Posts by Robert Ruiz9

Amanda Williams64 said:I’m just not feeling my best today; honestly, I am incredibly sad. I guess the tide has finally turned on me. I managed to hold it together and stay brave for six whole days, but today I just completely broke down. It feels like this has been happening more and more lately. I’m really hoping tomorrow will be a better day.
As most of you know, Mom is doing pretty well for the time being. She can walk, she can talk... and honestly, it’s that last part that gets to me sometimes. Hearing her voice. Oh, how much that hurts. Her voice is right there—so familiar and warm—and then my mind immediately jumps to what things will be like when everything eventually comes to an end...
I find myself on this forum every single day. Even though I end up tearing up so many times while reading through posts, I just can't help myself; I feel this constant pull to come back here over and over again.
Sending love!

There are just those days where the sadness builds up and hits you all at once, making everything feel so much heavier...
Please, try your hardest not to dwell on that "when it's all over" thought. Try to catch those thoughts the very second they pop up and stop them right there, because they only serve to drain your strength even more, dragging you deeper into the heartache like you're just rubbing salt in your own wound...
I know it is so incredibly hard, but please, just try to focus on the *now*. Right now, your mom is right here with you. Right now, you can hear her voice, and right now, you can give her a big hug... When the waves of pain feel like too much to handle, let yourself cry—really let it out—but once you've had that release, try to push those painful thoughts away. Just repeat a little mantra to yourself: Mom is here with me right now, and all that matters is this moment and this day...
I really hope that helps even just a tiny bit.
Hang in there! 😘

Nicole Edwards76 said:I’m so sorry, I just haven't had the strength to jump back on here until now. Just like Angela Wright mentioned, my mom passed away from Glioblastoma last week, almost exactly one year after her surgery.
Everyone, even though we lost our battle, I am rooting for you all with everything I have—I truly hope you win yours. If anyone needs to talk or has questions about what we went through, please don't hesitate to reach out.
Sending love,

I am so incredibly sorry for the loss of your mother.
The pain is just overwhelming, and honestly, I know there aren't enough words in the world to truly describe it...
Your mom's love is going to stay right there with you forever, just as your love stays with her. I really hope that love gives you strength during these hardest moments and acts as a little light when things feel dark.

Angela Wright said:Dad just got back from taking Mom’s MRI results over to Dr. Paladin at the hospital to see what our next steps might be. We were really holding onto this little sliver of hope that he could drain that built-up fluid again, thinking maybe she’d feel even just a tiny bit better. But honestly, the doctor told us that the fluid isn't even the main issue anymore; the tumor has progressed so much that it's moved into the brainstem and the other hemisphere. I think deep down I already sensed it was coming, and it all makes sense logically, but man, it still hits you like a freight train. I’m just sitting here crying, feeling so incredibly helpless because all I want in this world is to fix this for her. It feels like my hope is slowly slipping through my fingers, and she’s my everything. Oh, Mom, we had so many more memories left to make together.🙂It's just such a cruel twist of fate.

Dearest Angela Wright, my heart truly aches for you. I wish more than anything that I could reach out and take even a fraction of this pain away from you, though I know words often feel so small and hollow when things are this heavy...
I am sending the biggest, tightest hug to both you and your wonderful mother.
Please stay strong, sweetheart; even when everything feels darkest, just look deep inside yourself—you are so full of love, and that very love is what will give you the strength to keep going.

Angela Wright said:Dad just got back from taking Mom's MRI results over to Dr. Paladin at the hospital to see what our next moves should be. We were really holding out hope that he could drain that fluid buildup again, thinking maybe she’d feel a little more like herself if we could just relieve that pressure. But honestly, the doctor told us that the fluid isn't even the main issue anymore—it's that the tumor has progressed so much that it's reached the brainstem and the other hemisphere. I think deep down, in my gut, I already knew this was coming, and it made sense logically, but man, actually hearing it? It hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m just sitting here crying, feeling so incredibly small and helpless because all I want in this world is to fix this for her. It feels like my hope is just slowly flickering out, and she's my whole world. Oh, Mom, we had so many more memories left to make together.🙂 What a cruel twist of fate.

Dearest Angela Wright, please know that my heart aches for you. I wish more than anything that I could reach out and take even a tiny bit of this pain away, even if just for a second, but I know words often feel so empty when things are this heavy...
I am sending the biggest, tightest hug to both you and your wonderful mother.
Hang in there, sweetie. When everything feels like it's falling apart, try to look deep inside yourself—into that part of you that is overflowing with love. That very love is exactly what is going to give you the strength to keep going.

