The Unwinding of the Miracle - Julie Yip-Williams Page 0,30

to wonder myself whether this guy was legit. I stood waiting with my little entourage and giggled with my sister over the ludicrousness of the situation—here I am standing on a street corner with cancer cells floating around in my body, waiting for an alleged doctor to give me mysterious herbs. I felt like I should be wearing dark glasses and a trench coat. My parents didn’t seem to find the situation very amusing. I told them to lighten up.

As I waited, I remembered some of the bizarre adventures I’d had in China. The Chinese (as do people in most other parts of the world) have an unorthodox and frequently sketchy way of doing things, especially when viewed from the perspective of Westerners, for whom order and the rule of law are dominant forces. On multiple occasions, I nodded to a man muttering “CD? DVD?” on the streets near the famed Silk Alley in Beijing, where fake and nonfake American- and European-branded clothes, shoes, and accessories could be had for serious bargain prices. I’d then followed the man to an abandoned building where I handed over very little money in exchange for a lot of pirated CDs and DVDs. Back in the mid-1990s, it seemed like any transaction that promised little money for great reward involved some man or woman leading you from a public place to an abandoned back office or stairwell where hotel rooms could be booked, tickets purchased, and currencies exchanged; it always reeked of illicitness. And I loved it all! The risk taking, the unknown, and the strangeness got my heart pumping and my blood flowing with excitement, amusement, and a real joy for life.

I suppose waiting for Dr. G.W. wasn’t all that different. Why couldn’t a miracle cure be found on the street in front of the Rite Aid? I was curious, entertained, and excited—and somewhat wary. When my father saw a lone diminutive man in a floral shirt carrying a black satchel ambling down Forty-seventh Street, he said in a tone dripping with sarcasm, “That must be him. Really looks like a Harvard-trained doctor.” Indeed, it was Dr. G.W. “Who are all these people?” Dr. G.W. asked me suspiciously after we confirmed one another’s identity. He accepted without comment my response and allowed my entourage to trail behind us as we walked.

We walked back down Broadway to a little café. I ordered sandwiches for myself and my parents, thereby giving us the right to use the café for a medical consultation. We climbed up to the second floor, which was empty of people. I sat with Dr. G.W. at one table, and my parents and sister sat one table over, openly eavesdropping on our conversation, which lasted well over an hour.

Despite the oddity of it all, I like Dr. G.W. I do think he’s legit. He said that he could have met me in his office at a prominent hospital in Manhattan, but that would have required my information to be logged in to a computer system and would have severely limited him in the advice he could give me. According to Dr. G.W., the medical establishment distrusts traditional Chinese medicine. While there are those who support it (like people at his hospital), that support is kept quiet, for fear of liability. Because there are thousands of herbs and infinite herb combinations, and because little money is invested in testing the use of those herbs in treating cancer and other diseases, doctors and hospitals are paralyzed when it comes to traditional Chinese medicine. Dr. G.W. pointed to the all-powerful and richly endowed Sloan Kettering as the worst of all in their conservative views.

After reviewing my most recent blood test results, feeling my pulse, looking at my tongue, and just generally observing me, Dr. G.W. felt that the classification of my cancer as Stage IV was a mere “technicality,” and that I am strong and exhibiting minimal side effects from the chemo. He certainly had a hopeful and very reassuring manner, which I really appreciated and needed desperately that day. The objective while I am in treatment is to minimize the chemo side effects, detox my body, and boost my immune system (i.e., maintain my blood and platelet counts at normal levels to obviate the need for painful shots). Once I’m out of treatment (if we get there), the focus will shift to preventing recurrence.

I’d half expected him to pull out a bunch of herbs from his black satchel like Mary Poppins