Michael Sexton slowly extends his arm across the end of the hospital bed to place it on his wife's knee. His fingers have grown so thin, the ring he wears slides back and forth from his knuckle to his hand, and he trembles a bit.

His face is thin and he doesn't raise his head from its bowed position, affording people in the room a view of his vertebrae as the ridges strain against his skin.
At 31 years old, he weighs a mere 115 pounds. Just months ago, he weighed close to 230.

"I'm sorry," he tells Amy Sexton weakly, almost incoherently. The pain medicine that's constantly pumped into him as he lies in the hospital bed in the couple's bedroom causes him to slur his words. "I love you."

On this day, Michael is without a shirt, with a large bandage taped onto the right side of his chest. A fuzzy blanket covers his lower half.

"I love you," Amy tells him firmly, raising her voice to accommodate the deafness in his left ear. "And don't be sorry. There's nothing you could've done."

She lowers her voice and explains, "Sometimes he blames himself."

The couple, who have four children, ages 12, 3, 2 and 2-and-a-half months, lost their Phil Campbell home in the April 27 tornado. At the time, Amy said, she didn't know she was pregnant.

The family has moved to a trailer in Bear Creek, which, now, Amy said she sees as a godsend. Since Michael has grown more and more ill, her landlords, Jimmy and Faye Bridgmon, haven't "asked for one penny," Amy said. "They're our angels."

They had no insurance, and after the tornado, Michael worked long days all summer at welding jobs in Aliceville, earning the money needed to try to rebuild what the family lost. He was constantly nauseous and vomited frequently.

"He'd been diagnosed with acid reflux at age 19, so we just blamed him being sick on that," Amy said. "We didn't have insurance so we couldn't afford the Nexium he'd been prescribed, so he just carried a bottle of Pepto with him everywhere."

Some of those summer days brought a heat index of 108, so Amy said they figured Michael could also have just been overheating.

When he was laid off in September, though, the vomiting continued, but the family still did not have health insurance.

Amy said before the baby, Masyn Saban, was born Nov. 12, she'd been working to get the family on Medicaid. On Nov. 17, Medicaid came through, and the family immediately took Michael to the emergency room.

"Michael was loving on (Masyn) and was so excited the day after Masyn came home (from the hospital)," Amy said. "The next day, he just went completely downhill. He was throwing up everything — he couldn't even hold in a sip of water."

When doctors found that Michael's liver enzyme level was extremely high, they ordered a CAT scan.

"They found that two thirds of his liver was eaten up with cancer," Amy said."There were also two spots on his lungs and some in his liver. They said it originated in the pancreas."

The technical diagnosis was stage four adenocarcinoma, which can originate in glandular tissue and spread to various parts of the body.

Upon hearing Amy recount the story of how he was diagnosed, Michael pushes himself up from his slumped position. His eyes are sunken, rimmed by dark circles, and his cheek bones stand out on his gaunt face.

"You don't expect to hear that at 31 (years old)," he said, his voice hoarse, but clear. "My first thoughts were — my symptoms, surely they weren't that bad.
"It was scary but I thought, ‘Maybe I've got a chance.' "

He shrugs his shoulders, looks around the room as though seeing it for the first time, and continues.

"Two days later it turns into ‘pancreatic cancer,' " he said, reciting his diagnosis. "All over, my liver, my lungs. I cried for about an hour."

Amy said when she heard the diagnosis, she just kept thinking, "This is a mistake."

"Then I figured out that it was stage four, and I've got three kids that are 3 and under. It saddens me that my children won't know their father, except through pictures and my memories."

When Michael was diagnosed in November, doctors said, with treatment, he might have six months to live. Without it, maybe three.

"He tried treatment for awhile, but he just couldn't do it," Amy said. "It made him too sick."

With the aid of hospice, Michael is living out his days at home with his family. The Sextons' 3-year-old, Michael Jr., visits his father often.

"He comes in here 20 times a day and says, ‘I love you to the stars and moon and back,' and he'll say, ‘my daddy's sick,' " Amy said. "He knows something is wrong. Michael was always an active dad. It went from him being active to laying on the hospital bed."

As Michael's condition deteriorates from day to day, Amy said caring for him and her four children isn't easy.

"It's stressful trying to juggle attention for the kids and him, plus the normal stresses of life, anyway," she said.

As it is, the family has no income. They're relying on support from friends and neighbors.

"I want it to be known that we're thankful for the help we've gotten," Amy said.

South Haleyville Church of Christ and nearby store, Jolly Dan's, have done a lot for the Sextons, Amy said, especially since the family moved to Bear Creek in August, knowing no one and with a new baby on the way.

"The joy of having our son was very short lived, unfortunately, but God has a plan for us," Amy said.

While it's true that Michael sometimes feels guilty for getting sick and, ultimately, leaving his family when his body can no longer fight the cancer, one thing remains clear: Amy loves her husband unconditionally.

"Anybody who can work all summer through stage four cancer to try to build back what we lost is an amazing person," she said, her eyes fixed on Michael's face. "He's an amazing person and an amazing father, and I don't know what I'm going to do without him."

With no insurance for burial, a fund has been established in Michael's name at Traders and Farmers Bank in Haleyville to help the family with the estimated $7,000 cost of pre-arrangements and funeral services.

Donations may be mailed to Traders and Farmers Bank, P.O. Box 550, Haleyville, AL, 35565.

Hannah Mask can be reached at 256-740-5728 or hannah.mask@TimesDaily.com.