Throat Cancer In Bangkok

[eariza]

I am trying to help my brother (51) in Bangkok who is diagnosed with throat cancer. He is undergoing chemo and radiation now at Bumingrad Hospital. Can anyone tell me what kind of hospital this is, experiences, doctor quality, etc. I am trying to help him long distance as I am in the US. He is pretty shaken up and I might be going to at least hold his hand. I appreciate any legitimate input.

[taxexile]

sorry to hear about your brothers illness.

bumrungrad hospital is reputed to be one of the best in s.e.asia.

its well equipped and comfortable.

there was a long discussion on this forum about the hospital a few weeks ago , try the search engine on this site to locate it.

wishing your brother success with the treatment.

[eariza]

sorry to hear about your brothers illness.

bumrungrad hospital is reputed to be one of the best in s.e.asia.

its well equipped and comfortable.

there was a long discussion on this forum about the hospital a few weeks ago , try the search engine on this site to locate it.

wishing your brother success with the treatment.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Thank you. I just checked the hospital website and I am duly impressed. If I go to see him, where would be a good place to stay (single woman)? What's teh cheapest way to go?

[taxexile]

the hospital is in a central area very close to hotels to suit most budgets.

the area is westerner friendly with no shortage of western food etc , good public transportation etc.

you should have no trouble finding a hotel within walking distance of the hospital.

the hospital has its own accomodation wing for visitors.

[The_Eye_Of_Sauron]

Bumrungrad is the best known international hospital. We just spent 4 days at Vejthani Hospital in Ladprao Road - that was for new baby

Literally, at this very minute - am reading about Geoff Boycott's successful battle with throat cancer in the London Times ...here is the article !!! Good luck !

Long ......but its a medical chronicle of throat cancer.

Boycott's dark nights of the soul in his agonising battle against cancer

By Leo McKinstry

Nothing in his past life had prepared the former England batsman for the ravages inflicted by his illness. In an exclusive extract from his updated biography, we reveal the harrowing story

Throughout the summer of 2002 Boycott had suffered from a mysterious sore throat. When he discovered, while shaving one morning, that he had a lump on his neck he arranged to have a medical examination.

ON SEPTEMBER 3, 2002, Boycott was with Richard Knaggs, his lawyer, coming back from a football match in Manchester, when his mobile rang. It was the surgeon who had taken the biopsy. “I think you’d better come in and see me,” he said. Boycott immediately knew it was not good. The car journey home was the longest of his life. His worst fears were confirmed when Boycott went with Rachael (his wife) to see the surgeon. Boycott had three secondary cancerous tumours in his neck and a primary tumour at the base of his tongue. The outlook for him was bleak. “What happens if I go home and do nothing?” he asked the doctor. “If you go home and do nothing, I’ll give you till just after Christmas,” was the reply.

It seemed to be the cruellest of fates for Boycott. Cancer of the throat usually afflicts heavy drinkers and smokers, yet Boycott was renowned for his fastidious abstinence. Few men have ever looked after their health with more rigorous attention than Boycott, who never carried a spare pound of fat or touched a cigarette. Throat cancer is regarded as one of the hardest forms of the disease to treat. Despite recent advances, less than 40 per cent of sufferers live beyond five years. Yet Boycott, rather than wailing with bitterness, was remarkably philosophical, as well as heroically honest. “Cancer is a frightener. It frightens the shit out of anybody. The diagnosis was the body blow of all body blows. It makes you realise that you only have so long on this earth and so you’d better make it count.”

Initially, his doctors decided that surgery was the best option, so in late September Boycott was told to prepare for an eight-hour operation that would involve breaking his jaw. But just two days before this exhausting procedure and after yet more tests, surgeons decided that the tumour was too large and too near his voice box for it to be removed safely. Had the operation damaged his voice box, Boycott’s livelihood as a commentator would be destroyed even if he survived. He agreed that it was not a risk worth taking.

The alternative treatment was an intensive course of three sessions of chemotherapy, followed by seven weeks of radiation. So in late September, at the Cookridge Hospital in Leeds, Boycott embarked on chemotherapy as an inpatient, a process he described as “similar to mustard gas being continually pumped into your veins”. Then, from October 22, he went into the same hospital five days a week as an outpatient for no fewer than 35 radiotherapy sessions.

The results of these combined aggressive treatments wreaked havoc with his body. He was left with terrible burns on his neck, cheek and collarbones, with his skin so raw that Rachael had to cover it with dressings. Utterly debilitated by his daily trips to the hospital, he could hardly move when he came home. His tastebuds were wiped out and he began to have difficulty eating. Soon he could only manage liquid foods: soups or mashed-up potatoes and gravy consumed through a straw. But, after further sessions, even these became impossible to swallow, because his mouth and throat were in such pain. A feeding tube, operated by an electric pump, was therefore inserted through his nose and down into his stomach; even medicines and water had to be injected in this way.

