Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Lisa Ross81 said:Since this thread is still pretty active, I was hoping someone could point me in the right direction.
Where can I find a wig and an artificial breast prosthesis in a major US city?
My mother is covered for these by Medicare, but we have no clue where to actually go buy them.
Thanks a ton! 🙂

You can usually pick up a wig or a prosthesis using cash on delivery since they’re both classified as orthopedic aids. Just a heads-up though: those off-the-truck wigs aren't exactly high-end. As for the prosthesis, I'm not entirely sure. You might want to check out this resource for more info:

There’s a shop over at the Capitol Center that specializes in wigs; they have a huge selection and they work directly with Medicare. Back when my mom was getting hers sorted (around 2005), I think she just paid upfront and covered the difference for a higher-quality option. I can't say for certain how the process works nowadays. 🤷

Hi everyone!
It’s me again. I’ve been reading through all your posts lately, and honestly, it’s been making me pretty emotional. My mom was diagnosed with osteosarcoma in her upper leg about a year ago, and she’s already had two surgeries. At one point, the doctors were actually telling her that amputation was the only way forward, but my mom just refused to give up. It turns out she had a really nasty infection from staph bacteria, so they put her on some antibiotics, and that treatment actually worked wonders. On her initial MRI, it looked like the bone involvement stretched all the way from her knee up to her hip, but it turned out that was mostly just due to the inflammation from the infection. She went back for another MRI, and this time, there was nothing visible in the bone anymore. A PET scan confirmed it too—the bone itself looks healthy. Because of that, she managed to avoid losing her leg. But, because life rarely gives you a perfect win, the PET scan also picked up another tumor in her groin area—Non-Hodgkin lymphoma—so she had to go through another surgery. Even so, she is such an optimist. Aside from the bandages wrapped around her leg, you wouldn't even be able to tell she’s sick. She started her first round of chemotherapy this past Monday (she was on it for three days and nights straight), and she’s already like a completely different person. She’s sleeping constantly, can’t keep any food down, and keeps vomiting... It’s heartbreaking. I am so scared of everything she still has to face. These dark thoughts just keep looping in my head, and I feel so helpless. I just want this chemo to work...

brisksurfer said:Thank you so much for getting back to me!

It really seems like it’s just mucus building up constantly because Dad can't clear it out on his own. Since he had another terrible coughing fit this past Friday—where he actually ended up throwing up (honestly, my stomach turns just thinking about him coughing like that)—we had to take him back to Mayo Clinic. I asked the nurses there if they see this happening in the hospital too, and they said no... but then yesterday, while I was visiting him, he started hacking away again. A nurse came in with a suction machine and cleared all that phlegm out in maybe three minutes flat. We've been trying to do something similar at home, but they insert the tube so much deeper into his throat than I would ever dare to try... they get everything out instantly, whereas at home, we were struggling for six hours and he was in such agony. The nurse explained that the mucus just sits right there in his throat, so he ends up choking if he can't get it out...😢
I will say though, the nurse yesterday went a little overboard; she pushed the tube in so deep that his eyes were bloodshot by the end, and he didn't even want to open his mouth anymore... The head nurse told me that shouldn't happen—apparently, they're only supposed to go in as far as the patient can tolerate.

It’s just so incredibly heartbreaking to watch your own father suffer like this, even though he’s being so brave and never once complains about the pain...😢😢😢

Unfortunately, that suction procedure is really uncomfortable. That's why people try every other method first; you have to push the tube quite deep, almost down to the trachea, and you have to be extremely careful about sterility. I don't see how you could realistically do this at home unless someone shows you exactly what to do and you get medical-grade suction catheters.
I wish there was more I could do to help.

I’m feeling pretty desperate here—and since I don't have much time to sit down and catch up on all the previous posts, I’d really appreciate some help from you guys..
My father recently underwent stomach surgery to remove a tumor, and while we were relieved when the intense pain finally subsided after three months, we're now facing a whole new set of terrifying issues. He’s completely lost his appetite, he dropped a significant amount of weight following the procedure, and now he’s started vomiting this strange green liquid. It’s constant—he isn't eating anything at all, yet every thirty minutes to an hour, he's gripped by this awful vomiting. He’s an older man who has already been through so much trauma, and honestly, he seems to be losing his will to fight. I am particularly worried about this green fluid—what exactly is it, and why does his body feel the need to keep forcing it out? Thank you all so much in advance..

