Dr. Nick

By, Michael Cade

Last year I was diagnosed with a rare form of pancreatic cancer. I was

classified at Stage 4B with metastasis to several areas throughout my body. Immediately after diagnosis, I began chemotherapy. In the beginning of the therapy, the chemo treatments were tolerable. Besides losing my hair and having several down days following the treatments, there was not much difference as far as my children could see.

My wife, Katie, and I have two beautiful children. Samantha is now 4 ½ and Nick is 2 ¾. Both children knew only that Daddy was sick but certainly they were too young to fully comprehend my situation.

After 5 months of treatment, we learned that the cancer had spread beyond the pancreas and liver to the vertebra in my spine. With this news, my treatments were altered and due to the intensity of the new chemo, I became very sick and was hospitalized after every treatment. In addition, I received a "hickman" catheter to provide continuous intravenous morphine to handle my pain. Once my counts improved enough to come home, I still continued to receive various inoculations to increase my counts.

Even though much of the time I was heavily medicated on morphine, I remember vividly the way my son dealt with my situation. Every night, my wife would flush my "hickman" and give me my shots. Needless to say, I saw my fair share of syringes each night. It was during these nightly rituals that I realized that I had a doctor in the house – Dr. Nicholas Cade. Dr. Nick looked forward to treating me. Katie would provide him an empty syringe without the needle and he would begin. Searching and providing the appropriate shot on every freckle and mole he could find. His doctor’s black bag was well equipped – a syringe, cotton ball, and plenty of band-aids.

Dr. Nick looked forward to this ritual every night as I did. I could see the intensity in his eyes and the love in his heart – this was his daddy and he was going to fix him. Whether he was pretending to clean my catheter or give me a shot, the emphatic term "I do it!" is forever engrained in my mind. It was here that I realized all was going to be fine. His determination was equaled only by his gentleness. I saw an intelligent, determined and sensitive 2 year old makings things better - One syringe, one cotton ball, and one band-aid at a time, one day at a time!