Angela Wright said:Just wanted to check in and let you all know how things are going on my end. Honestly, it's pretty rough right now. Mom is getting weaker by the day, and Dad... he's just taking it out on me constantly...

QUOTE=Angela Wright;8570573]Just wanted to check in and let you all know how things are going on my end. Honestly, it's pretty rough right now. Mom is getting weaker by the day, and Dad... he's just taking it out on me constantly...
QUOTE]

Oh, Angela Wright, honey, my heart just breaks for you—having your dad make an already painful and heavy situation even harder to bear...
I'm sure he's just acting this way because he's feeling so helpless and overwhelmed by everything, and when life gets this hard, it's so easy to lose your way. I really hope he snaps out of it soon; maybe in just a few days, things will shift. Honestly, it might actually be better if you don't try too hard to reason with him right now. I have this feeling that he's just "tuning out" everything at the moment, but once he spends more time sitting by your mom's side, he might finally come back to reality and realize that the incredible care and love you're pouring into her is something nobody else could ever provide...
I know it’s so much easier for me to type this out than it is for you to actually live through these days, but please, don't let those dark thoughts take hold. When they start creeping in, try to stop them right then and there, because once they start rolling in one after another, it just feels impossible to catch them—it's always better to nip them in the bud early on...
Whenever things feel their absolute worst, just remember that everything is temporary and constantly changing, except for that beautiful soul of yours, filled with all the love and kindness you've given—and continue to give—to your mother. No one can ever take that away from you; it's etched forever in your soul and in hers.

😘 Hang in there!

Anonymous said:I have to admit, it feels so much lighter knowing I'm not walking through this alone. When I first found out about my dad's illness, my whole world just came crashing down—I couldn't stop crying for days. But eventually, we all pulled ourselves together, and as a family, we've just started moving forward together. We’ve simply accepted that this is our reality now, and we're focusing on getting through today while leaving tomorrow to whatever comes our way. We still aren't quite sure when he'll actually start chemotherapy, so everything feels so uncertain right now, but I keep holding onto the hope that things will work out okay. I think I'm being pretty realistic because I know his condition is incredibly tough, but I can't help but believe things will get better. Honestly, I just want to thank everyone here for sharing your advice and your own life stories. You guys are truly giving me hope for a brighter tomorrow.

Just keep staying positive, because that's going to be such a huge help to your dad. You really have to hold onto hope, because that's the kind of strength your father is going to feel from you, and it'll give him the power to keep fighting.
It doesn't matter how "impossible" the situation looks right now; recovery is always a possibility because life is essentially one big fight. And since your dad has such great people in his corner helping him through this battle, he has every chance to come out on top.
Hang in there!

Angela Wright, thank you so much! You explained everything so beautifully, and honestly, I am just so happy for you that you’ve reached this kind of clarity—it’s wonderful to see how you let the pain refine you instead of letting it break your spirit. I truly, from the bottom of my heart, hope you keep moving forward exactly like this, and that even in your toughest moments, you always find that deep well of love inside you to give you all the strength you need.

Thank you.

slyseal28 said:I’m sending you all my strength to help you get through this—you have to stay strong—and I'm sending a huge hug and a helping hand right along with it.

Thank you so much, truly.
I'll admit, I feel like I'm losing my footing just a little bit right now, even though I know I really need to keep my head on straight.
Sending big hugs to you and everyone else; I hope you all find the strength and the love you need to keep fighting.

I’m sitting here staring out at the clouds, trying my absolute hardest to hold back the tears so I don't just completely sink under the weight of everything, because I really need to be the strong, steady rock for my mom right now.
The doctors actually told my dad that it's nothing short of a miracle that she's even still with us... it feels like some kind of dark omen...
I’m doing my best to push those words out of my head, even though deep down I know things have taken such a sharp, scary turn for the worse over these last few days...

I am praying every single day for the strength to keep myself from breaking down, so that I can focus on showering my mother with all the love, courage, and peace she needs...
Oh, my sweet girl, my precious little one, I love you with every single fiber of my being.

Angela Wright said:Well, she seems a little better today—like she’s actually making sense when she speaks—but honestly, the dementia is still so intense.
I was thinking that maybe if those folks in the ER could just give her some mannitol to help clear her head for even half an hour, it might help, but I'm pretty sure they need a green light from a neurologist or an oncologist first. Plus, I doubt they even carry mannitol in their standard equipment; they usually have Dexedrine, but we already have plenty of those in pill form at home. When things get this complicated, hospital staff often just freeze up and won't do anything at all. It reminds me of that one awful time when Mom was practically slipping away and the hospital wouldn't even admit her unless we pulled some strings over the phone to get her accepted.

