Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Robin Torres4 said:I’m looking for anyone who has dealt with the side effects from Taxol chemotherapy.
My mom is fighting lung cancer and finished her sixth cycle over a month ago, but the pain in her feet just won't let up. Her skin has become incredibly thin and sensitive—even the slightest touch hurts. Does anyone know how she can soothe this pain, and how much longer this usually lasts after finishing chemo?
Thanks in advance.

I went through Taxol myself, but I didn't experience those specific side effects at all.🤷 Are you absolutely certain it was the Taxol?
On a side note, since I'm already here... my visits to the oncologist are officially over after ten years! My doctor says the risk is minimal now and we don't need to see each other anymore.
So, please don't lose hope. Keep a positive mindset—miracles really do happen!😍👍🙂🎉👋🙂: trio:🙂

gentletiger46, major props to you! Honestly, it makes my day seeing you doing so well and just putting out those good vibes.
With an attitude like that, there's no way you aren't going to crush it!
Big shoutout to everyone.

Robin Torres4 said:Can someone please tell me if they've dealt with side effects from Taxol chemo?
My mom has lung cancer and finished her 6th round of chemo over a month ago, but the pain in her feet just won't quit. Her skin has gotten super thin too—even the slightest touch hurts like crazy. What can she take to ease the pain, and how long does this stuff usually last after finishing chemo?
Thanks in advance

It might not even be the chemo itself... Have you guys checked in with a doctor yet? Honestly, I think she needs to get her feet looked at specifically.
Best,

My mom has been receiving treatment at a local hospital for about a year now. So far, her doctor is quite pleased with how the carcinoma is responding, and the chemotherapy seems to be doing its job effectively. After her first round of Taxol, she lost her hair and started experiencing pain running from her knees down to her feet, along with intense tingling in her fingertips. It’s all just side effects from the chemo. To manage the discomfort, they suggested standard over-the-counter meds like Voltaren and ibuprofen, noting that the numbness in her feet and skin sensitivity should subside once the chemo treatments wrap up. On top of that, she’s taking B-complex, Immunomax, and Biobran—all with her doctor's full approval.
Has anyone else gone through something similar? I'm wondering when these side effects might finally let up, or when her hair might start growing back again...

Thanks so much to Olivia Miller for the support!

Professionally speaking, this side effect is called peripheral neuropathy. Has anyone else dealt with this yet?...

You're very welcome 🙂 Honestly, hair loss was the least of my worries. About two or three weeks after my last cycle, it finally started growing back, and it actually feels much thicker and healthier than before. 🙂

@Olivia Miller/">@@Olivia Miller, this is such a wonderful thing to read! Even though we all know a cancer diagnosis isn't an automatic death sentence, it is truly heartening to connect with people who have successfully left this disease in their rearview mirror.

Angela Wright said:Because people facing these battles—along with their families and loved ones—end up in such an incredibly difficult place, and because our society often fails to provide enough psychological support, I decided to start this forum. Having been personally caught up in these struggles myself, I wanted to create a space where those of us who have been there (or are currently there) can offer one another advice and genuine support.

Please, leave a post here. I promise I will always try to write back—whether it’s to offer advice or simply to stand by those of you going through it. Sometimes, being a bystander is just as taxing as fighting the disease itself.

Personally, I have walked through hell—and I am still walking through it—and I truly believe no one should have to face this alone.

Sending big hugs to everyone.

I'm going through a nightmare right now. Two weeks ago, we found out my husband has lung cancer. He's 44, and he is quite literally the best man I know; aside from our two kids, he's my entire world. I lost my mother to cancer, too, so his diagnosis has hit me like a physical blow. He’s much more optimistic and brave than I am, and I know he needs me to be his rock, but I'm struggling. Please, if you have any advice, I need it—my crying isn't helping him at all, and I don't know how to make it stop.

analogfalcon2 said:I am going through an incredibly difficult season right now; just two weeks ago, we discovered that my husband has lung cancer. He’s only 44, and he truly is the best man I know—aside from our two children, he is my entire world. I lost my mother to cancer, so receiving his diagnosis has hit me like a devastating shock. He is much more optimistic and brave than I am, and I realize he needs me to be his rock because I know how hard the road ahead will be. Please, if you can, offer me some advice; my crying doesn't help him at all, but I just don't know how to stop.

