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Posts by Walter Cox5

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Quote:
As I’ve mentioned here before—it’s a sobering reality—even the most thorough medical checkups in the world can miss cancer. You can listen to your body and maintain the healthiest lifestyle imaginable... but that isn't a guarantee that you'll catch a problem early enough to actually beat it.

A couple of examples:
1) My dearest girl—she was healthy from day one. Her only real brush with illness was a case of chickenpox when she was little, and even then, it was so mild you barely noticed it. She never dealt with anything more serious than a common cold.
She was always so bright, energetic, and active—always playing tennis, snowboarding, or just running around doing something.
In the middle of 2004, she felt a small lump on her leg while rubbing her shins. She told me her first thought was, "It's cancer!" By August of that same year, she received the formal diagnosis. She went through the treatments, the surgeries... and had been in remission since January 2005. Even during her treatment, she remained that same spirited, slightly eccentric girl.
Everything seemed fine until September 2006, right around her 15th birthday. She came back from a hiking trip that day feeling exhausted and having pain on her right side. It turned out the cancer had returned. Just two weeks prior, she had seen her oncologist—tests, checkups, all of it—and everything looked perfect. In fact, her doctor even suggested we move her checkups to once a year instead of every six months because she seemed so incredibly healthy.
By mid-September 2006, they told her she was dying. She passed away on December 3rd. If you could have heard her talking that day—her strength, her wonderful sarcasm, her sense of humor—you would have asked me why on earth such a vibrant kid was stuck in bed instead of out with her friends.

2) My psychologist's sister—a lovely woman in her 50s—was a lifelong vegetarian and a Yoga instructor. She meditated constantly and honestly looked more vibrant and youthful than women in their 30s. She had zero history of illness, and there was nothing significant in our family medical history either. Then, breast cancer was diagnosed, and she passed away just a few months later.

Sadly, there are no rules to this.
I am always ready to tell people that if this happened to my daughter—given how healthy she was, her diet, her athletics...—then truly, no one is immune.

All we can really do is pray to God and cherish the present moment, because the future isn't promised to any of us.

Wishing you all wonderful health!!
Brenda Richardson33 said:My dear dad has closed his eyes forever... he's gone...
For now, this is all I can manage to write—the pain tearing through me is just too intense to put anything else into words... such an overwhelming, indescribable ache...🙂 😢 😳


I don't even know what else to say to you, except "my heart goes out to you."😘
Angela Wright said:Everyone, thank you all so much for the support!
I had this thought creeping in—that things aren't any different today than they were yesterday or the day before... so why let ourselves fall?
My mom actually managed to laugh yesterday! I honestly can't remember the last time she did that. I told her, "Tell that Lucifer who attacked your brain to go back exactly where he came from—straight to hell—because we have to head down to San Diego for the St. Anthony festival on the waterfront!" She laughed and said, "Let's go to San Diego for St. Anthony."
My sunshine😘

You are just wonderful!!!!!! 😘
Brenda Richardson33 said:Yesterday was just so heartbreaking... and today feels the exact same way. My dad was taken to the hospital, and he received that dreaded sentence doctors always seem to give: "Unfortunately, this is the final stage, and you need to prepare for the worst..." It honestly feels like a movie—those are lines you hear in cinema, not in real life. I browse through forums and see people dealing with situations far worse than mine, especially when reading about their children's illnesses... and I try to tell myself that we all face mortality and carry our own crosses in this life. But how? Please, can someone explain how? How do you carry on without someone so close? HOW AND WHEN DOES SOMEONE MAKE PEACE WITH THE FACT THAT IT HAD TO BE THIS WAY? I just can't accept that this is actually happening... that he is leaving... I feel helpless... and it kills me that I don't even have the strength to do it for him... but I just don't have it....😠


Brenda......
I've shared my thoughts on this here before.
Hope is a strange thing—it can be both a blessing and a curse.
When they were taking my Dearest to the hospital for the last time, after she had clinically passed... I was absolutely CERTAIN she would come back home.

You can't just accept it overnight, honey.
I still haven't.
Easter without my Dearest is, quite frankly, hell.

Don't be too hard on yourself... allow yourself to feel the sadness, the anger, and the fury.
Try, though, not to weep in front of him... believe me, he would cry too if he could.
Try to coax out even the smallest smile.
Whisper something warm to him.
Steal a kiss... I say steal because my Dearest was in so much pain toward the end; she was sensitive to even the slightest touch, so whenever I turned her or lifted her, I’d just kiss her shoulder, her head, or her foot... just something.

You eventually learn that there are no guarantees in life and that some things are simply beyond our control.
Cherish the love... that is truly the only thing that stays with you and remains with him forever.

