My mother, Juliette, is facing something no family should have to navigate: lung cancer discovered eight years after the first warning signs. She is a 73-year-old retired public school teacher, lifelong non-smoker, and devout Buddhist who always treated others with kindness and respect, spending her career teaching kids to trust science and care for others. She believed in the healthcare system she paid into for decades. By the time anyone connected the dots, she was diagnosed with Stage 4 EGFR-mutated lung cancer, now spread to her brain and threatening her mobility, independence, and safety at home. 

From 2016 to 2017, CT scans showed lung abnormalities and recommended ruling out malignancy, but there was no follow-up imaging or oncology referral. She kept returning with joint pain, labeled osteoarthritis and treated with physical therapy. On February 15, 2025, she went to urgent care with fatigue, was diagnosed with a urinary tract infection and sent home. 

On February 22, she could no longer turn her neck and went to the Emergency Department. Imaging there revealed what no one had put together: metastatic lung cancer spread to her brain, spine, and liver, along with a C4 pathologic fracture. She was admitted in pain and frightened, trying to understand how a UTI and neck pain had turned into life-threatening cancer. 

Despite right leg pain and repeated requests to image her legs, the hospital kept moving toward a discharge on March 13. Late that afternoon, an X-ray showed a 3.4 cm metastatic lesion in her right femur, putting her at high risk for a fracture and halting the discharge. She was then placed in a TLSO brace for a new T10 fracture while still in a cervical collar. As teams debated her care and requests for transfer to orthopedic oncology were denied, my mother grew weaker and lost 5 lbs in 7 days. On March 28, I signed her out Against Medical Advice and took her to UCLA’s Emergency Department. 

Today, Juliette requires 24/7 supervision. She is at high risk for fractures, falls, and neurologic decline. She needs help with almost every basic task—moving in bed, transferring to a chair, eating safely, and managing pain. To keep her safe at home, we now face continuous caregiving, mobility equipment, major home modifications, and legal fees. Your donation will help cover these costs so she can stay out of the hospital whenever possible. Without this kind of support, her only alternatives may be repeated hospital stays or a facility instead of the home she knows. 

Sharing this publicly is not easy but dignity and safety matter more than pride. If you’ve ever trusted a system and watched someone you love fall through the cracks, you understand what we feel. I work in healthcare and seeing this from the other side of the bedrail has been humbling. Any support—whether a donation, sharing her story, or simply holding our family in your thoughts—helps keep Juliette safe and comfortable. Even a $10 or $20 gift makes a real difference when it goes toward hands-on care and making home safer. 

My mom would want you to take one thing away: trust your doctors, but kindly verify, ask questions, and stay involved. In Vietnamese and Chinese traditions, nhân nghĩa (仁義) means compassion and duty together. She lived that. She was a devout Buddhist who kept the Five Precepts, took refuge in the Triple Gem, and walked the Eightfold Path. She taught me to do what is right, not what is easy, and I have always wanted to be able to provide for her and keep her safe. For her, advocacy was an act of love, and I am trying to honor that now—for her and for others who may stand where we are. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this and for holding a piece of this with us. 

“All conditioned things are impermanent — when one sees this with wisdom, 

one turns away from suffering. 

This is the path to purification.”

Dhammapada 277

(Buddha’s teaching on impermanence)