I really didn't want to post anything like this on this thread, but I find myself having to write it out... my dear father passed away yesterday. 🙂

He fought for his life until his very last breath. Those final hours were absolutely horrific... much worse than anything I could have ever imagined. We stayed by his side for twelve straight hours because I wanted to be there until the very end, just holding his hand. But then, around 1:00 AM, they told us we couldn't stay at the hospital anymore. 😢 Just three hours after they made us leave, he was gone. Honestly, I think he might not have even been able to let go while we were still sitting right there beside him... it’s like he wouldn't leave us. 😢😢 😢

The grief is massive. It's overwhelming. But I feel a sense of peace because I truly believe he's in a better place now and is watching over us. 😍 Maybe, after everything that happened, it hasn't even fully sunk in yet that he's actually gone. 😢

I want to say thank you to everyone on this thread who helped me with such precious advice. :*

Lisa White54 said:My husband was diagnosed with lung cancer about five months ago. The prognosis was grim. Absolutely terrible. No one expected him to last more than a few months. It was brutal. He was struggling to breathe through all the congestion, but the bleeding made it even worse. Honestly, I hate even thinking back on those moments. He went through chemo and radiation. At home, we did everything possible to boost his immune system and fight off the coughing and the shortness of breath.
And look at him now—he’s still here. He’s doing well. Sure, there are good days and bad days, but you learn how to manage. You adapt.
Don't just sit there praying; get in the fight. You can't predict the outcome, but you absolutely cannot surrender!
Hang in there. Stay strong and be there for your father.
🙂

Thank you so much for the support... I'm keeping my fingers crossed for your husband!

What specific type of carcinoma is your husband fighting?

brisksurfer said:....

Honey, I am so incredibly sorry. Please accept my deepest condolences. You did everything humanly possible for him, and he knew that. Now, you just have to let him rest in peace.
Just know that even after things get this dark, better days eventually find their way back to you. Life feels different afterward—you carry a certain weight in your heart—but life keeps moving, and one day, you'll find yourself smiling again.
Hang in there.

brisksurfer said:thanks for the support...keeping my fingers crossed for your husband!

What kind of cancer is your husband fighting?

Please, take my deepest condolences. Your dad is definitely somewhere better now, somewhere without all that pain and suffering.

My husband is dealing with non-small cell lung cancer in his right bronchus and trachea.

Man, everything is just so heavy..
My brother-in-law—my sister's husband—is 55...Last August, they found out he has pancreatic cancer. He's doing really poorly. He's at the hospital right now, and the doctor basically told us he's got maybe two or three days left. I'm stuck deciding whether to bring him home so he can pass away surrounded by family, or just leave him there in the hospital...I feel terrible. It just doesn't sink in that this is actually happening...that there's all this agony, that he's dying, that there's no fix...that he's just going to be gone!
I'm honestly falling apart...

Dear Jane Doe,

I just finished reading your very first post because I’ve been searching for something almost identical to what you shared... then I scrolled through some of your more recent ones, though I honestly didn't have the emotional strength to keep reading everything in between.
In any case, I couldn't agree more with your sentiment that we absolutely must support families navigating the illness of a loved one, and looking at your posts, it seems like there is already such wonderful work being done for this cause here in America. Do you happen to know if there is anything similar available in Boston? I’ve never heard of such resources locally, and right now, I find myself in desperate need of support. My mother just had surgery and we are currently undergoing various therapies; I am by her side constantly doing everything within my power, staying positive, and she is actually doing (relatively) well—though lately, I'm not even sure what "well" truly means anymore! While I have better days, like today, I feel as though I am sinking, just drifting deeper and deeper into exhaustion, and despite my best efforts, I am feeling progressively worse. Since I'm currently out of work on medical leave, I have no idea how I will ever manage to return to my job, or if I even can; I truly don't know what the future holds for me. If you happen to know of any organization or counseling service that handles this sort of thing here, would you please let me know?
Thank you so much! Best regards.

Angela Wright said:Help ease the suffering of those facing terminal illnesses!

Through your donations, you can help fund a major project to establish the first American hospice.

Find out more about everything here: http://www.ostaniuzmene.com/
We will soon have an option for online donations as well, and I will be sure to share that link here as soon as it becomes available.

This project is of immense importance, both for our healthcare system and for the social fabric of our entire nation. We all share a responsibility for why a project like this hasn't come to life sooner, and now you have the chance to help build a brighter future for everyone!

