CHAPTER 111

2025-12-05

Facing illness requires a light heart but steady action. I once heard that Churchill said something similar, and it has stayed with me.

From my first liver cancer surgery in late September 2005 to the transplant seven years and three months later, the cancer returned several times. In total, I received one round of ablation and seven rounds of chemotherapy. The intervals between treatments grew shorter each time. My wife and I learned not to think too far ahead; we did not want to slip into an emotional pit. Our mindset was simply to walk step by step, something learned through years of life’s ups and downs.

Twenty-six years of caring for Lun had strengthened our patience, and life had trained our resilience. Frequent trips in and out of hospitals—regular scans, different forms of radiation, repeated surgeries—became familiar. I no longer wondered whether these procedures might cause other problems.

The risk of liver cancer is five hundred times higher for people with cirrhosis. After the transplant, I was told that lifelong anti-rejection medication increases the chance of skin cancer sixty-fold. I did not feel shocked. What I could do was practical: cover my skin in sunlight and apply sunscreen even if it felt sticky and uncomfortable. Such small inconveniences were nothing. More important was ensuring that the future me would not blame the present me for failing to protect myself.

Radiotherapy was a day procedure. A needle was inserted from my back into the tumor, and microwaves were used to destroy the cancer cells. Chemotherapy involved inserting a catheter through the groin at my right thigh, guiding it to the hepatic artery, releasing tiny beads into the tumor area—blocking the blood supply first, then applying medicine to “soak” the cancer cells to death.

After the first liver cancer surgery, I took six weeks of medical leave. When I began driving again, the vibration of the car caused pain in the wound. A simple solution helped: placing a cushion between the seatbelt and the wound. It eased the discomfort immediately.

My wife and I had a quiet understanding: after each treatment, I would take one week of medical leave to rest properly. Returning to work afterwards helped me regain a regular rhythm and allowed my mind and body to recover more quickly.

Most of the seven chemotherapy sessions were arranged by doctors at the BC Cancer Agency. I stayed in the inpatient unit one to three nights each time. During the sixth round, a young man—plainly dressed, with faint sweat marks on his shirt—kept coming in and out of my room. I assumed he was a staff helper. When he frequently asked about my condition, I thought he might be a trainee doctor. Only when he told me I could be discharged did I realize he was the attending physician. I had judged him by appearance and failed to recognize the “great man” standing before me.

As usual, I asked him for a one-week medical leave note. He looked puzzled and asked, “Why do you need medical leave?”

I said, “After every treatment, I take a week.”

In the end, the “great man” wrote the note.

I remember thinking, not without a sigh, “This doctor treats liver patients every day, but he has never personally gone through liver disease treatment himself. No wonder he believes I should return to work the very next day.” Hmn…