Posts by northernfox9

Linda Campbell said:You absolutely MUST look up Beta Glucan 1.3 online—seriously, check the price for 60 capsules of 500 mg $190)

Where on earth did you find it for that much? I usually pay around $253! 😲

coppergardener said:My dad was diagnosed with lung cancer this week—it’s not good. I don't know the exact diagnosis yet; I need to review the paperwork. He started chemotherapy yesterday. The problem is, I don't know much about nutrition for cancer patients (what an irony—I actually considered myself a decent nutritionist!). Does it depend on the type of cancer? We bought him some Noni juice, but if anyone knows more, please let me know. The prognosis isn't great, and frankly, I don't have much faith in this chemo, so I don't want to leave anything to chance. If you can recommend any other supplements, please—and maybe an approximate price. I'd love for him to eat as naturally as possible, but his appetite is incredibly low. What do you think about Taheebo with inulin? It seems packed with antioxidants, omega-3, and so on, but I just don't know what to choose.

I read that the diet needs to be high in protein—but without too much animal fat? Is low-fat cottage cheese okay? Goat milk? What?

BTW, I found a diet online that a man with a brain tumor (Glioblastoma multiforme stage IV) used—is this kind of regimen recommended for any tumor, or...? Here it is:

Take Three 750 mg Shark Cartilage three
times a day
Take a Borage Oil and CoQ10 supplement
Drink plenty of water
Try to get light exercise, walking is best
Get some sunlight
I also rubbed Young Living Frankincense Oil on his head daily

The AIM Garden trio (BarleyLife, Carrots & Beets)
Graviola Tincture - 5 drops 3 times a day

>>> What do you think? Has anyone tried this? Is it based on the Budwig method, or what?

BTW, Q10 is mentioned here, but isn't Q10 actually Vitamin E, and isn't it carcinogenic if taken in large amounts? Is it even worth experimenting with? Also, I know sage helps with appetite, but since sage supposedly has mild estrogenic effects, is it alright to consume small amounts?

Jeez, people, how do you endure this... I've spent the whole week just vomiting and crying (I already had so many struggles to deal with before—and now this—it feels like someone up above is really testing us) and I'm praying for both him and myself. And worst of all, I'll put on a song or a movie I truly love, but I can't even make it halfway through. A person just goes numb over time, right? I know, I'm definitely acting out now, but those tips like "keep your chin up," "think positively," or "live your life" feel counterproductive to me—maybe even psychologically dangerous... I know, one shouldn't give in, but it's not like switching channels on the TV. Puffffffff😢 Is there a remote control for this?

p.s. Thanks and greetings to everyone participating in this forum.

