Posts by Angela Wright

casualraven43 said:Listen, Ivana, you hit the nail right on the head. My mom is his absolute rock—she’s this incredible, selfless soul who has loved him unconditionally her entire life. I’ve actually suggested she lay down the law just to get some sense into him, maybe tell him to pack up and come stay with me for a bit, but she just can't. He’s so sick—physically and, as you can see, mentally—and she simply doesn't have the heart to turn her back on him, no matter how much he puts her through. She’s accepted this as her cross to bear. But honestly? It breaks my heart. I feel for her so deeply; she’s still young and I need her so much, and the thought of anything happening to her just crushes me. She carries so much stress and just takes it. That’s why I can’t leave her side; she’s still working, and when she comes home halfway exhausted and my little Vedrana jumps up to wrap those tiny arms around her neck, that’s what gives her the strength to keep going. It’s the one thing that puts a smile on her tired face, and I refuse to take that away from her. Then there’s me, trying to be her support during these brutal days—thankfully, she understands and backs us up completely. She does everything she can.
Folks, I don't know what kind of mental breakdown this is... today he came back from his 8th round of chemo, and I caught him in the basement drinking ice cream. Seriously, how insane do you have to be to do that? First, you're sabotaging yourself, then you're doing it to your whole family. And then, when I look at him now—so thin, so pale, barely able to walk—this overwhelming wave of grief just hits me. My heart tightens like a vice. I remember him just a few years ago, how vibrant he was, the eternal optimist. He was never angry, never sad; just always smiling and having a kind word for everyone. He absolutely adored me, and Mom was his queen... which is exactly why she spoiled him rotten. My God, it hurts just thinking about what he's become. Why? There are days when he seems a little better and we’re all riding high on optimism, but then there are days where, believe me, I just wish he would die! Oh my God, I'm so terrified of even having those thoughts... but the reality is, I LOVE him, because he’s my DAD. Some days I feel like I'm going to snap because I can't handle this anymore. He has an abdominal scan coming up soon to check the damage, and I am terrified of that report. I'm scared. Part of me thinks if things got worse, maybe he’d finally see how much he's hurting us and realize he can't live like this, but the other part of me is praying to God that it recedes and things get better. Am I crazy? I'm scared to even think about it. Honestly, I'm happiest when I'm asleep. Believe me.

Honey, that isn't your dad talking. It's two different illnesses speaking through him.
There is very little you can actually do, other than being there for both of them, especially for your mom. Everyone chooses their own path in life, plain and simple. I believe there are times you wish he would just pass on, and listen, that doesn't make you a bad or selfish person. Your dad is just stuck.
You have to prioritize yourself and your child. During my pregnancy, I spent so much time worrying needlessly, and I ended up having a premature baby. People tell me it wasn't my fault and that these things just happen, but I truly believe a part of it was on me, so please, be smarter than I was. You cannot take responsibility for your parents, but you owe it to your children to stay whole.

casualraven43 said:...

Look, honey, you can’t do more than what you’re already doing. At the end of the day, a man is his own boss; he makes his own calls, no matter how much those decisions make us want to scream. The reality is that this is his life playing out, even if you're all caught in the crossfire. All you can really control is how much of his outbursts you choose to absorb. You can love him to death and still realize that you can't run headfirst into a brick wall. It’s the same deal with your mom. She needs to sit him down and have a real, serious talk. I get the feeling she’s his primary safety net, which is probably why he feels so emboldened to act out. If she actually threatened to walk away—and actually followed through by, say, moving in with you and leaving him to deal with his own mess—maybe he’d finally be forced to sit in the silence and actually think about his actions.
Hang in there.
p.s. When you guys do sit down with him, stop using the word "must." Instead, try framing things like, "Do you think it might be smarter to..." You have to give him the illusion of autonomy. Pushing him will only backfire, triggering more rage and frustration.

Maria Lee54 said:I haven't been active on the forum for quite a while. I've been dealing with a series of heavy setbacks regarding my treatment—everything from the nightmare of finding a clinic capable of performing my surgery to this current moment where I'm just sitting around waiting for Medicare to approve my treatment over in Switzerland. My health has taken a visible turn for the worse; the tumor is aggressive and growing fast, which makes this waiting game feel almost unbearable. But honestly, I haven't lost hope yet. I still believe I'll make it to the operating table.

Sending everyone my best—keep those positive thoughts coming.😉

Hang in there!
I'm crossing my fingers for you. If you've managed to fight through everything life has thrown at you up until now, you can handle this final stretch. Just keep pushing toward the finish line.
best,

Robin Gray8 said:Her oncologist actually gave her a solid lead regarding Medicare. Apparently, since they don't even perform this specific type of procedure here in the States, getting the approval should be a breeze. She’s planning to hand over all the paperwork and the formal proposal this coming Monday. 🤷

So, she hasn't received the green light yet. The Medicare Administration still needs to review everything and make an official call. You’ll likely end up with some sort of paperwork justifying why those out-of-country medical expenses are necessary. It really comes down to how much skin you have in the game: some people sit around waiting for that formal approval, while others just dive straight into treatment abroad. It all depends on what the international clinics are demanding and how much risk someone is willing to stomach if the Medicare folks decide to deny the claim later. As for how long this takes? Honestly, there's no telling. Given how messy and unpredictable these government agencies can be, anything goes.