I feel so proud and blessed to have been the mother of such a beautiful soul—someone who touched so many lives with her grace and charisma.

And you... let yourself be overwhelmed by pride, and remember those wonderful days you spent with your dad.

And... one more thing... I hope this doesn't sound too blunt, but... I wish so deeply that I had been the one to go before my Dearest did... it feels like the natural order.
(If such an order even exists anymore.)

It is better when children are the ones laying their parents to rest.

Wishing you strength and faith.😘
Ethan Garcia said:Regarding whether I'm a believer... I honestly don't know anymore.


I've asked myself that question so many times—
just way too many times.

Because... if He is up there... then why Her? Why my dearest one... why my baby, my love, my everything?
Why Her? Is He punishing us? And if so, for what? We spend our whole lives giving and helping everyone—friends and strangers alike—so why just her?

And then... my old man used to say... He doesn't take... He receives!
He isn't snatching things away... He’s just opening the doors.

The Lord is good...
(but I still don't understand, and I just want my child back...)
slyseal28 said:Maybe you’ve already mentioned this somewhere—and I clearly missed it—but what specific type of sarcoma was your loved one facing?

Histiocytic sarcoma
(The tricky thing about this subtype is how prone it is to mutating under therapy... basically, it hits a wall for a few days, adapts, and then keeps right on going...)
Betty Gonzalez8 said:Is there actually a real reason why this happens? Or is it just down to genetics and luck? Thanks.

First off, we really need to clarify which type of cancer we're talking about—is it what people call "lifestyle" cancer, is it genetic, or something else entirely?

Take our situation as an example...

In our family, Najmilija was the first one to ever deal with carcinoma.
Both sides of our family tend to live pretty long lives, too.
And honestly, I can't even describe how shocking it was—we’re the kind of family that is super conscious about nutrition, and all four of us stay active regularly...
You know how it is—you take care of yourself and think, "Okay, that should be enough."

Well... it isn't. Maybe it lowers the odds, but it's definitely not a 100% guarantee.

With sarcoma, nobody truly knows where it comes from or how it starts.
Right now, we're working with specialists in the US (through our local specialist here) to compare data from a journal I kept when the baby first got sick. We're trying to see if there's any link between her growth patterns and the onset of the sarcoma, since we noticed a specific pattern that might help us understand things better.

So... yeah. There are really no guarantees in life, and I suppose you just have to live every day as if it were your last.
Angela Wright;7980976 said: ....


Every single time—I’m just blown away by your strength.
slymoose4 said:I knew I’d push your buttons eventually.


Honey, don't flatter yourself—
you aren't provoking me...
I'm just genuinely impressed by your stupidity.

You claim you're 44... though you act like a 7-year-old kid.

Enjoy yourself!
Betty Gonzalez8 said:My uncle passed away from cancer last week, so I've started looking into this whole thing. What I really want to know is—can you just go in for checkups once a year or something to catch potential cancer early? I assume it's possible, but then why don't more people do it if so many are dying from it? Also, is there a real reason why someone gets it, or is it just genetics and bad luck? Thanks.

It's possible, dear—you could even go once a month... maybe even daily, though that seems extreme.

A real-life example... my precious baby girl.
Her last exam was August 17, 2006, right after she got back from a week of snowboarding... just standard tests and everything, and the doctor told us to come back in a year because she looked absolutely wonderful—she felt better than ever, and all her results were perfect.
By September 2006, during her 15th birthday... she came back from a two-day hiking trip (our sweet girl was always such a healthy, active athlete...) and started complaining about pain on her right side... My goodness, we honestly thought it was just from her backpack.

Two weeks later, they told her she was terminal and there was nothing left to do... which was confirmed by seven different top-tier cancer clinics worldwide.
Then, we reached out to a private clinic in San Diego... "Unfortunately, we don't have enough experience treating this specific type of sarcoma, so we can't help you."
Next, a private clinic in Northern Spain... "Regrettably, her case is extremely rare..."

To be specific, the issue was that the subtype of sarcoma my baby had is one of the rarest in existence. She was only 19... the longest anyone in the US has lived with this was 32 or 33, and even then, they were in hospitals for therapy every couple of years.

My beautiful child became an angel on December 3, 2006.

Anyway, that's our story.
slymoose4 said:bla bla bla

Is there some specific reason you felt called out? A guilty conscience, perhaps?!

Also—you claim Dr. Budwig holds the key to a cure, yet in the very next breath, you say the cure rate is 90%. That would mean there is NO "key" to a cure for the other 10% of patients!!!!

