Photograph by Jacqueline Ramseyer
Navel Gazing: Richie Ang, 8, shows off his 'second belly button,' the hole where his feeding tube was attached for two years, until it was removed this past June.
Local third-grader survives brain cancer
The 8-year-old spent two years in therapy
By Erin Mayes
Two months ago, Richie Ang started eating again. For two years he was fed by his parents through a tube in his stomach. No candy bars, no cereal, no hamburgers, no hot dogs. Just formula.
These days, when Richie gets home from school, his favorite snack is macaroni and cheese. Along with pizza, it's his most desired food.
"Pizza and pasta--PP," he says, revealing his secret code for his preferred foods.
Richie, 8, was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor at the age of 6, after a routine school eye exam showed that his eyesight was not perfect.
"They said he probably needed glasses," says Richie's mom, Letty Quizon. "The opthalmologist ordered an MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) just to be on the safe side. We're so lucky to have her. She's so thorough."
The MRI revealed a golf-ball-sized tumor in Richie's hypothalamus--the hormone center of the brain. Later scans showed cancer cells in his cerebrospinal fluid.
Doctors told Quizon and her husband, Richard Ang, that Richie would need to undergo chemotherapy and radiation.
Quizon says doctors were concerned that the radiation could affect his present and future physical growth and some bodily functions, which could be affected by the over- or under-supply of hormones. She says Richie's pediatric endocrinologist was surprised that he came out of therapy completely normal. An MRI scan of Richie's brain and spine Sept. 4 revealed the tumor had shrunk, and only a thin thread of cancer cells remained in the spinal column, where large white spots had turned up previously. Richie's doctor viewed it as nearly miraculous.
"He said, 'What have you been doing?'" Quizon says. "He said, 'Whatever you've been doing, keep doing it.'"
The road to recovery was not an easy one, though.
"There were times he would throw up 12 times a day," Quizon explains in relating the effects chemotherapy had on Richie.
It was because of his loss of appetite that doctors suggested Richie be fed through a tube that would be temporarily implanted in his abdomen. His parents were reluctant at first but finally acquiesced. They were pleasantly surprised when Richie began to look healthier and regain strength. Over a two-year period, he's gone from 32 to 82 pounds--a 50-pound difference.
"I was feeding him by the tube about six times a day," Quizon said. "I would go to his school at lunch. Now he's able to join his friends--just be one of the guys. It means a lot to him."
At one point, Richie had three tubes in his body. The first was the stomach tube, which was removed June 29. Also removed was a portable catheter in his upper chest, through which doctors administered chemotherapy. One tube remains--the shunt from Richie's brain to his abdomen. It was put in when doctors figured out that the tumor was blocking the normal flow of brain and spinal fluid, presenting the threat of seizures. When Richie turns his neck a certain way, the tube can be seen, though it looks like a vein.
The remaining tube is a small price to pay for Richie's health, Quizon says.
Through all of the operations and treatments, Richie kept a positive attitude. Thanks to Quizon's adaptability, an environment of normalcy was maintained throughout the treatment. Quizon said she has decided to write a book about how to care for small children when they are seriously ill.
She says parents need to know as much as they can about their child's illness. Staying on top of treatment is essential because hospital staff can't always be relied upon.
Emotionally, parents need to help their children think positively and keep life as normal as possible, Quizon says. Richie, for example, stayed in school throughout his treatment, rarely missing class.
And perhaps most importantly, Quizon says she learned that it's OK to need help.
"Sometimes, we like to keep problems to ourselves," she says. "It helps a lot when you open yourself up."
Without monetary and emotional support from many friends, and even people they'd never met before, the family might not have been able to cope with the trying time.
"At first, our insurance refused to shoulder our expenses because they said it was a pre-existing condition," Quizon says. "People brought us food, money. When he was very sick, my husband and I really needed that support."
One family from New Hampshire found out about Richie on the Internet. The three children set up a lemonade stand and sent Richie a wad of cash from the proceeds in August.
"It's children helping children," Quizon says. "It's so pure and heartwarming."
Through several newspaper articles, churches all over the Bay Area found out about Richie and have been praying for him. "Once he got well, he went around thanking them," Quizon says.
Faith has been an important part of Richie's recovery, she says. "We just prayed," she says. "Richie prays a lot. What's amazing is, the spine disease is almost gone now."
At one point during his treatment, Richie drew a picture of himself receiving radiation therapy while God stood above him, emanating crayon-yellow rays of light.
"I've pictured that the big machine was God sending his healing rays," Richie says.
"The first day of radiation, he was scared," Quizon says. "We talked to him and told him he'd have to be still. It's not easy to face your fears."
Looking at Richie today, one would never guess what he's been through. He's an intelligent, active third-grader who collects coins, rocks, Pokémon toys and Legos. He can rattle off complicated names of dinosaurs and has dozens of jokes stored in his memory, ready for the telling. He wants to be either an architect, paleontologist or marine biologist.
Meanwhile, Richie is completely off medication, and his doctors are watching his hormones to make sure he grows at a normal rate, physically and mentally.
Quizon says she's keeping the faith that his tumor will continue to shrink until it disappears and becomes nothing but a bad memory.
"We just want to believe that," she says.
Editor's Note: Former staff writer Genevieve Roja wrote about third-grader Richie Ang in the Aug. 4, 1999, and Feb. 23, 2000, editions of The Campbell Reporter. Ang was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor in June 1999, at the age of 6.
Campbell, California