I'm so glad to hear she's feeling a bit more herself.
It is just heartbreaking when hospitals treat people who are seriously ill like that. It’s truly devastating when they turn you away and you're forced to play politics just to get care; my heart just aches for you..
We had it happen so many times where they’d tell us there were absolutely no beds available, gave her a quick injection, and sent her straight back home. She was doing so poorly, and after all that begging and pleading and knowing exactly who to call... finally, magically, a bed would appear...
It always makes me wonder what happens to those poor souls out there who don't have anyone to fight for them.

Please, if you need anything at all, just reach out (you can always send a private message), and I'll do whatever I can to help.

Your mom is so incredibly lucky to have you by her side.

Angela Wright said:Dad actually called Dr. Gamulin, and she managed to squeeze us in for an MRI and a full consultation in just three weeks! Honestly, my heart just aches knowing someone can't be admitted right away to get stabilized and sent home to rest. I doubt the ER will send anyone out here proactively, but if her condition stays this way for even a few more days, someone really needs to come check on her. It’s just impossible for us to carry her upstairs on our own because she’s completely immobile and has absolutely no sense of balance right now.
Mannitol is basically a sugar solution used to treat brain edema, but you usually see it used for mechanical trauma—like car accidents or similar injuries—because with tumor-related edema, you get this frustrating yo-yo effect. The swelling goes down suddenly, but then it just surges right back up. That’s why doctors usually pair it with dexamethasone. They use it to crash the swelling quickly, and then they keep things steady by maintaining a higher dose of the dexamethasone.

I am so incredibly sorry about what your mom is going through.
It’s especially hard when they can't just admit her immediately to make things a little easier on her.
I don't know if I'm overstepping, but maybe try to really push the ER to take her in so they can get that mannitol started...
Or, and maybe this sounds like a silly question, but is there any way they could organize that at home? Like, could her doctor from the emergency room prescribe mannitol and dexamethasone for home use?
Hang in there!

Angela Wright said:Hey everyone, I’m jumping in too!.... Look, I realize they might not admit her to the hospital right away, but I really hope they can at least take her in for half a day and get some mannitol into her system to help stabilize things, because I have this gut feeling—I'm just certain—that her edema is getting out of control. Her lip has been constantly swollen for a week now, and she’s barely able to talk; she gets these blocks where she tries to say something, then just stops mid-sentence. That was honestly my biggest fear, knowing she might not be able to tell me where it hurts or even if she's in pain...😢

Dear Jane, I'm really hoping your mom is feeling a bit better and that she's finally able to communicate what's bothering her.
You truly are such a wonderful and brave person.
Thank you so much for starting this thread.
Sending you so many hugs, and wishing you all the strength and love in the world.

Hi everyone, and thank you so much for starting this thread.

I honestly think it’s almost impossible to find the right words to describe that heavy feeling you get when you watch your loved ones suffer—let alone when you feel like no one truly understands what you're going through. It feels like only those who have walked this same painful path can really grasp it.
My mom had surgery about four and a half years ago for colon cancer. Oh, the things she has been through since then—all the pain, the endless surgeries... and now, on top of everything, she’s dealing with about eight or nine other diagnoses and, of course, metastases in her pelvis and kidney...
She deals with bowel obstructions constantly (she has an ileostomy now), and even at the hospital, they’re struggling to manage it effectively lately...
The doctors are saying there isn't much left for surgery or oncology to do; just a month ago, they were talking about chemo, but they had to wait because her white blood cell count was too low, and by the time it stabilized, we were back to this heartbreaking reality.
And I am just sitting here wondering, what am I supposed to do?
She has such an incredible will to live, so I simply cannot just sit back and move on with my life like the doctors seem to suggest...
What does "moving on" even mean? She is my whole world, and she is my only mother.

If anyone out there is going through something similar, please, any advice or words of wisdom would mean the world to me, because SHE refuses to give up. And I would do absolutely anything for her; even when I feel like I'm collapsing, I pull myself back up because I know she needs me to be strong.

I know this is all a bit scattered and messy, so please forgive me, but I've just been in such a fog since these recent changes and news started coming in.

I'm sorry for venting like this.
Sending huge hugs to everyone, along with so much love and strength!

I’m honestly terrified of pain. I mean, I try to be brave and face things head-on, but in my heart, I just don't think I could actually handle it if things got really bad... I feel like I’d probably just be praying for a quick end and hoping for a much better start in the next life.
When I look at my mom and see how she’s been carrying everything on her shoulders for nearly four years now, it really hits home that I wouldn't be able to pull it off like she does...
But then again, you never truly know your own strength until you're actually forced to walk in those shoes.

