Day Eleven

It's New Year's Day here and it's been a quiet one.  I can tell how much it helps mom when she takes it easy.  We did take a walk outside.  So cold but really refreshing!  Here are some pictures of the area.  And if they look like every other picture I've taken, it's because there are so many of these streets and alleyways.  There are shops on top of shops and even underground markets.  Seoul is busy.  Lots of hustle and bustle.  This is not some po-dunk town.  Progressive and yet, traditional.  Most people dress very well... not like us in sweatpants and Uggs all of the time.  Here you go...

Day Ten

And so it has been another long day. We arrived to the clinic an hour earlier than usual so mom can begin Avastin. First, they gave her an anti-nausea medicine, then hooked up an IV in each arm. They both were used for hydrating her which lasted an hour. Then, they left one in to continue hydrating and the other was changed to the Avastin. Nurse Moon says mom shouldn't lose too much hair, which is good because she only brought one hat. :-)

I am eternally grateful that the clinic was able to supply mom with Lyrica (and at the cost she would normally have to pay as a co-pay and without the $90 shipping cost). We still haven't heard anything about the medications stuck in customs.

After mom's chemo, we took a taxi with Mr. Won to the Korean National University Hospital for the PET-CT scan. Dr. Moon's office should have it on Monday, then we'll need to take it to Dr. Cho on Wednesday.
In the taxi on the way back to the hotel, the taxi driver's cell phone rang. The ringtone? John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads". It was awesome. I literally cannot watch any of the taxi drivers that we've had. They cut other cars off, run alongside sidewalks and practically take out the pedestrians. It's best just to close your eyes and hum something.

As it is New Year's Eve, the patients and their families had dinner together in the Phoenix Room in the Garden Terrace restaurant, which is in the lobby of the hotel.  The bunch of us:  Erica, Joe, Jackie, Tom, Bryan, Courtney w/ little Jackson, Dawn, Dave, Dos, Jeff, Debbie, mom and I.  We sat around the table talking about how everyone heard of this treatment and their stories of the cancers et al that they have been battling.  What a group of people.  Each one, inspiring.
 
Tomorrow is New Year's Day and our big plans are to stay in and relax.  It's still incredibly cold out there!  Be well, All...
 
 
 

Day Nine

Mom is waving the Kindle hubby and I got her for Christmas.  It has really come in handy for when one of your arms happens to be hooked up to an IV.  This particular kind is global so it can upload books almost anywhere in the world.






At the clinic, mom had blood drawn so that they can check her liver and kidney functions along with electrolytes and white and red blood cell counts.  She then received stem cell therapy and protein.  Dr. Moon then prescribed chemo (Avastin, Tykerb and then Cisplatin which will begin the same day as Cyberknife).  We later went to the Korean Cancer Clinic which is about an hour away (45,000 won one way).  We met with Dr. Cho who is head of the Radiation Oncology & Cyberknife Center.  Unfortunately, the PET scan mom had last week was not detailed enough for him to plan the radiation part of her treatment yet.  He did say, however, from the look of this scan that the cancer has not metastasized (SUCH GREAT NEWS).  Her liver, spleen and spine are clear.  He believes the pain she is having is from the tumors pressing on the pleura.  He said that her last radiation was a very good one and that they did a good job.  Unfortunately, with all of the radiation that has already been done, her right lung is nearly collapsed.  The good news, after Cyberknife, her pain will go away. 

We will be going into the clinic early tomorrow morning so mom can start the Avastin intravenously. Then it's back to Leaders Imaging Center in the afternoon for another PET scan.  We'll then revisit Dr. Cho on 1/6/10 to rediscuss radiation therapy. 

It's been such a long day.   Big hugs and kisses to my amazing family back home ...

Day Eight

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.

Day Seven

Well, it snowed here yesterday afternoon... 













And today it was sunny so everything is a big slushy mess out there.

Mom began the morning at the clinic with about a 10 minute drip of her own super-charged stem cells.  Afterwards, a 45 minute drip of protein.  Mr. Won says the protein helps the body... kind of like how you feel when you first wake up in the morning.  I got my second WBC stimulator shot today.

Dr. Moon only stuck his head in the room, while mom was getting the drip, for just a second. I had to ask him to please come back.  We asked about the scans and he said "wait... be right back".  About 45 minutes later, I knocked on his door (this time mom is in the waiting area) and asked if we should still wait.  He came out to mom and said that he is still waiting for more information and literally said "calm down".  We think it's just the only English phrase he knows for "chill out".  He said that he believes the cancer may have invaded that painful area in the rib cage and intercostal nerves but that he still needs to find out more (which may be tomorrow or the next day).  He is suggesting a "new" kind of treatment (not like regular chemo) to go along with a focused radiation of the area.  He says he is trying to "cure" her.  So... we will calm down... and see what each day brings. 

...   Popcorn still there today...