I knew they had probably done all they could do.  Everyone else knew it too.  On Thursday, I took the day off to do some stuff at home. Kyle and Neil both were there with Mike and we all called the hospital to check with the nurses about Mike. They would tell us how high his bilirubin was and if his numbers were up or down.  It was just the same stuff everyday.  Staying at home was as hard as staying at the hospital.  I wasn't satisfied anywhere.  I wanted things back the way they were.  The way they were supposed to be.

On Saturday, August 30, Mike and I celebrated our 39th wedding anniversary.  I leaned over and kissed him, asked him what he got me for our anniversary and he opened his eyes and said, "It's over there."  I said, "You have my present in the bathroom?" but he didn't answer me.  The day before, my cousins, Anita and Connie had met up with me at the hospital.  They drove down from their homes in Dayton, Ohio.  I met them outside in front of the hospital where the shuttle bus stopped.  I was so glad to see them.  Connie always took care of me and Anita always gave me good advice and I needed both.  I needed someone to hold me on my anniversary weekend. All of us except Mike, went out to eat that Saturday night.  We had a good time, but I felt so alone.  Kyle told some of his friends that his mom spent her anniversary force feeding applesauce to his dad.  This was so hard on all of us.The next day, Connie and Anita had to go home.  I rode over to see Mike with Kyle.  That gave us a chance to talk.  We knew we needed to let go of Mike; he was suffering so much, but it wasn't going to be easy, nor was it his time.  The grandchildren would come over and they couldn't understand why Mike didn't get up and talk to them.  Jack and Layla had just lost a grandfather in January. Melanie's father died of complications from diabetes.  Jack was 6 and he understood all about death and heaven.  Camden was 4 and he couldn't hardly grasp the concept of death yet.  Gray and Layla, both just two, we knew would never remember Mike.  That Sunday that Kyle and I went over there by ourselves was like all the days before.  He always had a lot of company on Sunday and this day was no different.  We held hands and prayed with our neighbor who was also a preacher. Mike didn't open his eyes to search for me that day, but when I held his hand and prayed he squeezed my hand tight when the preacher asked God to take care of me.  Once again, I sobbed, but this time I sobbed with relief.  I knew my sweet Michael was there holding my hand so tight and that he had one foot in the door of heaven he just needed a little push and then he could go home and his suffering would end.

Monday, September 1 was Labor Day.  Mike was still hanging on.  I stayed home to let all his family visit.  His family was so big that at times there just wasn't enough room for us.  I needed to do laundry and spend some time with my mom.  She hadn't been able to visit Mike the whole time he was in the hospital.  He had been in two hospitals since August 18.  Mike's cousin's wife called me to tell me how Mike was.  She said he opened his eyes and seemed to know them.  They mentioned my name and he said, "Where is she anyhow?"  When I heard that, I wished I had went over to the hospital that day. I decided to go over to the hospital and spend the night.  Something told me I needed to be with him every minute.  I packed a bag and drove over by myself.  It was hot and sunny, a beautiful day.  Before I got to Lexington, one of the team members called me.  She explained that Mike wasn't doing well and they needed to know what to do if he quit breathing.  I explained that I was driving, she apologized, but I could tell she needed an answer. A million thoughts went through my head.  The one that stuck, was Mike saying just a week ago, that he didn't want to be put on a ventilator unless he was going to get better.  I knew he wasn't going to ever get better so I told the lady on the phone line, please do not resuscitate.  Let him die peacefully.  Then I cried all the way to Lexington.  Kyle, Mike's brother, Cork, his sister, Shanda and me spent the night at the hospital. Mike was bad.  He rolled his head back and forth all day.  I knew he was in pain.  They were giving him morphine, but I couldn't tell it ever helped him.  He moved his arms like he was fighting someone or something.  He didn't sleep well. He would only sleep quietly for 10 or 15 minutes at a time.  Our neighbors came to see Mike and when they saw him for the first time in awhile, you could tell they were shocked.  They couldn't stop their tears.  I tried to make them feel better.  I would hug them and ask that they pray for Mike.   The Hospice team was on board now.  They wanted to meet with us the next morning.  I spent some of the night planning on where I would put the hospital bed if Mike came home.  Part of me was worried that I wasn't able to care for Mike at home even with the help of Hospice.

