Over the eleven years I’ve had late-stage
kidney cancer, I’ve lived in seclusion, spending most of my time convalescing
at home and barely ever going out to visit friends. Especially with my
increasingly worsening condition in recent years, including a lowered immunity
to disease, the doctor’s recommendation is that I keep my distance from crowded
areas. However, last week I went to Arizona to attend my son Mark’s medical
school graduation ceremony, after which I made an exception to the rules by
visiting an online friend in Phoenix. I knew this friend, a female author, on a
site called Overseas Window a few years ago; to tell the truth I don’t actually
know her real name, just that she has a very beautiful pen name: Bird of
Paradise.
Last August I sent Bird of Paradise a private
message online: “Time really flies, my youngest son will be graduating from
medical school next May. If I’m still alive then, we’ll be going to your city
to attend the graduation ceremony - I might even get to meet up with you.”
Bird of Paradise immediately replied: “Phoenix
welcomes you! I’ll look forward to getting to congratulate you in person, too.
Do your best with God’s blessings, Joseph! I’m praying for you.”
But in the nine months after making that promise
with Bird of Paradise, I had two visits to the emergency room, three hospital
stays, and two surgeries. Although Mark had long since booked a hotel for us
near his school, it wasn’t until a week before his graduation that anyone could
predict whether I, who had just undergone heart surgery, would be in good
enough condition to travel. After all, Phoenix, Arizona is 360 miles away from
where we live, and it’s difficult to say what sort of ill effects a bumpy
6-hour drive could have on a weak heart.
It was five days before our scheduled
departure when I began to feel like I’d pretty much recovered, and we finally
settled our plans into concrete form. Bird of Paradise and I decided I would go
to her house for a visit the day after Mark’s graduation, on May 29th in the morning.
I checked a map online: it wasn’t far from our hotel to Bird of Paradise’s house,
only about a thirty-minute drive. Before I left the hotel, I told Bird of
Paradise that I wouldn’t take up too much of her time, no more than half an
hour, because we’d have to drive the long trip back to California afterwards.
My chauffeur for this trip was my older son,
Luke. On the way there, he curiously asked me why I, a man with incurable
disease who never goes out to visit his friends, would make an exception to go
visiting an online friend in Arizona whose real name he doesn’t even know. I
explained to him that this wasn’t an ordinary online friend; she’d come to
California to visit me twice before, and each time had written sincerely
touching articles about the visit afterwards. In all my life, this was the
first time I’d ever met someone who’d write two entire essays about me after
only meeting me twice. Based on the pictures she’d posted in her social media,
I knew she had two outstanding daughters, the older of which was studying at
America’s famous George Washington University of Medicine and Science. This is
the medical school with the hardest entrance exams in the country, with only a
1% acceptance rate for new admissions. Her second daughter isn’t one to be
trifled with either, having gotten into one of America’s eight elite Ivy League
schools, Brown University, where she was an editor for the school’s Daily
Herald newspaper. Many alumni of the Daily Herald have gone on to enter
news-related careers, often earning Pulitzer Prizes for their accomplishments. Bird
of Paradise herself had graduated from China’s Jinan University with a degree
in journalism; it looks like her younger daughter is leaning towards inheriting
her legacy. For a mother to be able to raise two such excellent children is
something that fills me with nothing but respect.
Our car turned off the 10 freeway and onto the
51, continuing the drive north. Luke chatted with me as he drove, while I spent
the trip enjoying the view outside the window, amazed by this city built within
the vast desert. As our car was approaching the freeway exit, I received a text
from Bird of Paradise: “Make sure your son is mentally prepared for a very big
slope. Just be careful coming up, cars at the top can make U-turns.”
“Phoenix has hills?” I asked myself seeing her
text. After all, the only thing I’d seen throughout this trip was a flat desert
vista dotted with buildings and streets.
“Dad, look, there’s a mountain up ahead!”
Following the instructions from his cellphone’s satellite navigation, Luke
turned the car off the freeway, speeding towards the foot of a dark mountain.
