After an exhausting battle with terminal brain cancer, Mic Fuchs​ had an awesome final week of life. He had his own space, was fed like a king, and spent a warm summer day on the boat in a lake, surrounded by his peers. Ever since he moved back to Minnesota, he wanted to do just that. Mic loved the outdoors and warm summer days. I think that is why he spent a month in South Africa and New Zealand, and fell in love for the first time with a girl in the Philippines. It feels very fitting that he has moved on to the afterlife on such a beautiful summer's afternoon.

On Wednesday, June 22, Mom went to visit Mic at Harmony River. He was still in bed and not interested in eating. She called me and told me about his demeanor and that she was going to sit with him. He didn't eat all day and just slept, periodically holding Mom's hand. She went home for lunch, but was called by the nurses around 4:30 saying that he wasn't doing well. I was called and immediately picked her up; dad was coming home from work and came straight there. Mic's breathing had become very labored and he had become unresponsive. He started to have seizures that impacted his left hand and foot; the tumor, which was in the right motor cortex, was winning. But Mic fought and waited until he said goodbye to Matthew through video, said goodbye to Dad who had to get to bed, said goodbye to me who had to check on Gizmo, and had his own special private goodbye with Mom. Shel held his hand as he took his last breath and went into the beyond. 

Up until the end, I was the awkward one. I may regret not giving him a last hug, but that was always kind of our thing. He always hugged me first and I would pretend to roll my eyes and huff. That was our relationship in a nutshell. I was the awkward one, but he was the loving one. He never was one to hold back on affection like hugs or cuddles. There's always one photo I think of when I think of Michael: it's the one with Aunt Michele, Uncle Brian's legs in the background, and teeny tiny us. Mic is snuggled up next to me, I'm awkwardly tolerating, and Matthew wishing he could be anywhere else. I was the reluctant older sister and he was the middle one, and Mom's favorite (a running joke in our family). I've attached that photo as well as a few others below.

He also had wanderlust. He loved to travel and learn and experience new things. He volunteered for a month twice while in college. He was the first of us to move out of state when he lived in Seattle. I thought he was crazy when he said he was going to teach English in China...but he did it and he lived there for years. During the early Covid restrictions, Mic was in the Philippines with his girlfriend. His visa was expiring and he couldn't get back into China to get his items. While there, he mentioned getting some painful boils. I wonder if this is where it started, if this is where the toxins entered his system and eventually caused the growth. Eventually, he moved back to Boise with Matthew and had his boils checked and cleared. 

November 2020, Mic was concerned with a numbness in his arms and a metallic taste. He went to the clinic and had many tests and scans. The initial prognosis was six months. I remember the call when he told me the news. I was crying and trying not to show it and he was crying and saying that he's going to make it and, if not, then he'll get to heaven and see Grandma T and Grandma Fuchs and the Grandpas and everyone else. And he would be with Jesus and all the pets that have died. 

He moved back here and received top knotch treatment from Abbott Hospital. Every attempt was made to prolong his life, including a surgery removing a mass. This surgery took away muscle control on his left side, including his dominant hand. His relentless enthusiasm for learning and growing continued throughout all his treatments. He continued to learn Spanish, adding to his conversational ability with German and Chinese. In the last phase of learning, he focused on nutrition, intent on finding a cure for his cancer. He found joy in fruits and nuts and plants. He continued to tell me of his dream to run a marathon and be an influence to others.
Once he moved into Harmony River, his stomach became bottomless and he enjoyed every meal he had.

I'm not going to remember the final moments or have a regret that I didn't hug him one last time. I know that he knew that I showed that I loved him in actions and in things I say. We had our goodbye conversation long ago, in that phone call after his diagnosis. Everything after that was bonus time. I will remember all of the good times and inside jokes. Please come to his memorial and/or funeral next week and share your memories of Mic next Wednesday and Thursday.