After a rare adverse reaction to cancer treatment, Wayne Courtney found himself fighting for his life in the ICU. His loved ones, several of whom work at Mayo Clinic, prayed for his recovery, hoping he would beat the odds and return home. To bring a miracle to reality, they made a surprising promise.

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Six months ago, Wayne Courtney was in the cardiac ICU, fighting for his life. Family members were preparing to say their goodbyes.

They now call Wayne a miracle.

And they're not the only ones: Robb Scheel, M.D., a resident who cared for Wayne in the ICU, agrees with the family's assessment. 

To bring about that miracle, the family prayed for Wayne's recovery. They also made a surprising claim: "We'll be on the Mayo Clinic News Center in a few weeks to tell our miracle story."

Today, Wayne is back home and enjoying every minute with his wife, children and grandchildren, thanks to the extraordinary doctors and nurses who took care of him. 

And, as you can see, News Center miracles also do come true.

Getting to the bottom of Wayne's rare and unusual case

In November 2020, Wayne started feeling unwell, but because of COVID, he delayed seeing his doctor. When he eventually made an appointment, his doctor ordered an abdominal MRI to investigate his complaints of abdominal pain. The scan revealed a football-sized mass on his kidney.

His kidney was removed for biopsy, and he was diagnosed with kidney cancer.

Wayne started immunotherapy in November 2022, when close monitoring revealed that the cancer was growing. His immunotherapy consisted of an infusion and a pill. He seemed to be tolerating both fine, until December 2023, when he began experiencing unusual symptoms.

The onset of the symptoms occurred after Wayne had fallen in his garage on Dec. 23. Shortly after the fall, he began complaining of chest pain. Wayne went to the Emergency Department, where an X-ray ruled out broken ribs and other fall-related injuries.

Christmas came and went, and Wayne's pain persisted. Then, other unusual symptoms began appearing. His daughter, Jennifer Ayshford, supervisor of Radiology Data Management Services at Mayo, noticed that he started behaving out of character.  

"On Dec. 27, he went to count money at church, and he couldn't count the money — it wasn't adding up," she says, emphasizing this was unusual for her father, a businessman. "At that point, we thought it may be a concussion from his fall."

Still in pain and experiencing slight cognitive issues, Wayne returned to the Emergency Department on Dec. 28. He underwent additional testing and had a cardiac CT. With the cardiac CT results pending, Wayne was allowed to return home and told he would be contacted if anything was unusual.

The next morning, his phone rang. There was an abnormality in the cardiac CT and Wayne was to return to the Emergency Department for a cardiology consult. On Dec. 29, Wayne was admitted for a cardiac catheterization procedure to further investigate his chest pain.

My approach to care has always been to honor the patient as a unique human being and let the care come from that place. Family is an indivisible part of the person.

- Laura Gesme

"He wasn't deemed an urgent case at that time," Ayshford says. "He was going to be held for a couple of days, through the holiday weekend, to have that procedure."

While they waited, Wayne's family, including his wife, Julie Courtney, and three daughters, Ayshford, Keri Dahnert and Melissa Langager, continued to notice personality changes and that he was saying and doing things he wouldn’t normally do.

"On Saturday, my mother decided to stay overnight with him. It was a sleepless night, rife with agitation and paranoia," Ayshford says. "Dad spoke of his hometown, Canton, Minnesota, and the people he grew up with, followed by bizarre claims of alligators under his bed."

On Sunday, Ayshford and Dahnert, a desk operations specialist at Mayo, arrived at the hospital to relieve their mom and give her an opportunity to rest. Neither recognized the man lying in the hospital bed — he was acting so differently.

"When I left his room that morning, I just broke down," Ayshford recalls.

The cardiac ICU team showed up while she was in the hallway. They uncovered an abnormality in one of her father's blood tests. Wayne's lactate was elevated, which could indicate a more serious problem. 

When they entered Wayne's room, they noticed severe bulging of the veins in his arms and legs. They needed to get him a bed in the ICU, immediately.

"It must have been a quick onset," Ayshford says, "because he had just had a shower and the nurse did not notice the veins, and neither did we."

Within minutes, Wayne was transferred to Nassef Tower 7, where Laura Gesme, a nurse, welcomed them.  

Gesme, who watched a team try to resuscitate her own father at age 14, vowed that when she became a nurse, she'd always think of the family members of her patients and what they need.

"I never forget how much I wish I knew what was happening at that moment. I want to be the person, the nurse, that 14-year-old me needed," Gesme says. "My approach to care has always been to honor the patient as a unique human being and let the care come from that place. Family is an indivisible part of the person."

That's exactly what she did with Wayne.

"Amid a setting that was both emotionally charged and chaotic, she calmly fielded our questions and meticulously explained the unfolding events," Ayshford says.

As symptoms worsen, Wayne's family holds out for a miracle

The next few weeks were like a continuous roller coaster ride, according to Ayshford.