I looked in the direction Luke was pointing:
This black rock mountain range that jutted out of the earth wasn’t particularly
high, but it did look precipitously steep, with a few beautifully-designed
homes visible around its midsection.
“The person we’re visiting doesn’t live in one
of the mansions on that mountain, does she?” I wondered, thinking back to the
text Bird of Paradise had sent me not long before.
“We’ll be arriving at the entrance to her
house soon,” said Luke as he drove the car onto a narrow mountain road. It was
here that I realized what Bird of Paradise had meant when reminding us to be
“mentally prepared”. This slope was probably around a 45 degree angle, and from
my position in the car it felt as if I was in an airplane in the process of
taking off. Luckily the slope was a short one, and it wasn’t long before we
reached a private parking lot situated halfway up the mountain.
The moment I got out of the car, my attention
was drawn in by the surrounding view; from this spot halfway up the mountain, I
had a panoramic view of practically the entirety of the city of Phoenix. Add to
that the gently blowing mountain breeze, clean air entering my lungs, and I
couldn’t help but feel relaxed. I turned to Luke and said, “This place is like
a tourist attraction - it’s really added some color to our trip.”
Bird of Paradise came out of her house and
walked down to the parking lot to welcome us. Between this parking lot and her
front door was a stone staircase of more than 20 steps. Looking at this
distressingly long flight of stairs, I felt a bit of cowardice overcome me,
worried that my heart - still fresh from surgery - would be unable to bear such
a level of “strenuous exercise”. So I asked her: “Can we take the elevator in
your garage to get up?” I worded my question in this way because I’d noticed
that her house seemed to have been built following the topography of the mountain;
looking from the outside, the first floor appeared to be a garage, the second
was probably the living room and kitchen, and the third most likely held the
bedrooms. But she somewhat apologetically replied, “I’m really sorry, our house
doesn’t have an elevator.”
“Will you be able to walk up these stairs?” Bird
of Paradise asked me, seeming deeply concerned. “I can handle it! I’m feeling
pretty good today.” I gathered my courage, and without other’s support,
clenched my teeth and climbed those twenty-plus stairs to the top.
Upon entering her home, I felt like the Lady
Liu entering the Grand View Garden for the first time in Dream of the Red
Chamber; in the 30+ years I’ve lived in America, I’d never before seen such a
uniquely-designed, spacious and bright, ultra-huge living room. The south wall
of this enormous living room had four huge floor to ceiling windows, through
which one could look out and see the entire city spread out like a beautiful
picture scroll. I couldn’t help but remember a famous verse by the poet Du Fu:
“When reaching the great peak of Mount Tai, we hold all mountains in a single
glance.” The living room’s north side had a gigantic floor to ceiling window as
well, one with a glass door. Through it, we could see a garden full of tropical
plants and a swimming pool, as well as a beautiful husky dog excitedly greeting
us from the other side of the glass. We played with Suki the dog for a while,
then returned to the living room to chat.
Bird of Paradise was clearly very happy at our
visit as she enthusiastically steeped a pot of tea for us. Looking at the fine
teacup placed before me and smelling the rich scent wafting from the tea within
it, I - who, due to doctor’s orders, never drank tea - was unable to resist its
allure. I lifted the cup and delicately tasted a sip. Jokingly, I turned to her
and said, “I’m breaking all sorts of records on this visit today!”
“That’s right, I heard you only just had heart
surgery - I was actually afraid you might not be able to come.”
“It’s a good thing I insisted on coming, or
else I’d never have had the chance to see the beautiful view of Phoenix from
your house,” I cheerfully replied.
“The view here really is nice, you can watch
the sunset every day.” Seeing how interested I was in this unique house’s
design, Bird of Paradise began to tell me how it was designed by a famous
Arizona architect named Vernon D. Swayback. No wonder I’d smelled the strong
scent of culture when I entered her home, as if I were in a modernist museum.
Once I heard her talk, I finally understood.