I honestly think you’re either swallowing information whole without chewing, totally misreading what’s in front of you, or... well, just talking nonsense!
Angela Wright;7961795 said: faith and consistency


👍
exactly—just like everything else we tackle in life... faith and consistency.
slyseal28 said:Honestly, I am just so tired of hearing about all these "miracle cures" that supposedly fix everything.

It’s the same thing from what we’ve seen—those lucky people who have never even come close to this awful disease think they hold the secret key to a cure.
If it weren't so pathetic, it would almost be funny! 👎
slymoose4 said:Sorry if I'm being a bit much—just sharing my own take here:

Dr. Budwig mostly worked with patients who were either:
1. already tried traditional treatments,
2. essentially given up on by mainstream medicine,
and she saw success rates around 90%.

Eating healthy is huge—though honestly, you really need an expert coach to know which specific foods actually help. The main thing is this: YOU NEED ESSENTIAL FATTY ACIDS.

Fatty acids are basically what dictate how an organism functions. On the flip side, "bad" fats are likely the biggest culprits behind illness (probably even many autoimmune issues).

One more thing: CANCER loves refined sugar, but it absolutely hates raw food (meaning raw veggies, nothing heat-processed).

Best,


My thoughts are pretty general—there isn't any scientific proof that avoiding sugar guarantees you won't get cancer, because if there were, my daughter would certainly be right here with me today.

To keep this discussion going—and hopefully constructively!—I’d love it if you could answer a few things:

What kind of cancer???
What stage???
What type????

Along with diet.
slymoose4 said:I don't quite follow—I thought you all would be interested in the Budwig method, which has a 90% success rate in treating cancer.

What kind of cancer???
What stage???
From what????
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!

With all due respect, comments like this are a little irritating!!!

Now, I'm a big believer in healthy eating and keeping both my mind and body in shape myself, but... that just isn't ENOUGH to cure every single malignant tumor!!!!!

If curing something this devastating were truly that easy and within reach, nobody would be getting sick!!!
Angela Wright said:Oh dear—if only I could truly help you... though I suspect helping you might just end up helping myself, too. All I can really say is that this is simply LIFE. It is what it is, and there isn't much we can do except accept it and find a way to make peace with it. Personally, I try to frame things by looking at the silver linings I've managed to pull from this situation. You wouldn't believe it, but I've actually gained more from this than my entire life leading up to
my mom's illness.
1. I finally broke out of my shell and realized that true security doesn't exist in this world—there is only the struggle to maintain the illusion of it.

2. I have come to terms with and accepted the reality mentioned in point one.

3. I have witnessed God's pragmatism through His will, as well as His divine providence. That providence is honestly one of the most beautiful things I've ever experienced. Throughout this constant struggle—where there were moments that felt truly unbearable—the things I desperately needed appeared through the most unexpected circumstances, lightening my "cross" to bear.

4. I am learning to somewhat accept God's will. It is incredibly difficult—perhaps the greatest lesson a believer can face. Once you learn to accept His will with peace, there is no obstacle in life you cannot overcome.

5. I've realized how little one actually needs to live. Things that used to be so important to me have been completely cast aside, because I see now they weren't necessary—they were just burdens causing unnecessary stress.

6. I've discovered who my real friends are. There are very, very few of them. I'm actually quite grateful for that filter.

7. I've learned just how adaptable a person can be. I thank God for that gift.

8. I have started to enjoy and celebrate the tiny details I used to overlook—they hold an entire beautiful, undiscovered world.

9. I've learned that positive energy needs to circulate; when something good happens to me, I have to pass it on to others... just keep it moving!

10. I have decided to keep fighting this disease, regardless of the outcome of my mother's illness. Every person suffering carries a demon within, and I intend to spend my whole life breathing down its neck!

Through her illness, my mother has secured a better, healthier future for me. I truly intend to live every single day to the fullest, as if it were my last!
Thank you, Mom.😘

you are just overflowing with inspiration😘 🙏
It’s also worth noting—radiation exposure later in life can sometimes trigger various other types of cancer.
mellowlynx8 said:I'm curious—how do you handle being alone with yourselves? With those internal crises? When a day is entirely dedicated to a patient—someone you love so deeply that giving up your own desires, nights out, or plans feels easy because they come first—what do you do when you just hit a wall and feel completely overwhelmed by it all?