These months were agonising for Boycott. His weight fell by 35lb, the skin on his neck peeled away, his mouth was covered in ulcers. The full extent of his harrowing ordeal was brought home to Rachael one morning when she walked into the study of their Woolley home. “He was sitting there with a handkerchief coming out of his mouth. I said, ‘You don’t have to talk to me, but is that to stop your tongue touching your teeth?’ and he nodded.” But, in Rachael ’s account, he was as resilient as ever. “He’s hardly ever complained. I’m not a soppy person, but he’s been brilliant.”

In early 2003, another test indicated that the primary cancer had cleared. Further regular check-ups conducted every six weeks confirmed that the cancer remained in remission. Boycott knew, however, that he was still locked in a daily struggle to keep the disease at bay. Drained and frail, he could feel no sense of relief or triumph at what might only be a brief respite. But at least there was now some real hope that survival could be a possibility. “I was skin and bones when the treatment was over,” he said at the time. “You don’t get cured easily and it takes about five years before you can tell. But you keep looking ahead and I’ll keep fighting. The worst thing now is the tiredness — I’m always yawning.”

Messages of goodwill poured into his home. “I don’t know about being a national treasure — that’s for others to say, I certainly can’t say it — but when I was sick, the numbers of cards, letters, phone calls and faxes was unbelievable. It was really, really nice. It was a truly wonderful feeling and deeply flattering to know so many people from all walks of life seemed to care. I never knew people liked me,” he explained in March 2004.

Even old foes like Fred Trueman, one of his most aggrieved opponents during Yorkshire’s long civil war, abandoned their differences. “Life is too short to bear grudges. The infighting that took place at Yorkshire is water under the bridge. Geoff is a welcome visitor in my home and when the news broke of his illness, I was one of the first people to ring him up and convey my sincere wishes for his healthy recovery and to let him know if there was anything I could do, he only had to pick up the phone and ring,” Trueman said.

Another consequence of Boycott’s torment was the deepening of his relationship with Rachael. The timing of their engagement, three months before Boycott even had the first inkling of cancer, contradicts the belief that it was the illness that initially drove him into marriage. Yet there is no doubt that, during the dark nights of the soul, Boycott’s protective shell was cracked by the tenderness of Rachael. For the first time in his life this proud, self-contained man was utterly dependent on someone else. He could no longer be master of his own destiny, but in the process he learnt the meaning of devotion, of mutual exchange beyond mere words. In his vulnerable state, being cared for by Rachael, he discovered a new sense of human empathy. His struggle no longer had to be a lonely one. “I don’t know what I would have done without her. She has been a tower of strength,” he said in December 2002.

As Boycott emerged from his treatment — or “torture” as he called it — he grew strong enough to go through with the wedding. He and Rachael were married on February 26, 2003, in a private ceremony at the Wakefield Register Office.

Extracted from Geoff Boycott: A Cricketing Hero, by Leo McKinstry, to be published by HarperCollins on May 3. © Leo McKinstry

[eariza]

Bumrungrad is the best known international hospital. We just spent 4 days at Vejthani Hospital in Ladprao Road - that was for new baby

Literally, at this very minute - am reading about Geoff Boycott's successful battle with throat cancer in the London Times ...here  is the article !!! Good luck !

Long ......but its a medical chronicle of throat cancer.

Boycott's dark nights of the soul in his agonising battle against cancer

By Leo McKinstry

Nothing in his past life had prepared the former England batsman for the ravages inflicted by his illness. In an exclusive extract from his updated biography, we reveal the harrowing story

Throughout the summer of 2002 Boycott had suffered from a mysterious sore throat. When he discovered, while shaving one morning, that he had a lump on his neck he arranged to have a medical examination.

ON SEPTEMBER 3, 2002, Boycott was with Richard Knaggs, his lawyer, coming back from a football match in Manchester, when his mobile rang. It was the surgeon who had taken the biopsy. “I think you’d better come in and see me,” he said. Boycott immediately knew it was not good. The car journey home was the longest of his life. His worst fears were confirmed when Boycott went with Rachael (his wife) to see the surgeon. Boycott had three secondary cancerous tumours in his neck and a primary tumour at the base of his tongue. The outlook for him was bleak. “What happens if I go home and do nothing?” he asked the doctor. “If you go home and do nothing, I’ll give you till just after Christmas,” was the reply.

