Heaven Will Bless Everyone Who Cherishes Life | Patient Story

On the morning of the 17th, my second sister and I accompanied him to the hospital again. We queued at the endoscopy center for the colonoscopy. Little did we know, devastating news was about to strike our once peaceful and happy family.

The colonoscopy took about 20 minutes. The doctor opened the door and called for the family. My second sister and I went into the consultation room. The doctor pointed to an area on the screen and said, "This area doesn't look good. We took a biopsy. We'll wait for the pathology results to see what it is." My sister softly asked what it might be. The doctor told us to be mentally prepared, saying it was likely colorectal cancer. He then asked us to wait outside while he finished the examination.

My father, still under general anesthesia, knew nothing of this. Stepping out of the room, my tears fell. With a trembling voice, I called a friend who works in medicine. He told me not to panic, to wait for the report, and not to scare myself prematurely.

Half an hour later, a nurse wheeled the bed out and called us into the observation room to wake my father from anesthesia. She then asked me to pay for the biopsy fee and informed us that the colonoscopy report and pathology results would be ready for pickup within five working days. My second sister and I, with heavy hearts but forcing smiles, took my father home.

On the 18th, the three sisters gathered to figure out what to do, but felt helpless. We went to the highly revered Qinglong Ancient Temple in Chaozhou. For Chaoshan people, faith plays a crucial role in times like these. We drew a highly auspicious fortune stick at the temple, which promised that misfortune would turn into good fortune, bringing us slight peace of mind.

On the afternoon of the 19th, we received a call from the central hospital saying the results were out. I quickly checked the official WeChat account on my phone. The two words "adenocarcinoma" shattered my psychological defenses. That evening, the three sisters gathered again at my second sister's house for a meeting to decide where to seek treatment. We unanimously decided to go to Guangzhou.

My youngest sister's close friend, a nurse at the First Affiliated Hospital of Sun Yat-sen University, helped us book an appointment with a professor in gastrointestinal surgery and secured a hospital bed. She instructed us to borrow a set of glass slides from the central hospital the next day for a pathology consultation.

My second sister and I immediately bought high-speed rail tickets to Guangzhou to accompany my father for treatment. On the 20th, we got the report at the central hospital, paid the deposit, and borrowed the slides. Sitting in the stairwell, I tearfully called my aunt in Guangzhou. After crying together on the phone, we agreed to meet in Guangzhou.

Back home, I lied to my father, saying the report still hadn't come out, but that we felt Chaozhou's medical resources were limited and wanted to take him to Guangzhou. He asked, "Is it very serious?" We all lied, saying it wasn't serious and that going to Guangzhou was just for peace of mind. Over the next few days, each of us harboring our own thoughts, we boarded the high-speed train to Guangzhou.

The professor of gastrointestinal surgery recommended against preserving the anus, suggesting direct surgery followed by postoperative chemotherapy. We told my father that he had a relatively large tumor that needed surgical removal, which affected the anus, meaning he would need to wear an ostomy bag afterward. Since our paternal aunt had developed a bowel obstruction in the late stages of her illness and had an ostomy, my father knew what "wearing a bag" meant, and he was somewhat resistant.

From childhood to adulthood, my father has always been a very gentle-tempered man. Even with such a major issue, his resistance was gentle. We didn't dare to force him into surgery and asked our aunt to come and persuade him. She was very articulate and somewhat convinced him. However, my youngest sister remained unwilling, feeling that once it's cut out, it's gone forever, and we shouldn't act too impulsively.

Seeing our desire to preserve the anus, the surgeon mentioned the possibility of neoadjuvant therapy, noting a 30% chance that radiotherapy and chemotherapy could completely eliminate the tumor, avoiding surgery altogether. The doctor gave us one night to consider and asked for our answer during morning rounds the next day. The three of us discussed it all night but couldn't make a decision, as we had absolutely no concept of neoadjuvant therapy.

The next day, when the intern doctor came to ask again, my second sister asked if chemoradiotherapy would be very painful. The intern said it wouldn't be painful, just IV drips and using a machine to irradiate the buttocks. We immediately decided against surgery and chose to fight for that 30% hope.

Once the decision was made, we actually felt relieved. We began preparing for the first chemotherapy in the surgery department, and then, as instructed by the doctor, went to the radiotherapy department to see Dr. Niu Shaoqing to schedule positioning. Dr. Niu was exceptionally kind, gently and patiently explaining the procedures and workflow to me, and guiding me to the medical insurance window to apply for special outpatient coverage.

After the first chemotherapy in the gastrointestinal surgery department that day, we went for radiotherapy positioning. We were informed that the next chemotherapy and radiotherapy would be combined in 21 days. After finishing the IV drip, oral capecitabine was prescribed. We completed the discharge procedures and decided to stay at our aunt's house in Zengcheng for two days for observation before returning to Chaozhou. (At the time, we didn't understand. Later, after joining the Panda Group, we learned the regimen was Oxaliplatin + Capecitabine, a three-week cycle, plus 25 sessions of long-course radiotherapy.)

During the first chemotherapy, my father had no adverse reactions, ate and drank normally, which put us slightly at ease. After two days in Zengcheng, we returned to Chaozhou. My parents probably guessed something, but since we never mentioned it, they also forced themselves to stay calm. Twenty-one days later, we went to Guangzhou again, with my second sister and I accompanying him. We all put aside our own small families, ready for a prolonged battle.

