Being in the ICU is scary, and being there when you're not exactly sure why is even scarier. Michael Parker, Mike, was a godsend. He was more than cordial, polite, and accommodating (and he was all of those things); he was a friend. He wasn't pushy, but you could feel he was going to take care of my sister, he was going to help me take care of my sister, and he was going to make sure everybody that came into the space was taking care of my sister. He shared all the information he had, and he answered all of our questions so we could understand.

If he thought we didn't understand something someone else said, he made sure we got that information. And he did it all while seeming extremely happy to do his job, even the unpleasant parts. He joked, which meant we joked, which meant there was laughter in the face of all the things we might have been afraid of. He made those first hours in the ICU less scary and more hopeful, and definitely a lot more fun than they had to be or that we had any reason to expect they might be. That level of compassion, caring, and fun kept down the anxiety, making everything else bearable. I am so glad he's the person we were dealing with when we arrived. Not that everyone else wasn't wonderful, but he set the stage that made it possible for us to recognize how wonderful he and everybody else was. I am so grateful.