Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Hey everyone,

So, my dad ended up in the hospital two weeks ago. He’d been coughing a lot about a week before that, but everything seemed totally fine two weeks prior to that. Since then, things have just spiraled incredibly fast. We don't have all the test results back yet, but the doctors told us (the family) that they found cancer in his abdomen and, for now, metastases in his lungs—basically, they said there's no point in pursuing any more treatment. That’s how they put it, anyway. By "cancer in the abdomen," I'm assuming they mean stomach cancer 🤷. Dad is pretty depressed, even though he doesn't officially know yet, but he suspects it's cancer... though he probably doesn't realize just how far along it actually is. In three weeks, once all the tests are finalized, they'll discharge him to go home—meaning, to my place, where Mom and I will be looking after him with some help from the rest of the family.

How am I feeling? First off, just massive sadness and shock, followed by this constant fear. It's this daily dread of when they're going to tell him, how he's going to react, and this terrible anxiety that this is just the start of an agonizing struggle that we don't know how long will last, even though we already know how it ends. He's mentally fragile and pretty unstable, so I honestly don't know how he's going to handle this.
Am I ready for this? For losing a parent? I'm not exactly old enough for this, but I guess nobody ever truly is. I've been a total wreck, barely functioning for a few days now, even though I know I have to pull it together. I'm terrified, and there's just no getting out of this headspace. And yeah, I'm just... endlessly, endlessly sad.

Grace Campbell88 said:Hey everyone,

My dad ended up in the hospital two weeks ago. He’d been coughing like crazy a week before that, but everything seemed totally fine two weeks prior to the cough. Since then, things have just spiraled out of control. We don't have all the test results back yet, but the doctors told us (the family) they found cancer in his abdomen and it's spread to his lungs—at least for now. They basically said there's no point in pursuing any more treatment. That's how they put it, though when they say "cancer in the abdomen," I'm guessing they mean stomach cancer 🤷. Dad is pretty depressed, even if he doesn't fully know the extent yet; he suspects it's cancer, but he probably hasn't realized just how far gone it actually is. In about three weeks, once the full labs are done, they'll let him come home—meaning, he'll be staying with me, where my mom and I will take care of him with some help from the rest of the family.

What am I feeling? Mostly just massive sadness and total shock, followed by this constant dread—this daily anxiety wondering when they're going to break the news to him, how he'll take it, and this terrifying fear that this is just the start of a long, grueling nightmare that we know exactly how it ends. He’s mentally fragile and pretty unstable, so I have no clue how he's going to handle this.
Am I ready for this? Losing a parent? I'm not exactly old enough for this crap, but honestly, nobody ever is. I'm a wreck; I've barely been able to function for a few days now, even though I know I have to. I'm scared to death, and there's just no escaping it. And yeah, I'm endlessly, endlessly sad.

Things are rough, and I totally get why you're hurting. Sent you a PM.

Grace Campbell88 said:Hello everyone,

My father was admitted to the hospital two weeks ago. About a week before that, he had this persistent cough, but just two weeks prior to that, everything seemed perfectly normal. Since then, things have spiraled at an overwhelming speed. We’re still waiting on some of the final test results, but the doctors have already sat our family down to tell us they found cancer in his abdomen with metastases in his lungs—at least, that's the current assessment—and that pursuing aggressive treatment no longer makes sense. That is how they put it, though when they say "cancer in the abdomen," I assume they mean stomach cancer 🤷. Dad is quite depressed right now; even though he doesn't officially know the full extent yet, he suspects something is wrong, though he likely hasn't grasped just how advanced this stage actually is. In about three weeks, once all the diagnostic work is complete, they will discharge him to come home—meaning, to my place, where my mother and I will be caring for him with the support of the rest of the family.

What am I feeling? Primarily, it's a profound sense of grief and pure shock, followed closely by fear—this constant, gnawing anxiety every single day wondering when they will break the news to him, how he will take it, and a terrifying dread that this is merely the opening chapter of an agonizing struggle that we know exactly how it ends, even if we don't know how long it will last. He is emotionally fragile and quite unstable, and I honestly don't know how he is going to process this.
Am I ready for this? To lose a parent? I'm certainly not old enough to be facing this, but I suppose no one ever truly is. I feel completely unmoored; for the past few days, I've barely been able to function, yet I know I have to. I am terrified beyond words, and there is simply no way to escape this feeling. And yes, I am endlessly, profoundly sad.