I’ll answer you from the perspective of a mother who lost her daughter.
My dearest little girl was 15 when she moved on to paradise, on December 3rd, 2006.
From September through December, my husband and I slept in the ground-floor living room because we had set up a "hospital corner" there: my darling had her hospital bed, a TV, video games, a PlayStation, a side chair... everything.
At first, the two of us slept in armchairs, but eventually, we just made ourselves comfortable on the floor.
Nothing felt like a burden because our girl was our whole world; she was woven into every single one of our plans and hopes... Going out never even crossed our minds because... well, she couldn't go with us. Even her brother, who is 17 months older than her, didn't want to leave the house during those months. He just couldn't. Not without her.
We didn't have "crises"—we only had hope. A massive, endless kind of hope. Just imagine how powerful that hope was when, despite every expert telling us there was no help left (or very little), we still believed she would pull through.
For us, that feeling of being "overwhelmed by everything" only came when she passed, because now she's gone. We were just so happy to care for her, simply to have her near us... to look at us, touch us, and in those rare moments of strength, even smile or crack a joke...
So, dear, for us, the weight of it all is heavy now—it's pain, sadness, and anger all at once...
And we would give anything—literally everything, our entire life's savings, any night out, any future plan... just to have our little bird back.

There are moments in life where all you want is to be held tight by your loved ones, and right now, we are missing 1/4 of our heart.
Melissa Kim45 said:Hey everyone. 👋

I’d love to hear some perspectives from anyone who has experience caring for those facing serious illnesses—just looking for a little insight.
A suggestion was put forward—and I know several of us dealing with similar struggles at home—that we might try to connect and organize ourselves as much as possible. We already sort of know each other through mutual friends or passing conversations, so why not pull together? The idea—if I’m understanding this correctly—is that if someone can't make it, falls ill themselves, gets overwhelmed by work, or just needs to disappear for a couple of days to sleep and recharge (which, let's be honest, is sometimes desperately needed), those in the "group" could step in. It would be about helping with rides to the doctor, picking up prescriptions, hospital visits, grocery runs, cooking, laundry, or managing medication—basically whatever is needed to bridge the gap.
Even though it might seem like a bad idea at first glance—honestly, maybe it was—the reaction ended up being a total disaster.
Everyone is—well, that's just how it is. 😱 Well, there you have it—I'm right there with you.
Of course, everyone has their own specific needs—but at the end of the day, there are definitely ways we can all lend each other a hand.
What are your thoughts on something like this—just speaking generally, without getting bogged down in the specifics, though you all know exactly what I mean? When it comes to certain things, critically ill patients and their families are essentially in the same boat.

That idea is absolutely fantastic—truly brilliant.
Angela Wright said:That sounds wonderful to me—though, honestly, I have my doubts🤔 about whether my mom would feel comfortable having anyone else, especially a stranger, changing her diapers besides me, my dad, or a home health aide. Plus, we have our own little routine that works for us, even if it wouldn't suit everyone. For instance, I have to head to San Francisco for a couple of days (my best friend is getting married!) and the thought of leaving my dad alone makes me so uneasy😢 . Just to get Mom up and onto her commode requires two people—one has to be strong (a man) because she’s basically a sack of bones right now; she has zero balance, she's totally atrophied, yet weighs 73 kg thanks to those damn Dexedrine pills. And as for needing rest—oh, I need it desperately🙂 . Between lifting her up at 5:30 AM, getting her on the commode, administering the glycerin suppository, waiting for her to go, and then getting her back into bed on the waterproof pad and cleaning her... you have to do it all yourself. You're lifting arms, legs, turning her on her side—you can't exactly put a clean diaper on a body that's still wet from urine. We have to rush through all of this before Dad leaves for work, because once he's gone, there's no one to help me lift her. Our home health aide arrives around 8:30, so she mostly just helps with washing up, brushing teeth, and maybe changing a diaper if Mom hasn't already had to go. We actually tried to lift her together once, and she just slipped right onto the floor. Luckily, my boyfriend was nearby and stepped in to help; the two of us simply couldn't manage it. That is really our biggest hurdle—nothing else involving her care is hard, but the physical lifting is everything.
For those short hour or two gaps when I need to run errands in town, I've managed to find help through a volunteer from a local hospice association, but that's very rare. For now, Dad and I just coordinate and make it work, somehow.


Reading this brings back memories of our days a few months ago.
And do you know what hurts the most?? It's the realization that it was a girl who "never had time" to just sit still for five minutes because she was always so caught up in various activities.
She didn't want a home health aide—not even close. She only wanted Dad and me. Dad handled her pain injections and bandaged the open wound on her hip; I brushed her hair and changed her diapers; my brother would play video games right next to her so she could watch him while he played...

About a week or two before she left us, she looks at me—right through her mask—sticks out her tongue (my sweetest little angel!!) and asks, "What's wrong? Why are you so sad?" I told her I was sad because I was scared for her.
She replied: "What are you afraid of, Mom?? Are you afraid I'm going to die?? Hehe, well, I'm already dead!!!!! I'm wearing diapers, I can't move on my own, I can't go to school, I can't go skiing, I can't go to parties with my friends... I'm already dead!"