Tuesday, September 2 Mike was so very sick.  He was in so much pain. He had been stuck so many times that he was black and blue on every inch of skin that you could see.  They even stuck him between his toes.  His veins were hard as rocks.  I know they had to be hurting him when they would stick him so many times, but he never even made a noise.  His white blood count was high so we knew he had an infection.  Several of the teams came by to talk to us.  The oncology team said he would never be a candidate for chemotherapy, which came as no surprise.  The Hospice team was going to start the process of getting stuff to my house that he would need.  The team that had done the ERCP explained that the stents wouldn't help because he had so much cancer.  There was nothing good about this day.  As I looked at Mike that day, I prayed for God to take him home.  I was amazed at how much the human body could take.  Mike was still fighting.  Once again, I was reminded of Jackie Kennedy.  When the President had been shot, she covered him up with her body and then a jacket because she didn't want the people of the United States to see her husband after he had been murdered.  I didn't want anyone to see Mike.  He looked so awful.  He looked like a really old man. It had only been 3 1/2 months since the biopsy and Mike was already dying.  He hadn't made it to Christmas.  He wasn't even going to make it to Halloween. He was no longer able to cover his head up himself and I was almost ready to cover it up for him.

The same little group of us were getting ready for the long night.   Mike's brothers Cork and Steve, his sister, Shanda, Kyle and I were there.  His oldest brother, Lee, had spent the night earlier in the week.  Neil had been there, but had gone home for the night.  At midnight, we had just turned out the lights.  We were so tired.  Mike had been moved to another floor where they could monitor him. We had been watching the monitors all day.  The lights hadn't been out thirty minutes, when the nurse came in to try to get a urine sample.  They had tried several times that day and weren't able to get any urine.  The doctors were trying to figure out where his infection was.  My sister in law went to the waiting room while the nurse was with Mike.  She looked at me sadly when she wasn't able to get a specimen once again.  I knew that meant his kidneys had shut down.  The nurse left the room and for the first time in a long time, I was alone with my husband.  Earlier, the nurses had moved him up in bed and when they did, he became quiet.  Something about that move had changed him.  His eyes rolled back in his head, but he was still breathing.  I closed his eyes and he seemed to be resting easier.  I knew Shanda would be back in without me leaving to get her, so I laid back down. In a few minutes, Mike coughed. Even though he was a heavy smoker, he never coughed except a few weeks earlier when he had pneumonia.  That's exactly what his cough reminded me of that night, pneumonia again.  And I also thought that he might be septic again.  I knew he would never live through that again.  It wasn't long before one of the monitors started going off.  I jumped up to look at the monitor.  I couldn't even remember what all the numbers were supposed to be, but one, the respiration, was low.  It had never been low before.  I looked down at Mike and he was barely breathing.  I could have rang for the nurse, I could have stuck my head out the door and yelled for help and my family, but I didn't.  I held my husband's hand, touched his face, kissed him and told him I loved him.  His breathing got softer and softer until it stopped.  I still held on to the man who had shared my life since I was seventeen. The father of my children and grandfather to their children.  I held on to the man who had been with me through sickness and health just like he vowed to do.  I held on as long as I could before I had to alert someone.  It wasn't long enough.  I took a deep breath and walked out the door, down the darkened hallway to the waiting room.  I found everyone sitting there in the semi darkness talking quietly.  I told them he was gone. I called for Neil to come back to the hospital.  We all spent time with Mike.  We all cried and told him how much we loved him.  We looked at one another like we didn't know what to do next.  Slowly we began to gather up our stuff.  We packed over night bags and backpacks.  We held each other and walked out of that room forever.  We hated to leave Mike, but knew he was coming home to Rockcastle County before the night was over.  He had died at 1:32 and it was about an hour later when we left.  We didn't wait for the shuttle.  I was behind all of them when we walked down the sidewalk for what we hoped would be our last time, and I thought about what a pitiful looking bunch we were.  We looked like gypsies looking for a place to camp.  We never looked back.

Michael Childress died on September 3, 2014 of Septic Shock.  He was 61 years old.  He was laid to rest on September 6, 2014 at Oak Hill Cemetery.