It is only natural that you feel this sadness, and truthfully, you will continue to carry it for a long time regardless of how things unfold. When I first received the news regarding my husband, I was submerged in that same tidal wave of pain, sorrow, misery, shock, and fear; I knew immediately that a grueling battle lay ahead of us, leading toward an outcome I desperately wanted to avoid. No one is ever truly prepared for something like this, no matter your age, whether you are a child or a spouse. You find that you must become incredibly strong, primarily for his sake and also for your own, because there is so much left to do and you have to try to maintain a sense of hope. In moments like these, you convince yourself that you won't be able to endure certain things—that you won't be able to hear the grim prognoses from the doctors—but believe me, you never truly realize the depth of your own strength until you are thrust into the center of such a storm. I used to think I could never face death head-on, or fight so hard for a loved one, or perform tasks that seem impossible, but you find you must. This realization stays with me every single day; I know I have to stay strong for him, for my children, and for myself. You have to stand by his side and offer him hope, while finding somewhere far away to wipe your own tears so he doesn't see them. A difficult road lies ahead of you, but you must hold onto hope until the very last moment, because there is simply no escaping the reality of what you are going through.

Thanks... everyone's saying it, my whole family is on my case about how I need to be "stronger," just because I'm clearly the one who hit rock bottom the hardest. Honestly, I think the guilt is just suffocating me—how am I supposed to laugh or try to cheer him up or talk to him like everything is totally fine? But apparently, that’s the only way forward, even if it feels pretty damn cruel.

Right now, sitting here at work, typing this out while I'm basically a zombie to everyone around me, he's over there talking to his doctor and listening to his diagnosis.

Grace Campbell88 said:Thanks... everyone—the whole family—keeps telling me I need to be stronger, mostly because I'm clearly the one who's been hit hardest by all this. I think I’m just suffocating under this weight of guilt. How am I supposed to laugh, how can I cheer him up or talk to him like everything is normal when it isn't? But honestly, it feels like the only right way to handle it, even if it sounds incredibly cruel.

Right now, as I sit here at my desk, typing this out while completely zoning out from everything happening around me, he's over there talking to his doctor and listening to his diagnosis.

First off, you have to clear your head and accept the reality that this illness is happening to him, not you. You are caught in the wake of his situation. He is the one who has to carry the heavy burden of this disease until the end, and you and the rest of the family need to provide him with nothing less than total, unconditional support. That includes laughing, too, because that's exactly what he needs from you. Don't let him feel like he's a burden or that he should feel guilty for being sick and causing pain to those around him. Nobody deserves that feeling, especially not the person fighting the illness.

There isn't some grand, complex wisdom here; the facts of life are actually quite blunt: people are fragile and they get hit by devastating diseases. Humans are mortal and transient. Goodbyes are brutal.
BUT: people possess an incredible reservoir of strength that they aren't even aware of. We have an internal mechanism to adapt to almost any fundamental crisis life throws our way. People find it much easier once they start trusting their own raw, natural instincts.
That's just my take on things. Maybe it helps.

Hey everyone..
For a few days now, the news here has been flooded with this story about a Bulgarian scientist who’s been trying to get his cancer drug, "anitimalignocit," registered since 1959. His name is Prodan Judas Iscariot, and he’s living in Vienna. He keeps talking about hundreds of people who were cured—cases that mainstream medicine just wrote off as impossible. According to him, the big pharma mafia is blocking the registration.
People are starting to demand it be registered here in the States too.
There are countless examples of recovered patients in Bulgaria putting massive pressure on officials to allow the drug to be used for treating the sick.
Even the head of the pharmacology department in Sofia believes the preparation has been tested multiple times and there's absolutely no chance of any toxicological issues popping up.
I'm only posting this because maybe it might actually help someone out there fighting cancer.
🙂