From our idle chatter, I came to understand
that Bird of Paradise’s father was a famous senior poet in an author’s
association in China; she gave me three books of his poetry collections as
well. As I took the books from her hands, I told her that I myself was
preparing to pick out a few of my articles to collect into a book, and that it
would be titled “My Eleven-Year Dance With Cancer”. I wanted to get her
permission, in person, to include one of the articles she’d written after a
visit with me - “In the Evening Wind”. I said to her that every time I reread
this article, I was always moved to tears. She cheerfully consented to my
request.
Another thing I said was that we might
actually have some sort of telepathic link, because on the second page of my
soon-to-be-published book, I’d chosen to include my favorite and most poetic
Bible verse, which happened to be the exact same verse she’d
written in a card when she visited me in South California last fall:
“I had only heard you before, but now I have
seen you with my own eyes.” (Book of Job 42:5)
To be honest, this might not actually have
been a complete coincidence. Bird of Paradise and I share many similarities in
our faith, life philosophies, and interests: We’re both Christian, and like
writing about religious experiences in our daily lives to share with our
readers. We both like animals - she has a husky, and my family has one too, the
only difference being their breed. We both love the natural world which God
created - she often posts pictures of her tropical plants in social media, a
hobby I share as well.
As for our parenting ideologies, she greatly
respects her children’s decisions. Her older daughter has had good grades all
throughout medical school, and when taking the all-important Step One USMLE
test, got scores high enough to qualify her as a brain surgeon; on top of that,
her score in the surgery field was the highest available “Honor Passed”. But
this daughter went on to say that what society needs is family doctors, and
that being a family doctor can be a distinguished and rewarding career. She was
even considering joining Doctors Without Borders, out in Africa. Upon hearing
her daughter’s decision, her only reaction was to jokingly say, “If all you
want is to be a family doctor, then getting such high scores was really a
waste.” While my son’s scores aren’t as high as her daughter’s, I’ve never
interfered with choosing his field of study, either. We both hold a similar
viewpoint, that these are our children’s lives, and that we should trust that
each of their decisions was made with careful deliberation.
Before we noticed, half an hour had passed,
and it was time for us to part. As I was leaving, she told me how grateful she was
that I was able to come and visit her; she and her husband are most likely
going to be selling this house in the near future, because with both daughters
studying out-of-state, it felt a little too big for just the two of them.
Having said goodbye to Bird of Paradise, Luke
slowly and carefully drove the car down that 45-degree slope. Once he’d gotten
us onto the freeway, my wise son said to me, “I understand now why you wanted
to visit this online friend whose real name you don’t even know. Your friendship
isn’t built on worldly matters; you’re connected through spirit.”
That afternoon, as Luke drove us down the 10
Freeway towards California, I noticed that Bird of Paradise had posted a new
message online: “An arrangement made last August finally became reality today.
This morning I welcomed some rare guests into my home, Joseph and his oldest
son. Joseph was in town yesterday for his younger son’s medical school graduation
ceremony, and stopped by here on his way home today. Before this, neither of us
knew whether or not we’d be able to meet this time. He’s been fighting cancer
for eleven years, and even had a heart surgery three weeks ago. What a miracle of God it is that, despite it
all, he can still manage to travel across states to appear at his son’s graduation
ceremony! His cup is brimming with good fortune.”
Written on May 31, 2019
……………………………………………………………………………………
Appendix
In
the Evening Wind 晚风中
Author: Bird of Paradise 鹤望蓝
That Monday evening, I looked out upon the
falling darkness of the coming night. There was surprisingly no blood-red sun
gracing the desert horizon. My thoughts fluttered along with the October
evening wind. I thought back to the conversation I had with my friend Wei Yu
earlier that day, about our respected friend Brother Joseph Chang; his cancer
had come back for the sixth time.
To be honest, this wasn’t anything new. Eight
years ago the doctor had announced that he had late-stage cancer, and only had
a year left to live. But Brother Joseph has continued to dance with cancer up
to this day. This July, he went back to the hospital for another examination.
After his meeting with the doctor, he and his wife went to a restaurant to eat.