After the second chemotherapy, my father became sensitive to cooking smells and vomited two or three times. Concurrent long-course radiotherapy also began. Fortunately, he experienced almost no discomfort from it.

We went to the hospital every Monday to Friday afternoon for one-hour radiotherapy sessions, so we rented a small single room near the hospital's side gate, where the three of us lived in close quarters.

Fearing we wouldn't eat well there, my cousin's wife back home kept sending us supplies: beef balls, beef offal soup, and rice noodles. When my father's blood tests showed low white blood cell counts, she sent 30 pre-soaked sea cucumbers and a large jar of wild morel mushrooms to Guangzhou. Every afternoon, I would stew one sea cucumber with pork ribs to supplement his protein intake.

Alongside radiotherapy, we had weekly blood tests. His white blood cell count remained consistently low, while neutrophils and platelets were okay. Before the third chemotherapy, his white blood cells dropped below 3, so he received a leukocyte-boosting injection. Starting from the second session, chemotherapy was administered in the radiotherapy department. He stayed overnight in the hospital and was discharged the day after the infusion.

Right after moving in, I chatted with an uncle from Huadu in the ward. He was also hospitalized for chemotherapy, having lung cancer and already completed three sessions. I immediately asked if he experienced vomiting. He promptly shared his antiemetic secret: Akynzeo, which had just been added to the medical insurance list. He brought this medication for every chemotherapy session, taking it before the infusion, and had never vomited.

I took the medicine box from him and went to Dr. Niu's office. Dr. Niu confirmed that Akynzeo is excellent, a dual-action antiemetic, but noted the hospital didn't stock it. He suggested buying it at the pharmacy near the hospital gate. I immediately ordered a box via delivery. Since taking Akynzeo, starting from the third chemotherapy, my father hasn't vomited once. He completed a total of 8 chemotherapy sessions, taking it every time, and never vomited again.

The long-course radiotherapy of 25 sessions took 35 days and concluded on April 13, 2023. We brought the genetic test results to see Dr. SXM again. Unexpectedly, he wasn't even willing to humor us, showing a rather poor attitude. He simply stated, "Radiotherapy is done. Come back for surgery in 8 weeks. The anus cannot be preserved." This dealt us a heavy blow. My father didn't want to stay in Guangzhou for another day. We finished radiotherapy on the afternoon of the 13th and returned to Chaozhou that very night.

Returning to Chaozhou marked the beginning of my father's suffering. Side effects from radiotherapy emerged: radiation enteritis, diarrhea, and anal tenesmus/pain. After daily bowel movements, he was restless, unable to sit or lie comfortably. He has always had a high pain tolerance, but the pain from anal ulceration forced him to rely on ibuprofen daily for relief.

Every day, I searched online for solutions. Eventually, I found the Panda Group on Xiaohongshu. The group consists of patients and families sharing similar struggles. They offered many suggestions: wet compresses with Kangfuxin liquid, applying Mayinglong ointment, and cleaning after every bowel movement.

After 10 agonizing days, we went back to Guangzhou for the fourth dual-drug chemotherapy. My father's extraordinary resilience shone through. After enduring the pain with daily ibuprofen, he would still go out to buy groceries, cook for the whole family, and do laundry. He didn't look like a cancer patient at all.

During the fifth chemotherapy, an MRI follow-up 4 weeks after radiotherapy ended showed significant tumor shrinkage, with excellent results. Hearing Dr. Niu share the follow-up results, the heavy stone in my heart finally lifted. The suffering of that past month was not in vain. My father's confidence greatly increased, and our whole family was filled with hope for a Clinical Complete Response (CCR).

The MRI after the sixth chemotherapy showed continued tumor regression. This time, the colonoscopy revealed only a scar. A biopsy showed only inflammation, with no cancer cells remaining. The doctor at the First Affiliated Hospital said surgery could be avoided in favor of observation.

Still uneasy, we took my father to the Sixth Affiliated Hospital of Sun Yat-sen University to see President Kang Liang, hoping for another expert opinion. President Kang was very kind, carefully reviewed all the MRI and colonoscopy reports I brought, and performed a digital rectal exam himself. He confirmed that only a scar remained. If his physical condition allowed, he suggested two more chemotherapy sessions to complete the full TNT (Total Neoadjuvant Therapy) regimen.

Upon hearing that surgery could be avoided, my father was very willing to undergo two more dual-drug chemotherapy sessions for safety. We returned to the radiotherapy department at the First Affiliated Hospital, completed two more sessions, and in late July 2023, decided on WW (Watch & Wait).

Our family went to Qinglong Ancient Temple to fulfill our vow, thanking Chaozhou's "Great Lord" for giving us a shot of courage when the three sisters were initially at a loss.

A year has passed now. The fourth follow-up after WW in late June showed that everything is fine, with complete tumor regression. My father buys groceries, cooks, does laundry, mops the floor, picks up my second sister's kids from school, and takes care of three grandchildren. Everything is just like a normal person. We will always accompany him, persist with regular check-ups, and cherish every day of life.

Director Xiao Han was right: the path of fighting cancer is hard, but it shouldn't be walked alone. Heaven will bless everyone who cherishes life. Chaozhou's "Great Lord" will also protect everyone troubled by illness.

Finally, I attach the fortune stick text drawn at Qinglong Ancient Temple, wishing all patients that, just as the stick says, misfortune will turn into good fortune!