Higher Mountains to Climb

Dear Friends,

Once again, thank you all for your support. Without it, I would not be here in Seoul and getting such excellent care.

First, a message of caution to everyone: if you have a problem that persists, have it checked out. Don't delay. I thought I had an infected tonsil or perhaps gum disease. I owe it to our chef, Ernest, and his father, a frequent guest in our restaurant, that I didn’t procrastinate further. They saw my neck was swelling. And, in the small world that Ulaanbaatar is, they got me an appointment with one of Ulaanbaatar’s top head-and-neck cancer specialists in record time.

I knew nothing about my illness when I got the diagnosis in Ulaanbaatar. I knew it was serious because the doctor had asked me to bring a close relative to the consultation. I’m a quick learner, but HPV-positive squamous carcinoma and how to treat it has been a steep climb. The only hint the doctor gave me was that it would be better if I sought treatment outside of Mongolia.

That I am here getting cutting-edge immunotherapy with a good prognosis is thanks to all of you. The tumor is shrinking. I can speak with less difficulty. I’m down from a painkiller every four hours to one a day or less. My appetite has returned. I’m up and about. I even climbed “Wind Mountain,” a steep hill near the apartment where I am staying, a few minutes from Severance Hospital.

I still have higher mountains to climb. On July 14th, I will begin a six-week intensive immuno-chemotherapy and radiotherapy course of treatment — my doctor’s reward for being such a responsive patient! — but I am approaching the experience optimistically, and no less so because I know I have friends fighting the good fight with me.

I hope you all are enjoying the summer despite all the discord in the world. To put your responses to my small crisis into that context, I would like to think that they attest to the importance of community in getting us to better history. By this I mean, and here I echo Camus, solidarity, as you have all demonstrated — modest in its thoughts and actions, yet stubborn in its empathy — resists “a world of police, soldiers and money” in favor of the camaraderie of “men and women of fruitful work and thoughtful leisure.” Such is the good life.

What more can one ask for?

In gratitude,

Mike