This is the front of Mario Tower, the building where Goodgene is located. It is up on the 11th floor.
Today is Tuesday, so Mom got her protein drip (however, this one took two hours). Then, she received her "gene vaccine" (gene drug specifically for lung cancer) and then an additional "CK" shot, which means "Cytokine" (gene complex which simulates anticancer immunity). Those shots are, as mom says, butt shots and they hurt like the dickens. She was finished today by noon. Because a patient was already having his blood harvested, I needed to wait until 1:30pm to have mine done. For lunch, mom and I went down to a Chinese restaurant in the lobby. It was very unusual... Chinese food, Korean style. They spoke no English so somehow, through drawing pictures in the air and my limited amount of Korean, we were able to get a fork for mom.
My blood harvesting took 2 hours and 15 minutes. They said my blood was "slow" and the centrifuge kept clicking off. After awhile of vein checks and trying to warm my very cold hand, they said that my blood was freezing and added "anti-freeze". Yes, I freaked out a little when they said they added "anti-freeze" but alas, it was only an anti-coagulant.
Dr. Moon did stick his head into mom's room and mentioned that after the clinic visit tomorrow, she will need to see Dr. Cho at the Korean Cancer Center. He wants to use a low toxicity chemo and is hoping the drug will come tomorrow. I suppose we'll find out more once we speak to Dr. Cho.
Otherwise, mom has been eating well (peaches, apples, oranges, bananas, salad) and keeping strong. The rib pain, however, is growing more pronounced and mom's medications are still in customs. Mom had to get presciptions for them emailed to her this morning, then she forwarded them to FedEx along with her passport number and explanations for the medications. This is a word to the wise... if you have to ship any meds from the US, include the prescriptions, passport # and explanations. Another patient had his vitamins confiscated and told that sending them here was illegal. So, we have our fingers crossed.
I do wish I could give more treatment information but we simply don't know any more information. They hook her up, you try to ask questions and they try to explain but it's just a little and it's on the other side of a language barrier. At this point it goes like this: Monday, Wednesday and Friday is stem cells and protein. Tuesdays and Thursdays is gene and/or CK shot(s) and protein. Saturdays are unknown as Dr. Moon will call out whatever he deems necessary for the patient on that day. And that's it, folks.
It's hard for someone like mom (and me) to not know exactly what's going on. Mom needs to know the "who", "what", "why" and "where". But, that's not what you get. Heck, we just show up at the shuttle every morning, go to the clinic and hope for the best.
The people that come here bring with them a lot of hope. But those who come, come when they have been given very little hope at home. Is this a cure, though? Is there such thing as a cure for Parkinsons and cancer with Dr. Moon? Before you come, do your homework. Research. Be wise, be smart and yes, have faith. Don't just read blogs (including mine) and think you know all there is to know. That's not smart. You need to know that not everyone who has come here has survived, let alone been cured. You will need to understand that you will be given a percentage of "cure" that Dr. Moon will give you when you meet him.
Mom is here because this is her only option right now. She cannot keep going without any kind of cancer-fighting treatment. If this works, I will shout it from every rooftop. If this works, she will be his biggest advocate. In the meantime, I will hold her hand and pray that this will, at the very least, help her.
Sure, I have faith. I happen to have to have a lot of it. I just prefer it not to be blind. As for hope... there are rivers of it here.
This is a proverb that is quite appropriate:
As long as we have hope, we have direction, the energy to move, and the map to move by. We have a hundred alternatives, a thousand paths and an infinity of dreams. Hopeful, we are halfway to where we want to go; hopeless, we are lost forever.