In order for anyone to give you meaningful advice, you really need to provide a bit more detail. For instance, what specific type of cancer is it, and is it considered operable? That makes a massive difference. Even so, I want to try to offer you some encouragement by sharing a bit of my own story. My husband (and please know, I understand exactly what you're feeling) underwent surgery for adenocarcinoma of the lung three years ago and completed four rounds of chemotherapy. Today, he simply goes in for regular checkups every six months, and thank God, everything is looking good.
Ultimately, every single case is unique.
I would suggest spending some time browsing the website for the "for new day" lung cancer patients association. They have much more comprehensive information regarding the various types of cancer. http://www.zanovidan.org/
I’m registered there under the username vjera.ljubav.nada, so feel free to look through the details there. Please stay in touch with us so we can share experiences as we move forward.

I might not be able to capture the full weight of the situation perfectly, but here is the essence of it...

Over the last two years and eight months, my mother has endured a relentless cycle of highs and lows, including two major surgeries and twelve rounds of chemotherapy. By nature, she has always been stubborn, headstrong, and incredibly persistent, though it seems she is only now realizing just how much her fighting spirit has wavered...

In two months, her follow-up appointment arrives—the second one since finishing her last cycle—and they are requiring a PET/CT scan. This is the second time she’s had to face this specific test, and the dread she felt during the first time was all too justified, as that was when the recurrence was discovered. Now, she is doing everything in her power to dodge the PET/CT altogether. One moment she’ll remember and say she has to go soon, and the next, she becomes furious if the subject is even breathed. The fear is so overwhelming that she exists in cycles; quite literally, she will have seven days where she seems "normal," followed by seven days swallowed by darkness. Since we can no longer be by her side twenty-four hours a day, there are days when she refuses to eat anything at all, and other days when she overindulges excessively. I am at a loss as to how to help her. She has stopped communicating with the rest of the family, reducing every interaction to clipped, hollow phrases like "I'm fine, bye," and she refuses to see a psychotherapist. While her terror is entirely understandable, I wonder if those of you who deal directly with malignant illnesses have any advice? Perhaps a book recommendation might help...

To make matters more difficult, my father is reaching his breaking point. I have delayed my own responsibilities as much as possible, but I will soon have to return home to face this reality with her. If her psychological state continues to crumble like this, I fear it will finish what the illness started, preventing her from truly breathing deeply again—especially since she has already won the most critical battles, her hair has grown back, and she should finally be able to reintegrate into society and enjoy her hobbies...

I simply had to vent these frustrations somewhere, as I don't know the proper way to handle them. Our conversations used to be filled with encouragement, but now, the illness itself has become a barrier to communication. Thanks to everyone...

analogfalcon2 said:I'm going through an incredibly rough patch right now. Two weeks ago, we found out my husband has lung cancer. He's only 44, and honestly, he's the best man I know. Aside from our two kids, he's my entire world. I lost my mom to cancer, so his diagnosis has hit me like a physical blow. He’s much more optimistic and brave than I am, and I realize he needs me to be his rock because the road ahead is going to be brutal. Please, if you can, give me some advice. My crying isn't helping him at all, but I just don't know how to stop.

Dear analogfalcon2, please reach out to our community page like you were instructed to do.
What you need to do right this second is face reality and accept that he is in a far more critical situation than you are. He is the one fighting the illness; you are just being overwhelmed by the news. You don't have the luxury of being weak in front of him. If you truly love him like you say, you’ll pull yourself together, because right now, your breakdown offers zero support for the help he desperately needs most in his life.
Stop spiraling into "what ifs" and negative outcomes. There is a fight happening right now, and you need to channel every ounce of your energy and focus into that battle.
At this stage, the tears are useless and counterproductive. The man is alive and he is going to undergo treatment—stand by his side and stay one step ahead of the disease!
Download this brochure and study it thoroughly. It was specifically designed for people facing exactly what you are going through.
Get in touch with Sandra Karabatić, a head nurse at the Jordanovac hospital. She also serves as the president of the "Jedra" lung cancer patients association. You can find her at the ward most afternoons. She’s a wonderful woman and will explain everything you need to know.

Just remember: what you are feeling right now is the absolute worst part—the initial shock of the bad news. Once the actual fight begins, you'll find much more strength.

Angela Wright said:Because it is such an incredibly grueling period—not just for the patients themselves, but for their families and loved ones too—and because our society often lacks sufficient psychological support, I decided to start this forum. Having faced these challenges personally, I wanted to create a space where those of us navigating these waters can offer one another advice and genuine support.

