This morning, as I walked into my clinic, I was greeted by a family of three sitting on the sofa. I immediately recognized one of them—he’s my patient, someone I’ve been treating for stage four metastatic colon cancer with Chinese Medicine and acupuncture. Sitting on his lap was a little boy—I knew right away that must be his son. Beside him was a woman with kind eyes; I could tell she was his wife. I smiled, greeted them, and stepped into my office to prepare for another busy day.
My assistant led the family into one of the treatment rooms. A few minutes later, I opened the door and stepped in.
He was already seated on the treatment table, his shoulders slightly hunched. His frame was fragile—almost all bone, as if his body had been quietly hollowed out by the illness. The weakness in his posture said more than words ever could.
He looked at me and said softly, “The chemo makes me so tired… I can’t even get out of bed. I’m constipated, and I have no appetite. I’ve decided to stop the chemo.”
It wasn’t just a statement—it was a question, an unspoken plea for approval.
I looked at him.
The little boy sitting on his lap smiled at me with wide, innocent eyes—he’s two and a half now. When I first began treating his father, he was just eight months old.
His wife sat quietly beside them, her gaze steady, searching my face for an answer.
In that moment, I felt the weight settle on my shoulders—the weight of hope, responsibility, and love. I paused, letting it all sink in.
Then I said, gently but clearly, “I agree.”
“Let’s focus on the basics—this meal, this nap, this day. Every day is a win.”