“I worked hard all my life, saved a little money, and just when I thought I could finally take a breath, life struck me down in one blow. I thought, is this really how my life ends? Oh lord…”

Believing that this couldn’t be the end, 74-year-old Jo Ung-je found a renewed, fierce will to live again. When ten rounds of treatment failed to help his diffuse large B-cell lymphoma, the news of a new CAR-T cell therapy became his final hope.

“I begged the professors to let me try that treatment no matter what. I told him I’d have no regrets if I could just get it once.”

Ominous Signs

It began in 2013. While hiking, he suddenly felt short of breath and dizzy, which was something he had never experienced before. Thinking, “Maybe today just isn’t my day,” he separated from his group and went down the mountain alone. When he bent over to wash his hands in a stream, the water seemed to shoot up to the sky. The next thing he knew, everything spun, and he lost consciousness. Fortunately, someone came running toward him.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s aspirin in my bag…”

He swallowed the pill without water, and when he opened his eyes again, he was in the ICU of a hospital in Chungju. His family had rushed up from Busan in tears. As soon as he felt slightly better, he insisted on being discharged to continue treatment near home. Although doctors said his blood pressure was high and 70% of his coronary arteries were blocked, he didn’t feel much pain. Back home, his anxiety eased, and he carried on as if he had forgotten death altogether. Five years passed that way.

In May 2018, during a company dinner, he drank a few glasses of soju. Drinking and smoking were still part of his routine. Suddenly his vision blurred, and the world started spinning. “Damn, I must’ve been nurturing this disease for five years,” he thought, feeling death closing in. A CT scan revealed ominously dark spots. It was diagnosed as lung cancer. It was time to seek out the best possible treatment. He called Asan Medical Center and demanded the earliest possible appointment. The entire drive up to Seoul was filled with dread.

“Maybe I Should Just End It”

At his first appointment, the professor suggested an immediate biopsy, suspecting something else. The result wasn’t lung cancer but diffuse large B-cell lymphoma, a term he had never heard before.

“Lung cancer is a death sentence, so maybe this is a bit better?” he thought with relief.

But a quick online search shattered that hope. The average life expectancy was said to be less than six months.

Professor Dok Hyun Yoon of the Division of Oncology at Asan Medical Center began his treatment. After several rounds of chemotherapy, he was told that 95 percent of the cancer had been wiped out. For the first time, he allowed himself to smile — but Professor Yoon didn’t. In blood cancers, even the remaining five percent can quickly spread again.

He showed resistance to every drug that was tried. The cancer kept returning, and it felt like the countdown to death had begun. The experimental drug was so hard to tolerate that he could hardly swallow a bite. His weight dropped from 63kg to 50kg in no time. Weak and bedridden, dark thoughts filled his mind. “Maybe I should just die.”

When he heard about an effective immune injection in Japan, he flew there immediately. Each dose cost 50 million won (around $40,000 USD). His condition improved quickly, but since it wasn’t a fundamental cure, symptoms returned after nine months. Relying on that expensive shot indefinitely wasn’t an option especially during the COVID-19 pandemic, when traveling was nearly impossible.

Having worked as a tax accountant, his life had always been ruled by precision and calculation. Hard work used to guarantee results. But now, after sixty, he realized that illness didn’t obey the rules of reason or effort. Wanting to ask for God’s grace with a clear conscience, he tried to live more simply and sincerely. And to reach tomorrow, he had to cling tightly even to the faintest thread of hope.

A Treatment Fueled by Everyone’s Hope

Professor Yoon mentioned a new therapy, which is CAR-T. It involves extracting a patient’s own T cells, genetically modifying them to recognize and attack cancer cells, and infusing them back into the body. He asked Jo to wait until the treatment was approved and covered by insurance at their hospital. Fortunately, another targeted therapy held the disease at bay for a while.

When he heard that other hospitals had already started CAR-T therapy, his heart wavered—time felt too precious to lose even a single day. But he soon reaffirmed his decision to his family: ‘No matter how desperate I get, I’m not changing hospitals. Professor Yoon has known my case from the very beginning, and if I’m going to die, I’d rather die here at Asan.’

While waiting, he endured 25 rounds of radiation therapy, during which he developed intestinal blockage. Each day felt endless, but he kept climbing mountains and maintaining a strict diet. He believed that even the best doctors and newest drugs couldn’t replace a patient’s own effort to care for themselves.

In February 2022, he was finally given the chance to join Asan Medical Center’s first CAR-T clinical program. Professor Yoon hadn’t forgotten how earnestly he had waited. But when the white blood cell collection failed twice, disappointment inevitably crept in. Speaking to Nurse Practitioner Young Sun Kim, he confided, ‘I just want to live long enough to see my son find a good partner and build a life of his own. But thinking that I might not even make it that far breaks my heart. All I wish for is five more years.’

‘I’m praying for you too,’ she replied.

Right after Kymriah, the CAR-T therapy, became covered by national insurance, Jo became the first patient at Asan Medical Center to receive it. Perhaps because everyone’s hopes were bound up in that moment, the infusion of CAR-T cells was carried out safely and smoothly.

A few days later, while out for a walk, he noticed an unfamiliar number appearing on his phone. When he answered, Professor Yoon’s excited voice burst through the line: ‘It’s a miracle! You’ve beaten it!’ The test results showed that his body was completely clear of cancer. ‘My professor, who’s usually so quiet, sounded happier than I was. I was deeply moved. Seeing how genuinely happy he was gave me confidence to live better, and I realized through my own body that cancer isn’t always incurable.’

Now Living with a Smile

At his next appointment, Jo brought his son along. He wanted to show proper respect and gratitude to the man who had saved his life. His son was now married and had given him a grandchild—it made him think, life really is worth living long enough to see such days. Turning to Professor Yoon, he said, ‘If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be alive.’

He wanted to show his gratitude, but Professor Yoon firmly refused. Laughing, Jo said, ‘I don’t see how thanking my professor after getting well could be considered a bribe. Well then, I’ll just make a donation to Asan Medical Center or do some volunteer work instead.’ Still smiling from ear to ear, he headed back home to Busan.

‘For cancer patients, the best thing is to live without stress, you know. You can’t take such a precious medicine and then live carelessly. I’m going to enjoy life, keep a gentle heart, and stay grateful—that’s the real cure, isn’t it?’