Celebrating 80: Hope, Healing, and Gomoku
A quiet 80th birthday celebration at the kitchen table.
Dear Friends,
I haven't written for a while for two reasons. The first is that for four idyllic days, I was again the guest of Kevin Gallagher and his wife, Myung Hee, at their farmhouse in the quiet farming village of Hongdong. I did little but eat and sleep. The second reason is that as soon as I got back to Seoul, treatment began again and promptly knocked me on my backside.
Not that I am complaining. Yanzi and Mao Mao are now here—which means I have two nurses: one a cook, and the other a fierce competitor in a daily tournament of gomoku. More importantly, the treatment is working.
I want to stress that point: the treatment is working. The tumor is shrinking. I am off painkillers. There’s still a long road ahead, but the prognosis is good.
Even more, I want to stress another point: all of this is possible because of all of you. The treatment I am getting here at Yonsei University's Severance Hospital I could not get in Mongolia. Nor could I afford it here in Korea if I had to pay for it myself.
A relatively new addition to my treatment is an immunotherapy drug called Pembrolizumab. Unlike chemotherapy—which targets cancer cells but also weakens healthy ones—this drug works differently. It doesn’t attack the cancer directly; instead, it helps my body’s immune system recognize and fight the disease on its own. The word to remember is immunotherapy.
Evidence is mounting that immunotherapy can mean the difference between life and death for many cancer patients. I may indeed be one of them. Here's an article on immunotherapy:
Two months ago, I hadn't heard the word immunotherapy. I am no expert now, but I do know from personal experience that immunotherapy can make a big difference to a cancer patient's chances.
Thanks to you, my odds are good. That’s no small thing. But it sits well with me only if I can help spread awareness of what immunotherapy offers—and, in time, work to bring it into Mongolia’s cancer care protocols. When I return to Ulaanbaatar, these will be priorities. If any of you are interested in helping, let me know.
As I write this, today is my 80th birthday. I am celebrating with Yanzi and Mao Mao at the kitchen table in the small apartment we've rented, a ten-minute walk from Severance Hospital. I am also celebrating with all of you. I couldn't be happier. Shortly, I will take that walk to the hospital for a late evening CT scan and MRI. Just another day at the office for a very lucky guy.
Thank you!
Mike