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Sunday, September 25, 2011

Floyd man is fighting cancer on his own terms

Abraham Cherrix's 2006 court battle prompted a law giving teenagers 14 or older and their parents the right to seek alternative medical treatments. Living in Floyd, he's still battling Hodgkin's disease.

Kyle Green | The Roanoke Times

"As far as my mindset goes, I may have it all my life," Abraham Cherrix said. "But I won't be distraught about it. I can live my life. I can't run as far as other people. I can't eat a lot of sugar. Ultimately I want to find something that cures me. That involves trial and error. But I don't regret any of the choices I've made."

Abraham Cherrix (right) plays a duet on an electronic keyboard with his partner, Darin Laffan, at the home of Rose Cherrix in Riner. Cherrix and Laffan live together in a mobile home in Floyd where Cherrix is on disability because of chronic fatigue he attributes to the first round of chemotherapy.

Abraham Cherrix (right) plays a duet on an electronic keyboard with his partner, Darin Laffan, at the home of Rose Cherrix in Riner. Cherrix and Laffan live together in a mobile home in Floyd where Cherrix is on disability because of chronic fatigue he attributes to the first round of chemotherapy.

Abraham Cherrix (second from left), his partner, Darin Laffan (left), sister, Starbright Cherrix (back, partially obscured), and mother, Rose Cherrix (right) play with a family dog in Riner.

Abraham Cherrix (second from left), his partner, Darin Laffan (left), sister, Starbright Cherrix (back, partially obscured), and mother, Rose Cherrix (right) play with a family dog in Riner.

FLOYD — In the world of cancer, there's a measuring stick every victim keeps an eye on: the five-year survival rate.

Abraham Cherrix recently passed a different five-year milestone: the time since he waged a court battle for the right to choose whatever cancer treatment he wanted, a stand that put the former Eastern Shore teen in the glare of media cameras from around the globe.

Cherrix is an adult now, 21, and living on the other side of the state — near mountains instead of water — but there's still a lot of the old Abraham there.

He's still tall and lanky with a quick smile. He still cracks jokes, even when recounting a recent incident of coughing up blood: "That seemed like something I ought to check out," he said with a wry smile.

He's also still battling Hodgkin's disease, which he was diagnosed with in 2005 at the age of 15. Now, though, he's fighting it away from news cameras, and outside the venue of the Accomack County Courthouse.

But he is still fighting it.

Since the court battle wrapped up in August 2006, he's been through four different rounds of radiation to eradicate tumors, and even consented to a round of chemotherapy — his stubborn refusal of that treatment landed him and his family in court in the first place.

He has left the Chincoteague community where he grew up and moved with his mother and siblings to Floyd, nestled in the crest of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

And though one method of fighting the tumors — radiation treatment — is becoming more limited because of the amount he has had in certain parts of his body, he says there are other ways to fight it, so he has not given up hope."As far as my mindset goes, I may have it all my life. But I won't be distraught about it. I can live my life. I can't run as far as other people. I can't eat a lot of sugar. Ultimately I want to find something that cures me. That involves trial and error. But I don't regret any of the choices I've made."

*   *   *

Cherrix became a bit of a media darling during the summer of 2006, when his family wound up in court after he refused a second round of chemo. Medical experts called the move foolhardy, as Hodgkin's is one of the most curable cancers, but alternative medicine advocates lauded his public stand as a victory for the right to choose your own treatment.

Mainstream media also jumped aboard, and cameras from CNN, Fox and other networks trained their lenses on the personable, self-confident Abraham as he walked in and out of court.

Bioethicist Arthur Caplan, who's written about the case for journals, said Cherrix's was one in a series of cases during the past few decades in which families opposed lifesaving treatment for their children for religious reasons or because they're opting for an unproven alternative.

Abraham's was a little different in that while most people turn to alternatives when traditional treatments fail, he quit early in the conventional route.

Since he was older, mature, in agreement with his parents, and also ended up with a compromise that included some conventional treatment, his wasn't as noteworthy as some others, such as a case in which the parents were convicted of manslaughter.

