A Youth Saved by Heavy Ions – The Story Behind an 18-Year-Old Epileptic Boy Overcoming a Tumor

A Youth Saved by Heavy Ions – The Story Behind an 18-Year-Old Epileptic Boy Overcoming a Tumor

When the morning breeze drifts over carrying the moisture from Life Lake, the white hair at Chen Youde’s temples resembles reed fronds dotted with dewdrops, gently lifted as if combed by the wind. The nearly seventy-year-old man stands by the stone railing, softly plucking at the hem of his clothes. In the distance, every ray of morning sunlight cast upon the hospital’s glass curtain wall mirrors the blue sky and white clouds. Like stars scattered across the lake, they fall warmly into the old man’s misty eyes—eyes brimming with eighteen years of tender longing.

Eighteen years ago, the moment his grandson Chen Jiansong was born, epilepsy took root like an incurable ailment, turning into an inescapable dark fog that shrouded his childhood completely. The burden of life weighed unbearably heavy. One early morning with lingering mist, Chen Jiansong’s mother chose to leave silently. From then on, the heavy responsibility of raising Chen Jiansong fell firmly on the shoulders of his father Chen Jinping and the elderly couple Chen Youde, whose hair had already turned grey with age.

For years, the wind and sand of the Loess Plateau have relentlessly battered this family. Carrying Chen Jiansong on his back, Chen Jinping has traversed the land of Gansu time and again—from the county town to the provincial capital, and farther still to Xi’an and Shanghai. Every journey has been a struggle against fate, yet every glimmer of hope has been accompanied by helplessness and disappointment.

On countless quiet nights, Chen Jiansong could hear his grandmother’s suppressed sobs. His grandfather Chen Youde would sit in the living room, puffing away at his cigarette. The glowing ember flickered in the darkness, much like their fading hopes, eventually dissipating into the still night along with the old man’s unspeakable sorrow.

In early 2025, Chen Jiansong began choking while drinking water. As his condition worsened, even half a bowl of thin porridge became an insurmountable hurdle. It would often take him half an hour or longer to swallow with great difficulty. Afflicted by epilepsy, his mental capacity has remained at that of a young child. Unable to articulate the severe pain in his body clearly, he can only let out indistinct whimpers—a sound like a blunt knife, gouging repeatedly at his family’s hearts.

Staring at Chen Jiansong’s increasingly gaunt face, Chen Jinping gritted his teeth, slung his son onto his back once more, and set off for Xi’an to seek medical treatment. The pungent smell of disinfectant, the bustling crowds, and the constant moans in the hospital all heightened his inner anxiety. After a long wait, the doctor held the test report and told him gravely that Chen Jiansong had a brain tumor. Due to its special location, surgery was not feasible. In an instant, he felt dizzy and everything spun around him. The dense lines on the report were like cold spells, shredding the hope that had sustained him for years, scattering it to the ground. Stepping out of the hospital, the sunset glow fell over his shoulders, yet he could feel no warmth. His world was utterly engulfed in darkness.

In April 2025, the wind in the northwest still carried the lingering chill of winter. Squatting by the stove, Chen Jinping added firewood to the furnace. The flames deepened the hollows of his sunken eye sockets, and his temples, frosted with premature greying he hardly noticed. The traditional Chinese medicine simmering in the pot curled upward in plumes of bitter steam. Suddenly, a dull crash echoed from the inner room—the sound of a porcelain bowl shattering.

Rushing inside, Chen Jinping found Chen Jiansong curled in the corner of the kang, his neck twisted unnaturally and foam frothing continuously from the corners of his mouth. Trembling, Chen Youde steadied his convulsing grandson. His bark-like hands were pinched into bloody welts as he called out weakly: “Pingzi, hurry, fetch the doctor!”

Chen Jinping grabbed his phone, yet his hands froze mid-dial. The more than twenty doctors’ numbers saved in his contacts seemed to flicker across the screen, mocking him. After returning from Xi’an last time, they had tried folk remedies, acupuncture, even the cinnabar given by the village witch. Still, the rattling in his son’s throat had grown fainter than the year before.

“Grandpa… it hurts…” Clutching Chen Youde’s sleeve, Chen Jiansong let murky tears mix with saliva, streaming down the fabric. A suppressed sob caught in Chen Youde’s throat. Though his spotted old hands patted his grandson’s back gently, they could not soothe the violent spasms.

Late into the night, the family sat in heavy silence. The howling wind outside grated harshly through the quiet room. When morning light spilled over the loess slopes the next day, Chen Jinping lifted his son onto his back once more. Chen Jiansong’s limp head lolled against his father’s shoulder, his warm breath dampening the faded collar of his father’s worn clothes. Their shadows stretched endlessly long, mirroring their unending hardship.

After countless inquiries, the family finally pinned their last hope of treatment on the Wuwei Heavy Ion Center of Wuwei Cancer Hospital in Gansu Province.

“The tumor is pressing on the brainstem. Conventional radiotherapy yields limited results. Heavy ion therapy is the optimal option at present, but…” At the mention of “seventy to eighty thousand yuan”, Chen Jinping’s body jolted abruptly, and the cloth pouch he had clutched tightly slipped from his grasp.

“Please stay calm…” Chief physician Zhang Tian’e reached to steady him, only to see him swipe a rough palm across his face—his hands streaked with tears and crisscrossed by years of labor-worn cracks.

A turning point arrived on a torrentially rainy afternoon. Zhang Tian’e hurried over with Director Hu Tingchao from the Fifth Radiotherapy Department. Unable to contain his excitement, Director Hu told Chen Jinping: “After learning about your hardships, the hospital leadership has applied for a charitable relief fund on your behalf. All expenses incurred during your heavy ion treatment will be fully covered by the hospital!”

Chen Jinping could barely believe his ears until he saw the bright red official seal stamped on the document. The vivid crimson reminded him of the day Chen Jiansong first learned to walk—when the sunshine fell softly on his little son’s rosy cheeks.

The dose cloud imaging in the treatment room records a miracle: the tumor, once pressing on the brainstem like a mass of dark ink, has shrunk significantly thanks to the unique Bragg peak effect of heavy ion therapy. After the fifth session of heavy ion treatment, Chen Jiansong—who could not even lift his head while lying in bed at first—can now hold a spoon and eat on his own.

As dusk falls, Life Lake bears witness to the transformation of the whole family. Every evening, the elderly couple Chen Youde takes their grandson for a stroll by the lake, letting the young boy’s smile bloom brightly.

After systematic treatment, Chen Jiansong has been discharged from hospital to recuperate at home. In six months, he will return to the hospital to wage his most determined battle against epilepsy, which has plagued him for eighteen years. By then, the expert team will conduct a multidisciplinary consultation based on his disease progression and rehabilitation status, and formulate an individualized precise treatment plan.

Zhang Tian'e still remembers that during a morning ward round, Chen Jiansong tremblingly grasped her white coat and pinned a bright little red flower onto her pocket.