Dear coppergardener,
First, I want to tell you that we all have our own biological way of processing the massive stress that hits us when we realize our loved ones are so terribly ill.
When I first learned about my father's diagnosis (lung cancer, too), I had terrible diarrhea for the first month. That was the first time in my 30 years of life that I realized what it actually means to be literally paralyzed by fear. Until then, I thought it was just a phrase. 😬
No, let it out—cry, vent, take some Xanax or something to calm down, even read the Bible if you think that helps. Rage, howl, scream, break things—just not in front of Dad.
Of course, nobody expects you to act like nothing is happening—but please, try to stay composed. In those moments when he starts losing faith in himself, his loved ones have to be there to understand him and provide the encouragement needed for this brutal fight. He needs someone by his side who believes in a positive outcome, just so he can find the strength to keep going. Don't despair in front of him—after all, he’s the one going through the hardest part. He will often look into your eyes searching for a glimmer of hope; don't deny him that, regardless of how grim the reality looks.
As for "alternative" supplements, I can tell you what we've experienced firsthand:
- Beta Glucan 1.3 — my dad started taking this on day three, and now he has the appetite of a healthy man (and he was never a picky eater to begin with!). From the head radiation, he hasn't developed a single tiny spot, let alone any kind of burns (that was all he was taking then); we buy the strongest 500 mg version, which costs about $253 for a 60-capsule bottle. You can find it in most pharmacies; he takes two every morning on an empty stomach, half an hour before eating. Some brochures even mention anti-tumor effects, though that's hard to prove.
- Aloe vera — he drinks it because he can't stand the taste of Noni anymore; I don't know how much it helps, but it shouldn't hurt (he uses the undiluted Encyan with aloe pieces, about 130 - $50 liters—prices vary depending on concentration, purity, the manufacturer, and who knows what else...).
- Dr. Breuss products — in the hope that he might try fasting before chemotherapy, we started giving him small amounts so he could get used to the taste, and then we heard that beets are perfect for blood counts... we'll see the results on Thursday (you can buy it at pharmacies, health food stores, CVS... prices range from 25 - $12 for half a liter).
- Along with all that, my dad drinks teas based on the Breuss method: for lungs, motherwort, and chamomile (if you're interested in fasting therapy, you can find the book "Healing Cancer, Leukemia, and Other Seemingly Incurable Diseases with Natural Means" by Rudolf Breuss in bookstores; it costs about $40. Definitely check out ruggednomad182's site too—it's run by a man who healed himself using this method and has the heart to help with advice and suggestions if you need them).
I hope I've been able to help even a little bit. If you feel lost or hopeless, write here. Speaking from experience, it helps me so much to know I'm not alone in my struggles, and you'll always find a kind soul here with a few comforting words. Even just that—sometimes that's enough...🙂
And remember—NO SURRENDER as long as there is breath in his lungs and blood flowing in his veins...😘

Angela Wright said:Oh my, how awful😠

Just ignore them—there’s nothing but noise and empty talk here. You mentioned he's recovering well... isn't that what truly matters?! As far as I know about medical terminology—and please excuse me if I'm off—the "terminal phase" for any cancer is usually declared the moment metastases are diagnosed. Yet, we have seen people in that exact stage fight their way back—look at cases like ruggednomad182, for instance. Don't let yourself spiral into worry; your dad's condition remains the same as it was yesterday or the day before, and all this chatter they're spewing won't change a single thing about his reality. Let it go—you simply cannot afford that kind of negative energy right now.

And what about the absolute fact that in America, brain tumor patients are basically lied to straight to their faces? They're told their recurrences can't be treated with Temodal—which is standard practice everywhere else—simply because the tumor doesn't respond to Temodal during a relapse. And why? Just because Medicare won't foot the bill since Glioblastoma is deemed incurable. Who cares if a person could gain even a little more precious time here on Earth with their loved ones?
This country is a total circus.👎

What infuriates me most is this attitude—this playing the victim...
Oh, so I'm supposed to have, what, some "strong connection" to fix this?!?!?!
How devastating must it be for those who have absolutely no one....😠 😲
I can barely even type out everything I'm thinking without feeling like I should just march over there and start firing away at everyone.😠

slymoose4 said:Just so you know—Dr. Johanna Budwig's book, *Cancer: Problem and Solution* (translated from German and English), is actually in print. You can find more details here:
http://www.johanna-budwig.de/_litera...ie_loesung.htm
http://www.nexus-book.com/html/the_book1.html

Forum members get a 20% discount.

Best regards,

Is that available in any bookstore in the city? I'd start reading right this second... after all, who knows what tomorrow brings?🙂

I honestly can't tell if I’m more furious or just completely broken—maybe it's both.
It just hit me like a freight train that the doctors have been keeping us in the dark about my dad's actual condition this entire time.
When he went in for the tumor removal surgery, we were told everything was clear—that his lungs were totally clean and there was no spread to other organs—even though they still had the nerve to throw these tragic prognoses our way.
After that, we fought through the brain metastases, and things actually started looking much, much better. At least, that's how optimistic we felt until this morning...
And then—don't ask me how I found out, but it happened by chance—I discover (and this was from Dad's own physician, the same one who insisted on the first version!) that the tumor wasn't fully removed because not everything was operable, and we are actually dealing with stage IV Glioblastoma multiforme............😲 😕 😠
I am devastated. I feel lost. And I am so incredibly angry.

