One Way Or Another . . .
Got an email from a Master Gardener friend. Her husband has kidney cancer. They received notice from the NIH that he is a potential candidate for a trial study. To qualify, he has to go through a bunch of medical tests. She is super nervous about whether the trip to NIH might expose her and, even more so, her husband to the deadly virus.
"Actually his cancer was diagnosed in 2004, but he managed to be cancer-free for ten years till 2014. It has since metastasize. His immunity is not good. That is why I am so worried. To be frank, right now, I am not even sure if I should be more afraid of the cancer or the corona virus . . . "
Our beloved friend, Marc, left us seven years ago. He had been working overseas, but then, out of the blue, he returned with his family. He was coming back for medical treatment.
While overseas, he fainted due to a blood clot in his leg. "People don't develop blood clots for no reasons. This is not normal!" Marc was the type who has to get to the bottom of everything. To make a long story short, his doctors found out he had a form of lung cancer. They assured him that they would do everything to cure him of it.
Being a sensible guy with good intuition, Marc was more concerned about the blood clot. "Can you do something to make sure I don't develop more blood clots, please? I fear that a random, free-floating blood clot may kill me before the cancer does!" I remember him recounting the conversations with his doctors in a sarcastic way with his signature big smile. Still, his doctors insisted that the cancer should be the focus of his treatment because that was why he developed blood clots.
Sure enough, one morning, Marc collapsed while reading in bed. A blood clot lodged into his heart. By the time the medics came, it was too late. As Marc had feared, the blood clot, indeed, killed him way before the cancer could.
Over a year ago, while we were in New Orleans for an Aikido seminar, I received a shocking selfie from Conway, my brother in Aikido. He had emaciated almost beyond recognition. With the photo, he sent along a comforting text: "Do not worry. I have been diagnosed with cancer. I am now going through chemotherapy at the hospital." You bet I was so comforted by his message that I was not worried at all . . .
Conway was found to be a candidate for target therapy. The chance of being a good match for the drug was so slim that we cheered as if we won a lottery together. The medications were severely strong, plus they take the patients on an emotional rollercoaster during the course of treatment. Conway had to live a strangely regimented lifestyle so that when the medication took effect, he would be asleep, or he could be very wiped out physically and emotionally. The good thing was that a stubborn guy like him had a strong spirt as well. He stuck to the regime and the numbers started looking up.
Things seem quite encouraging for a while. As the cancer index continued to fall, unfortunately, so did the numbers for his vitals. The chemicals had proven to be too strong for his body to handle. Conway's liver and spleen were beginning to fall apart. "Should I let the cancer kill me, or should I let the chemo do it?" He used to joke.
Given the cancer index had fallen from a three-digit number to a single digit, It seemed like the cancer was under control. Conway was so happy. He decided to take his chances and try some gentler natural treatment that would not destroy his body. I had heard of some of the treatments he talked about, but some ideas just made me cringe. I asked questions; I sent him information I could find about the products he was using. When a man was so confident about the treatments and was so committed to them, there was not much I could do. It was his life.
Conway remained in remission for a number of months before a major relapse prompted him to drop the alternative treatments. By the time he brought himself in front of western doctors in the hospital again, the cancer already had metastasized. It was too late.
I used to get a "How are you? 🙃" text from Conway every morning. After he was admitted to the hospital, because he was in a public ward, he had to refrain from playing with his phone into the night. The frequency of texts from him waned. And then, one day, it stopped altogether. It was early this month.
Everybody likes to have choices. However, sometimes when you are presented with those choices, you realize that the "choices" are not really choices.
"Actually his cancer was diagnosed in 2004, but he managed to be cancer-free for ten years till 2014. It has since metastasize. His immunity is not good. That is why I am so worried. To be frank, right now, I am not even sure if I should be more afraid of the cancer or the corona virus . . . "
Our beloved friend, Marc, left us seven years ago. He had been working overseas, but then, out of the blue, he returned with his family. He was coming back for medical treatment.
While overseas, he fainted due to a blood clot in his leg. "People don't develop blood clots for no reasons. This is not normal!" Marc was the type who has to get to the bottom of everything. To make a long story short, his doctors found out he had a form of lung cancer. They assured him that they would do everything to cure him of it.
Being a sensible guy with good intuition, Marc was more concerned about the blood clot. "Can you do something to make sure I don't develop more blood clots, please? I fear that a random, free-floating blood clot may kill me before the cancer does!" I remember him recounting the conversations with his doctors in a sarcastic way with his signature big smile. Still, his doctors insisted that the cancer should be the focus of his treatment because that was why he developed blood clots.
Sure enough, one morning, Marc collapsed while reading in bed. A blood clot lodged into his heart. By the time the medics came, it was too late. As Marc had feared, the blood clot, indeed, killed him way before the cancer could.
Over a year ago, while we were in New Orleans for an Aikido seminar, I received a shocking selfie from Conway, my brother in Aikido. He had emaciated almost beyond recognition. With the photo, he sent along a comforting text: "Do not worry. I have been diagnosed with cancer. I am now going through chemotherapy at the hospital." You bet I was so comforted by his message that I was not worried at all . . .
Conway was found to be a candidate for target therapy. The chance of being a good match for the drug was so slim that we cheered as if we won a lottery together. The medications were severely strong, plus they take the patients on an emotional rollercoaster during the course of treatment. Conway had to live a strangely regimented lifestyle so that when the medication took effect, he would be asleep, or he could be very wiped out physically and emotionally. The good thing was that a stubborn guy like him had a strong spirt as well. He stuck to the regime and the numbers started looking up.
Things seem quite encouraging for a while. As the cancer index continued to fall, unfortunately, so did the numbers for his vitals. The chemicals had proven to be too strong for his body to handle. Conway's liver and spleen were beginning to fall apart. "Should I let the cancer kill me, or should I let the chemo do it?" He used to joke.
Given the cancer index had fallen from a three-digit number to a single digit, It seemed like the cancer was under control. Conway was so happy. He decided to take his chances and try some gentler natural treatment that would not destroy his body. I had heard of some of the treatments he talked about, but some ideas just made me cringe. I asked questions; I sent him information I could find about the products he was using. When a man was so confident about the treatments and was so committed to them, there was not much I could do. It was his life.
Conway remained in remission for a number of months before a major relapse prompted him to drop the alternative treatments. By the time he brought himself in front of western doctors in the hospital again, the cancer already had metastasized. It was too late.
I used to get a "How are you? 🙃" text from Conway every morning. After he was admitted to the hospital, because he was in a public ward, he had to refrain from playing with his phone into the night. The frequency of texts from him waned. And then, one day, it stopped altogether. It was early this month.
Everybody likes to have choices. However, sometimes when you are presented with those choices, you realize that the "choices" are not really choices.
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