Posts by mistyridge5

Kimberly Green23 said:My stepfather unfortunately lost his battle today.

Please accept my deepest condolences.

How is everyone doing today? 🙂

I'm really hoping there might be some news out there—hopefully some positive updates or good tidings...??

Warm wishes to you all

We’re currently going through those rough patches following chemo.

Honestly, I'm at a bit of a loss regarding what to cook or even prepare—it feels like everything I make just ends up being thrown away...
Next week means back to the hospital, more injections, and then we'll be waiting on the beta results to arrive—hopefully, that will give us some clarity on what comes next...

slyseal28, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you—I truly believe everything is going to turn out okay. There's no giving up here, so let's just keep pushing forward!!!!

Grace Fowler, you really are such an inspiration...

Sending big kisses and greetings to everyone... Hang in there!!!

Lisa White54, I am keeping my fingers crossed that the CT scan results come back clear. I know how much anxiety this causes—it’s completely understandable. I get a bit of a nervous flutter in my stomach myself whenever I think about her heading to the hospital in mid-May for those marker tests... I truly believe everything will turn out fine, but I guess those little doubts still creep in from time to time...

Please do let us know when you have some good news, because I really do believe that’s what’s coming 👍

Lisa White54, I completely understand where you're coming from. Back when my mom was ill—it was just a small group of us, but honestly, it was enough—we really stuck together through the thick and thin. But now? I get this feeling that the "group" has split into two distinct camps: those who seem totally lost on what to say or even how to ask a question, and then there are the ones who act like everything is perfectly normal—you know, the "it is what it is, anyway, are we still going to the beach?" types... I’m not looking for martyrs here, and I certainly don't need anyone stepping in to play the hero or clean up after everyone else... but sometimes—like last night, for instance—it just pushes me right over the edge into tears.

It’s honestly so refreshing to see some positive energy in here—it can be quite difficult to face all the pain and sadness sometimes.

How are we all holding up?!
The days just seem to blur together; it’s getting hot out, and we’re trying our best to maintain a steady rhythm and stick to our routines.
The chemo is definitely taking its toll—hair loss, thinning hair, the whole thing. We try to find the silver lining by joking that he'll eventually look like g. I. Joe, so he can finally start using those ultra-mega razors... I guess finding humor in everything is really the only way we can manage.

My moods have been all over the place lately, so I’m just trying to go with the flow. My birthday is coming up next week, but he actually has to head into the hospital the day before—so, I suppose cycle number two is officially starting.

Please don't take this the wrong way, but I am a little bummed about the timing. It’s not that I’m celebrating getting older, but in recent years, it’s just been the two of us—sharing a nice bottle of wine, listening to old songs, and just laughing together. This year is going to feel different. I hope it stays that way for just this one...

As for me, I feel like I’m on edge sometimes—my nerves are a bit frayed, and I find myself being surprised by people's negativity on a daily basis. I’ve started shrinking my social circle again, narrowing down who I stay close to—both for myself and for him. It seems like true empathy, family, and real friendship are becoming increasingly rare these days...

Honestly, after my mom received her diagnosis—which was basically just a bunch of "it might be this or it might be that"—she just sat us down and declared she knew exactly what she was dealing with. She told us straight up: we’re going to fight this.
When the illness eventually resurfaced, she didn't even consider giving up—not even for a second. Instead, she gathered the whole family for lunch and laid out her "plan" for how we were going to move forward.

That’s why I still look up to her so much today. Whenever I find myself stuck on some trivial little problem—if you can even call them that—I think back to her incredible strength, her grit, and that sheer will to keep going.

She kept cracking jokes, too—staying upbeat and keeping a smile on her face through everything.

Just stay brave...

He’s currently in the hospital waiting on his dose of Bleomycin, so I’m just sitting here at home waiting for news.
I am really looking forward to him getting back home so we can get started on the "home therapy"—hopefully that means he'll be ready for his second cycle of chemo in about eight months.
It’s scheduled right around my birthday—and honestly, I can't think of a better gift than him being okay, or at least handling the treatment reasonably well...