Everyone, I truly admire you all. Your strength is remarkable, and I sincerely hope you continue to find even more of it! I’m just sitting here staring at my screen, feeling a bit lost for words... I've dealt with my own share of monsters in the past—and I call them monsters because, frankly, they don't deserve any other label from me! When things get at their absolute worst, I suppose you just have to find a way to laugh. 🙂

I really hope I haven't said anything foolish just now; if I have, please feel free to correct me! 🙂

And, if I may be so bold... Susan Hayes25, perhaps you could try finding some work? Even if it's just a few hours a day to shift your focus. I know you want to be there for your mother, but maybe you could ask your sister to step in? Perhaps leave her contact info so she can call immediately if something comes up, allowing you to clear your head with a job. It might even help your mom feel better if there’s a sense of normalcy returning to the daily routine. Maybe you could mention that idea to her?

I will certainly hold myself accountable if I haven't thought this through properly before offering advice, though I hope I have been helpful. 😵

Susan Hayes25 said:Dear Angela Wright,

I just went back and read your very first post because I’ve been looking for something almost identical... then I scrolled through some of the more recent ones... honestly, I didn't have the strength to keep quoting everything in between.
Basically, I completely agree with the idea that we need support systems for families dealing with a loved one's illness, and looking at your posts, it seems like that kind of thing already exists here in America. Do you happen to know if there's anything similar available in Boston? I've never heard of anything like it, and right now, I'm in a position where I desperately need help. My mom just had surgery and we're currently going through therapies; I'm by her side constantly doing everything I can, trying to stay positive, and she's doing (relatively) well—though lately, I don't even know what "doing well" is supposed to mean anymore. It feels like I'm sinking, just drowning deeper and deeper. Even on better days, like today, I feel like things are steadily getting worse. I'm not working right now; I'm on medical leave, and I have absolutely no clue how I'm ever going to go back to work or if I'll even be able to. I'm just lost on what's going to happen to me. If you know of any organization or counseling service that handles this sort of thing here, please let me know.
Thanks so much! Best regards.

Unfortunately, I don't have any info.😢
Try Googling it; I'm sure there's some association out there that deals with this.

I know there’s this whole association for women fighting breast cancer

Maybe try reaching out to them? They might be able to help you out, or even point you toward a therapist if you need one. I mean, it's just really hard to carry a weight like this all by yourself, I guess.

Lisa White54 said:Please accept my deepest condolences. Your father is surely in a much better place now, far away from all this pain and suffering.

My husband is battling non-small cell carcinoma of the right bronchus and trachea.

God, everything is just so incredibly hard..
My brother-in-law, my sister's husband, is 55 years old... Last August, they diagnosed him with pancreatic cancer. He is doing terribly. He’s in the hospital, and the doctor told us he likely won't make it more than two or three days. I have the choice to bring him home to pass away, or leave him there in the hospital... I feel absolutely terrible. I simply cannot wrap my head around the fact that this is actually happening.. the sheer agony, the fact that he's dying, that there's no cure... that he's just going to be gone!
I am completely falling apart with grief...

Thank you.

I am so sorry about your brother-in-law; I honestly don't know what wise thing to say to you... My heart was breaking when we were told the exact same thing about my dad. In the end, we decided to take him home, but by the time we got to the hospital to tell him he'd be heading home the next day, his condition had already plummeted, and he passed away that night. 😢😢😢
I kept telling him over and over to just hold on a little longer so we could get him home, and they wouldn't even let us take him until his condition improved...

To be honest, looking back, we actually felt like it was fate that he didn't make it home. If we had taken him and things had suddenly taken such a turn for the worse, we would have spent our whole lives wondering if we made a mistake. 😢 If they had let me stay by him until the very end at the hospital, I never could have walked away, but truthfully, it was so traumatic that my heart probably would have broken right then and there. 😛 Even my mom, who swore she wouldn't let him die in the hospital, realizes now that it was probably better he stayed there because he truly needed medical care that we just couldn't provide... So, yeah, maybe you should warn your sister about all of this...

