I am so glad to hear you aren't in much pain 👍 Let's hope it stays that way!!
Nancy Hernandez43, don't be so pessimistic! 😉 I know how it goes—my sinuses act up from time to time too... 🙄 I'm not quite sure if you deal with migraines right away like I do, but if you do, I found that using some massage oil from Rituals—or a similar brand—really helped. It seemed to give my sinuses some immediate relief. 🙏
It is honestly such a pleasure to read your post—it really carries such a positive vibe. I say, just keep pressing forward with that same courage!! 😉
Yes, we dealt with our fair share of intense pain too—sometimes there wasn't even a need for medication, but other times we had to rely on Voltaren. I am so glad to hear the therapy is working; hopefully, it just keeps going that way 👍
Actually, I was just writing about hair loss on the community forum. I truly believe everything will settle into place eventually—new hair will grow back, and it’ll be better, thicker, and stronger... 🙂 I trust you'll get things sorted out with the little guy 👍 Sometimes my mom used to just drift off into her own thoughts, and then suddenly she'd burst into this whirlwind of activity around the house—doing this, doing that. It was just an incredible surge of energy and strength.
The whole point of what I'm saying is that for us caregivers, things can sometimes feel even harder than they do for the patients themselves—mostly because the patients have already adapted to everything, becoming much more resilient and tougher, so they don't complain as much.
That is a huge truth. And the same goes for the new hairstyle. My mom chose a length similar to what she had before, but decided to switch up the color a bit. Even then, she looked absolutely irresistible 😍 We tried to expmetirati with scarves, and we actually found a few really lovely ones. We both used to go out for walks wearing them over our heads. 😁
Just stay brave and keep moving forward!!! 👍
p.s. I was wondering if anyone here might have some personal experience (or maybe through a family member) with the medication Concor? If so, could you please send me a private message? Thanks so much in advance!
How is your dad doing? How is he holding up? I remember when our doctor told us it was finally happening—that she had maybe a month left at most—because she was just getting too weak, sort of lost in it all, with such intense pain. I really wish I could tell you today that some miracle happened and she fully recovered. But, she didn't. Though, I have to say, there was hope right up until the very last second, at least for me.
But honestly, a different kind of miracle occurred, one that stays with us even now. It’s everything we shared—all those days and those little moments, even the final ones. Your guiding star doesn't just fade away. It remains strong and shines in every direction; it's grateful because it helped get you back on your feet, showed you true love, and gave you strength. That part never fades, believe me. I know things probably feel like total chaos for everyone right now—just shock and disbelief. Because we all keep hoping and fighting until the very end, even though we don't want an ending to be an option at all.
Just stay by his side and lean on each other... exactly like you always have...
I'm certain we've all had those kinds of days—I know I certainly have. For me, there was this constant voice in my head—almost like a drill sergeant—telling me I couldn't buckle under the pressure, that I couldn't let myself break down, that I had to stay strong and resilient... meanwhile, all I really wanted to do was curl up under the covers, hide from the world, and just drift away into some kind of cancer-free dreamland. Just to wake up from that nightmare, you know?
I realized I couldn't fight her battle for her, but I could definitely support her through it; sometimes that meant just being quiet and listening when she finally felt comfortable enough to talk about her fears or the end of life; other times we’d spend our time planning summer vacations together; and other times, it was just about taking practical action. We shared everything—we’d joke around, we’d have deep conversations; sometimes she’d handle things herself, sometimes we’d tackle them as a team, and sometimes it was just me stepping up.
I think Nancy Hernandez43 makes a fair point about overreacting with worry. I believe I've actually agreed with her on that specific topic here a few times before 🙂 We were incredibly close, almost like a tight-knit family unit; my relationship with Mom was always uniquely special. That said, we tried not to overdo it—we didn't want to treat everything with that overly sentimental "goodbye" tone. Instead, we stayed firm in our resolve to fight this thing together; we never treated her like she was helpless, because she was always such a fighter, regardless of what life threw at her. Honestly, sometimes it felt like she was the one pulling us back up with an invisible hand whenever our spirits started to flag.
shree, it actually took me quite a while before I could finally get my "house" in order; I know that feeling of helplessness—and that strange, nagging sense of guilt—all too well.