Drew Brooks8 said:Hey everyone..
For days now, American news outlets have been running this story about a Bulgarian scientist who’s been trying to get a cancer drug called "anitimalignocit" registered since 1959. His name is Judas Iscariot, he lives in Vienna, and he claims hundreds of people have been cured—people that mainstream medicine just wrote off. He's basically alleging that the big pharma mafia is blocking the drug from being officially approved.
Now there's a push to get it registered here in the States, too.
There are tons of recovered patients in Bulgaria putting massive pressure on authorities to allow the drug to be used in treatments for the sick.
Even the head of pharmacology at the university in Sofia believes the compound has been tested enough times to prove there aren't any toxicological issues.
I'm only posting this because maybe it can help those currently fighting cancer.
🙂

I've been moderating this forum since 2007, and despite the massive turnover of members, I am still waiting for a single person to come forward with actual medical records proving something like this actually worked.
Unfortunately, the market is squeezed between two equally corrupt factions: Big Pharma and the charlatans.
That said, your story doesn't hold water for me. If a drug like that actually existed, a major pharmaceutical giant would cough up millions just to buy the formula and crush their competition. It's just basic business.
The second reason I don't buy this is simple biology: different types of cancer are so fundamentally distinct that it is scientifically impossible for one single substance to wipe out all those varying biological mechanisms. That is a hard scientific fact, and it has nothing to do with some shadowy mafia conspiracy.

Angela Wright said:I’ve been running this forum since 2007, and honestly, I'm still waiting for someone to actually show up with real results and medical records proving this stuff works. People just cycle through here constantly.
The problem is the market is rigged by two equally corrupt factions: Big Pharma and the total snake oil salesmen.
Even so, your story doesn't add up. Any major pharmaceutical company would drop millions to buy a formula like that just to crush the competition.
And another thing—your logic falls apart because different types of cancer are biologically so distinct that there's no way one single substance could wipe out all those different biological mechanisms. That’s just basic science, regardless of what any mafia thinks.

I don't know, 🤷Jane Doe🤷 I really don't know if this guy is a fraud or not.

Look at the people behind the association asking for registration. You've got Jane Doe, a mother whose 6-year-old girl was diagnosed with a brain tumor and given only six months to live. Fourteen years later, the tumor is gone. All that's left is her needing a wheelchair.
Then there's Nikolai Totsev, who beat melanoma back in '99, and Jane Doe, who cleared stomach cancer in 2004... They're pushing for registration now because the man is already 87.
There's more stories like this...
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Neka-B...app_2347471856

I reached out to Drag Plecko, and I'm planning to swing by his place in a few days to pick up some of the supplements he’s been recommending. I won't go into a massive essay about it here, but if anyone actually wants the full breakdown, just let me know and I can send over the details.
The guy’s got thirty-five years under his belt in this field—he knows his stuff. And honestly? He’s spot on when he says most of what you see advertised is nothing more than pure marketing hype. I mean, damn, I can't help but agree with what was written above: unfortunately, the market is just split between two equally corrupt mobs: Big Pharma and the total charlatans.

Then again, you can never really tell. The real killer is just that there's never enough time. You can always scrape together more money if you have to, but time? That's different. And honestly, I can't exactly go around testing out thousands of different supplements or whatever... my dad isn't exactly in the "early stages" of this, and his prognosis is basically—well, yeah. The end.
Right now, my biggest priority is just keeping his head up and trying to boost his immune system somehow. Today, they told him he has some kind of "untraceable tumor," and naturally, he’s spiraling because he can tell they aren't giving him the full story. So there I am, sitting right by his side, listening to him vent and telling him everything is going to be fine—that it's all just mental—while internally I'm dealing with the fucking reality that he's facing two carcinomas and lung metastases.

I honestly can't even deal with typing anymore... just done.

