I finally got to head back to the hospital to see Mikey wide awake and talking for myself. We'd talked on the phone, but that's not hardly the same thing as seeing him, right?

I was gowning and gloving up -- a necessary precaution since he has MRSA -- and saw him looking at me through the door. There was a moment of "wha-ha?" on his part. But, that was totally warranted since my hair is a little darker than the last time he saw me. From a distance, I'm sure it was more than a little confusing to have someone waving in at him like they were old friends. Once I got in the room, he smiled and laughed a bit.

Mikey said, in his hoarse stage whisper-y voice, "I couldn't figure out who the hell you were!"

"It's the hair."

"Yeah, it's darker."

It was my turn to laugh, and I told him "at least it's not a mullet." Less than a half hour before, I had been at his house, giggling over a photo of him from years ago. Hey, it was the 80s. We all made "hair-rors".

I sat down next to him and looked him over. He was definitely much better than the last time I'd seen him. His skin was pinker, he wasn't swelled up like overfilled water balloon anymore, and he was awake. I gave him a bad time about scaring the hell out of everyone. And then I had to turn away for a minute. I was just so relieved to see my friend, talk to him, listen to him talking to me.

After I pulled myself together, I looked him over again. Yep. Mikey was back! He's thinner. He looks very gaunt. Even compared to how he looked pre-stroke. The area where they'll need to go in and replace the bone flap is sunken, but closed. When he turns just so and the light hits it the right way, you can watch it pulsate, kind of like a baby's fontanelle -- except it's in the front of his head.

Like the mullet of yore, his current hairdo is a bit, shall we say, different. He has a rather odd patch that's shorter than a military crewcut. There's a smaller patch that's completely bare. The rest is wonderfully blond and still there.

Another friend of ours arrived at that point and joined us. We sat and talked and compared hospital food experiences. Lame, I know. But, between the three of us, we'd pretty much kept the local hospitals in business over the last six months.

Mikey told us how they keep asking him about current events. They want to know what the next holiday is. They want to know if he knows where he is. He knows what's going on, but he couldn't remember the next holiday. For whatever reason, Valentine's Day didn't register as a holiday. Romantic as he is, that's not a day he thinks of as a holiday. At least, not one people normally take off from work. So it eluded him.

I made a point of telling him that he was probably thinking in terms of Super Bowl and the Olympics, like most men.

"You know that's why you woke up on the 5th, right? You wanted to catch the game."

We laughed. There's pain behind the laughter, though. I could see it.

"How's the pain?" I asked. Our friend and I asked him to rate it on a scale of 0-10, with zero being no pain and ten being the worst pain imaginable.

"It's about a nine," he said.

"That's not good," I said.

"It's better than being dead," he replied.

"True."

"You heard about the protesters blocking the progress of the Olympic torch, right?" we asked.

"Wha-aaat?"

General concern and a hint of common sense kept us from cracking some obvious gallows humor-type jokes. You know, like, "hey, guess you can cancel cable now that you've basically got your own satellite dish." Or, "dude, having a bad hair day?" He would have laughed, but it's still too fresh for everyone and we're still too worried to make light of the situation on that sort of scale.

It seems like utter silliness, doesn't it? But, this is typical banter for us. The only difference is that it's happening in the hospital and my friend has a hole in his head. And he's hurting. I hate to see him hurting.

Mikey is still very weak. He needs help getting up to go to the bathroom, but he can get up. Dialysis is back to every other day. Looming, though, is the surgery to put the bone back on his head. That won't be the end of his ordeal. He must slowly rebuild his strength and voice. He needs to maintain a certain level of good health for a while before the doctors sign off and allow him to go home.

Work? Well, according to Mrs. Mikey, they sent out a memo asking for people to donate paid leave for Mikey so that he doesn't have to go without any sort of income. Thus far, no one has donated time. That absolutely blows my mind. I know that everyone likes to save for a rainy day, but this is ridiculous! I cannot fathom how these people can let one of their valued coworkers...what's the word I'm looking for here? How could they stand aside and watch someone almost die and not lend a helping hand? Mikey's the kind of guy who'd be first in line to help someone else. He's always been there for others. Even people he doesn't know very well. Hell, even for people he doesn't know at all. And yet, his coworkers can't give a single day of paid leave to ease his mounting financial burdens? It's unconscionable.

Mrs. Mikey is doing her best to get the basics paid and keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. It's hard though. I know, all too well, how that is.

Mikey's fighting to get better so he can take care of his family. He wants to be back at school and work. He wants to get back to helping his daughter with her homework (honors classes!) and doing all the things that make his family happy. It'll take time before any of that can happen. He needs to get well first.

Please let others know about Mikey's situation. If they can donate a dollar, or five, or fifty -- it'll help take care of the essentials and allow Mikey and his family expend energy on getting him healthy instead of stressing over finances. Let your friends know that Mikey is a good man in a very difficult situation. Let them know he's the kind of man who would go out of his way to help someone else for no other reason than because it's the right thing to do and because he's just that nice. Let people know. Please.

And don't forget to keep praying.

Thanks.

Donations and get well cards can be sent to:

Mad Mikey
c/o SMASH
PO Box 882353
San Diego, CA 92108-2353