I suppose some people just need to talk things out with someone—sometimes even a complete stranger—to allow themselves to hit rock bottom so they can finally start climbing back up.🙂
We really have to learn how to navigate our own emotions, fears, ambitions, and desires... though I guess it comes easier to some than others. After my mother passed away, I was prescribed some pills; I only took them for less than a week. They just left me feeling numb, totally lifeless, and exhausted. For me, all I really needed was to talk to someone—someone who would truly understand the struggle and the loss of a parent, someone who would let me fall apart for a moment rather than forcing me to suppress everything or lose myself in a fog of nothingness. Because, honestly, after that week, I just exploded; everything I had been bottling up finally came rushing out.
But even then, that was really just the tip of the iceberg. Every one of us is just trying to find our own way through this. My decision was to face everything head-on—the grief, the fear, all those difficult situations... but making that choice was really just the beginning of the whole process. If I hadn't been so young at the time, and if I had known exactly who to turn to, I imagine the healing might have been a bit faster. But hey, here I am now, 🙂 and I look back on it all as one massive life lesson—painful and incredibly tough, sure, but an experience that taught me enough that I can now recognize that same pain in others, offer them guidance, or just sit down for a cup of coffee and listen. 🙂
Look, don't sweat it too much—I have this one friend who is a total hypochondriac when it comes to health stuff. She can turn a tiny hangnail into a full-blown skin cancer scare in no time. 🙄 I suppose she’s just genuinely terrified of everything around her—all those illnesses that have touched our lives and taken away people we love, like friends or family.
As for me, despite everything, I’ve somehow managed to stay pretty phlegmatic about all this. I guess I don't really make a big deal out of every little thing; if someone mentions they're feeling some pain or whatever, I usually just suggest seeing a doctor—mostly because I think being in the dark is way worse and might just make those "symptoms" feel even more intense.
Maybe try talking to someone, or perhaps find a good therapist. I know it’s incredibly hard to go from a chaotic life—full of stress and mess—to finding a sense of calm. 😉 Some people find their peace through resting, meditating, or maybe doing yoga, while others prefer staying active—things like hiking, brisk walks, or getting into sports and stuff like that. Just try to find whatever it is that helps you relax and keeps things positive.
If I could offer some advice, it would be to finally deal with those skeletons in your closet. If you feel like it might help to talk to people who have been through something similar—people who lost someone to a serious illness—then please, reach out to them. And honestly, it is perfectly okay if you need to cry; it’s better to let it all out than to carry that weight. You should try to let go of any guilt about "not being there, not showing up, or not saying goodbye." Because, well, you can't turn back the clock. All you can really do is make the most of the time you have right now; to accept the fact that terrible things happen to the best and dearest people we know—and that, in the end, there wasn't anything more you could have said to them that they didn't already know or feel. 😉
"Patients at the San Francisco Oncology Department waited hours for chemo with no results! "
To make a long story short:
"About ten patients at the San Francisco Oncology Department at the Mayo Clinic spent five and a half hours today waiting for medication coming from Washington, D.C., just so they could start chemotherapy. In the end, the meds never arrived—instead, they were just given a new appointment date without any explanation whatsoever.
Since chemo appointments are usually scheduled weeks in advance—which should give the hospital plenty of time to get organized—this kind of behavior by a medical facility toward such seriously ill people feels quite irresponsible and, honestly, pretty heartless.
We tried to figure out what actually happened, why the necessary therapy supplies weren't secured, and why the patients weren't notified sooner—especially after making numerous calls and sitting on hold—but unfortunately, we couldn't get any answers from the San Francisco hospital. We couldn't reach a spokesperson or anyone in the department, even after trying for several hours. We kept hearing things like, 'The spokesperson is the only one who can provide information, but they're in a meeting right now,' until the end of the business day; after that, the calls just went to a landline that rang into an empty room."
vividranger46, this is what Google pulled up for me
# N60 Benign (non-cancerous) breast dysplasia
* N60.0 Solitary breast cyst * N60.0 Inflammatory breast disorders * N60.1 Diffuse cystic mastopathy * N60.2 Fibroadenoma of the breast * N60.3 Fibrosclerotic breast changes * N60.4 Ectasia (dilation) of the mammary duct * N60.8 Other benign breast dysplasias * N60.9 Benign breast dysplasia, unspecified
I think I completely understand where you're coming from.