I miss Dad sooo much!!! 😢

The more I sit here and chew on this, the more I realize we could never have consciously chosen to leave Dad in that hospital bed until the very end. Even though, looking back now, it clearly would have been better for him if we had. It’s obvious someone up there—God, maybe even—intervened to stop us from taking him home ourselves... :S

Alex Fisher5 said:Honestly, I just have to say—you all are incredible! Can we just take a moment to admire the sheer strength you're showing? I truly hope you find even more resilience as you move forward! I’m sitting here staring at my screen like a total deer in headlights, wondering how on earth to put my thoughts into words... I’ve dealt with my own share of villains in my life, and let me tell you, they don't mean a thing to me anymore! When things get at their absolute worst, isn't it better to just find a reason to laugh? 🙂

I really hope I haven't said anything foolish just now; if I have, please feel free to give me a hard time!🙂

And if I may be so bold as to offer a suggestion... >, perhaps you could try returning to work, even if it's just for those few hours a day to shift your focus onto something else? I know your heart is set on helping and staying right by your mother's side, but could you perhaps ask your sister to step in for a bit? Maybe leave her your number so she can call immediately if anything comes up, allowing you to clear your head through some productive work? Would it be possible that it might actually be easier for your mom to see a sense of normalcy return to your daily routine, and have you perhaps chat with her about it?

I would honestly kick myself if I didn't think deeply enough before offering advice to someone, so I truly hope I've done right by you.😵

Hmm, I suppose I would give that same advice to anyone else if they asked me, but when it comes to my own life... I just can't seem to bring myself to do it. I worry that things will only get harder at my job, constantly thinking about how she is back home, especially since we are heading to her therapy sessions every single day. She keeps telling me that everything is so much easier to bear because I am always there by her side... I simply don't know what to do. If it were anything else, I could just stay quiet and listen to her thoughts, but a brain tumor changes people in such strange ways, doesn't it? When I ask her what she thinks about me going back to work, she tells me to start, but then five minutes later, she has completely forgotten, insisting once again that having me near makes everything easier. She forgets everything we discussed or did just today... I just don't know...

brisksurfer, I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.🙂
It really feels like you did absolutely everything within your power, didn't you? You were there for your dad through so much, making things easier for him more times than anyone could probably count.

@Susan Hayes25/">@@Susan Hayes25
I guess I’ll tell you how things are playing out in my neck of the woods... my mom just has me, so there haven't been many different variables to juggle.
I don't really have a choice—I have to work. We were actually quite lucky that Mom and I managed to coordinate our schedules around her treatment sessions. For now... I'm just hoping things continue to run this smoothly.

Right now, you are essentially the pillar that your mom is leaning on. When you're dealing with an illness where life feels like it's hanging by a thread every single day, it changes a person; it turns them into a frightened child. And yet, you want to believe there's a cure, that you're actually moving toward recovery.
I managed to convince my mom that she can get through this, regardless of how much she might struggle along the way.
When I look at her, I see that for her, there is only one option: getting fully healthy again.

The only way you'll be able to pull your mom out of that intense fear and depression is if you position yourself as her "positive anchor." 😁
So, as much as you work to help her, you always have to prioritize working on yourself first, just so you don't crumble and sink into those depths of resignation, depression, and negativity.

Interestingly enough, a terrible situation at my job actually helped me pivot my thoughts toward something else, rather than just obsessing over how sick Mom is and how we're going to survive it all. At work, I'm surrounded by people who spend the entire day debating—get this—work 😁, furniture, where they went, what they ate... just the usual mundane chatter of normal life, and most of the time, that helps me keep from drowning in misery and despair. I even joined a gym (which is totally contrary to my actual personality 😬), but even that helps me distance myself from reality for a bit.

Of course, there are days when the whole world feels like it won't let you in, and you just can't shake off the psychosis that comes with this illness.
Today is one of those days for me. A day where everything feels profoundly unfair, where I just hate the entire situation and feel like I want to jump right out of my own skin.
A friend of mine is posting about how they're getting married soon, everyone is celebrating, the sun is shining outside, everything is green and fragrant, and meanwhile—I just feel terrible. After work, I go to pick up Mom, who's been in for chemo and radiation. I see all those other people who were also in for treatment, and I feel so 😢 in that hospital basement; they all look like the walking dead.
I feel strange the whole way home, but of course, I don't show Mom how I'm feeling. She's doing okay, she talks about how the appointment went, we get home and everything seems fine. She goes to watch her favorite show, and I head straight to the gym to blow off steam on the weights. And then, the system just completely breaks down. I can't even move my arms. I just sit there like an idiot for a while, feeling this overwhelming weakness, before finally dragging myself home.
Then I read that brisksurfer's father passed away and I break down like a fool.

But not in front of Mom.