It seemed to be the cruellest of fates for Boycott. Cancer of the throat usually afflicts heavy drinkers and smokers, yet Boycott was renowned for his fastidious abstinence. Few men have ever looked after their health with more rigorous attention than Boycott, who never carried a spare pound of fat or touched a cigarette. Throat cancer is regarded as one of the hardest forms of the disease to treat. Despite recent advances, less than 40 per cent of sufferers live beyond five years. Yet Boycott, rather than wailing with bitterness, was remarkably philosophical, as well as heroically honest. “Cancer is a frightener. It frightens the shit out of anybody. The diagnosis was the body blow of all body blows. It makes you realise that you only have so long on this earth and so you’d better make it count.”

Initially, his doctors decided that surgery was the best option, so in late September Boycott was told to prepare for an eight-hour operation that would involve breaking his jaw. But just two days before this exhausting procedure and after yet more tests, surgeons decided that the tumour was too large and too near his voice box for it to be removed safely. Had the operation damaged his voice box, Boycott’s livelihood as a commentator would be destroyed even if he survived. He agreed that it was not a risk worth taking.

The alternative treatment was an intensive course of three sessions of chemotherapy, followed by seven weeks of radiation. So in late September, at the Cookridge Hospital in Leeds, Boycott embarked on chemotherapy as an inpatient, a process he described as “similar to mustard gas being continually pumped into your veins”. Then, from October 22, he went into the same hospital five days a week as an outpatient for no fewer than 35 radiotherapy sessions.

The results of these combined aggressive treatments wreaked havoc with his body. He was left with terrible burns on his neck, cheek and collarbones, with his skin so raw that Rachael had to cover it with dressings. Utterly debilitated by his daily trips to the hospital, he could hardly move when he came home. His tastebuds were wiped out and he began to have difficulty eating. Soon he could only manage liquid foods: soups or mashed-up potatoes and gravy consumed through a straw. But, after further sessions, even these became impossible to swallow, because his mouth and throat were in such pain. A feeding tube, operated by an electric pump, was therefore inserted through his nose and down into his stomach; even medicines and water had to be injected in this way.

These months were agonising for Boycott. His weight fell by 35lb, the skin on his neck peeled away, his mouth was covered in ulcers. The full extent of his harrowing ordeal was brought home to Rachael one morning when she walked into the study of their Woolley home. “He was sitting there with a handkerchief coming out of his mouth. I said, ‘You don’t have to talk to me, but is that to stop your tongue touching your teeth?’ and he nodded.” But, in Rachael ’s account, he was as resilient as ever. “He’s hardly ever complained. I’m not a soppy person, but he’s been brilliant.”

In early 2003, another test indicated that the primary cancer had cleared. Further regular check-ups conducted every six weeks confirmed that the cancer remained in remission. Boycott knew, however, that he was still locked in a daily struggle to keep the disease at bay. Drained and frail, he could feel no sense of relief or triumph at what might only be a brief respite. But at least there was now some real hope that survival could be a possibility. “I was skin and bones when the treatment was over,” he said at the time. “You don’t get cured easily and it takes about five years before you can tell. But you keep looking ahead and I’ll keep fighting. The worst thing now is the tiredness — I’m always yawning.”

Messages of goodwill poured into his home. “I don’t know about being a national treasure — that’s for others to say, I certainly can’t say it — but when I was sick, the numbers of cards, letters, phone calls and faxes was unbelievable. It was really, really nice. It was a truly wonderful feeling and deeply flattering to know so many people from all walks of life seemed to care. I never knew people liked me,” he explained in March 2004.

Even old foes like Fred Trueman, one of his most aggrieved opponents during Yorkshire’s long civil war, abandoned their differences. “Life is too short to bear grudges. The infighting that took place at Yorkshire is water under the bridge. Geoff is a welcome visitor in my home and when the news broke of his illness, I was one of the first people to ring him up and convey my sincere wishes for his healthy recovery and to let him know if there was anything I could do, he only had to pick up the phone and ring,” Trueman said.

Another consequence of Boycott’s torment was the deepening of his relationship with Rachael. The timing of their engagement, three months before Boycott even had the first inkling of cancer, contradicts the belief that it was the illness that initially drove him into marriage. Yet there is no doubt that, during the dark nights of the soul, Boycott’s protective shell was cracked by the tenderness of Rachael. For the first time in his life this proud, self-contained man was utterly dependent on someone else. He could no longer be master of his own destiny, but in the process he learnt the meaning of devotion, of mutual exchange beyond mere words. In his vulnerable state, being cared for by Rachael, he discovered a new sense of human empathy. His struggle no longer had to be a lonely one. “I don’t know what I would have done without her. She has been a tower of strength,” he said in December 2002.

As Boycott emerged from his treatment — or “torture” as he called it — he grew strong enough to go through with the wedding. He and Rachael were married on February 26, 2003, in a private ceremony at the Wakefield Register Office.