But, if I may, I’d like to offer a perspective for those on "the other side" of this conversation as well. If I recall correctly, I first posted here almost a year ago. Back then, I was struggling with so much anxiety and bitterness because of everything my mother was going through. It is actually quite difficult to stay silent for so long—especially since, at the time, I didn't really have a place to talk about it—and now, trying to begin... well, it's hard to know where the beginning is, where the end lies, or even what constitutes the middle part...
I only had my own feelings and memories to lean on—some were worse, some were better, I suppose.
I am truly glad that this thread was started, and even more so that an association has been formed; I've lost count of how many times I've wished something like this existed a few years ago.
I believe my life might have been a bit "easier"—meaning, I would have had a way to vent—and perhaps I could have lived a bit more "healthily."
I say this for everyone who is lurking here, too—those who might not yet feel they have the strength to speak up, to admit anything, or to share their stories.
I honestly thought the whole saga regarding cancer was over, until it hit me again. It struck close to home, affecting someone dear to me once more... And sometimes, I must admit, it is difficult to face new stories like this, but I know—and I truly believe—that by speaking out, through verbal support first and then tangible help, we can make a difference for others who are still staying silent among us.
It might be a sad reality, but cancer is a constant presence in so many lives today, and I feel we should strive to provide adequate support to those fighting it, as well as to their families and friends.
These pages have helped me confront some of my own fears, let go of the bitterness and anger, and try to transform all that pain and sadness into something constructive—something for a better tomorrow...
casualrider21, I don't really have any firsthand experience with this—so I'm just hoping maybe someone else here has been through it and can offer you some guidance. All I can really do is hope and wish that things pass quickly for you...
I haven't been around here for almost a month now. Between doctor appointments, dealing with my viral issues, and finally squeezing in a quick trip, things have been quite busy.
The final test results—the ones following my chemotherapy—just came back, and everything is A-OK!!!
Of course, the happiness is overwhelming, and I suppose all those emotions are just starting to surface now.
brightgardener8, please accept my sincere condolences. I know how crushing those feelings can be. When my Mom passed away, I missed her so much (and still do), which makes me think so much about the suffering and pain she went through at the end.. Hang in there!!
So, what we have left is a box of Zofran—both the tablets and a box of ampoules (it's a pack of 4, consisting of 2 larger and 2 smaller ones). If anyone happens to need them, please feel free to send me a private message. I'd love for them to go to good use... maybe help someone else just like they helped us...
I’m reading this, looking at it all, and I honestly can’t believe my eyes.🙄
I am over in this section of the forum—the one where patients and their families or friends connect. It’s the place where I finally came to terms with certain things and decided to step in once the "race against cancer" was already well behind me (specifically, regarding my mother). I’m here in a thread where, from today’s perspective and facing new challenges, I’m trying to offer advice, support, or even just ask for it myself if I can.
In a space where everyone helps one another by sharing information, products, medications, vitamins, teas, personal experiences, phone numbers, and names. And then someone just wanders into a place like this, bursts in, and starts accusing everyone of spreading lies or badmouthing doctors and the healthcare system...🙄
Where does this idea come from—that everything has to be about money? When you spend years drifting through hospitals, waiting rooms, and various wards, you see a lot; you hear a lot. I’ve watched people around me try to get ahead using those exact methods even ten years ago. Bundles of cash, expensive bottles of liquor, sudden influxes of money, fine art, or extravagant bouquets. Those very same doctors who, just a few years back, were striking at a major metropolitan hospital over hours and pay—the ones I actually stood up for, because I truly believed they deserved better opportunities—were, shortly after, being escorted out of operating rooms, crossing themselves and shouting, causing a dramatic scene that triggered a heart attack in a beloved member of my family. These same doctors and nurses refused to give my mom her medication; older women weren't receiving chemo back then; we were brushed off at the ER, and nurses would tell us we were making things up.
