The Unwinding of the Miracle - Julie Yip-Williams Page 0,63

I felt his pride in me, not unlike a father’s pride in his daughter. Implied in the hugs and the smiles from my doctors was a genuine delight in the victory we had won together, a self-satisfaction on their part with their technical skills and their compassionate humanity; a happiness, tinged with wonder, and a humble and grateful pride on my part—in the resilience of my body, a resilience that had by then allowed it to withstand the collateral damage of twenty-five rounds of chemotherapy and two surgeries. While I have often thought of how horrible and depressing it must be to be an oncologist, surgical or otherwise, I saw in my doctors’ joy then how certain victories make it all worth it. With Stage IV disease, you take your victories where you can.

Dr. D.L. told me that what surprised him most about my surgery was not that my cytology had been negative but rather the remarkable absence of scar tissue, which had allowed him to see everything so clearly. Another person receiving the same HIPEC surgery (given the same history of a perforation at the time of the initial colon resection) would have likely developed significant amounts of scar tissue that would have made exploration difficult, forcing Dr. D.L. to maneuver the laparoscope every which way to see.

Scar tissue, also known as adhesions, is the frequent cause of bowel obstructions. Because the tissue can be as hard as cement, it also makes future surgeries, particularly laparoscopic ones, much more difficult. I had always understood that scar tissue starts to form the moment one’s insides are exposed to air. Dr. D.L. said this is generally true. So why, I asked, had I not developed scar tissue? He said, maybe the postsurgical chemotherapy had inhibited the formation of scar tissue. But to tell the truth, he just didn’t know. I think if he and I could unlock the mystery of why I escaped this common occurrence, we would both be quite famous and wealthy.

As I look at my paunchy stomach littered with ugly scars and deformed forever, a stomach that aggravates me to no end as it makes it so difficult for me to fit into my old clothes, I have to give it an affectionate pat—yes, I am proud of my body, this body that for some unknown reason resisted internal scarring, this body that despite everything it has been through remains fit and capable of keeping up (for the most part) with the twenty-something-year-old girls in their stylish tank tops and hip-hugging yoga pants at my gym. I am proud of my mind and spirit. I am proud of what I have achieved. I am grateful to have the doctors I have. I am grateful to have Josh, my girls, and the incredible support that surrounds me.

And yet, I understand that this is but a brief respite, an opportunity to regroup and strategize. I don’t truly believe, notwithstanding the cytology results, that I am disease-free. Metastatic disease does not give up so easily, and I feel that there are inactive microscopic cancer cells inside of me.

Paradoxically, now that I am as clean as medical science can determine, returning to chemotherapy doesn’t seem a viable option, as traditional chemotherapy attacks only active cancer, i.e., cancer that is multiplying. I am concerned with inactive cancer at this point, or cancer cells that are still in their infancy.

So, I set out to find new options for myself. I went to see Dr. Raymond Chang, a famous internist who specializes in nonconventional treatments. He is an MD, not a PhD or naturopath or other person claiming the title of medical doctor without legitimacy. I have met a couple of cancer patients who speak glowingly of him. Plus, my oncologist knows and likes him and even recommends him to his patients who are interested in integrative or alternative treatments. I read his book Beyond the Magic Bullet, which I thought was legitimate enough. In particular, I liked his strong emphasis on relying on human studies, as opposed to in vitro or animal studies. Based on all of the above, I was willing to go see him and pay the $875 an hour (which is not covered by insurance)—I try not to think of the money! (Incidentally, I’ve long since stopped taking the Chinese herbs from the Chinese medicine man because I didn’t discern any noticeable effect, and I realized that I had become one of those people who was desperately grasping at straws