Angela Wright said:You definitely need to go to Mayo Clinic. This is a rare diagnosis—a specific type of sarcoma—and treatment involves oncological drugs like Sutent and Chemotherapy. The priority is getting as many tumors surgically removed as possible, as quickly as possible. Since GIST affects the gastrointestinal tract, it spreads metastases from there. It's a stroke of luck that there are actually two effective drugs available, because most sarcomas don't have adequate treatment options. At Mayo, look for Dr. Santek or Dr. Herceg. They are the top experts in the US for rare tumors.http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/abou...stromal-tumour
He’s at Mayo. Dr. Romić performed the surgery today. The ICU says he’s stable, breathing on his own, and blood pressure is fine, but I couldn't catch a doctor long enough to get the specifics of the operation.
Angela Wright said:It’s impossible to predict how long someone will live; there are just too many variables at play. Hold on a second and actually listen to what's going on here first. It doesn't necessarily mean it's a worst-case scenario. As for the pain itself, it can be managed quite effectively—that’s literally what anesthesiologists are trained for. I happen to know a neighbor who dealt with something similar to a worst-case situation and didn't experience any pain at all.
The doctor told me: GIST. When I asked where the primary site was, he wouldn't give me a straight answer. They sent her to the major medical center in the city. Once she got there, they said: surgery. I haven't seen the discharge papers yet, but my mom says they mentioned two massive growths, maybe something like 14 and 11 cm.
Angela Wright said:If you catch it early by pure luck, you might have a shot at treatment. But usually, it’s found way too late because this thing stays hidden until it's already running wild. It's a sneaky disease with terrible outlooks once they diagnose it and find metastases.
I'm talking about my father here. I haven't been able to corner his main doctor yet to get the real story, and the nurse on the floor wouldn't—or couldn't—tell me much, other than that chemotherapy is on the table, and now they're mentioning surgery... My sister mentioned the doctor suspects stomach cancer, but she isn't allowed to officially share any info. Whatever it is, he really let this one slip away. He's been feeling off for months—fever after fever, occasional stomach pains, and he lost a massive amount of weight. But he kept brushing it off to the doctor, claiming it was just stress killing his immune system. He finally ended up in the hospital when the paramedics had to pick him up because the pain and chills were so bad he couldn't even move. He described the pain like someone stabbing a knife into his spleen. Right now, he's in the hospital on antibiotics and heavy painkillers, and the fever hasn't broken... I'm hoping to catch his doctor tomorrow and finally get some straight answers.
Look, if it is stomach cancer, there isn't much hope for a cure. What I really need to know is: what's the shortest window of suffering for these patients? I've read this is one of the most painful cancers out there, and I don't want him living through years of agony. If there's no way to manage the pain—and I've read that even morphine doesn't always cut it—then I just want it to be over quickly...
casualmoose14 said:Thank God I can finally say that after 11 months, I’m back to my old self—maybe even better than before 👏 Talking to myself actually helped a lot; we’d just debate things and calm each other down.😁 For instance, I tried to find a silver lining in every rough patch... like when I was exhausted and sleep-deprived, I’d tell myself I’ll lose weight faster soon. Or when everything ached and I had no appetite, I’d think, "Well, at least I'll drop more weight" (since I was obsessed with those 50 lbs I put on during pregnancy). Luckily, I didn't have any major health issues, just some mental clutter. Honestly, I think that happened because I lived like royalty until the day I gave birth. Everyone catered to me—my mom did the cooking, cleaning, and laundry. I spent all 33 years of my life being pampered, and then boom, a little princess arrived who needs me to serve her and jump at every whim. It took a minute to abdicate the throne in my head, but I finally did.👍 What really saved me was getting back to work. Half my day is my old life, half is this new one... that's how I look at it.
It’s definitely easier for new moms who grew up learning how to do laundry, fold clothes, and cook at home. I’ve worked since high school, but at home, everything was always done for me. Before I had my girl, I wouldn't even change a bedsheet. Fortunately, I didn't jump into motherhood straight out of my parents' house; I moved in with my husband when I was a year old, so I learned the basics—like ironing when things get desperate, scrubbing the bathroom once a week, or vacuuming. But realistically, the two of us were rarely home, so there weren't many chores, and whatever we did have, we split.
I don't think my parents did me any favors by not making me do anything around the house, and I hope I don't repeat their mistake.
So, here I am, totally unaccustomed to housework, giving birth to a baby who won't sleep or eat right, and man, I don't know how I survived.