Extracted from Geoff Boycott: A Cricketing Hero, by Leo McKinstry, to be published by HarperCollins on May 3. © Leo McKinstry

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

[eariza]

Bumrungrad is the best known international hospital. We just spent 4 days at Vejthani Hospital in Ladprao Road - that was for new baby

Literally, at this very minute - am reading about Geoff Boycott's successful battle with throat cancer in the London Times ...here  is the article !!! Good luck !

Long ......but its a medical chronicle of throat cancer.

Boycott's dark nights of the soul in his agonising battle against cancer

By Leo McKinstry

Nothing in his past life had prepared the former England batsman for the ravages inflicted by his illness. In an exclusive extract from his updated biography, we reveal the harrowing story

Throughout the summer of 2002 Boycott had suffered from a mysterious sore throat. When he discovered, while shaving one morning, that he had a lump on his neck he arranged to have a medical examination.

This made me break down.  I am devastated...as must he be.

ON SEPTEMBER 3, 2002, Boycott was with Richard Knaggs, his lawyer, coming back from a football match in Manchester, when his mobile rang. It was the surgeon who had taken the biopsy. “I think you’d better come in and see me,” he said. Boycott immediately knew it was not good. The car journey home was the longest of his life. His worst fears were confirmed when Boycott went with Rachael (his wife) to see the surgeon. Boycott had three secondary cancerous tumours in his neck and a primary tumour at the base of his tongue. The outlook for him was bleak. “What happens if I go home and do nothing?” he asked the doctor. “If you go home and do nothing, I’ll give you till just after Christmas,” was the reply.

It seemed to be the cruellest of fates for Boycott. Cancer of the throat usually afflicts heavy drinkers and smokers, yet Boycott was renowned for his fastidious abstinence. Few men have ever looked after their health with more rigorous attention than Boycott, who never carried a spare pound of fat or touched a cigarette. Throat cancer is regarded as one of the hardest forms of the disease to treat. Despite recent advances, less than 40 per cent of sufferers live beyond five years. Yet Boycott, rather than wailing with bitterness, was remarkably philosophical, as well as heroically honest. “Cancer is a frightener. It frightens the shit out of anybody. The diagnosis was the body blow of all body blows. It makes you realise that you only have so long on this earth and so you’d better make it count.”

Initially, his doctors decided that surgery was the best option, so in late September Boycott was told to prepare for an eight-hour operation that would involve breaking his jaw. But just two days before this exhausting procedure and after yet more tests, surgeons decided that the tumour was too large and too near his voice box for it to be removed safely. Had the operation damaged his voice box, Boycott’s livelihood as a commentator would be destroyed even if he survived. He agreed that it was not a risk worth taking.

The alternative treatment was an intensive course of three sessions of chemotherapy, followed by seven weeks of radiation. So in late September, at the Cookridge Hospital in Leeds, Boycott embarked on chemotherapy as an inpatient, a process he described as “similar to mustard gas being continually pumped into your veins”. Then, from October 22, he went into the same hospital five days a week as an outpatient for no fewer than 35 radiotherapy sessions.

The results of these combined aggressive treatments wreaked havoc with his body. He was left with terrible burns on his neck, cheek and collarbones, with his skin so raw that Rachael had to cover it with dressings. Utterly debilitated by his daily trips to the hospital, he could hardly move when he came home. His tastebuds were wiped out and he began to have difficulty eating. Soon he could only manage liquid foods: soups or mashed-up potatoes and gravy consumed through a straw. But, after further sessions, even these became impossible to swallow, because his mouth and throat were in such pain. A feeding tube, operated by an electric pump, was therefore inserted through his nose and down into his stomach; even medicines and water had to be injected in this way.

These months were agonising for Boycott. His weight fell by 35lb, the skin on his neck peeled away, his mouth was covered in ulcers. The full extent of his harrowing ordeal was brought home to Rachael one morning when she walked into the study of their Woolley home. “He was sitting there with a handkerchief coming out of his mouth. I said, ‘You don’t have to talk to me, but is that to stop your tongue touching your teeth?’ and he nodded.” But, in Rachael ’s account, he was as resilient as ever. “He’s hardly ever complained. I’m not a soppy person, but he’s been brilliant.”

In early 2003, another test indicated that the primary cancer had cleared. Further regular check-ups conducted every six weeks confirmed that the cancer remained in remission. Boycott knew, however, that he was still locked in a daily struggle to keep the disease at bay. Drained and frail, he could feel no sense of relief or triumph at what might only be a brief respite. But at least there was now some real hope that survival could be a possibility. “I was skin and bones when the treatment was over,” he said at the time. “You don’t get cured easily and it takes about five years before you can tell. But you keep looking ahead and I’ll keep fighting. The worst thing now is the tiredness — I’m always yawning.”

