​Carol and I attended the memorial service for Dr. Tom Bajo (pronounced Bay-joe) yesterday morning and his celebration of life that evening. I had the honor of meeting his best friend from Chicago. Even though we had never met, he approached me, called me by name and recited in detail about my stay at Good Samaritan Hospital 12 year ago. I was surprised and flattered that he knew so much and that Dr. Tom had shared my story. He had to catch a plane, so we quickly exchanged contact information.
At the celebration, Carol and I reconnected with many friends from my days spent in intensive care and rehab. Reconnecting with Angie Phillips was the most touching. Angie at that time was a young teen with a failing liver. Daily, our hearts saddened as we watched life leaving her body. Carol and her mother prayed daily in the chapel that God would save her life and mine.
A day I will never forget is when Dr. Bajo found her a liver. If you recall the song "Tie a Yellow Ribbon..." and the whole bus cheers when they saw not one ribbon, but 100, then you know how we felt when the whole damn ward was cheering when her life saving liver arrived.
But Angie's crisis was not over. She had weakened to the point where her body might not survive a liver transplant. SURVIVE SHE DID! She became a nurse and worked closely with Dr. Bajo. Carol and I, Angie and her mother wept openly as we embraced knowing that God sent us a miracle -- Dr. Thomas Michael Bajo.

People who know me know that I rarely show emotion. I was deeply saddened today to learn of the loss of my friend, Dr. Tom Bajo, this past Monday. He was in charge of intensive care while I was on life support. After interviewing my family and friends, he ok'd the amputations of my hands and feet. By doing so, he saved my life.
During my four month stay in the hospital, he became my friend, often sharing his coffee break or lunch with me as we talked about -- stuff. He asked me to visit other patients to try and lift their spirits which I did.
The day I checked out to go home, he came to my room to visit one last time. He placed his hand on my shoulder, gave me a hug, and as he stood, I could see he was too emotional to speak. Instead, he slapped my bare belly and whisked out leaving me with a "pink belly" that lasted a week.
We stayed in touch these last twelve years since my amputations. I will never forget what he did for me and my wife, Carol.
Dr. Tom, the world will miss you. Thank you for saving my life.

My wife Carol had this to say:
I am very sad today. Our friend Dr. Thomas Bajo died in a kayaking accident on Monday. Without Dr. Bajo my husband Jeff would probably not be with us.
​He was my rock when Jeff was in a coma for three weeks. I saw him nearly every day for the four months Jeff was hospitalized. I will never forget all that he did for Jeff and for me.