I could have easily gone to psychotherapy, but it wouldn't have helped. What I actually needed was a nanny and a housekeeper; they’re the only ones who could have kept me sane.
But hey, I survived. And I won't let it happen again.
Just look at how that kid is developing... I was listening to U2 back in first grade while my peers were stuck on Taylor Swift. Every single night, I was watching The Daily Mail while everyone else went to bed after cartoons. By fourth grade, I’d already plowed through the Russian classics just for fun, while my classmates were still reading Segrt Hlapic. Don't even get me started on sexual maturity.
As far as early puberty goes, at least those signs were spotted early. I remember being terrified that someone in class would find out I had my period or armpit hair because kids back then wouldn't have understood—plus, I was already way ahead of them. I actually waited for someone else in class to start their period so I could finally tell the gym teacher I couldn't participate without having to explain myself. It took over two years for that to happen. Kids are incredibly insecure during puberty, and for me, the hardest part hit during the lower elementary years. It sucked feeling so "advanced" compared to everyone else.
That's why by middle school, I was totally confident, while other girls were losing their minds over a pimple.😁
It’s not exactly dramatic. But honestly, I wish I had started school a little younger. I would have actually fit in with the other kids. In puberty, that stuff matters, damn it.
James Cox6 said:So, last year I was helping out a friend by dropping off some enrollment paperwork for her kid—her boss wouldn't give her the day off, so she asked me to handle the school registration. No big deal. The office wasn't crowded, which actually worked out because I ended up chatting with a special education specialist. I started asking about early enrollment and maturity levels, and she told me everything you guys have been debating here, plus one thing nobody else mentioned. The conversation went like this:
"Mom, do you have a boy or a girl?" I told her—a girl. "Well, you know," she said, "if you enroll a child at 6 years and 3 months, they might meet the height and weight requirements, but don't mistake that for physical maturity. If they seem short for their age, it’s probably not just about height..." "You need to realize right from the start that your child might be the least physically developed in the class. They might be at the very bottom of the pack—the last one in the grade to get their period or start developing physically." "It might sound crazy to you, but these things weigh heavily on those little pre-pubescent minds. You have to remember there are kids in that same class who delayed starting until they were 7 or 8, while yours is starting at 6 and 3 months... Just try to imagine the psychological gap—sometimes up to two years in developmental stages—when hormones kick in and throw all that emotional stability out the window."
So now I'm asking you moms—do you think this becomes a major issue for emotionally immature kids? (I'd prefer answers from moms of girls, since the specialist was specifically talking about female development)
Listening.🙂
I had body hair and swollen-looking breasts by the time I was seven. My mom actually took me to the doctor because she thought something was wrong, but it was just my body developing. I got my period at nine, and by twelve, I was fully grown. So, what, should I have started school a year earlier just to fit in with the pack? We should focus on things we can actually control. Honestly, I wish my parents had sent me to school at five, because both physically and emotionally, I was way ahead of everyone else. Waiting until a child is seven and a half to start school—especially if they're showing signs of early puberty—just because someone is afraid they won't handle failure? That's probably the biggest disservice you could do to a kid. If my daughter keeps developing at this rate, physically and emotionally, I'm looking into enrolling her when she's five and a half. I just don't know if the system even allows it.
Of course, it all comes down to the kid—their mental and emotional maturity matters most—but just looking at it on the surface, starting first grade any later than seven feels way too late to me. My brother started at six, I started at six, then five... I guess that's how I handled things. I messed up my choice of major at the end of high school and ended up losing a year, but honestly, nobody can tell at my age. It was actually kind of great because during job interviews, it always looked like I finished college right on schedule, even though I’d fallen behind by a year. It's not a big deal, just an observation. The real issue is that it would have been a nightmare if I had started at seven and a half because of how I looked physically. Back then, I was a head taller than everyone else; I would have looked like a complete freak if I had entered first grade at seven and a half. At that stage, I was growing like a weed, and a single year made a massive difference in my size. Not to mention, I was intellectually more than ready; reading and writing were a total piece of cake for me.
He’s been on Risperdal since 2008. Morning and night, he takes his dose. But honestly? I can't say he was ever actually "well" during this illness. When he stuck to the pills, he was just deeply depressed—miserable, disillusioned... This sounds terrible, I know, but sometimes when he’s in those phases, I catch myself wishing the hallucinations would come back just so he’d feel important again, or more alive, or like there was something actually occupying his mind... Then again, those hallucinations are a living nightmare, and he’s definitely even more miserable when they hit.