He then humorously posted pictures online and let his friends guess what the
results of his exam might have been. What everyone saw was the couple’s gentle
smiles paired with a splendidly red restaurant for a backdrop, looking entirely
happy and at peace. One after another we all guessed it must have been good
news that Joseph’s cancer cells were still in hibernation. Sadly, that turned
out to just be wishful thinking on our part. In fact, Joseph went in for
another surgery on September 1st. All the nurses in the hospital ceaselessly
praised him as a professional patient. His sons were moved as well, calling
their father a superhero. Joseph then humbly said, “I know in my heart, without
our Heavnly Father’s mercy and grace, how could I manage to live to today?”
That’s right, our Heavenly Father has grace to spare. But it’s also important
to be able to let go of yourself, and place your life in His hands with full
trust. After having fought against cancer for eight years now, Joseph is truly
undergoing a journey filled with faith and heavenly grace.
These eight years, he’s lived in seclusion,
yet written a shocking amount on the internet and a variety of other forms of
media, relying on them as evidence of his experiences. His articles “Dancing
With Cancer”, “Where Does My Help Come From?”, “The Heart of Joy is a Good
Remedy—Writing During A Fifth Recurrence of Cancer”, among others, have
garnered countless views online, encouraging more people than I can reasonably
imagine. His writing is able to strengthen many people’s faith, and turn their
lives around. He’s truly living bathed in the Lord’s glory, like a modern-day
Jesus Christ. I’ve gotten used to seeing his daily messages online, as well.
They’re filled with insight from an extraordinary man who’s gone through
multiple life-or-death experiences. Before and after his fifth surgery, he
didn’t forget to share the news with his friends. Reading his calm and
optimistic words, seeing the daily photos of his recovery, we all gradually
felt relieved. But after October, his posts rarely mentioned himself, and came
up less and less often. Not knowing why, I asked my friend Wei Yu, who also
lives in South California, about Joseph’s current situation. It wasn’t long
before that I’d heard her say the ever-helpful Joseph knew how much of a
headache all the proposals and ballot’s this year’s general elections were
giving her, and had warmheartedly shared with her some insight he’d gained from
his time as an inpatient. It’s really moving to hear, and makes us
perfectly-healthy couch potatoes feel ashamed of ourselves. Upon inquiring, Wei
Yu told me unexpected news: Joseph, after his fifth surgery, had now discovered
a brand new tumor. Wasn’t that too soon…?
Joseph and I have met in person once. Suddenly
I thought to myself, what if that once is the only meeting we ever get? Usually
I simply enjoy interacting with him online; I’d never thought to worry about
his physical health before. You could say that I’m a poor speaker, struggling
over how to word my thoughts. This was someone else’s personal matters, would
it be rude of me to talk about it? In the end I still summoned my courage and
sent Joseph a message. I’d only just said hello, and he replied almost
immediately, “Hi, is something wrong?” All my hesitation dissolved at that, and
I promptly told him all the questions I’d been holding back. His reply was as
open-minded and magnanimous as ever: “It isn’t very good news. My cancer cells
have reappeared a sixth time. They’re growing fast this time; my sixth sense is
telling me our Heavenly Father is calling out to me to return to Heaven. I’ve
been busying myself with withdrawing from the social media group these past few
days...I was thinking I wouldn’t tell my friends until after the doctor tells
me the treatment program.” It was just as I’d imagined: He was withdrawing from
our social circle and putting together funeral arrangements!
I got to know Joseph through reading his
article “Life and Death in the Waiting Room” on the Overseas Window website. The
article is a written account of what he experienced in the third floor waiting
room of City of Hope Hospital in Southern California. Those who come here are
all patients diagnosed with incurable terminal cancer. Their last hope is to go
through experimental clinical trials, using new drugs still in development
which have yet to be approved by the FDA. As you can imagine, every patient
awaiting treatment here clearly recognizes that death is heading towards them
like a speeding car. Nobody knows how much longer they’ll last. According to
Joseph’s observations, they simply wait peacefully for their departure, quietly
disappearing within an average of around 4-6 months. But Joseph managed to
persevere for seven years. And it’s precisely because he was a record-breaking
frequent visitor in this waiting room that he was able to recognize every new
face that came in. In this dismal and depressing waiting room, Joseph still
refused to let the people he cares for lose heart. It was in this very
life-or-death waiting room that Joseph met Matthew II Smith and his father, and built an
unforgettable friendship. He selflessly shared his own experiences in the fight
against cancer, using this to motivate his fellow cancer friend in running from
the grim reaper, and prayed to God Almighty to placate young Matthew’s spirit.
