Comic, writer and actor Alex Duong has been a member of SAG-Aftra since 2009. He became a door guy at the Comedy Store in 2021, dedicated to transforming himself into a self-described “road dog” with a full hour of jokes under his belt and headlining shows on the calendar. Comedy was helping pay his family’s bills, or at least most of them. Even with “Blue Bloods,” “Pretty Little Liars,” Netflix’s “Historical Roasts” and the streamer’s Netflix Is a Joke festival, it was still difficult to meet guild minimums for health insurance.
In January, Duong was set to perform across 41 states through the year, some dates with “The Daily Show” correspondent Ronny Chieng. Donnie Wahlberg, whom Duong worked with across a “Blue Bloods” three-season arc, told him to be prepared for an upcoming spinoff.
When fires spread across Los Angeles, ash rained down on his family’s West L.A. apartment. He saw friends lose their homes, possessions, everything they’d worked for. The city was on edge. It was always risky trying to make it in Los Angeles. Since COVID it was all but impossible, and in an instant it could all be gone. A headache built behind his eyes. He switched his contacts for glasses. Duong was nine years sober and otherwise healthy. He probably just needed some downtime, decompressing, healthy juices and vitamin D to get him back on track.
When the Store reopened, Duong returned for his door guy shift. He immediately got stares. His manager pulled him aside, telling him, “Your left eye looks like it’s about to fall out. You should go home.” His wife Christina did a double take, echoing, “Alex, what’s wrong with your eye?” In the mirror it was massive, taut and discolored.
Diagnosed with alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare and aggressive cancer affecting soft tissue, Duong has a malignant mass blocking blood flow to his optic nerve. He has been supported by Comedy Gives Back, a community nonprofit spearheaded by Amber J. Lawson, Jodi Lieberman and Zoe Friedman, and a GoFundMe initiated by Hilarie Steele.
“It makes me cry because I know people are struggling so hard right now, and they’re still giving,” he says of the donations received. The $5 amount given under the fake name Chris D’Elia, however, had him laughing for the first time in months.
Duong’s family, including 4-year-old daughter Everest, didn’t have health insurance. They’d struggled to afford it. “It was easier to pay the fine when you pay your taxes than to pay $12K a year,” Duong says. He signed up for and waited until marketplace insurance kicked in to visit the emergency room at St. John’s, where Everest was born.
After a week in the hospital, a biopsy was performed and his tumor labeled as extremely aggressive, something needing immediate attention. St. John’s provided an eye patch and scheduled treatment two months in the future. “And this is with a PPO,” Duong notes. Ophthalmology wasn’t an area of St. John’s expertise. “If you want a clean comedy show, you don’t book Doug Stanhope,” he jokes. “You’re not gonna book the Legion of Skanks for your Toyotathon.”
Duong was discharged, sent home and told to return in another week. He hung out with his family over the weekend. By Monday, the vision in his left eye was gone.
After 2 ½ additional weeks at St. John’s, Duong felt he was “just being fed and given drugs, sitting there getting fat and missing my family.” He signed out and took an Uber from St. John’s to UCLA at 2 in the morning.
Duong now has a UCLA sarcoma specialist. He’s undergoing a second round of chemotherapy and receiving white blood cell injections to aid his immune system. His thick black hair, a personal point of pride and frequent topic of jokes, began falling out in asymmetrical patches on the sides and in back and is now fully shaved.
“I look like a tsunami going down on my wife,” he’d previously joked onstage. Now with chemo side effects, “I’m gonna end up looking like the Last Airbender. Or the fattest Air Gender Bender.”
Duong has been told rhabdomyosarcoma has a low survival rate, about five years. The mass behind his eyeball traces into his nasal cavity and side of his neck. A version of electro-acupuncture is helping. A specialist in Irvine recommended hugging his daughter close every night. All she understands at the moment is that her daddy is sick. Duong can’t drive and is afraid he’s going to accidentally injure people near him.
Comic and neighbor Frank Castillo has been lending Duong support while simultaneously navigating his own father’s cancer diagnosis. “The thing that I love about Alex is he doesn’t quit,” Castillo says. “He constantly strives to get better. Not just as a comic, but as a human being, I’ve watched him become a father to a daughter that’s softened his heart. Alex has a big ol’ soft heart and loves to pretend he doesn’t.”
Though Duong feels the tumor shrinking and the size of his eye has receded, he still has monocular vision. In his left field of vision, “I just see black feathers.” If treatment is successful, he will eventually require extremely risky orbital reconstruction surgery. A donor nerve, or a full donor eye, may be required. He currently owes more than $400,000 in medical costs.
“I love this city and everything it’s given me,” Duong says. But in recent years, “Angelos have been left to fend for themselves and each other.”
He hates being told that he’s strong. “I don’t want to be strong!” he says. “I just want to go tell my d— jokes, make people laugh and hang out with my family.” For Duong, family extends to performers who have reached out. “Comedians always have each other’s backs when times are s—. We know how hard it is to pine and struggle and scrape by in this lifestyle, just so we can do these jokes and keep improving. It’s a beautiful thing to see in this world; it really is.”