Please feel free to post here; I will always make an effort to reply, offer advice, or simply stand by those who are struggling—which, quite frankly, can sometimes be even harder than the direct fight against the illness itself.

Personally, I have walked through hell, and I am still walking through it—and I truly believe no one should have to face this alone.

Sending big hugs to everyone.

Thanks for responding, Angela Wright. My husband has been diagnosed with stage three adenocarcinoma, and it isn't operable; it has spread to his bronchi and is pressing on his left vocal cord, so he’s been limited to whispering for three months now. The tumor is about 3.5 cm. He has started chemotherapy, which is slated for four cycles for now—that’s all the information I have at this point. He is being treated in Split by Dr. Perić, who isn't particularly communicative—most of my questions are met with nothing more than a one-word "yes" or "no." That is why I am searching for advice; I just want to understand more so I can actually help him. Thanks again!

Donna Chase said:If you want anyone to actually give you useful advice, you really need to be a bit more specific—what type of carcinoma are we talking about, is it operable, and so on? That said, I’ll try to offer some encouragement using my own experience. My husband (and from what you've shared, I completely understand where you're coming from) underwent surgery for lung adenocarcinoma three years ago and finished four rounds of chemo. Now, he's just on regular checkups every six months, and everything is looking good, thank Jesus.
So, every case is unique.
Take a look at the lung cancer patients association " jedro" website. They have much more detailed information regarding all the different types of carcinoma.
I'm registered there under the handle vjera.ljubav.nada, so you can read through the specifics there. And please, stay in touch with us—it helps to exchange experiences.

Thank you too, Donna Chase, for the support and the kind words. I truly hope that, for your family, it will only ever be routine checkups from here on out. Best regards!

analogfalcon2 said:Thanks for getting back to me, Angela Wright. My husband was diagnosed with stage three adenocarcinoma and he isn't a candidate for surgery—it’s hit his bronchi and is pressing on his left vocal cord, so he’s been down to just whispering for three months now. The tumor is about 3.5 cm. He’s started chemo, looking at 4 cycles for now. That’s pretty much all I know. He’s being treated in a clinic in a major US city under Dr. Perić, who isn't exactly the chatty type; whenever I ask anything, I just get one-word answers like "yes" or "no." That’s why I’m out here looking for advice—I just want to understand more so I can actually help him. Thanks again!

Hey analogfalcon2, five years ago my husband was diagnosed with bronchial and tracheal cancer when he was 47. The prognosis was grim; they basically told us not to expect anything and gave us zero hope. He had a 6 cm tumor. He went through eight rounds of chemo and 22 radiation treatments. The tumor? Gone. Not a single metastatic cell in sight.
Look, he’s still here, five years later! And he’s doing great.

Hang in there, stay strong, and keep fighting.

Lisa White54 said:Dear Hat, my husband was diagnosed with bronchial and tracheal cancer five years ago—he was only 47 at the time. The prognosis was grim; they weren't expecting much, and frankly, they didn't give us any hope. He had a 6 cm tumor. After eight rounds of chemo and 22 radiation treatments, the tumor vanished. Not a single metastatic cell in sight.
And look—he’s been alive and well for five full years now.

Hang in there, stay brave, and keep fighting.

Dear Lisa White54, your words are truly a balm to my soul—thank you, thank you, thank you. We head in for another round of chemo tomorrow, and I've spent the entire day nauseous from nerves—though I try to hide it, making sure to stay smiling and cheerful whenever I'm in front of him. I actually purchased a syrup from Koderman AAR ALOER, an import from Germany—does anyone know much about it before I give it to him? It was recommended to me as something excellent for boosting the immune system.