On another note, since he’s on the BEP regimen, I was wondering if anyone knows if it's standard practice (or maybe just specific to this case) to start a new cycle as early as week three?

I know my mom went through a four-week gap, but then again, that was a few years ago, so things might have changed.

Nancy Hernandez43 said:No matter how exhausted you feel—even if you think you can't give your all because you're cycling through it all over again—you know deep down that as long as you're able, you'll keep giving that 100%. Just hang in there! I don't think you'll ever hit a wall that actually drains your capacity to love. You're a fighter!

Thank you so much for this post. 😉

It’s just one of those classic moments where you feel completely drained—almost helpless, really—just waiting for the medication to kick in and the nausea to subside. In those gaps, you start thinking about how much easier it would be for someone else, or maybe even wishing you could just take all the weight onto yourself.
It's that very familiar moment where, just for a second, you think: "What now? What am I supposed to do? I'm just so tired... I don't know anymore..."

But then... well, like I mentioned before... it's like a phoenix rising from the ashes. 👍

Well, here we go again with our guy.
He’s finally back home—we’ve officially wrapped up the first round of chemo—but the side effects are definitely starting to kick in.

I’m basically relearning everything all over again—what to eat, how much to drink, the exact dosages... it's quite a bit to manage.

This time around, I’m stepping into the role of the caregiver. Some people might say it’s better this way, so I don't have to face it all alone, but honestly? For the second time, I find myself wishing I could just be the one in "their" shoes instead.

Next up on the schedule are the blood markers, a follow-up CT scan after the chemo, and then getting ready for the next cycle...
I’m trying my best to stay optimistic, though I suppose there are moments when I just break down—away from everyone else, of course.

I don't know, maybe it's just me, but sometimes I feel like I won't be able to give 100% support this time. Having gone through this once before, it left some scars on me—scars I think I'll carry for the rest of my life.
And yet, whenever I look at him, I feel this sudden surge of strength and courage—I just know there aren't any obstacles that can actually stop us...

Sending positive vibes and big hugs to everyone else out there fighting the good fight. 👍

We have officially completed all the necessary steps...

The CT scan for my dear one came back okay.
However, his Alfa levels are still elevated... which means chemotherapy is our next step.
Some of you already know that I’ve personally navigated the path of chemo and treatment alongside my mother—so, am I scared? Not exactly. It is more like this constant, inexplicable knot of nausea sitting deep in my stomach. I can't quite put my finger on it.

Anyway, before we move forward, we need to get a second opinion in New York, and we also need to head over to a fertility clinic to freeze his sperm. The histology results indicated it is a mixed type seminoma. So... I was wondering if anyone here has visited a fertility clinic for a similar situation??

Oh, goodness, everyone... I am keeping my fingers crossed for all of you waiting on test results... I am so sorry I haven't been able to keep up with some of your stories lately, but I know you understand... We had people visiting us, and his recovery from surgery has been taking quite a while... just running around in every direction imaginable....

Our primary care physician actually gave us the referral for the marker extraction...

As for your other question—well, I guess I don't really have an answer for that one...

Just wanted to give a quick update...

My family and I are expecting the marker results around Friday—and we have a CT scan scheduled for Monday...

At this point, I’m just hoping everything goes smoothly. 👍

General status: feeling positive, though that optimism gets interrupted every now and then by my mom’s little "reminders" about her treatment and when it all ends.

My head: I've played out every possible scenario in my mind—now I'm just waiting for the doctor's final word before we decide how to move forward.

My heart: A bit scattered, honestly—just full of hope and anticipation.

Final thought: I believe in a good outcome—I think I have enough strength for whatever life throws our way.

p.s. Nancy Thomas18, keep fighting! That's exactly what you need to do. 👍

I honestly just had to go back and re-read my own words—mostly just to scrape together a little more strength and courage, I guess...

