Originally published Tuesday, June 19, 2007
 

Oncologist deals with life and death on a daily basis.
 
Mother's bout with ovarian cancer caused man to rethink career path.

By Muhammed El-Hasan
Staff Writer

Frank Mori knows a lot about life and death, tears and despair and, of course, hope.

As an oncologist, Mori treats patients suffering from cancer.

The Westchester resident sees patients at Centinela Freeman Regional Medical Center in Inglewood. He also is part of the California Hematology Oncology Medical Group, which has offices in Westchester and Torrance.

Growing up in Torrance, Mori became interested in cancer because several of his relatives had contracted the often-fatal disease.

The North High graduate went to UCLA to study electrical engineering, with tentative plans to become a biomedical engineer.

While Mori was in college, his mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. He interacted often with his mother's oncologist, and was impressed with him.

"I was impressed with his demeanor," Mori, 40, recalls. "He was very caring.

You can't put a price on it. That was one of the major turning points."

His mother was given six months to live. She hung on for three years.

Mori went on to earn a medical degree at UC Davis School of Medicine. He specialized in oncology.

What does your job entail?

You're always learning. So you have to make sure you're well read and up to date so you can offer the best for your patients, including when you know your limitations and you have to send them to tertiary referral centers of excellence. The next part is to be their patient advocate within a multidisciplinary team of doctors.

When would you make such tertiary referrals?

For diseases not responding to conventional therapy.

Did you enter this field in hopes of somehow saving your mother?

No. I knew that was beyond help. I couldn't expect her to be around 10 years, which was the time it took me to specialize and do a fellowship. It was just the concept of giving back.

Who are your patients?

Adults. Men and women. (I) do all kinds of cancer patients. We do everything: breast, colon, lung and also the blood diseases like leukemia.

What was it like to lose a patient to cancer for the first time?

Trying to put it to words is hard. I didn't show it, but it was emotionally difficult. I saw the deterioration all over again like with my relatives and mother. And to make matters worse, she was young. She was in her 30s.

How old was the youngest cancer patient you have treated?

Mid-20s. Breast cancer. (I) don't treat pediatric patients, thankfully.

Why do you say thankfully?

They're emotionally much more difficult to deal with, both for the doctor and the family.

Do you see your job as an emotional roller coaster?

There is a certain degree of ups and downs. That's when you have to, in order to retain your sanity, have a buffer to make sure your emotions don't go too far in one direction on another.

What's the best part of your job?

Obviously, to be able to tell somebody they're cured. And the second best part is to be able to tell them they're in remission.

What's the worst part of your job?

Telling them that the disease is not curable. And that's when you change gears from a healer to a friend and advocate. As a doctor, you're taught to keep a certain professional distance. There still is professionalism. It's appropriate to have some sort of distance, but you want to let them know you are there for them as a resource.

What part of treating a cancer patient takes the most time?

The bonding process. It's when you try to assess each person's personal and religious beliefs and respect their individuality. So you have to gradually gain their trust. That would take most of the time. But you don't really keep track of that because you take as much time as you need.

Is there humor in your work?

You have to put humor into it or otherwise you wouldn't be able to maintain perspective. Of course, you don't tell jokes to a patient right after telling them about a horrible diagnosis.

How have your patients changed you?

I've been able to gain something from patients. There's definitely a major perspective and personality change when someone is diagnosed with cancer. It changes them and the people around them. I think they don't take things for granted. The little things don't matter. It doesn't matter anymore that the Lakers lost in the first round. Other things matter now like to be able to live another day to see your wife. I try to incorporate that even in my own day-to-day life. You try to keep things in perspective. What's more important, the Lakers losing or you being able to spend time with your friends and family?

muhammed.el-hasan@dailybreeze.com