#coriolus

Gradually I think I am becoming resigned to the idea of starting chemotherapy. However, my fear has not diminished, and neither has my concern regarding other potential damage the treatment might do.

In the consultation, I find this thought weighing heavily in my mind.

“Will there be innocents bystanders?” I ask Dr K. “…will bits of me be destroyed forever?”

Dr K reassures me that my whole immune system will rebuild itself within six months. However, while I am having treatment, he warns me, if I should feel as if I am getting a cold or just unwell, I must come straight to the hospital to be checked out.

“And don’t think…” he says, looking at me and shaking his head, “…that you’ll leave it until the next day to see how it goes.” (I look at him and smile, feeling somehow caught out by his accuracy in predicting my thoughts.)

“Because…” he continues, “…if it turns out to be flu, you could end up in intensive care.”  

This all sounds a bit alarming to me, especially given the fact that I work with children.  

We begin to discuss drugs. Apparently, the treatment I will have will consist of three drugs, cyclophosphamide, vincristine and a steroid called prednisolone (it’s a standard treatment known as CVP.) I will have eight cycles and each cycle will last for twenty-one days. Apart from the CVP, I may, if I’m lucky, also receive the rituximab as well.

“Will I know if I’m getting the rituximab?” I ask Juliet.

“Yes,” she says, “it’s another procedure.”

Dr K. gives me a patient information sheet about the study and tells me to take it away and have a look at it.

The consultation appears to be going very well, until that is, I raise the subject of my Chinese herbs.   

“No,” says Dr K. emphatically, shaking his head. “We know the toxicity of the chemotherapy, but we would have no way of measuring the toxicity of the herbs”

I’m stunned, (no actually, I’m more than stunned) I’m horrified. My heart sinks. I can feel my face crumbling as he speaks. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, panic setting in as my breathing becoming shallower and shallower. I glance at Chris, she has seen the difference in me since I have been on the herbs, and she knows how much of a blow this will be to me.  

“But…” I try to explain, on the verge of tears, “…the herbs will help me cope with the side effects.”  

“No,” Dr K. is quite adamant.

Inside alarm bells start ringing and suddenly I am aware that I feel quite scared. Up until now, this doctor has gained nothing but gold stars for his way of being and from my experiencing of him up until this point, I have found him to be far from disempowering. But in this moment, suddenly some part of me is feeling very wary. Deep down, suspicious that I am being lulled into some sort of false sense of security, only to discover later that I am tricked and without power (”be a good girl”). It feels like some part of me is backing away.

Is this hospital policy I wonder? It feels like some bloody-minded attempt to have complete control. I find myself wishing I could tell where Dr K. is really, in all of this. Does he have any idea what he is asking me to do as he sits in his chair? Because in reality, he is pulling away my security blanket, the ‘Hospital – John’ plan, that has given me so much hope as a way of coping with the treatment.  

“So…” I say eventually, “…let me get this right, you’re telling me that I cannot continue with my herbs if I have chemotherapy?”

Dr K. looks me in the eyes. “You cannot have chemotherapy unless you stop the herbs.”

Part of me is furious. I need to have this damn treatment; I don’t really have a choice. I feel like I am being held over a barrel and everything now is hinging on whether or not I feel I can trust this doctor. (Strangely, it is Redshoes who makes the final decision. She has decided that she likes Dr K. and that he’s safe.)

“Don’t be horrible to him,” she says “He’s just trying to do his job. It probably is just hospital policy.”

I heave a huge sigh. “What about acupuncture then?” I ask.

“That’s fine.” He nods. (This comes as a relief as it means John is still in the frame.)

“Ok…” I say reluctantly, “…I will not take the herbs while I’m having the chemo.”

The discussion continues and we come on to the topic of hair.

“Will I definitely lose it?” I ask. “It’s already thin, I’ve got female pattern balding.”

Dr K. looks at my hair, pulls a face and sighs. “I think you will.”

Juliet, I think sensing my distress, cuts in quick. “Don’t worry…” she says reassuringly, “…we can arrange for you to get fitted for a wig.”  

All this talk of hair suddenly makes me think of Andrew and I feel myself beginning to drift away, empty and cold inside.

As the consultation winds its way to a close, we are left with one more major thing to do.   

“So…” says Dr K. “…we’ll book you in to begin chemo next Thursday.”

That’s it, it’s concrete. My ‘watchful waiting’ is over, I’ve gone symptomatic and now I have a date to start. But before I do, Dr K. informs me that I need another bone marrow biopsy. Another procedure, suddenly I begin to feel weary. I ask if I can be ‘put out’ for it. He assures me that he will make sure that I am.

We all leave the consultation room together. Dr K. heads towards an office to book the biopsy, he suggests we take a seat in the waiting area. (In my head I wonder how long this will take and if I’ve got enough time to nip outside for a quick cigarette.)

“Have I got enough time to get a coffee?” I ask him, smiling.

He looks at me for a moment and then smiles. “Yes…” he laughs playfully, patting me on the shoulder, “…and why don’t you have a fag while you’re at it.”  

I look at him and find myself grinning, that he has so obviously ‘got my ticket.’   