But the case did result in a new Virginia law - known as Abraham's law - that gives teenagers 14 or older and their parents the right to refuse medical treatments for ailments such as cancer. Teenagers and their parents can seek alternative treatments so long as they have considered all other medical options.

It's a law, incidentally, that Caplan doesn't think much of.

"These types of cases have to be looked at on an individual basis," said Caplan, who is director of a bioethics center at the University of Pennsylvania. "Not all 14-year-olds have the same level of maturity. Not all teenagers have the same intellectual ability. Not all families are intact or do right by their child. Some may be abusive in withholding care, they may be crazy or cruel. You need a social worker to assess the situation and bring it to court if need be."

*   *   *

Starchild Abraham Cherrix was born to Jay and Rose Cherrix, who ran a kayaking business in Chincoteague and home schooled their children. When Abraham started feeling feverish and tired in the summer of 2005, medical tests showed that he had Hodgkin's disease, a lymphatic cancer. About 90 percent of patients diagnosed and treated in the early stages of the disease live five years or longer.

But survivors also face a higher-than-average risk for long-term complications of the treatments, such as chronic fatigue, secondary cancers and heart disease - all factors a well-read Abraham soon became aware of.

Three months of chemo left Abraham nauseated and so weak that his father had to carry him from the house to the car to continue treatment. When the cancer returned in early 2006, a doctor at Children's Hospital of The King's Daughters in Norfolk recommended a second round, along with radiation therapy.

Abraham said no.

He and his father went to the Association for Research and Enlightenment in Virginia Beach and learned about an alternative medicine called the Hoxsey method.

They traveled to Tijuana, Mexico, to start the treatment, which includes an organic diet and herbal supplements that were banned in the United States by the Food and Drug Administration in 1960. When Abraham didn't show up for his second round of chemo in Norfolk, a doctor reported the case to the Department of Social Services, which took Abraham's parents to court for medical neglect.

A judge ordered Abraham back to chemotherapy, saying he could be taken from his parents if he refused. That led to widespread debate on whether government had the right to interfere with fundamental family decisions.

In the end, the family and court came to a compromise in August 2006 to have Abraham receive care from a Mississippi doctor named Arnold Smith. The radiation oncologist uses both conventional and more innovative methods, including immunotherapy.

Since then, Abraham has been to Mississippi four times for months-long treatment.

The first time, in 2006, he received "pinpoint" radiation treatment for a tumor in his neck and one near his windpipe, in a method that keeps radiation exposure to a minimum.

Smith also got him started on an immunotherapy program that included a special diet - no sugar, preservatives, flour, wheat products - and supplements and minerals to bolster his immune system.

Late the same year, five more tumors arose, and Abraham returned to Mississippi in January 2007, for radiation treatment to eradicate two in lymph nodes under his arms, one near his collarbone and two in his lower left lung.

By this time, Rose had separated from Jay, and their home in Chincoteague had been foreclosed on. Rose said she and Jay didn't disagree on Abraham's treatment or court matters, but "when you have small problems, they get magnified during a crisis."

Rose and the five Cherrix children moved to Floyd in May 2007. There, Abraham was followed by doctors, including a chiropractor and an osteopathic doctor. In 2009, a checkup brought to light two small tumors in his lung, which he again returned to Mississippi to have eradicated.

The next year, he felt a small raised spot on the left side of this chest. He ignored it.

"I had this idea of, 'Yes, I'm done with cancer.' I was in denial. I didn't want to entertain the thought that it might be back. It's annoying. You want to stop eventually. I was trying a new experiment of, 'If I think positive, what effect will that have on my body?' "

But by summer, he was coughing up blood. Rose took him to a hospital in nearby Radford. An X-ray showed a tumor in his lung that was pressing against a blood vessel.

"It scared me. Subconsciously, I knew what it was."

They wanted him to have a lung biopsy. Abraham, though, wanted to go back to see Dr. Smith in Mississippi.