Taroth said:I don't think it's really about someone's core personality; it’s more about how we’re shaped and raised during those formative years that turns us into who we are today...

I couldn't agree more, and honestly, I'd just add to that—our community and our families definitely mold us, though at the end of the day, we’re also the ones building society, right? 😉 It feels like modern American society is stuck in this obsessive "having" phase rather than focusing on actually "being." We aren't just drifting away from traditional values; we're losing touch with our very souls. People seem to have lost their sense of balance because everyone is caught up in this frantic, crazy race to accumulate stuff, fueled by brainwashing advertisements and these totally manufactured needs that we don't even really have.
Sure, society shapes us, but eventually, the ball is in our court regarding how we carry ourselves, how we treat others, and how we decide what truly matters in life.
Personally, I feel like if we had more parents acting like Goxic 👍 then future generations would naturally turn out better, too. They wouldn't need constant "course corrections," and maybe then, our whole culture could shift back toward being a society centered on existence and connection rather than just material possessions. 🙂

Oh, and I almost forgot—just because some therapists or psychiatrists didn't work out for me personally doesn't mean they can't make a massive difference for someone else! I actually have several close friends who found real healing through their sessions, so I know it works.
I honestly find myself wondering just how many different ways people find to keep their heads above water and truly survive life's toughest moments.👍
At the end of the day, what really matters is that whoever is stepping up to help is actually an expert at what they do! And if they realize things aren't moving forward, I think it’s so important for them to be honest with themselves and with you—to just own their limits and tell you straight to your face.

Jamie Scott2 said:Honestly, I can't even bring myself to say what I really think about psychiatrists right now—let's just say my opinion isn't pretty.
In a situation like this, I wouldn't feel an ounce of fear or embarrassment about seeing a psychologist; I've been there, and frankly, I just don't care anymore.
I really feel like in these kinds of circumstances, professional help might not even be able to touch it... and I'm talking about those deep-seated memories. If something is hardwired into your brain like that, there isn't much anyone can do from the outside to undo it.

Psychiatrists, therapists, medication—none of it did a thing for me either...
Sometimes, when you're dealing with loss, all you really need from those close to you is that they *don't* hit you with those empty clichés like, "that's just life," or "illness happens to everyone," or the classic "time heals all wounds." It’s so frustrating because if those phrases actually worked, I’d probably end up feeling like it was my own fault that my mind and soul aren't following those little rules!😠
What actually helped me (well, somewhat—I'm certainly not "perfectly fine," and I doubt I'll ever truly be "the old me" again, though I'll try not to use the word 'never' too much...) was turning inward. I had to learn how to quiet that internal monologue and really dig into why this hit me so incredibly hard. And honestly? Shiatsu therapy was a huge lifesaver for helping me balance out my energy. Before I found that, I was just a walking ball of rage over all the injustice, constantly swinging between pure sadness and white-hot anger...
I have no idea how many people struggle with this, but I feel so lucky that I stumbled upon a legitimate specialist instead of some total fraud who would have just left me feeling even worse...
I haven't "cured" my grief, but at least I'm learning how to carry it, which is a massive victory considering the state I was in before.
I don't want to sound pessimistic, but I truly believe this heavy sadness never fully leaves you (shoot, there I go using a swear word 😉!), but being able to learn how to live alongside it without sinking completely? To me, that is a huge win.👍

Jamie Scott2 said:So, I've been thinking a lot lately about how we all handle grief. At the end of the day, we’re all just human, right? We've all felt that sting of loss at some point, but man, does it hit everyone differently.
We experience it in so many ways—mentally, physically, and obviously emotionally. It really all boils down to what happened and who the person was, but regardless of the circumstances, losing someone is always a heavy blow.
The tricky part is that people often struggle with the timeline of it all—how long they're "supposed" to be hurting.

Psychologists often point out that:
Grief lasts exactly as long as it needs to for that specific individual.
And let's be honest, it almost always feels like it drags on much longer than we'd prefer.

But how long is "too long"? What if someone is still deeply grieving seven or even ten years later?
I'm curious to hear your thoughts on this.

Of course, the context matters so much—who passed away, how it happened, and all those personal factors that shape our reaction...

There's also this other thing called complicated grief, which, unfortunately, I feel like not enough people have heard of.
To put it simply, it’s when someone experiences a loss and then just completely freezes up—you know, like they're totally stuck and can't move forward with their life at all.
In my opinion, that's a pretty significant sign.
Do you guys think people going through that kind of thing should seek out professional help?

Personally, I do think they could benefit from professional support. The type of help would really depend on the individual, but having a compassionate circle of friends and family who truly understand and offer support is absolutely vital too...