The article wasn’t long, but tears obscured my field of vision several times as
I read it. What a strong and loving heart he must have, to be able to write
such moving words!
To be honest, I’d read another of Joseph’s
works before that, one about his daughter’s graduation ceremony. At the time I
hadn’t paid much attention to all the descriptions of the spirit and tradition
of the USC campus; what left the greatest impression on me was the “weak and
sickly body” mentioned at the beginning of the article. He’d originally
believed he’d be too weak even to participate in his daughter’s graduation
ceremony. It was only at the moment his wife was leaving that he decided to
brace himself and make an appearance. I couldn’t help but wonder, what kind of
person is this writer? Is he a sickly man who’s been bedridden for years? It
wasn’t until I read “Life and Death in the Waiting Room” that I learned the
story behind his words. After that I looked up more of Joseph’s writings, and
found myself falling more and more in love with reading them. Joseph doesn’t
only write about serious and depressing topics, either. He’ll also write about
the fishpond at his house, and the beloved family dog. This is too much of a
coincidence; my family has a fishpond and a dog as well. He’ll even write
stories about his homeland of Qingdao, or about his children’s growth and his
feelings as a father. I learned from his writings that he lives in South
California. Isn’t that a place I go to often? Thus the desire to meet him
sprouted within me.
Just when my thoughts began to stray as I
watched the changing red clouds on the horizon, I noticed the chairman of the
Overseas Window Authors’ Association had posted a new message online: “Sent to
him, a man I respect.” Ms. Hai-yun didn’t mention in this message who it was
that had brought her to tears. Intuition told me it was the same man I was
currently thinking about. I was filled with distress. Suddenly I realized how
weak I was, and couldn’t help giving Wei Yu another call: Had the doctor said
something? Had Ms. Hai-yun learned even worse news? Wei Yu explained that she’d
told Hai-yun the same thing she told me. Who would have expected that she’d
burst into tears the moment she heard the news? At this very moment in time,
there were no words that could adequately express our feelings; anything we
could say felt meaningless.
January 1st of this year was the day the three
of us had the good fortune to meet Joseph Chang. I was only an extra guest on
this visit. It was all because of Ms. Hai-yun’s reputation and Wei Yu’s
friendship that I was lucky enough to form ties with Joseph. After our meeting,
he even wrote a new article titled “New Year’s Day Guests”. A few months later,
this article was even turned into an audio program for the radio. Chatting with
Joseph in his living room, I saw that he was just like I’d imagined from his
writings: calm, easygoing, wise, and generous. The first time we met, our
cheerful conversation had occasionally made reference to the topic of life and
death. What I remember most is the music room at their house, which contained
an enormous glass window. Through it, the passionately cheerful sun lit up the
entire room, just as Joseph’s tenacious vitality energetically showed itself
before us. Looking out that window, I could see the backyard. There was the
fishpond he’d written about, and his beloved loyal guard dog, Snowy. Before we
parted, Joseph took us to see his special room. He’d prepared a little room in
a secluded part of the house, where he would spend his final days. The idea was
that before he left this world, he would no longer have the energy to climb the
stairs to his bedroom - so he arranged a little bed here, where he could pass
his days in peace. Unexpectedly, as time passed and the Grim Reaper failed to
grace him with his presence, this little empty space transformed into the study
from which he’d write and publish all his works. It was right here that the
written chronicles of his life moved the hearts of thousands, giving hope and
consolation to countless people. And it was right here that God blessed His
loyal servant, granting him light in a time of darkness.
I pray that God stays with him, and that we
can witness together God’s grace upon him.
Written on November 14, 2016
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Translated to English by Ida van Mizener on June 6, 2019
Edited by Joseph Chang on June 6, 2019