I think he isn't even taking the meds anymore. He tells me he's taking them, but says they don't work. I suggested maybe he's built up a tolerance and should see a doctor to switch things up, but he insists any other pills would be worse—that they just numb him out and turn him into a zombie.
We don't live together anymore. He’s staying with his parents. He had a doctor he trusted for a few years, but then once, the guy recommended he turn to faith and the Bible, and he just completely lost respect for him. He mocks that doctor now, but he refuses to see anyone else. It's been over a year since he's set foot in a clinic.
Getting him to go to a doctor is impossible. Back when he first started treatment, the police had to take him in. Now, I genuinely have no idea how to convince him.
The guy was incredibly smart, but he has no degree, no job, no wife, no house, and zero hope of ever having any of that. I think that's what's killing him.
Maybe the only thing that would help is if my parents or I suddenly hit the jackpot overnight and could provide him with a better life. But that's not exactly looking likely.
So I really don't know... No matter which way I look at it, nothing seems to be heading toward a good outcome.
My brother is spiraling. I honestly don't know how much longer he can keep this up... Here’s a snippet of one of our talks
Him - man, what a trip, I just realized that at a quantum level, a human is God, and none of this bullshit matters anymore ME - well, at least you know you're God, haha
HIM - no, it's not a joke. Just because some extremist pulled a bluff, the whole universe is going to clash with God man is - God he'll screw over the universe and the extremist because the extremist won't back down and the universe is just a total joke that they declared to be God just so they could kill God
ME - God is dead, long live God, hallelujah
HIM - no, no, go study some actual quantum physics no more talking nonsense ME - sure, as soon as I get home tonight, I'll tell my girl to go take a walk or hit the movies so I can sit here and study quantum physics HIM - yeah, well, they tried to kill me, but they decided to just enjoy my absolute worst suffering instead and failed now I know everything and I can't die ME - the main thing is that you're happy HIM - I'm not, I'm in maximum pain, but they were supposed to kill me instead, I'm coming back as - God and that's staying that way ME - then I guess you're happy HIM - no, because I'm in terrible agony, but nobody else gets to enjoy it any more no matter how hard they try or spin around on a pole you get it? I'm not going to the grave just so someone can dance on a pole for the next 50 years they need to give me a better reason, and there isn't one Or just so some frog could hang out at Sarah's place that's even worse they completely missed the mark maximum joy, maximum tripping they should've used a Voodoo doll, not a bunch of Higgs bosons lol or they should have just put a bullet in my head and called it a day ME - I'd say you're happy then HIM - it's impossible like this I'm not, I'm horrified, but I'm not going to the grave ME - if I realized I was God and no one could touch me, I'd be happy HIM - it's your fault you don't get it that's your problem ME - I'm happy without that realization, but someone who doesn't have it should be happy once they find out HIM - that's your problem I know what I know I'm out, peace End Chat
Keeping this brief before I delete it. Basically, it looks to me like he's on the edge of suicide; he's always talking like this. I tried to pull him back to reality through conversation, but looking at this transcript, you can see why I gave up.
It's been 5 years since his illness officially started. It feels like it's never going to get better.
When he’s actually taking his meds, he starts going off about all these hallucinations he’s having. He knows he's sick, sure, but he still rants about how psychiatrists don't know anything—claims the whole field of psychiatry is just one big joke. Then he goes looking for "alternative" ways to get better, which always ends up being him trying to quit his medication, and that's when he starts losing his grip on reality. Even when he's medicated, he can still hear voices, just muffled. The voices mostly tell him to kill himself or someone else, and honestly, it's terrifying.
It’s impossible to get through to him because he’s always been on his own wavelength; my parents never really knew how to handle him. He was one of those gifted kids—honestly, you wouldn't believe how early he was reading and writing. His teachers were practically begging my parents to let him skip grades, and they used to have him sit with the older kids to tutor them. He was a chess champion, art professors saw a future master painter in him, an American literary legend in the making, a math prodigy... he was so talented that he was the authority in our house, not the other way around.
At one point, he actually trusted this psychiatrist, but then the guy said a few things that made my brother start feeling like he was just some kind of idiot—the doctor was a religious zealot, and after that, my brother decided he was done with him. Now, he hasn't been to therapy in ages and he’s completely off his meds. I’m terrified they’ll try to force him into a psychiatric ward again. He refuses to take the pills because he says they just numb his brain. I don't know... I have my own life to live, but I feel for my parents. I feel for him too, but damn, it drives me crazy how he messes around with his medication when there's absolutely no way to make him understand why he needs it.