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

My deepest, most sincere condolences...

Yes, and let me share that story again—about my cousin’s aunt—who fought two cancers: bladder and lung, not to mention the metastases in her brain. About seven years ago, her doctor basically handed her a death sentence. Fast forward to just three months ago, and that same doctor told her she was—cured!!! Even though she was in Germany, the approach was the standard stuff: radiation and chemo. When things get incredibly dark and holding onto optimism or faith feels impossible, we talk about her!
Hang in there, everyone—feed your soul with stories like this. Miracles really do happen, and maybe... if you just believe hard enough... who knows?

Donna Fox48 said:Thank God my father is doing better today—he can finally eat and move around again. I realized after yesterday's post that I forgot to mention: please reach out if you know of any similar lung cancer cases where chemotherapy actually yielded positive results.

First, you have to realize that every single person is an individual—there are no two identical cases. I’m not quite sure what you meant by "a malignant tumor that metastasizes quickly"—does that mean metastases have already been found, or is it just a suspicion?
In our case, doctors wrote my dad off as a lost cause on Monday, sent him for a chest CT on Tuesday (just for appearances, really), and were scheduling surgery by Wednesday. After the operation, they announced they had removed both upper lobes of the right lung, and the tumor was completely gone.
Basically—anything is possible if you fight for it with everything you've got!

Unfortunately, after that, those three tragic metastases in the brain were discovered... but there is still hope, even if everyone keeps saying radiation only works temporarily (those prognosticators, right?).
We did manage to find one soul—again, through a connection—a radiologist who insists things aren't entirely bleak (our first dose of actual optimism).

Even though it didn't happen in that specific order for us, in many instances, chemotherapy shrinks the tumor, which then makes surgical removal possible.
My dad's doctor even told me that in some cases, they remove the metastases first, then the primary tumor, and people go on to live...

Hang in there; right now, he needs nothing more than courage and the faith of those closest to him... 😘

slyseal28 said:I finally saw the doctor, and of course, the news is devastating:

-my husband has synovial sarcoma in the mediastinum and they can't use cobalt radiation; he needs a linear accelerator instead. That treatment happens at either Petrov Hospital or the Cancer Institute. However, the machine at Petrov is currently OUT OF ORDER—undergoing repairs right now. 😠
The doctor mentioned that given his condition and diagnosis, he’ll try to squeeze him in early—definitely before we go through the standard route. And according to the doctor, the standard wait is seven months!
But even trying to jump the queue is impossible until that machine at Petrov is back online!
The only other thing he said was to see if we know anyone at the Cancer Institute to ask there; maybe it could be faster.
So, that's the situation with the radiation.

p.s.
Of course, I’m going to fight tooth and nail to find a connection, but honestly, it just isn't fair!

Hmm... I didn't even get an answer regarding what kind of radiation my father was receiving; I just got this condescending look, like: "well, it's head radiation".😕
It makes you wonder who the crazy one is here...
Nobody asks if it's fair or not—nobody asks you anything. Some people don't even "have time" to give you the most basic information. Every time I went to ask something, their expression basically said: "Go on, go do your job, why are you sticking your nose in ours?"
The only one who was remotely "approachable" was Dr. Janevski from Jordanovac, but even then, just one minute after my dad's surgery, he stood there halfway up the stairs in front of everyone and gave me the prognosis loud and clear, stone-faced: "You don't even need to wait for the pathology report; he has two months left, I can see it and I know it." And just like that, dead cold, he turned and walked away... I couldn't even manage a polite thank you, because thank you for what?! 😠 😠

Two months and seven days have passed since then. My father is alive, he finished his radiation (I still don't know exactly what kind), and he is recovering—and despite the brain metastases, that miserable pathology report ended up being NEGATIVE.
Thank you, Doctor!!!👍

There is also some equipment over at Mayo Clinic, so maybe try to find out what kind they use there...