Messages of goodwill poured into his home. “I don’t know about being a national treasure — that’s for others to say, I certainly can’t say it — but when I was sick, the numbers of cards, letters, phone calls and faxes was unbelievable. It was really, really nice. It was a truly wonderful feeling and deeply flattering to know so many people from all walks of life seemed to care. I never knew people liked me,” he explained in March 2004.

Even old foes like Fred Trueman, one of his most aggrieved opponents during Yorkshire’s long civil war, abandoned their differences. “Life is too short to bear grudges. The infighting that took place at Yorkshire is water under the bridge. Geoff is a welcome visitor in my home and when the news broke of his illness, I was one of the first people to ring him up and convey my sincere wishes for his healthy recovery and to let him know if there was anything I could do, he only had to pick up the phone and ring,” Trueman said.

Another consequence of Boycott’s torment was the deepening of his relationship with Rachael. The timing of their engagement, three months before Boycott even had the first inkling of cancer, contradicts the belief that it was the illness that initially drove him into marriage. Yet there is no doubt that, during the dark nights of the soul, Boycott’s protective shell was cracked by the tenderness of Rachael. For the first time in his life this proud, self-contained man was utterly dependent on someone else. He could no longer be master of his own destiny, but in the process he learnt the meaning of devotion, of mutual exchange beyond mere words. In his vulnerable state, being cared for by Rachael, he discovered a new sense of human empathy. His struggle no longer had to be a lonely one. “I don’t know what I would have done without her. She has been a tower of strength,” he said in December 2002.

As Boycott emerged from his treatment — or “torture” as he called it — he grew strong enough to go through with the wedding. He and Rachael were married on February 26, 2003, in a private ceremony at the Wakefield Register Office.

Extracted from Geoff Boycott: A Cricketing Hero, by Leo McKinstry, to be published by HarperCollins on May 3. © Leo McKinstry

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

[uhuh]

Bumrungrad is a good hospital, though sometimes overrated.

I don't know how good they are at treating throat cancer.

An alternative in Bangkok would be Vichaiyut Hospital, tel 02-6186200 (but not so conveniently located for visitors). I would seriously consider going to the US for treatment if that is an option, discuss with the treating doctors in Bangkok and with doctors in the US whether it would make any difference.

[Sheryl]

Thank you. I just checked the hospital website and I am duly impressed. If I go to see him, where would be a good place to stay (single woman)? What's teh cheapest way to go?

The hospital does have a residence wing but its ambience is pretty hospital-like.

In easy walking distance at half the cost and with very nice atmosphmere is the Atlanta, see its website

www.theatlantahotel.bizland.com

It is an ideal place for a single woman as they have a very strict rule against outsiders on the premises, no sex tourists etc. It is a lovely family-type atmosphere with lots of resources about Thai culture. You can get an airconditioned room with bath for about 450 Baht (about US$11) a night.

The cheapest flights are across the Pacific, you just have to shop around. Also - depending on where you are in the US -- there are companies that do courier service to asia (legitimate) and will provide a cheap airfare in exchange sending things with you as accompanied baggage, I used one called Jupiter once out of NYC. This is only practical if you plan on a short trip as length if stay is limited and sometimes you can only bring carry-on for yourself.

If you want more reassurance on your brother's care, find out the name of your brother's doctors (he'll have more than one -- at leats an oncologist and radiologist, maybe more) and then go to www.bumrungrad.com and under "find a doctor"you can review their qualifications. You can also get a virtual tour of Bumrungrad facilities at that same website.

Bumrungrad is international standard and has available everything a US hospital would have, at lower cost, and an excellent nurse:patient ratio. The only issue is whether he's happy with his doctors. If not, the other hospital in Thailand of equal standard for cancer treatment is Samitivej.

All that being said, I have warn you that the prognosis for throat cancer even with the best of treatment is not very good (I'm a nurse) -- you should know that in making your decision about whether to come over or not.

Best of luck

[Sphere]

As the cancer has already been diagnosed, just for treatment you would be better off going to the Bangkok Cancer Centre at Soi Aree, Paholyothin. [Aree Station on BTS]. Sorry I dont have their phone number.

IMHO, they offer the best treatment without the fancy trappings of the big name hospitals. Ask for Dr. Laksana and she shall guide you.

All the best.

[Sphere]

I just found the number of:

Bangkok Cancer Centre (called Soon Muleng in Thai)

Tel No. 02 2785716 to 20

[camerata]

In easy walking distance at half the cost and with very nice atmosphmere is the Atlanta, see its website

www.theatlantahotel.bizland.com

It is an ideal place for a single woman as they have a very strict  rule against outsiders on the premises, no sex tourists etc. It is a lovely family-type atmosphere with lots of resources about Thai culture. You can get an airconditioned room with bath for about 450 Baht (about US$11) a night.