analogfalcon8, let me offer you a little bit of encouragement as well!
A long time ago, a friend of mine had a father diagnosed with lung cancer. Back home, the doctors here didn't give him any real hope at all, so he decided to seek out specialists over in England. Even there, they couldn't really perform any major interventions. Everything they could offer was just basic support and recommendations, while the families were essentially told to prepare for the worst. I'm not entirely sure what actually happened—I think it's one of those things nobody truly knows—but after some time had passed, when he went in for his follow-up checkups, the doctors were absolutely stunned to find that the cancer had simply vanished! It just goes to show that anything is possible.
Then there was my aunt, who was diagnosed with a carcinoma that had already spread by the time she ended up in the hospital. According to her doctors, we were looking at a matter of weeks, maybe a couple of months at most. To everyone's absolute amazement, she lived for seven more years after that. Of course, there were certainly good days and bad days, but truth be told, she wasn't even receiving active treatment; they were mostly just managing her symptoms whenever things got particularly difficult. She was quite an extraordinary woman. As far as I know, she simply made the decision for herself that she needed to take care of her own well-being. She lived a very normal life and leaned into natural remedies—for instance, the family even got some goats just for the milk—and she was also older at the time, so she wasn't quite as young as your husband.
Just keep thinking positively!

I didn't really want to jump into threads like this, but Hat—get a grip! You’re doing this for your husband, for your kids, and for yourself.
Your husband was diagnosed with a condition that can be treated; the man hasn't passed away.

This is how I personally navigated the realization that my mother had stomach cancer...
On Tuesday, less than a month ago, her gastroenterologist told me, without any sugarcoating, that my mom had cancer and the prognosis looked grim. He added that while it feels wrong to say something like this in such a moment, we could only hope the cancer hadn't reached the vessels leading out of the stomach..

It was total shock. I spent that entire day crying, already picturing my old lady on her deathbed. It felt like she had already mentally moved herself there, too.
Strangely enough, I actually slept well that night, and then it hit me—wait, hold on a second. You can't just squeeze a human being into a mathematical model. Medicine actually has a very limited understanding of the human body. I mean, how many times have I witnessed doctors' assessments turn out to be completely off base? Not because they are bad doctors, but for a very simple reason: everyone reacts differently. No one can predict with absolute certainty how a human organism will behave in a specific situation.

But let me get back to how the story unfolded..
After the initial shock and that sudden mental clarity, I went out to gather as much information as possible. I started scouring forums and the internet, searching for the experiences of others who had walked this same path. Unfortunately, finding useful info was difficult because, as it still is, it’s often drowned in a sea of lamentation, weeping, and sorrow.
At the time, and honestly even now, that wasn't what I needed at all.

My mother also threw up her hands and started preparing her will and making lists of everything in the house, even picking out the outfit she wanted to be buried in. Okay, I get that you need to think about those things, but slow down—where are you rushing to, lady? Let's wait until we actually get all the test results...

As for how our circle took the news... most people reacted quite rationally. Honestly, I didn't realize how many families in my own workplace were dealing with someone battling cancer. People live with these illnesses for years. You accept it as a part of your life and try to adapt to this new reality of your body as best you can.
Of course, there was one gem in the extended family who, out of pure naivety, ignorance, and a misplaced desire to help, started throwing around stories about miracle workers and their "magic" potions 🙄

So, here is the summary so far, three weeks after the initial diagnosis:
In my mom's case, the tumor was operable; it hadn't metastasized to vital organs, though there were some metastases in the lymph nodes above the stomach. They removed her entire stomach along with part of the lymph nodes.
Right now, she's just sitting there chatting with a neighbor 🙂

Next, we're going to catch the oncologist to schedule chemotherapy. I've already told her it might be tough, but then again, maybe it won't be 🙂
We'll see..

When I think about what a turnaround this has been from that day three weeks ago when she had just "given up," compared to how she is now 🙂

What I mean is, you have to be rational and accept the situation as it is. Accept the change and adjust to it as quickly as possible. But don't go thinking it's the end of everything. Because it isn't. There's no need to break your heart worrying about what will happen in a month, two months, or a year. You never know..

analogfalcon2, as you can see, there's plenty of constructive advice here. It's all about grit and persistence. The mind is a perfect weapon.
When you hit rock bottom, you have to get back up for your little optimist.

As for the constant pessimists and the bores, I'll take care of them.
You know who I am. 😉

Kimberly Wright said:But when I look back at the massive turnaround from just three weeks ago—right after she finally 'let go'—compared to where things are now... 🙂

Look, you have to stay rational and face reality for what it is. Accept the changes and adapt to them as fast as possible. But don't you dare think this is the end of the road. It isn't. There’s no sense in losing your mind worrying about what happens in a month, two months, or a year from now. Nobody knows the future..

Honey, huge kudos to you for such an incredible outlook and for sharing this!🙏👍
If you're up for it, I'd love for you to post this on our forum www.zanovidan.com 😁