Meanwhile, Redshoes, thinks it’s hilarious and awards him another gold star, this time for being non-judgemental.

Having had my fag break, I return to find Juliet waiting for me. The biopsy has apparently been booked for Wednesday and I am to pop in and see her beforehand for a blood test.

“Are you ok?” she asks, her soft brown eyes looking concerned.

“Yes...” I say. “…I’m just upset about the herbs.”

“I know…” she says, nodding her head. “…I use homeopathic medicine myself sometimes, it’s just that we have to be careful.”   

Later in the afternoon, I make my way to see John. By the time we sit down together I feel quite emotional. John however is as calm as always.

“So, you don’t want me to prescribe you any herbs?” John clarifies.

“No…” I say sighing. “…I’ve given the doctor at the hospital my word.”

“It’s mad…” he says shaking his head, “…it’s like they’re asking you to run up Everest without food.”

“I don’t know what to do…” I say. (I can hear my voice beginning to crack.) “…I had it all worked out in my head and now this has happened. Maybe I should just keep going with the herbs and not tell them.” (As I say this, I begin to feel like a criminal.) “What would you do if you were me?” I ask.

John shrugs. “I can’t say,” he says. “It’s your decision.”

I sigh heavily. In my head I can see Juliet and Dr K. and I decide I can’t break my word.

“No herbs then,” I say reluctantly.  

“Ok…” says John, “…then here’s what we’ll do…”

John says he wants me to promise to try and come for acupuncture every week regardless of how I feel. Every other week he says, my treatment will be free. On top of this, I am also to have free, unlimited access to ear acupuncture. This way, John says, if I want to, I can come in every day that the clinic is open for top up treatment in between our weekly sessions. “Move in if you like,” he laughs.

“Finally,” he says, “If you find yourself needing a quiet space to rest, meditate, pray…whatever, you can come here and I’ll clear a room for you. I just want you to have whatever you need to get through this.”  

There is something in John’s words about wanting to meet my needs, that touches me deep inside. Sometimes I feel so lost, so weary, so in need of physical and spiritual sanctuary.

John’s kindness and generosity amazes me and later, when he has pinned me up, dimmed the light and left the room, I lie, feeling the tears roll down my face, past my ears and onto my neck..

As I am about to leave, I ask John if he has any research about TCM and chemotherapy. He pulls open a filing cabinet and hands me a report, ‘3rd Annual Symposium on Mushroom Nutrition’, it reads. I begin flicking through the pages and my eyes are drawn to one with the word, ‘chemotherapy’ on it. 

Il fungo Coriolus versicolor (oggi più correttamente denominato Trametes versicolor), noto anche come “Turkey Tail” per l’aspetto del carpoforo, è tra i rimedi micoterapici più studiati al mondo. Le prime citazioni del suo utilizzo risalgono alla dinastia Ming in Cina, mentre in Giappone è documentato negli anni ’50, quando un paziente affetto da carcinoma gastrico […]

CORIOLUS VERSICOLOR: IL FUNGO DAI MILLE COLORI E DALLA STORIA STRAORDINARIA

Conosciuto come Turkey Tail (Coda di Tacchino) per le sue splendide bande colorate, il Coriolus versicolor è un fungo legnoso che cresce tutto l'anno su tronchi e ceppi, contribuendo al riciclo naturale dei nutrienti nelle foreste di tutto il mondo.

Utilizzato da secoli nella Medicina Tradizionale Cinese e giapponese, è stato studiato per le sue proprietà biologiche e dai suoi estratti è stato sviluppato il celebre Krestin (PSK), utilizzato in Giappone come supporto nelle terapie oncologiche.

Un organismo affascinante che unisce natura, tradizione e ricerca scientifica.

Lo riconosci per le sue caratteristiche bande concentriche dai colori che spaziano dal marrone all'arancio, dal blu al bianco, creando un effetto unico che ricorda la coda di un tacchino.

Oltre alla sua storia, svolge un ruolo fondamentale negli ecosistemi forestali, decomponendo il legno e restituendo preziosi nutrienti al terreno.

https://www.erboristeriarcobaleno.it/funghi/coriolus-versicolor-e-glicoproteine-psp-e-psk/

Dieses Papier ist Teil von NMJ‘s Onkologie-Sonderausgabe 2017. Die Zeitung lesen oder Laden Sie die vollständige Ausgabe herunter hier. Bezug Chay WY, Tham CK, Toh HC, et al. Anwendung von Coriolus versicolor (Yunzhi) als Therapie bei Patienten mit fortgeschrittenem hepatozellulärem Karzinom mit schlechter Leberfunktion oder die für eine Standardtherapie nicht geeignet sind. J Altern Komplement…

Medicinal mushrooms found to strengthen the immune system

Despite the naysayers, several studies have proven that certain herbal remedies used in traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) can help treat various illnesses. A study even determined that two mushrooms often used in TCM, turkey tail (Coriolus versicolor) and lingzhi mushrooms (Ganoderma lucidum), may have potent immunomodulatory properties. Asian countries such as China, Japan, and Korea often…