"We longed to stop the ride and return to normalcy, but there was no off switch," she says.

Wayne's family spent every minute they could by his side, overlooking the Generose Ramp from sunup to sundown. His health deteriorated rapidly from the time he was transferred to the ICU. His heart, liver, kidneys and mental faculties were all failing, and no one was sure why.

In the quest for answers, experts from multiple specialties, including oncology, cardiology, nephrology, endocrinology, hematology, neurology and infectious disease, were consulted.

"So many experts lent their eyes and ears, trying to understand how my father, who had been carving prime rib for us at Christmas just a week earlier, was now in the ICU fighting for his life," Ayshford says.

Ultimately, doctors determined that the IV immunotherapy, intended to treat his cancer, had triggered an immune system response that attacked his heart — a rare side effect.

That was our miracle day. Suddenly, the switch flipped.

-Jennifer Ayshford

"They said this happens 1% of the time due to IV immunotherapy, and the survival rate of that 1% is 50%," Ayshford says.

After undergoing multiple tests and treatments, the care team remained honest and forthcoming about the harsh reality of Wayne's grim prognosis.

"Recognizing the severity of the situation, they called in palliative care to guide us through this nightmare," Ayshford says.

Still, the family clung to hope for a miracle that would allow Wayne to leave the hospital and return home.

Then, on Jan. 12, that miracle came.

"When I walked in to see my dad, he was sitting up in a chair," Ayshford says.

One of the cardiologists came in and decided it was time for the sink-or-swim approach. They got him up in a chair and replaced some of the IV meds with oral meds to see how he did.

"That was our miracle day. Suddenly, the switch flipped," Ayshford says.

She recalls thinking this was the miracle she and her family had been praying for. For the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of hope.

In the days that followed, the family celebrated many small milestones. They also witnessed Wayne coming back to himself.

"My dad always drinks a Pepsi, and one day he told the doctor, 'I'll take a Pepsi and a beef stick now,'" Ayshford says, chuckling at the memory.

Wayne's care team continued tapering his medications, and he began physical therapy and occupational therapy to rebuild his strength. Eventually, he regained the ability to transfer from his bed to a chair and walk.

As he felt up to it, Wayne called friends, family and coworkers to check in. Everyone was astonished and delighted to hear from him.  

"They would say, 'It's so good to hear from you,' and he would reply, 'It's good to be heard,' a response that resonated deeply after our tumultuous journey," Ayshford says.

Overcoming the odds, returning home

Wayne was discharged from Mayo Clinic on Jan. 24, nearly a month after he was admitted. It was a day his family was not certain would come.

During his early days, weeks and months at home, Wayne was under close outpatient monitoring. Despite a few minor setbacks that necessitated brief hospital stays, his progress was steady. Because of his adverse reaction to IV immunotherapy, Wayne's oncology team has since adjusted his cancer treatment.

Today, he's doing well and has even managed to take a couple of trips — a 10-day vacation with his wife to Florida, followed by an annual family trip to Las Vegas, which was a true celebration of life and recovery this year.

The greatest blessing, though, has been the small moments spent with his loved ones in between those adventures.

"We're a close-knit family," Ayshford says. "We're enjoying all this bonus time with Dad. It's the little things, like going over there, hanging out and having dinner. We're making and enjoying the time and now, it's much more meaningful."

Thanking Wayne's care team and being Mayo proud

Ayshford wrote thank-you emails to many members of her dad's care team, thanking them for saving his life and giving her the gift of extra time with him.

"While our journey centered around ICU care, it was brightened by countless positive encounters — from phlebotomy and physical therapy to environmental and food services; the list is extensive," she says.

She wanted to let staff know how much they meant to her and provide an update on her dad's health. In her emails, she described her dad as a miracle.

Dr. Scheel's reply emphasized just how remarkable his recovery was.

The values of Mayo Clinic were evident throughout my dad's hospital stay and continued during his outpatient care.

-Jennifer Ayshford

"I have never heard of a case of someone was as sick as your dad was taking such a sharp turn for the better. I think 'miracle' is the perfect word for him, and he couldn't be luckier to have such a loving and supportive family," Dr. Scheel wrote. 

Ayshford, her mom and her sisters have impressive careers in healthcare. Langager works as a nurse in Waseca, and Courtney, Ayshford and Dahnert have a combined 91 years of service at Mayo Clinic. They declare themselves lucky to be part of such an extraordinary medical community.    

"Each day, we walk into work with the intention of aiding and caring for others in their medical needs. Yet, when the halls we know so well become the backdrop to your own story as a patient or a loved one, the meaning of 'home' takes on a different dimension," Ayshford says.

"The values of Mayo Clinic were evident throughout my dad's hospital stay and continued during his outpatient care. Sometimes, the narrowest paths are long, winding and treacherous, yet they can lead you back home to new journeys and to the creation of more cherished memories with his seven grandchildren. For that, we are eternally thankful."