Our Journey: Discovering Tubao’s Yolk Sac Tumor
I want to share with you all how we found out that Tubao has a yolk sac tumor. It was a devastating blow.
Day 1: The Unsettling Discovery
It was a day in April 2024. That night, when my husband and I were bathing our little one, we noticed a slight swelling on his body. Being completely clueless, we had no idea what it could be.
Day 2: The First Hospital Visit & Chilling Suspicions
The next day, we took him to the Maternal and Child Health Hospital. After feeling the swollen area, the doctor suggested an ultrasound. The ultrasound took quite a long time, and Tubao was crying nonstop throughout the process. The doctor’s expression was extremely serious, and we didn’t dare even to breathe loudly. Once it was done, we were instructed to wait outside for five minutes before returning for the report. My heart was racing—during all my prenatal check-ups, reports were always handed over on the spot. What could be so serious that we had to wait?
When we got the ultrasound report, it said “suspected yolk sac tumor, not excluding teratoma.” On the way back to the consulting room, I quickly searched for “yolk sac tumor” on my phone. Every result mentioned it was a malignant tumor, and my heart tightened into a knot. When we entered the doctor’s office, he closed the door and talked to us for over half an hour, explaining the dangers of this tumor in detail. My husband and I were on the verge of tears. Despite the overwhelming sadness, I tried to stay calm and asked questions: the impact of removing the affected part, survival rate, prognosis, and more. In the end, he told us to go home and discuss when to be admitted to the hospital. Neither of us spoke a word on the way back. As soon as we got home, we started booking pediatric surgery appointments at all the other major hospitals in the area.
Day 3: A Harsh Confirmation & a Difficult Decision
On the third day, we went to the best general hospital in our city to the Pediatric Surgery Department. At first glance, the doctor said it might be a hydrocele, but his expression changed instantly after a physical examination. He said it was a solid tumor, and based on his experience, the tumor in this area was not optimistic, and he recommended another ultrasound. That’s when we told him about the ultrasound we had done the previous day. After reading the report, he said, “There’s an 80% chance it’s a yolk sac tumor. You need to be admitted to the hospital and have surgery as soon as possible.” However, we hadn’t yet been to the provincial cancer hospital. I told the doctor we needed to step out to discuss. As soon as we walked out, I burst into tears and said to my husband, “Let’s check in here and have the surgery first. Do you agree? If anything goes wrong, please don’t blame me.” My husband was also in tears. After calming down a little, we went back to inform the doctor that we would be admitted here.
I felt I needed to explain why I was the one who had to make that call. On the same day, my father-in-law was diagnosed with gastric cancer with liver metastasis. My husband had both his father and son hospitalized, and he was not in a state to make rational decisions.
Tubao was quite curious about everything in the hospital. There was a little boy in the same ward who was one month older than him, and they could play together. But whenever we thought about the malignant yolk sac tumor, we couldn’t bring ourselves to be happy.
In the afternoon, we took Tubao for CT scans of the upper abdomen, lower abdomen, pelvis, and chest—all results were normal. We also did another ultrasound, which was highly suggestive of endodermal sinus tumor (another name for yolk sac tumor).
Day 4: Sleepless Night & Confirmatory Tests
On the fourth day, since Tubao hadn’t stopped night feeding yet, he needed some fasting blood tests. He wasn’t allowed to eat or drink starting from midnight. That night was definitely a sleepless one, and the pain we felt was indescribable. At 4:30 in the morning, the nurse came to draw blood—nine tubes in total, using a 20ml syringe. I held down his body, and my husband held his legs. As Tubao cried, we cried too.
In the morning, the alpha-fetoprotein (AFP) result came out: 487.3, confirming the diagnosis of yolk sac tumor. We urgently underwent another color Doppler ultrasound, examining the liver, gallbladder, pancreas, spleen, kidneys, and retroperitoneum. Fortunately, there were no tumor cells in other parts of his body.
Day 5: Surgery Day & the Weight of Waiting
On the fifth day, the day of the surgery. I held Tubao and walked into the operating room. The walls inside were covered with many cartoon stickers. I stayed with him to look at the stickers, and he even smiled at me. I was so weak that tears rolled down my face. When the nurse came to take him, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I said, “If he cries inside, please let me hold him and comfort him. He’s only one year old; he’s just scared and won’t trouble you.” The nurse replied, “I’ll stay with him inside, and I’ll definitely take good care of him. Don’t worry.” She held him and walked in. I heard his cries, and then I was asked to wait outside the operating room door.
I had never felt time pass so slowly. The one-and-a-half-hour surgery felt like half a century. Everything had happened so suddenly over the past few days—so suddenly that we didn’t have a moment to catch our breath. I just stared quietly at the screen in the waiting area: “Waiting for surgery,” “Surgery in progress,” “Recovering from anesthesia.” After the tumor was removed, the doctor called us to take a look at the excised part. When the nurse pushed Tubao out, he was sitting on the surgical cart. Back in the ward, the doctor said, “The anesthetic hasn’t fully worn off yet. Mom, lie down and feed him; he’ll fall asleep. Let him rest.” At that moment, when I held my baby in my arms, I finally felt like my heart was back where it belonged.
What followed was the recovery period in the hospital. My little boy, at just 15 months old, lost one organ in his body, but he kept his life.