Drew Brooks8 said:I honestly don't know, Jane Doe🤷 I really can't tell if this guy is a total fraud or not.🤷

The deputy for the association seeking registration is Jane Doe, a mother of a 6-year-old girl who had a brain tumor. Doctors gave her just 6 months to live, but 14 years later, the tumor is completely gone—all that's left is the need for a wheelchair.
Then there's Nikolai Totsev, who beat malignant melanoma back in 1999, and Jane Doe, who was cured of stomach cancer in 2004... They're pushing for immediate registration because the man is already 87.
There are plenty of similar stories out there...
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Neka-B...app_2347471856

That’s exactly the point. Nobody can swear on their life that this works, and sick people shouldn't be forced to experiment with something that might actually hurt them instead of helping.
Every single person you mentioned is just hearsay, you know? Where are the medical records? The official lab results? Have they ever actually published those findings publicly to shut down all the skeptics trying to sabotage them? Clearly, they haven't.
You or I could walk around claiming we were cured of cancer just by drinking water from some magic fountain in a park in Venice, blast it out on social media, then stand at the park gates charging admission to every desperate patient looking for a miracle... see how that works?😉
Just look at how easy it is to pull stuff like this off in America:

I'm not saying it's impossible, but my common sense and everything I know about how things work tells me it's far more likely that it isn't than that it is.

Does my dad, who's dealing with esophageal cancer, actually qualify for home nursing visits?
He's in a lot of pain, honestly—he's currently relying on Tramadol and Ibuprofen just to get through it.

Fleur Delacour, clear out your inbox 😉

brightangler18 said:I honestly don't know—all my test results are back at my mom's place, and let's be real, I'm clueless when it comes to medical stuff. I'm a law student, so we're talking two completely different worlds here.

Look, the silver lining here is that it was caught early. I still have to head back in next week for more tests—I don't even know which ones, honestly—but there's real hope that because we caught it so soon and things haven't gotten too bad yet, the outcome could be positive. I don't have the actual paperwork right in front of me, so I can't give you any specifics, but man, my mood has been all over the place today. I'm just spiraling. I'm not even 20 years old yet, for crying out loud.

👍 Hey, keep your chin up. You're only 19 and you've got your whole life ahead of you... Things are going to turn out fine, especially if you stay positive and actually believe it.

Who can actually say for sure what’s right and what isn't? Honestly, is there anything worse than that gnawing guilt—that feeling that you could have done more, maybe actually helped? Back in February, my husband was in a catastrophic state: metastases in the lungs (where the primary tumor is), liver metastases, adrenal metastases... plus fluid buildup near the diaphragm... It was just horrific!!! The oncologist (who we switched with after that, by the way) told us the chances were basically zero, but we decided to push through and try four more cycles of chemo anyway. In the middle of all this, we met a woman who told us that back in Mexico the doctors had completely given up on her—but once she went to Perth for radiofrequency ablation, the results were absolutely fantastic when she returned to Belgrade?! Well, my dear man made it through all four rounds of chemo, and the scans showed everything is clear except for three remaining liver metastases, which have shrunk down to a third of their original size! We've already coordinated with a new oncologist to do two more rounds of chemo, just in case we can clear those last bits out. So now I'm left wondering: is it the trust in this new, optimistic doctor, is it the chemo itself, or was it that belief in one last shot (the radiofrequency ablation)? Or did all of it just converge to create these results? I don't know. The only thing that matters is that we keep moving forward—we have to believe there's a chance to either cure it or, at the very least, stop it in its tracks...

slyowl10 said:Does my father, who is battling esophageal cancer, have access to home health nursing care?
He’s in absolute agony, currently relying on Tramadol and Ibuprofen.

He definitely qualifies for home health nursing, but let's be real—that isn't going to touch his pain levels. You need to contact a specialized pain management clinic immediately. It sounds like the Tramadol and Ibuprofen just aren't cutting it. He likely needs a doctor to prescribe a Fentanyl Patch to get things under control.

Megan Fowler78 said:How can anyone ever be certain about what's right or wrong? Is there anything more gut-wrenching than the guilt of wondering if we could have done more, or maybe actually helped? Back in February, my husband was in a truly horrific state: metastases in his lungs (where the primary tumor started), liver metastases, adrenal metastases—he even had fluid buildup near the diaphragm... It was devastating. The oncologist we saw then told us the chances were slim, but we decided to push through and attempt four more cycles of chemo. During that time, we met a woman who told us that doctors back in Mexico had basically given up on her, but once she went to Perth for radiation therapy, her results were absolutely fantastic by the time she returned to Belgrade?! My dear husband made it through all four rounds of chemo, and the scans showed everything is clear, except for three remaining liver metastases which have shrunk to a third of their original size! We’ve agreed with our new oncologist to go for two more rounds of chemo just in case we can clear those last bits out. So now I'm left wondering: was it putting our trust in a new, optimistic doctor, was it the chemo itself, or was it faith in that one last shot at life via radiation? Or did all of it work together to produce these results? I honestly don't know. The bottom line is that we have to keep moving forward and hold onto the hope that we can make progress—even if it's not a total cure, maybe we can at least stop the spread...