Jeez, I didn't know the Atlanta still existed. It was the original hippie hotel in the 70s, with regular police busts for drugs. Sounds like a good choice for a woman, though. Bumrungrad is in the middle of the Arab/African area and I doubt a westerner would feel too comfortable in some of the small guest houses and hotels close by that cater to middle-easterners.

[eariza]

I just found the number of:

  Bangkok Cancer Centre (called Soon Muleng in Thai)

  Tel No. 02 2785716 to 20

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

thank you. I will tell him.

[camerata]

I am trying to help my brother (51) in Bangkok who is diagnosed with throat cancer.  He is undergoing chemo and radiation now at Bumingrad Hospital.  Can anyone tell me what kind of hospital this is, experiences, doctor quality, etc.  I am trying to help him long distance as I am in the US.  He is pretty shaken up and I might be going to at least hold his hand.  I appreciate any legitimate input.

I've used Bumrungrad for several years as an outpatient and had minor surgery done there. It is one of the top private hospitals in Thailand and is the most western-oriented. It has international accreditation and it seem to me that around half the patients are foreigners.

I don't think you need to worry about the standard of care there. I once overheard an American in the waiting room saying it was better than any US hospital he'd ever visited. My only complaint is the hospital seems to be a victim of its own success and is pretty busy most of the time. As an outpatient I sometimes get the feeling the doctor hasn't much time to spare, but that wasn't the case when I had surgery.

[eariza]

I appreciate all the responses. My brother just informed me that the cancer went sideways, in his jaw, is now in his lymph nodes, and maybe in his liver. So the questions change now. He went to a doctor in Chaing Mai two months ago who gave him antibiotics, so it is probably too late, unless of course we have a miracle. He is receiving chemo and radiation for two months, and then what? He is planning on coming home as it would cost about 20,000 to ship his body home, and if he dies there he will be cremated.

My questions--if I go June 12, what condition will he be in? Will he be able to travel? And then what do you say to a dying man? Rhetorical questions, but does anyone know?

Thanks so much.

[uhuh]

I appreciate all the responses.  My brother just informed me that the cancer went sideways, in his jaw, is now in his lymph nodes, and maybe in his liver.  So the questions change now.  He went to a doctor in Chaing Mai two months ago who gave him antibiotics, so it is probably too late, unless of course we have a miracle.  He is receiving chemo and radiation for two months, and then what?  He is planning on coming home as it would cost about 20,000 to ship his body home, and if he dies there he will be cremated.

My questions--if I go June 12, what condition will he be in? Will he be able to travel?  And then what do you say to a dying man?  Rhetorical questions, but does anyone know?

Thanks so much.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Your problems are too difficult to handle on this board. A lot more information about the patient is needed. Discuss the situation - in this order - with 1. his treating doctors, 2. the doctors who would treat him in MA, 3. an organization that has experience in repatriating patients. Maybe he has an insurance which covers repatriation? If so, the insurance will probably tell you who should do it. Your embassy can tell you as well. I work for such a company, too.

If possible, come earlier. It is hard to tell in which condition he will be (really need to know a lot more about his condition) but what you say doesn't sound good.

If he wants to travel on a regular airplane, he will need a medical certificate that he is fit to fly and the approval of the airline (difficult to get from US airlines). Discuss with his treating doctors when there will be a break in his treatment that permits the trip. The earlier he travels, the better are probably the chances that he is still fit to fly. But this has really to be discussed with his doctors.

If he won't be able to travel by himself (quite possible), his repatriation could be a lot more expensive than 20 000 USD (depends on his condition and what kind of transport he would need). In that case get some quotes, prices vary a lot.

[eariza]

I appreciate all the responses.  My brother just informed me that the cancer went sideways, in his jaw, is now in his lymph nodes, and maybe in his liver.  So the questions change now.  He went to a doctor in Chaing Mai two months ago who gave him antibiotics, so it is probably too late, unless of course we have a miracle.  He is receiving chemo and radiation for two months, and then what?  He is planning on coming home as it would cost about 20,000 to ship his body home, and if he dies there he will be cremated.

My questions--if I go June 12, what condition will he be in? Will he be able to travel?  And then what do you say to a dying man?  Rhetorical questions, but does anyone know?

Thanks so much.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Your problems are too difficult to handle on this board. A lot more information about the patient is needed. Discuss the situation - in this order - with 1. his treating doctors, 2. the doctors who would treat him in MA, 3. an organization that has experience in repatriating patients. Maybe he has an insurance which covers repatriation? If so, the insurance will probably tell you who should do it. Your embassy can tell you as well. I work for such a company, too.