He was told if he left it would be against doctor advice, because the vessel could burst at any moment. Also, if he left against doctor advice, he would likely have a hard time getting insurance to cover his treatment out of state.

It was not the kind of warning Abraham was prone to accept: "The interesting thing is that the audacity of the medical system continues."

Instead, he asked the nurse for the paperwork he needed to fill out to leave. He returned to Mississippi.

It took awhile before they could get Medicaid to cover treatment, but when they did, an oncologist recommended chemotherapy. It would be different from what he'd had when he was 15, likely with fewer effects. He agreed to it. He had two 24-hour drips, three weeks apart, and handled the therapy without many side effects. But scans afterward showed no impact on the tumors, so the oncologist recommended more chemotherapy using different drugs, some of which had been used in his first experience with the treatment.

Again, Abraham refused.

Instead, he had six weeks of low-dose radiation treatment that ended early this year.

He said Dr. Smith told him there are some parts of his body, the area around his spinal cord, where he can't have any more radiation therapy.

Wilson Gaillard, administrator at the practice where Smith works, said that for now, Abraham's tumors have diminished and blood work shows he is in remission again.

What happens, though, if more tumors arise in the areas where he can't have more radiation treatment?

"We'll have to reach into our bag of tricks," Gaillard said. "Some treatments are more effective than others, but there are still options. We are keeping our fingers crossed and hoping we won't see him again."

*   *   *

The unanswered question, of course, is would Abraham be cured if he had consented to a second round of chemotherapy in Norfolk?

It's a question that's impossible to answer for this reason: A small percentage of people die of Hodgkin's in the first five years after diagnosis, even with early treatment. Also, some people have recurrent tumors even after going five years cancer-free.

A line on Smith's website sums it up succinctly: "Treatment and effectiveness may vary. No case is typical and no results are guaranteed."

Abraham said he does not regret any decision he has made, except for ignoring the bump on his left side for so long.

Caplan said he believes that Abraham would be better off if he'd tackled the disease early and more aggressively:

"I think from my point of view, he's foolish, he's not paying attention to the fact that cancer kills people who think positively as well as those who think negatively. But all that being said, he should be allowed to pursue what he wants to do now, because he's an adult."

Officials at the Norfolk hospital declined comment, except to say that they have not had any patient invoke Abraham's law in the time since it's been in effect.

Abraham said that even if another tumor arises in a place where he can't use radiation again, there are more options out there, including the one he wanted to try in the first place, the Hoxsey method.

"It was working," he said.

"I think it would have worked," Rose said. "When they went to Mexico, they talked to so many people there who had been told to go home and die, and they were sitting there because of the treatment."

Rose has no regrets either, though she admits there is one point of the battle she has questioned: When they made the compromise to seek treatment with Smith, she wonders whether it would have been better to continue fighting for the right to choose whatever they wanted.

As it was, the family had to report to the court Abraham's condition for two more years, until he was 18 and legally free to make whatever decision he wanted.

Since then, both she and Abraham have spoken before medical classes at Virginia Tech about their case. Abraham still holds out hope for a cure, and not just through conventional means.

"There's dozens of things," he said before launching into a discussion about medicinal mushrooms and the "Rife Ray Machine." Both are alternative methods that have been denounced by the medical establishment. Alternative medicine websites, though, tout them as methods "the medical Mafia" wants to keep under wraps.

He is still using the supplements and minerals that Smith recommends, but said he can't always afford them, and insurance doesn't cover the cost, so he goes on and off the regime, which he thinks limits their effectiveness.

Rose now lives in Riner, near Floyd, and Abraham lives in a mobile home in Floyd with his partner, Darin Laffan, whom he married in England in June. Abraham is on disability because of chronic fatigue that he attributes to the first round of chemotherapy. His friends now call him Wolf.

Rose said he's remained positive through his ordeal, a characteristic that has carried them both through the past five years.

"The moment I go into depression, that is the moment I lose," Abraham said. "Originally, the doctor told me I wouldn't live until I was 21 without chemo. But here I am."

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