I found myself back in the hospital, weak, sick, and in pain from my cancer. Many days I cannot find the strength to eat, roll over, or even smile. On top of that, I was told there might be hope for a treatment at a specialty cancer hospital, only to be told I did not qualify.

When I found myself being lifted from a wheelchair into yet another hospital bed, it was another day of doctors and nurses asking questions and poking needles into me again. But my nurse on this day made a difference. His name was Mike. He sat with me and my mom and was warm and talked to us, not "at" us. He listened, he made us laugh, he seemed to genuinely care.

I heard there was a chance they were going to send me home, but at the end of the day, Mike told us before he was going home that he made a plea and the doctors agreed to admit me for pain control and to get some true rest. He even came back the next morning when another nurse was assigned to my care, just to tell me the hospital had a bed assignment upstairs for me.

I guess he didn't need to do that, but he did, and for me and my family, it made a difference because I felt like me again, not just a patient.