George Sullivan31 said:Greetings.

My daughter is heading over to a clinic in Germany for some exams and treatment, so I’m trying to figure out if I can actually get any money back from Medicare. Does anyone know what specific costs the Medicare Administration will actually cover or reimburse?

Best regards,

George Sullivan31

If you're looking to get reimbursed for medical treatment abroad, you can only claim expenses for procedures or therapies that simply aren't available here in the States—whether that's because our doctors lack the specific expertise, the necessary technology, or some other specialized capability.
It usually plays out like this: some specialist at a government agency—not someone in private practice, but a bureaucrat—decides that a certain procedure just isn't feasible under our current system. You take your proposal to a family doctor, who then writes up the necessary paperwork, which eventually lands on a Medicare Administration committee desk to be either rubber-stamped or flat-out rejected.
I'm not entirely sure if that's the right direction to take, but your primary care physician should be able to give you a definitive answer.

Robin Gray8 said:Thanks, Angela. So, if she drops off the paperwork on Monday, does she get immediate confirmation? Like, could she actually be at the 😕 by next week? Or does she hand over the papers and then just sit there waiting for two, three weeks... who knows how long

Hold on, did she actually get word from Medicare that they’re covering the cost yet?
Generally, the standard procedure is that you have to get a formal written recommendation from an American hospital stating that the procedure needs to happen abroad—basically proving that the necessary equipment, expertise, or specific conditions aren't available here in the States. That recommendation gets sent to the Medicare Administration, and then they go through their whole process of reviewing it to decide whether or not to greenlight the coverage for overseas treatment.
Depending on where she goes, things vary wildly. Some clinics demand a deposit upfront or a financial guarantee before they even see you, while others just bill you once everything is finished. That part of the process is extremely case-by-case. I don't have first-hand experience with the billing side of things, though. I think fighterica might be able to shed some light on how that works.

Robin Gray8 said:Sorry if this is off-topic, but I have a question.
I have someone very dear to me who has melanoma. They need surgery abroad because the specialized care we need isn't available here, and Medicare covers the costs. Does anyone know how long it takes for them to approve it? Is it an ongoing thing or does the approval come through quickly? It's stage 3 melanoma.
Does anyone know?

Look, if they're covering the cost, then the approval is already a done deal.

brisksurfer said:Angela, how are you and the little one doing?

We're doing okay. We finally made it home after being stuck in the hospital for 74 days straight. Honestly, my mental state is finally starting to feel a bit more stable now that we aren't living in a clinical room. The baby is making progress and growing fast. They've already reached out to us about starting physical therapy.

Chloe Sullivan17 said:My mom just got home from the hospital because my grandma ended up back there again. Both she and I are pretty confused by the explanation of the 😕 results, so I have a few questions. If anyone can help make sense of this, I’d really appreciate it. 🙂

If someone is diagnosed with metastases on both the right and left sides of the brain, causing one side to swell, what causes that? Is it actually possible for the metastases on one side to recede or vanish while the other side stays swollen and shows no visible metastases?

Right now, all the tests—including the MRI—don't show any metastases or tumors, yet the doctors are insisting it could still have been metastases, even if they aren't showing up on the scans.

Edemas happen as a direct consequence of tumor growth; they trigger neurological issues because that intracranial pressure starts squeezing the brain and hitting specific nerve centers. Honestly, sometimes it's incredibly difficult to distinguish actual tumor mass or necrosis from swelling on an imaging scan.
It is entirely possible for metastases to disappear if there's a positive response to radiation or chemo.

Lisa Diaz8 said:My dad just got the exact same diagnosis a few weeks ago... they're saying it's an inoperable tumor because the first surgery was just a biopsy—they thought it was pancreatic cancer at the time. But then the pathology report came back saying there were no tumor cells in the pancreas, and the actual diagnosis is GIST (low risk). Right now, the recommendation is surgery followed by Glivec therapy, though the surgeons probably won't jump into another operation immediately. Can you tell me which doctor operated on your mom and where? You can send me a DM if that's easier...

She already gave you the info. Dr. Kocman. You can find his email and phone number right on his website.

Kimberly Wright said:@Angela Wright/">@@Angela Wright
bebot 😍 God, I really hope you guys can get discharged from the hospital together soon so you can finally just relax and enjoy being back in your own home. 🙂

Thanks, dear. I’m holding onto hope, though life has decided to throw me into the deep end yet again. My baby was born at just 28 weeks via emergency C-section because my preeclampsia hit a breaking point—my organs started failing, and there was simply no other choice. He weighed only about two pounds at birth. Since then, he’s fought through two massive infections, brain damage graded at level two or three, and seizures. But the kid is a fighter; fifty days later, he’s up to nearly four pounds and apparently doing okay for now. We’re praying he can come home by Easter, but we know the road to rehabilitation is going to be brutal and uphill. As of right now, we still don't know the full extent of the damage. I don't even need to spell out the nightmare I'm living through; one thought of my own mother's neurological episodes and I'm back there. I’ve always said that after everything I went through with her, nothing could ever break me—unless, God forbid, it happened to my child. Well, it looks like God decided I needed a lesson in that.

ironsailor22 said:First off, Angela Wright Huge congrats on the little one! I’m rooting for you guys to get back home as soon as possible.