I actually just finished talking with the doctor. It looks like chemo isn't going to be our path forward... so now, I'm just crossing my fingers and hoping the CT scan results come back okay.

Nancy Hernandez43, truly wonderful news 😍

I remember how incredibly difficult it was for my mom to ask us for anything after her surgery and chemo—even something as simple as a glass of water. She just wasn't that kind of person; she wouldn't even stay in bed if she had a minor virus, the flu, or some inflammation... But back then, her body was just "broken," even though her spirit remained absolutely captivating.

I know there was one time when she confessed to me how much it hurt her to feel like she was making things harder for us just because she was struggling herself. We both ended up laughing so much during that talk while sharing our fears. She told me, "I’m going to fight, all the way to the end!"

Even today, I am still so inspired by that spirit of hers—it stays with me constantly, always in my heart and my thoughts.

We eventually learned to loosen up a bit and not "jump" at every single sigh she made; we just lived our lives. Going in for those marker tests would bring uncertainty for that specific day, but in the days leading up to it, the word "marker" didn't even exist in our vocabulary. It wasn't that we were turning a blind eye—we were all very aware of the situation—but she decided (and for our sake too🙂) that those markers wouldn't dictate our lives or turn everything into fear.

Nancy Hernandez43, yes, we keep fighting 👍

I find myself agreeing with the post above 🙂

But I suppose I should add—that sense of uncertainty regarding such massive quantities...
I am fully aware of my own limits—what I can handle and how much I can take; I understand the waiting and the anticipation, yet there is still this part of me that just wants to grasp everything right now, in this very second...

I have played out countless scenarios in my head. I guess that is just how my mind works. And then, sometimes, I offer myself this little bit of false comfort—thinking, okay, if I have mapped everything out, then I will know exactly how to react or what to do when one of those scenarios actually unfolds.

The truth is, I’ve gone a bit numb, even though I’ve mentally rehearsed every single possibility...

I can’t help but laugh at myself now...

Still, I am getting back up—it feels like a phoenix rising from the ashes (or maybe just a bird getting back on its feet, haha)—and even if it sounds a bit like some cheesy political slogan, we move forward...

I was wondering if anyone knows how long it usually takes to get results back for tumor markers (specifically for testicular cancer)?

I know that when my mom was being tested for ovarian cancer, her results were ready the very same day—though they did take about a week to arrive at our house via mail.

Is the process generally the same, or does it work differently in this situation? I guess it might depend on the hospital or something else entirely... maybe?

I’m feeling a bit anxious because we are supposed to go in this Monday to "check" the markers, and I am really curious about how long this whole WAITING game is going to last.

Thanks in advance for any answers or information you might have.

Sending positive vibes to everyone in this thread.
Best wishes to all,

I wanted to offer my deepest condolences

I feel like I’ve moved on to a different stage of grief now...
It’s hard to believe, but it’s already been five years since she passed away.
Sometimes, I get this feeling that I might be the only one left who truly remembers.
I suppose I carry these internal scars—emotional wounds, really—because there wasn't anyone there to talk things through with. There was no objective voice to ground me, to challenge my thoughts, or to help me see the light during the darker moments...

That’s why I have such deep respect for this corner of the forum... For the people here... The fighters, and those who step up to help others fight their own battles.

Our story didn't exactly have a happy ending, though we certainly gave it our all.
We fought.
We kept trying.
Every single day, we were learning from one another—about different approaches, about the illness itself, and about various treatment options...
We did our best to cherish every second of laughter, and even those quiet, almost telepathic minutes of silence.
We fought TOGETHER against something that—perhaps—was already written in the stars as a WINNER.
We never backed down.
We didn't give up.
We never faltered.

Now, after all this time, I find that my strength sometimes just... vanishes. I guess I actually have less energy now than I did when we were right in the middle of the struggle.....
Why, oh, why??!!!