So, am I badmouthing them now? Am I attacking the system? Or am I simply stating things as they are, sharing the bad experiences my mother and I went through?
And no, I’m not uneducated, nor is anyone in my family. And yes, we asked questions. We requested official decisions, but the doctors took offense when we mentioned seeking a second opinion—they basically told us that if we were going to act like that, we might as well stay in New York City instead of rushing there. We asked, "How serious is this? What is needed? What happens next?" There were no answers.
And do you know how patients figured things out? They knew by the room number they were assigned to. By that cursed room number, you could tell if the end was near or not—whether there was still hope left or if the light had finally gone out. Because, as it turns out, we were constantly waiting for test results to come back.
Well, we’re hanging in there somehow. His white blood cell count is sitting way below the threshold—we’ll see what the doctors say tomorrow, I guess. On the bright side, all the markers were within the normal range about two weeks ago. If this happens to be the end of chemo, we'll have some Zofran left over. I almost wish I could pass them along to someone else...
It seems like there's been quite a bit of news popping up lately...
Lisa White54, I’ve really been pushing through all his mood swings and those strange outbursts over these last few months... Believe me, there were moments where I just wanted to crawl out of my own skin. It wasn't even about being selfish, per se—I was just so afraid that I wouldn't be able to give him the strength or support he needs... Just stay brave, dear; we all have our rough patches and our better days...
My heart goes out to everyone who has had to say goodbye to their loved ones. I know how much it hurts... To me, they will always be eternal fighters...
slyseal28, you know, I was actually having quite a deep conversation about this topic with my brother the other day.
Is it even plausible—after all the research and the massive amounts of funding poured into it—that we still aren't seeing any real progress?! Is it really possible that so many people are losing their lives every single day?
So, we decided to dive into the research ourselves. We read, we questioned, we investigated, and we listened. The reality of it all just hit us pretty hard. And regardless of whether it makes perfect sense, it feels true to me.
Just look at our society. Look at the industries, the private individuals, and the organizations that essentially profit from the suffering and pain of people battling serious illnesses. Providing a universal cure would mean shutting down a huge number of other funds and research initiatives. The money wouldn't be spent anymore on private consultations, CT scans, MRIs, blood work, ultrasounds, immune boosters, or various other things—not even on Zuckerberg or Reglan... and let’s be honest, when you look at the statistics and the sheer number of people affected, that represents a massive amount of money.
Every once in a while, a headline pops up saying something like, "We are close to a solution..." or "Just a little bit longer..." Those were the exact same kinds of claims being made about ten years ago.
We have tried almost everything. I say "almost" because, I suppose, there might be some method, some herb, some healer, or some melody that we haven't stumbled upon yet. But, it hasn't worked for us... But hey, there will always be someone stepping in to say, "Oh, but you haven't tried seeing Mark or George..." I truly hope it works—I really do hope that others find the answer and finally defeat this disease.
Nancy Thomas18 said:Thank you all for the kind words of support... though honestly, I don't know... those yellow moments always seem to catch up with me. I'm headed in for an abdominal CT scan in two weeks... please keep your fingers crossed for my little liver 🙂
👍
I am so glad to hear that—you sound much better, and I really hope it stays that way. Keeping my fingers crossed for your results...
We are starting a new cycle here, and we're just hoping that by next week, we might finally hear those magic words: "That's enough! The markers are normal now." If they stay steady after this round, I think we might finally be able to say goodbye to chemotherapy for good...
Nancy Thomas18 said:I even stopped taking propolis and Ensure, and now I feel like someone is just sucking the strength right out of me through a straw...
It’s good to hear from you—though, I have to admit, reading words like those is a bit tough... I truly believe that's how you're feeling right now, and I really hope that was just a momentary feeling while you were typing—hopefully, you're feeling at least a tiny bit better by now...