On 520, the People I Most Want to Confess My Love To Are My Patients Who Trust Me

Many people are making confessions today, so I'll be a bit conventional too and make my confession to the people I most want to confess to: I love you, dear patients!

Two patients brought me good news today.

One was a liver patient on the verge of cirrhosis. His liver function had been abnormal for a long time, his liver stiffness had reached the critical value, and he had suffered from insomnia for two years. He was nearly driven into depression by the insomnia and abnormal liver function. His family asked me two months ago to help him.

Several members of this patient's family have sought my help for health problems. The first to come to me was a police officer in their family with lymphoma. Before seeing me, he had received Western medical treatment with poor results. After coming to me, his condition improved very significantly. Then his relatives and friends all came to me one after another, and his classmates and colleagues also came to me for various health problems.

I have always focused on research in TCM cancer treatment, but I made an exception for his family members: his older brother's hepatitis B and an elder's sequelae of cerebral infarction were both resolved by me with fairly satisfactory results. His female cousin is a Western medicine doctor in their hometown; before meeting me she was opposed to TCM, but after her cousin and her own uncle's illnesses were well resolved by me, she came to believe in TCM and became a good friend of mine.

This liver patient on the verge of cirrhosis is a relative of another female cousin of his. To my delight, I resolved his abnormal liver function with only two Chinese patent medicines—"Biejia Ruangan Pian" (Turtle Shell Softening the Liver Tablets) and "Dahuang Zhechong Wan" (Rhubarb and E.trogopterus Pill)—and resolved his stubborn insomnia with a herbal tea bag made from a modified Gan Mai Dazao Tang (Licorice, Wheat and Jujube Decoction). The patient's family was very happy, and so was I.

The other patient is an ovarian cancer patient who has followed me for two years. I once helped her shrink the tumor, but later, because of drug resistance, her condition rebounded. Western medicine recommended radiotherapy, but the results were not satisfactory either. She hoped I could continue to help her find a way. After I adjusted her medication regimen some time ago, her cancer markers began to drop significantly, and she finally saw the light of hope once again.

At the same time that she saw the light, it also means that my research on TCM cancer treatment has taken another step forward. The treatment regimen I adjusted for her is precisely the direction I am currently researching. I am delighted that this small breakthrough has been proven effective, and in the days ahead I will promote this treatment approach to other patients.

News like this always gives me the courage to keep going. In fighting diseases like cirrhosis and cancer, which are called terminal illnesses, we often face psychological blows, and repeated failures leave me frustrated, but there are always moments of success that let me pull myself together and build confidence in myself and in medicine.

So I am especially grateful to these patients who trust me. Ever since I was a young man in my twenties more than ten years ago, there have always been patients who trusted me and hoped I could solve their problems. Now that I am forty-one, the patients coming to me are so numerous that my workload is constantly saturated. While helping them solve their problems, I have deepened my understanding of the medical knowledge I have learned. Not to exaggerate, these medical practices have changed my own outlook on life and view of the world.

Traditional medical theory contains much that is empty talk, but most people are enamored of this empty talk because it appears logically very persuasive. But medicine is a practical science; no matter how good a theory is, if it is not verified by practice, it remains merely abstract talk. Only in practice do we become pragmatic. So for someone studying medicine, the opportunity to practice is the rarest of all. The ancients said: "Reading Wang Shuhe thoroughly is not as good as seeing many patients in clinical practice," emphasizing that medical practice is more important than theoretical research.

Does TCM work? How does TCM work? These questions cannot be answered by arguing with others or by reading; only in practice, as we watch patients improve step by step, do we come to know that TCM works and understand how Chinese medicine exerts its effects. Simply reading and studying can make people foolish, because many in the TCM community deduce medical principles through speculative reasoning. Such deduction is eloquent, but when tested in the clinic, the results are embarrassing.

I enjoy the sense of achievement brought by clinical evidence. Without the recovery of the patients I have helped, I would be unable to find the value of my own life. The value of those of us who study medicine is very concrete: when a patient's treatment is effective, our work has value. If a patient's treatment is entirely a failure, we become little better than swindlers. What I seek all my life is to improve the effective rate; the higher the effective rate, the greater our sense of achievement.

Over these past ten-plus years, apart from patients, I have not had many social contacts. My thoughts are almost entirely on this group of patients. To most people, this is a group they want to avoid—cancer patients are always easily avoided, intentionally or unintentionally. But for us, they are part of our lives; without patients, there would be no doctors in this world.

For me, the most pleasant thing is being able to help patients solve their problems. Yesterday, the daughter of a lung cancer patient came to me seeking help for her mother's illness. After we discussed the condition, the young woman told me that she and her mother depended on each other for survival; if her mother were gone, she would not want to live either. Hearing this, my instinctive reaction was to spend a bit more time talking with her to help her let go of the burden in her heart and by no means take a dark turn.

In this world, deaths occur every day for all kinds of reasons. Some deaths are beyond human power to prevent, while others can be prevented by human effort. I want to do my utmost to prevent as many deaths as possible. If the skills I possess can keep people alive, my sense of happiness will be very strong. That is why I love medicine, which can save lives, and detest everything that harms life.

So when I say I thank my patients, it is not a polite phrase but a sincere feeling from the bottom of my heart. If patients had not made me who I am, I would not enjoy the pleasure of saving lives. An experiment conducted by Professor Seligman, the father of positive psychology, proved that the joy of helping others far surpasses all other pleasures. Only by putting Professor Seligman's words into practice does one have a profound experience of them.

Confucius said: "To know it is not as good as to love it; to love it is not as good as to delight in it." Medicine is a hard profession; studying medicine is hard, and clinical practice is hard. But when we "delight in it," not studying medicine is the true hardship. For someone who delights in medicine, without a group of patients who trust him, he is nothing.

So, I love you all immensely, dear patients; it is you who have made me who I am. Recently I may not be so active, because in this special period, writing any article or saying anything will step on some people's sensitive nerves and draw a barrage of criticism. The reason I have been quieter than before is only to avoid this social sentiment, but my heart has always been with you. I hope this abnormal social state will end soon, and we can once again be together happily, jointly defeating the demons of disease.