At the Cancer Institute, there might be a chance if you can find at least one nurse (provided she gets along with her department head) to get him placed in a different ward (that was the backup plan for my dad).

Gritting teeth and no giving up!😘

slyseal28 said:Does anyone know how the radiation procedure actually works?

My husband had his CT verification this past Friday. Now we’re just waiting for the doctor to call us—will they confirm if the current plan is good to go, or will he have to go back in for another CT scan?😕

I'm just trying to understand the process. If the CT verification comes back fine, what happens next? Do they contact you for the radiation sessions, or are you supposed to schedule something yourself?

And is there usually a long wait for radiation? Sister Smilje told me it could take a whole month!?😲

Forgive me, I haven't been following your situation closely, so I'm not sure what area needs treating.
My father went in last month for radiation on brain metastases, and they told him it would be a month and a half wait 😕. We turned our entire lives upside down—and despite having a really strong connection, he still ended up waiting 10 days. My advice to you: if you have someone who can pull some strings, use them. If you don't, keep pushing. Unfortunately, that's just how the system works here in America.😠 😠 😠

northernfox9 said:Great-grandmother had a thick hose—grandfather was a lizard, dad had lung issues... my friend's sister had lung issues, even my friend's father had lung issues... it seems these lung problems mostly affect people who lived through the war—whether they were displaced civilians or soldiers—and in every single case, it’s adenocarcinoma.
And they're all gone now; only my dad is still fighting the battle...

I wrote the above in a rush, so after some reflection, I want to add a few more optimistic cases:
my dad's brother—kidney cancer $\rightarrow$ everything came back negative after surgery; he wasn't even put on preventative therapy because he arrived just in time🙂 ;
my dad's cousin—somewhere in the throat (vocal cords or trachea, I'm not entirely sure)—went through surgery and radiation, and so far, there are no issues;
my dad's cousin's husband—bladder and lung (two primary tumors) with brain metastases $\rightarrow$ diagnosis: cured!!!🙂 🙂 🙂

Does anyone here know—and please, I am truly seeking clarity—if removing the primary tumor actually impacts how fast existing brain metastases grow?

Great-grandmother had a thick hose—grandfather was a lizard, dad had lung issues... my friend's sister had lung issues, even my friend's father had lung issues... it seems these lung problems mostly affect people who lived through the war—whether they were displaced civilians or soldiers—and in every single case, it’s adenocarcinoma.
And they're all gone now; only my dad is still fighting the battle...

Dear Ivanica, 😘
thank you for speaking up about those deeply hidden things we all carry within us—the ones we think we're alone in feeling.
Isn't it incredible how much we all become one in moments like these?
For instance, I’ve been telling myself that it was somehow wrong to go out to dinner, enjoy an intimate life (to actually have sex!), visit the hair salon, watch a silly movie, chat about trivial nonsense, or even crave a specific color of clothing (especially that last one!!!)—not to mention the whole wedding hunt, since the venue and band are already booked for June.
Then, someone dear to me—someone with a wealth of life experience—explained that my self-destructive behavior wasn't helping anyone. It really hit home: if I allow myself a little breathing room once in a while, I'll be a happier person. And that isn't a sin! Changing my hair, buying new shoes, grabbing drinks with friends, or having sex—none of that means I love my dad any less or care for him any less.
Of course, I'm not suggesting I just "laugh off" the seriousness of everything—but it occurs to me that I should try to have a child regardless of whether there will be a wedding on the scheduled date (I won't cancel it for now), because life moves forward. These situations we find ourselves in could last long enough that we eventually look back and wonder where we were and what we did for ourselves during all this time...
And I won't even get started on the importance of maintaining our own mental and physical health—which we are going to need so badly later in life...
... nor on the fact that despite everything, we must have faith that God will always find a way for each of us...

