My mother-in-law was transferred from an ER in Reed City, where she spent two days in the ER waiting for a room at Butterworth. She had a severe E coli infection due to her bile duct being blocked. Once transferred, she was scheduled for drain placement. The day the drain was placed, we spent six hours trying to get an update on her status.

After the shift change, we got a team that finally got us answers and a doctor on the phone; this all took place within half an hour. We found out Mom had crashed while under for drain placement, and she would not be returning to the room but moving up to ICU. After spending a couple of days in the ICU, she was moved to the 7th floor, where we have been for three weeks now, and had Max as one of our first nurses. A drain was placed, and the bile was drained. Now we are being told that mom is scheduled for a scope with biopsy so the mass that blocked the bile duct can be diagnosed. Each time it was scheduled, Mom was not able to eat, and then the test would be canceled. She could eat a little and then was told no more food or drink.

Again, this became very frustrating, as you can imagine. Doctors have come in and told us she has pancreatic cancer, but a scope with biopsies is needed to obtain more information. This is the test that keeps getting scheduled and canceled. One time, she was even taken downstairs for a procedure and then brought back to the room, and we were told it was not done.

In comes Max as one of our first nurses. During this trying time, he sent emails, texts, etc, until we got our answers to our questions. We never had to ask him for updates. Max came in and kept us up-to-date on his attempts to communicate. He also made sure that the next nurse team knew what was going on. When Max got the answers, he immediately came in and spoke with us. Even if that conversation was him popping his head in to say, “I have a response, but I'm finishing up with patient rounds. I'll be back into communicate as soon as I can.” Max never forgot us and never failed to communicate with us.

Ultimately, at the end of diagnosis, we are going home on hospice with comfort care. In a trying time for our family, with a lot of confusion, Max was a bright, calm presence. The best way I can describe him is that Max was a tornado. We would see him going room to room, getting things done for all the patients under his care, yet able to make us all feel like our loved ones were the only patient. I know this from speaking with other family members in the family lounge, even after days off, and not having us as patients for numerous days. Max remembered our mom by name and asked how she was doing when we encountered him in passing out on the floor.