My family has been dealing with my brother’s schizophrenia since 2008. I feel so incredibly bad for my parents. My mom is seriously ill, but she refuses surgery because she’s terrified of leaving my brother alone. My dad tries to cope by staying out of the house as much as possible. My brother has his good days, but the bad ones definitely outweigh them. Now he’s off his medication again, sending me messages claiming that big-time American groups are out to get him and that he’s going to take them all down. It's just heartbreaking. :-(:-(:-( I don't think there's a harder battle than schizophrenia. Even though I know some people manage to handle this illness well, I’m losing hope that my brother will ever be one of them. 😢
Like I said, nothing gets under my skin more than people shoving their opinions down your throat, whether it’s in real life or just on a message board, even if it means derailing the thread. It's obnoxious. And honestly, it’s not just a pregnancy thing—it’s a constant irritation.
What’s really wearing me down today is the physical toll. I’m 40 weeks and 3 days along, and after spending half this pregnancy on strict bed rest because of preterm labor threats, now I’m stuck in this limbo where labor just won't start. I feel completely drained and weak. Every other morning it’s another trip to the hospital for fetal monitoring... it's just endless.
ironjackal20 said:I'm reading this and admiring how calm, rational, and positive you are. Based on your post, nothing in this world could throw you off balance, so I don't know how you even ended up on this subforum... hopefully for the last time.🙂 And asking Mom???!!! As if a confident, modern pregnant woman would actually go to her mother for advice.
You've got everything perfectly figured out, though I am a bit concerned since you're only 6 weeks along... back in my hometown, they'd say you still have a long way to go before you can call it a done deal.
Are you two friends? If not, you should meet; it seems like you have a lot in common.
Regarding breastfeeding, if doing it after 6 months is "pointless," then the first day is too. Maybe it's better to just grab some baby formula at the hospital so you can feed the kid properly right away🤷. Why bother with breastfeeding if it doesn't serve a purpose?😍
Several doctors I've talked to mentioned that breastfeeding for 4-6 months is ideal if possible, because that's when the milk is packed with nutrients. After that, the nutritional value drops off, and women nursing toddlers are mostly just using it as a way to soothe the kid rather than providing essential nutrition. And no, I don't find it perverse to nurse a 6, 8, or 10-month-old... As long as the child sees it strictly as food and not a toy. I know women whose kids intentionally bite them just to get a reaction, treating it like a game. At that point, there isn't really much room left for nursing. I also know a woman who nursed her little one until they were two. The kid is four now, and while she ran out of milk ages ago, he still won't fall asleep without holding onto her breast. Even when we're out in public and he gets fussy, he'll just reach into her neckline to calm down. It reminds me of the Mad Queen from Game of Thrones nursing her six-year-old.
Honestly, it doesn't hurt my feelings who chooses to nurse or how long they do it, but I refuse to have other women push long-term breastfeeding on me as if it's an obligation. Some people think they're doing their child a favor by keeping them on the breast until they're two or three, but in my view, that's bad for a child's psychological development and just raises a spoiled brat.
Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but nobody should force it on anyone else. Someone might think I don't love my child because I won't let them nurse after about 6 months, but I think women who nurse for longer are often doing it more for themselves than the baby. They get hooked on being the center of their child's universe and don't want to give up that feeling. That's how you end up with thirty-year-olds who are still clinging to their mother's apron strings. That's just my take, though; I usually keep these thoughts to myself instead of lecturing acquaintances who choose long-term nursing. Likewise, I expect no one to lecture me about long-term nursing as if it's a requirement for loving my kid.
Right now, what's really getting on my nerves is having to go in for fetal monitoring every other morning and wasting 2 or 3 hours sitting in the waiting room 😢.
Moms obsessed with strollers. I had no idea this phenomenon even existed until I got pregnant myself. Everyone tries to convince you that a stroller without a bassinet is a terrible choice—even people like me who think a bassinet is just consumerist greed, a gimmick, and total nonsense. Until now, I only knew about guys who obsess over cars; now I’ve realized there are groups of women who obsess over strollers in the exact same way. God, I was reading a Chicago forum where some expectant mom says she wants to buy a Stokke stroller, and another woman responds, totally dead serious, "Why would you get a Stokke? Every other person in Chicago has them, just buy a Bugaboo." Helloooo? In Chicago, every other person is starving, not driving a Stokke, and what does it matter how many identical strollers are on the street? Is the only thing that matters if they're comfortable for the baby?!