If possible, come earlier. It is hard to tell in which condition he will be (really need to know a lot more about his condition) but what you say doesn't sound good.

If he wants to travel on a regular airplane, he will need a medical certificate that he is fit to fly and the approval of the airline (difficult to get from US airlines). Discuss with his treating doctors when there will be a break in his treatment that permits the trip. The earlier he travels, the better are probably the chances that he is still fit to fly. But this has really to be discussed with his doctors.

If he won't be able to travel by himself (quite possible), his repatriation could be a lot more expensive than 20 000 USD (depends on his condition and what kind of transport he would need). In that case get some quotes, prices vary a lot.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Thank you so much. I am looking into Medicaid for him in the US. I wonder if doctors will talk to me before the patient comes home.

Any experience with this?

[uhuh]

Thank you so much.  I am looking into Medicaid for him in the US.  I wonder if doctors will talk to me before the patient comes home.

Any experience with this?

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

sure, that's what I do for a living:)

They will talk to you, but US doctors are the most unwilling to talk in the whole world. They do talk in the end, though.

Edited May 3, 2005 by uhuh

[Sheryl]

I appreciate all the responses.  My brother just informed me that the cancer went sideways, in his jaw, is now in his lymph nodes, and maybe in his liver.  So the questions change now.  He went to a doctor in Chaing Mai two months ago who gave him antibiotics, so it is probably too late, unless of course we have a miracle.  He is receiving chemo and radiation for two months, and then what?  He is planning on coming home as it would cost about 20,000 to ship his body home, and if he dies there he will be cremated.

My questions--if I go June 12, what condition will he be in? Will he be able to travel?  And then what do you say to a dying man?  Rhetorical questions, but does anyone know?

Thanks so much.

Nobody, not even his doctors, can predict what shape he'll be in June 12th. If he were not on chemo and radiation then we could safely expect him to be worse than he is now by then. As he is getting both, it is possible for him to be either better or worse than he is now by 12 June. What usually happens is that there is a temporary improvement after chemo and radiation (once any treatment-related side effects have worn off) and if so, it is during that brief window of time that he should travel. However, some patients don't respond to chemo/radiation, and some suffer severe side effects. When is he supposed to complete chemo/radioation? How well has he tolerated it thus far?

Travel is not out of the question, even unaccompanied travel, depending on his strength and blood count. (Anemia can be a side effect of chemotherapy and radiation and plane travel is not advisable if anemia is severe). His doctors will be able to advise as to whether he's fit for a long plane ride or not, but only with reference to his condition at a particular point in time -- they can't predict more than a few days to a week down the road.

I don't recommend informing the airlines of his condition or getting medical certificates etc if he's ambulatory, it just leads to endless hassles. If however he's really ill-appearing then yes, a certificate from the doctor may be requested.

If it's hard for you to come here and he isn't strong enough to fly back alone, you might consider either advertising yourself for a nurse to accompany him in exchange ofr a round-trip, or contact the international committee on migration (iom) who can provide that service. The latter would be more costly.

As to what to say to a dying person: just that you love him. And ask if there are any things he'd like you to do for him, now or afterwards. Beyond that it's not what you say but how well you listen. Let him know he can talk frankly with you if he wants. Sometimes it helps to ask "are you afraid?"as a way of opening that door. Many people prefer not to hear thus stuff and dying patients quickly learn to keep it bottled up, but often need to be able to express themselves. On the other hand, some cope better by just repressing it. Or they may do one for a while and then change.Just take your cue from him. You'll know from how he replies to questions like "are you afraid?" where he's at in terms of acceptance and whether or not he wants to talk about his feelings.

If he does express his feelings with you, the only response required is empathy. A simple hand squeeze, hug or smile is fine. Dying people don't expect others to have an answer or solution for them. They just want the comfort of expressing their feelings and knowing someone understands and cares.

[uhuh]

I don't recommend informing the airlines of his condition or getting medical certificates etc if he's ambulatory, it just leads to endless hassles.

I disagree. To put a patient who has just undergone chemotherapy and radiation for metastasing cancer on a trip of over 20 hours involving connecting flights is generally risky. The airline can help to minimise the risk. They can provide a wheelchair, fast check in, helping staff, special meals, special treatment during stop-overs, and the medical service of the airline can assess the situation (this means doctors with experience in flight medicine and repatriations - something hospital doctors do not necessarily have).

To sneak the patient on a flight without telling the airline that this is actually a sick person is risky for his health. Furthermore, it may happen that you come to the check-in counter and are refused boarding because the patient looks not healthy (this is a decision of the staff at check-in). If he manages to get on the flight and his condition deteriorates, the captain may be forced to an unscheduled landing. In this case the patient may end up liable for the loss of connecting flights of all the other passengers (this again can be a lot more than 20 000 USD).