Honestly, everyone—why all this fuss? Just save your strength; you’re going to need it regardless.
My doctor back in Jordan once told me that the world didn't start because of my dad, and it certainly isn't going to end because of him...😕
Don't waste your energy or your nerves on the comments from people around you. It’s perfectly fine to take medical advice, but—in my opinion—it’s also right to go above and beyond what they recommend for your loved ones, especially when it comes to stabilizing a patient's mental state. I truly believe the family holds the most influence here, since they are the ones living with the person and knowing them best.
So, wiredwolf47—you aren't exactly meddling in specific clinical procedures, so they shouldn't have any reason to push back—if you think a psychologist will help her, then GO FOR IT. 👍

I can't speak to the benefits of aloe vera, but when it comes to morinda—even if people question those much-touted healing properties—it really is a phenomenal way to lift a patient's spirits. I saw this firsthand with other loved ones before my dad even got sick... and apparently, it helps boost the immune system too. It tastes absolutely terrible and the smell is awful, but as someone recently told me, "you'd drink anything if you knew it would help." My dad takes it in a shot glass whenever he thinks of it, and he insists that every single time, he feels "half a centimeter of progress"—whatever that's supposed to mean!!!👍

Nicole Edwards76 said:Wait—what?🤔 While I was digging through everything I could find regarding brain tumors, I actually came across the exact opposite—that being younger supposedly gives someone a slightly better shot at recovery. Of course, there are always exceptions to every rule. Honestly, from what I've gathered about carcinomas, it feels like there aren't really any rules at all.

Yes, it’s true—when you bring up the brain to anyone, the best you can hope for is a few eye rolls behind your back and a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
But, as far as I understand, the issue Amy Hayes28 is dealing with is a kidney tumor—and please forgive me if I’m sounding "know-it-all" right now; I truly just wanted to offer a bit of comfort... though lately, even I find myself reaching for straws.

Amy Hayes28 said:Great👍
Unfortunately, mine is already quite old—even the healthiest person wouldn't make it past 30!
I’m really looking into nutrition; I have a general idea, but would anyone happen to have specific recipes suitable for kidney patients???

There is one comforting fact in all of this: it is actually scientifically proven—and confirmed through real-world experience—that as a person ages, tumor diseases progress much more slowly. It's tied directly to metabolism. This essentially means that someone diagnosed with cancer in their seventies has a very high probability of not dying from it.

Angela Wright said:What you’re feeling isn't a refusal to accept the diagnosis—it's the weight of feeling like there's no way out—and honestly? That realization is actually a good thing! Just keep pushing forward; you'll see that once the radiation is finished, things are going to look much brighter.😘

Someone from the medical community told me today that radiation can have side effects—specifically, my dad could end up paralyzed. Is there any way to mitigate such a risk? 😕

Here is a little dose of optimism—and I promise this story is true. It concerns my father's cousin: six years ago, he was diagnosed with two different types of cancer, specifically in his pancreas and colon. The doctors basically told him he should start looking for a burial plot for when he visits the States on vacation (he actually lives in Germany). Then came the fight—the facility involved is the Schwartchwald clinic, though the methods were all too familiar: chemotherapy, radiation, more chemo... just an endless loop. The metastases started spreading one after another: prostate, lungs, brain. Back in 2003, I saw him and honestly thought he wouldn't make it through the day; his head was blackened from radiation burns, and he weighed barely 110 pounds. But he refused to give up. He combined vitamin injections and herbal teas—the classics mixed with alternative approaches—to fight for Aunt Mary's sake. He called my relative the other day to say that the very same doctor who once suggested he find a grave told him—he is CURED OF BOTH TYPES OF CANCER, without even having surgery.