I used to be disgusted by car guys; now I'm disgusted by their wives too.
And since I'm already on a pre-labor rant: Women who smoke, eat junk food, drink Coke and alcohol, and dye their hair during the first three months of pregnancy while simultaneously claiming pregnancy is the best thing that ever happened to them. Just be honest: "I hate this kid in my womb and I want it to die." Seriously, who are you kidding? If you can't give up something for nine months that threatens your baby's health, don't act like you're overjoyed.
Or those "virgin moms" who act all shocked at women having sex during a healthy pregnancy. If the pregnancy is healthy, sex should just add to the bliss. Amen.
Then there are the women who splurge on high-end stuff like Johnson & Johnson and think that's why they didn't get stretch marks. The cheapest Walmart almond oil and the most expensive luxury cream will have the exact same effect on the final result. I learned that the hard way.
Oh, and the hospital drama. When for the tiniest little thing—just a routine checkup—a woman, her husband, her mom, dad, grandma, and grandpa all start making connections that aren't there, spreading panic into a perfectly normal situation.
Pregnant women who brag about only gaining 10 pounds by 40 weeks, while they could easily carry someone like me who gained 20 kilos. Honestly, this whole weight talk drives me crazy.
And the women who preach about breastfeeding. I don't care one bit whether I breastfeed or not. If I have milk, I'll nurse, but for a maximum of six months because it's proven that after that, breast milk loses its properties and mostly just serves to soothe the baby, which feels like pure perversion to me. So, if there's milk, I'll nurse until six months; if not, I won't, and that's that.
God, I don't get why everyone is getting so worked up about this. Honestly, I find it sweet when people call me fat or "mom," and the other day my friend's husband even gave my belly a kiss in public—it was actually really touching.
I'm just terrified of giving birth, and that’s where all my anxiety and frustration are actually coming from.
so glad this thread exists... seriously... everything just gets on my nerves lately. like, my father-in-law won't shut up about how things "have" to be for a man... then my mom’s grandma acting like there's nothing to celebrate if it's a girl... and don't even get me started on my mother-in-law who couldn't care less about anything, so I know she's no help at all... plus that grandma judging me, saying I shouldn't even think about getting married until after I have kids, calling it "disgusting"... saying if I messed up, I need to repent... like, give me a break 😕 stop hitting me with all that religious stuff and all those lectures... it's constant. my hormones are finally settling down now, but last month around week 8? don't even ask how bad it was 🤣🤣 and honestly, his family has never thrown me off balance quite like they did the other day... I had a miscarriage once before and I specifically begged him not to tell a soul until I could get to the doctor and make sure everything was okay... then suddenly, boom, I'm getting flooded with congratulations and blah blah blah on Facebook... 🙂 I was in total shock, just disbelief... turns out my mom's grandma went and blabbed to his aunt and everyone else 🙂🙂🙂 like, stay out of my life. my baby, my business. and oh yeah, if it's a girl, we're throwing a huge party too 🤣🤣 ahhhh
I don't get why you guys bother telling anyone at all if you don't want the news spreading. The first person I told about my pregnancy, besides my partner, was my boss at Starbucks. I let him know around week 8 so he wouldn't schedule me for those exhausting shifts traveling for work. Then we told our parents, and we didn't mention anything to his grandparents until way later, around weeks 17 or 18.
Pregnancy itself doesn't bug me, but my current life situation is driving me crazy—unfinished home renovations, my partner's job being super unstable right now, and the fact that I can't seem to start my Master's thesis even though I finished my last exam ages ago... So much stress, just so much...😢
It doesn't bother me when an older guy or some senior citizen cuts in front of me. No matter how much we’re struggling, I know their situation is way harder. What is someone in their 80s supposed to do when they can barely breathe, let alone stand there for ages? I always prioritize the elderly over pregnant women, and that includes my own pregnancy right now. I’ll keep giving up my seat to seniors for as long as I possibly can. If it becomes physically impossible later in my pregnancy, well, then it is what it is. But I'm hoping for a smooth enough term where that won't be an issue.
What actually gets under my skin? Candida. Dealing with this constant yeast infection is one thing, but during pregnancy, it’s nerve-wracking. Every time I feel that stinging sensation, I start panicking that it might be something more serious, so I end up getting a urine culture done constantly.