[eariza]

I don't recommend informing the airlines of his condition or getting medical certificates etc if he's ambulatory, it just leads to endless hassles.

I disagree. To put a patient who has just undergone chemotherapy and radiation for metastasing cancer on a trip of over 20 hours involving connecting flights is generally risky. The airline can help to minimise the risk. They can provide a wheelchair, fast check in, helping staff, special meals, special treatment during stop-overs, and the medical service of the airline can assess the situation (this means doctors with experience in flight medicine and repatriations - something hospital doctors do not necessarily have).

To sneak the patient on a flight without telling the airline that this is actually a sick person is risky for his health. Furthermore, it may happen that you come to the check-in counter and are refused boarding because the patient looks not healthy (this is a decision of the staff at check-in). If he manages to get on the flight and his condition deteriorates, the captain may be forced to an unscheduled landing. In this case the patient may end up liable for the loss of connecting flights of all the other passengers (this again can be a lot more than 20 000 USD).

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Ok--My ears are wide open. I had him ask the doctors if he could go home, and he said yes, but it must be now. He will be too sick later. So I will be there next Friday and will try to get him on the first flight I can, as soon as he feels up to it. The whole family is rallying and we well get him on ss , medicaid, etc.

We are bringing him home while we can.

[uhuh]

[quote name=eariza' date='2005-05-05 07:38:08

Ok--My ears are wide open. I had him ask the doctors if he could go home, and he said yes, but it must be now. He will be too sick later. So I will be there next Friday and will try to get him on the first flight I can, as soon as he feels up to it.

[/quote]

This is pretty much how I expected things would turn out.

Do talk with someone who has experience with repatriations, there are many things to consider: can he get on a non-stop flight to NY (Thai just introduced this, it would be the fastest way, but it is still a flight of 17 hours)? Should he fly business class or even first (on some airlines, that means he can really lie down)? Does he need a nurse or a doctor on the flight? etc

Good luck.

[eariza]

QUOTE(eariza @ 2005-05-05 07:38:08

Ok--My ears are wide open. I had him ask the doctors if he could go home, and he said yes, but it must be now. He will be too sick later. So I will be there next Friday and will try to get him on the first flight I can, as soon as he feels up to it.

This is pretty much how I expected things would turn out.

Do talk with someone who has experience with repatriations, there are many things to consider: can he get on a non-stop flight to NY (Thai just introduced this, it would be the fastest way, but it is still a flight of 17 hours)? Should he fly business class or even first (on some airlines, that means he can really lie down)? Does he need a nurse or a doctor on the flight? etc

Good luck.

[right)

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>[/right]

Unbelievable...last night he told me that the doctors said he does NOT have it in his jaw, or any other bones, the lymph nodes are just at the beginning, and they are not sure what the spots are in his liver. Well, what good news, but it makes me think we definitely need another opinion and a PET scan. His next chemo is on the 11th, I arrive on the 14th (flying for me on the 13th probably will be good luck), and as soon as he feels up to it, we go home on that NY non stop flight. Now they are giving him odds of 70% so we are pretty happy.

[GuestHouse]

My comment relates to the other part of care, looking after the emotianal and psychological side of illness.

I was critically ill in Thailand a few years ago and spent several weeks in hospital before being medivact home.

I have absolutely no complaints about the professionalism and skill of the medical practicianers, they did afterall save my life.

What is a problem is the emotional and psychological care. Thai medical practice lags far behind the west in these respects, added to which there are very real cultural difficulties that arise from the way Thais view illness compared to that of a western view.

I recall very well ariving back in the UK to be met at the airport by an UK NHS Ambulance and then ariving in a UK NHS Hospital - The difference in the way I was treated and spoken to was tangible - familiar and very comforting. The after care brought all this together and really was superb.

Because of my experiences I have volunteered as a hospital visitor in Thailand since this episode, what I have repeatedly witnessed is excellent medical practice but quite primitive understanding of the other needs patients have.

If your brother is to undergo treatment for cancer in Thailand, then I have no doubt he will receive the very best of practical care, he will though need all the help he can get with these other matters.

I'm quite sure with family to help things will be that bit easier and I wish you all the best of luck and a speedy recovery for your brother.

[lopez176]

Last year when I was travelling back from Singapore my medicine vesanoid got exhausted. I came to Bangkok, for an official tour also tried to look out for my vesanoid which is a very good medicine for my 6 yr old daughter who is suffering from leukemia. I tried some local medicine dealer for vesanoid but couldn't get that. i had to shorten my journey and go back to my home back for the sake of my little daughter.