Honestly? I think having a competent, well-coordinated medical team and a solid healthcare system played the biggest role in such positive results. And obviously, in situations like this, faith runs deeper because you feel like other people actually give a damn about your recovery.
What good is all the faith and love in the world to people living in cities like Vienna or Belgrade when they're stuck waiting three months just to get radiation treatment? By the time they finally get in, things have gone downhill ten times over.

Don't get me wrong—I truly, deeply lament everything that's happening in our old territories, and honestly, sometimes it’s just uncomfortable when someone reminds me how difficult things have become... It's a blessing that we have private insurance here, though; it makes choosing a treatment path so much easier, and once we consult with a doctor and ask for something specific, we get it immediately. Maybe it actually helps sometimes when I raise my voice a bit, shed a few tears, and just pour my heart out... over here, you really have to keep a smile on your face to ensure the reaction is quick. Last August, when my husband was on the edge and I was absolutely panicking, you were the one who snapped me out of it, Angela Wright, by writing exactly what steps I needed to take. I seriously don't have the words to express my gratitude to all of you because I read every single post, and so much of this has helped me.

Megan Fowler78 said:Don't get me wrong, I truly grieve for what's happening in our old territories, and sometimes it's uncomfortable when someone reminds me just how difficult things are... We're lucky enough to have private insurance here, which makes choosing a treatment plan much easier; once we consult with a doctor and make a request, we usually get what we need immediately. Sometimes, it actually helps if I raise my voice a bit, shed a few tears, and pour my heart out... over here, keeping a smile on your face is key to getting a fast reaction. Last August, when my husband was at his breaking point and I was panicking, you really opened my eyes, Angela Wright, by telling me exactly what steps to take. Honestly, words can't express how grateful I am to all of you; I read every single post, and they have helped me immensely.

Honey, I can't tell you how happy it makes me to read about how much things have improved.😍
The way you and your husband are handling this could honestly serve as a blueprint for everyone else fighting this terrible diagnosis.
Just keep doing exactly what you've been doing—it's crystal clear you're on the right track. 👍

Hey,
since everyone here seems to actually know what they're talking about, I wanted to pick your brains on something... my dad had surgery for colon cancer almost two years ago, but his latest tumor marker results came back slightly elevated—specifically, his CEA is sitting somewhere north of 5. Is that something we should be losing sleep over, or am I just being dramatic?
Thanks for the help!

Megan Fowler78 said:Who can actually say for sure what’s right or wrong? Honestly, is there anything worse than that gut-wrenching guilt—that feeling that you could've done more, maybe saved someone? Back in February, my husband was in a really dark place. We're talking lung metastases (where the primary started), liver, adrenal glands... plus fluid buildup near the diaphragm. It was just awful. The oncologist we saw back then—we ended up switching doctors after that—told us the chances were basically zero. But we decided to push through and try four cycles of chemo anyway. In the middle of all that, we met this woman who told us how her situation in Mexico was hopeless because the doctors there had given up on her, but once she went to Perth for radiofrequency ablation, her results were incredible by the time she got back to Belgrade?! Well, my guy finished all four rounds of chemo, and the scans showed everything is clear, except for three spots on the liver that have shrunk down to a third of their original size! We've worked it out with the new oncologist to do two more rounds of chemo, just hoping to clear those last bits out. Now, I'm sitting here wondering: was it trusting this new optimistic doctor? Was it the chemo itself? Or was it just having faith in that one shot with the ablation? Who knows. All I know is we have to keep moving forward. You have to believe there's a chance to either beat it or at least keep it from winning...

Man, I am so incredibly happy to hear things are looking up! 🙂
Big hugs!!