What I mean is, having bad days every once in a while is normal. We aren't made of stone, after all, so we're going to feel things, but you really need to find ways to occupy your mind.
Just try not to surrender to the dark thoughts and the depression. Neither you nor your mother will benefit from that.

I suppose I rambled a bit too much, but please understand, it's just one of those days. 🙂

Kimberly Wright said:brisksurfer, I am so sorry for your loss. 🙂
It looks to me like you’ve done everything humanly possible. You've stepped up and made things so much easier on your dad more times than I can count.

Thanks! I hope so... because honestly, no matter what I accomplish, I always end up feeling like I should have done more. 😢
I was just walking down the street today, lost in my own head, thinking about how many things we still could have experienced. So much left on the table.🙏

Kimberly Wright said:@Susan Hayes25/">@@Susan Hayes25
Today is just one of those days. One of those days where I feel like the world has conspired to screw me over. Everything feels fundamentally unfair. Honestly, I absolutely loathe this entire situation, and I’m at the point where I just want to crawl out of my own skin.
A friend of mine just posted that he’s getting married soon. Everyone is celebrating, throwing parties, and acting like life is perfect. Outside, the sun is blazing, everything is lush and green, and the whole world smells like spring. Meanwhile, I feel absolutely sick to my stomach. After work, I have to go pick up my mother; she just finished her round of chemo and radiation. I look around and see all these people who have been through the same grueling treatments, and honestly? It makes me feel physically ill. 😢 Those people in that hospital basement look like walking corpses.

Oh, I know that feeling all too well... It hits me like a ton of bricks, especially on Sunday nights.😲 Thank goodness those days were few and far between. I’ve always been the type who cries at the drop of a hat, but I bounce back just as fast—I can always find something else to cheer me up immediately. Honestly, the hardest part was that I couldn't share any of this with my dad. I constantly had to put on a brave face and act like some untouchable hero instead of just being real.
It would drive me absolutely insane if my coworkers treated every tiny, insignificant detail like it was some massive national tragedy. But honestly? What can you even do about it? You can't even hold it against them. They’re just living their regular, mundane lives. That's all there is to it.

I learned long ago that dealing with cancer is a total rollercoaster. It’s a constant series of highs and lows. Honestly, I felt a lot more composed knowing that once the storm passes, the sun is going to come right back out. 😉

Kimberly Wright said:I read that brisksurfer's father passed away and I'm sitting here crying like a total fool.

This might sound cold-hearted, but I’m sitting here crying because my dad is sick. When I think about the agony waiting at the end, I know deep down that I have to let him go.

Kimberly Wright said:But not in front of my mother.

That was easily the hardest part of everything. When my dad was still here, I couldn't even bring myself to cry because I didn't want him to see me like that. Then, once he was gone, suddenly everyone else starts lecturing me about how I shouldn't be crying either. It’s unbelievable. Just constant pressure from every direction.
I only let the tears fall on that very last day when I saw my dad—he couldn't move, just lying there. I honestly think he heard me. He had tears streaming down his face too, but I just couldn't hold it back. I kept telling him not to be sad, that everything would turn out exactly the way it’s meant to be. If I hadn't cried, I truly believe my heart would have just split right in two. 😢

Sending my best to your mom. 😘

brisksurfer said:This might sound a bit harsh to some, but I find myself crying because my dad has fallen ill... when I think back to all the suffering at the end, I knew deep down that I just had to let him go...

It all sounds perfectly reasonable to me, honestly. Sometimes, just white-knuckling your way through sheer agony doesn't make any sense at all, does it? I imagine that a person might find themselves caught in this strange, simultaneous headspace—feeling an immense weight of sadness, yet experiencing a quiet sense of relief all at once.
As a patient, you eventually reach that point where you just feel it deep down—that moment when you realize you can't push through anymore and all you really want is some peace.

I only really let the tears fall on that very last day, when I saw my dad looking so motionless. I like to think he could hear me, because I saw his eyes welling up too, but I just couldn't hold it back anymore. I kept telling him not to be sad, trying to convince him that everything would eventually turn out exactly the way it’s meant to be, but honestly, if I hadn't let myself cry, I think my heart would have just split right in two. 😢

And dear Ivy. 🙂
Your dad probably broke down because seeing you in tears just hit him too hard. It’s likely he was just caught up in that deep, quiet worry for you, more than anything else. 🙂

Sending my best wishes and some good vibes to your mom. 😘

Sure thing. 🙂
I’ll be the one keeping them on their feet. 😁