Thanks.

Regarding the claims you made in this post, I’m not even going to bother arguing with you because they simply aren't true.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, they’re still standing right where they always were. It honestly makes me sick to my stomach having to admit that, and I mean that with absolute certainty. That’s been my experience from the very moment I kicked off this thread and decided, alongside slyseal28, to stop playing nice and finally bite the bullet.

Look, I’ve seen enough to know exactly how you and the other advocacy groups operate. I want to take a second to give credit where it's due, though—that early petition you guys pushed for equal treatment rights for rare disease patients was spot on. That was the right move, the real deal. But since then? You haven't actually taken a swing at the system itself. Instead, you've drifted into that same loop as everyone else, organizing galas and fashion shows just to raise funds rather than actually fighting to fix the broken status quo.

Forty years of grinding finally paid off. We successfully pushed for a new kidney cancer drug, Sutent, to be added to the approved list, which means 200 newly diagnosed patients every year now have a fighting chance at extending their lives. Along with Sutent, we also secured Tarceva for lung cancer. This wasn't some fluke; it happened because people stepped up spontaneously. It wasn't just our group, either—the CDC joined forces with fifty other organizations, ranging from oncology groups to others fighting uphill battles against the system. Regarding those fashion shows you mentioned: they’re nothing more than a marketing hook to grab media attention and fuel the Dark campaign. The whole point is to get people to respond to initiatives aimed at prevention—especially for the types of malignancies that still claim the most lives in this country. We spend a fortune treating these diseases when they could be prevented or, if caught early, treated successfully in over 90% of cases. If you think running a campaign is free, you're dead wrong. Printing brochures, distribution, educating high schoolers, travel costs, producing commercials, paying for airtime—even if it serves the greater good—it all costs money, dear. And just because the media doesn't always play by the rules doesn't mean we aren't setting precedents and forcing change. For instance, because we have a handful of stubborn, tech-savvy enthusiasts in our association, we’re building a registry for rare tumors. That registry is the essential prerequisite for actually conducting clinical studies here. It’s what will give people whose medications aren't typically registered in the US—meds that can cost tens of thousands of dollars per dose—a real shot at survival. So, if you honestly believe none of this matters... well, look around. People showed up and did exactly what they do best.

Look, when it comes to hospice care, I’ve seen enough to know that nobody can feed me fairy tales about needing specific specializations as a prerequisite for running these facilities. It’s a joke. Just look at the staff working in private hospices out in places like Villi Brezovica, or those various nursing homes and sanitariums scattered around—what kind of actual palliative medicine specialization do they really have? Who exactly signed off on their licenses to operate? And don't even get me started on the big medical centers in major cities like Chicago or New York. How many times has a top-tier hospital backed out of converting a wing into a dedicated hospice unit? It's infuriating. Then you have Medicare hiring people from private clinics to handle home health care; they’re getting paid handsomely to do a job that half of them can't even manage halfway. It's a complete mess.
We all know exactly what’s going on here.

If you think you're well-informed, then you haven't actually grasped the reality of the situation. In America, there isn't even a legal framework defining how a palliative care facility should be structured. A true Hospice doesn't exist in the US as a standardized entity. Anyone claiming that title is just exploiting a loophole in the law. There is a massive, night-and-day difference between a legitimate professional institution providing specialized care and these private nursing homes. A real Hospice should be—and will be once we finally get the legislation right—accessible to everyone covered by Medicare. Nowhere else in the world does a Hospice take someone under their wing for longer than a week. You go there when you are terminally ill; we're talking about people who have only days left to live. The mission is to alleviate pain and provide psychosocial and spiritual support to both the patient and their family, extending that support to help loved ones grieve even after the passing. If you want a real example, look up how they run things in a place like Memphis. Do a little research and see how actual professionals operate.
Is the system rotten? Absolutely. But you don't fix a broken machine by typing "we should do this" on internet forums; you fix it through massive public outcry from the masses, not just one or two voices.
I'm inviting you to come by our association, see the work we actually do, and bring your ideas to the table so we can organize some real action.

ironsailor22 said:That’s exactly it—those are the real questions that someone in this country actually needs to step up and answer!
It’s blindingly obvious that everyone responsible for driving our healthcare system—and honestly, this entire country—into the gutter is playing dumb and turning a deaf ear. I just don't get how none of those powerful patient advocacy groups are stepping up. Where is the outrage? Why aren't they launching some aggressive, real-world movement to fix this absolute disgrace? It's clear as day that these organizations have become too cozy with the establishment; they've integrated themselves so deeply into the system that they benefit more from the status quo than they ever would from actually fighting for the people.
All this talk about hospice care turned out to be nothing but hot air. All we got was some new center opening up at the Mayo Clinic designed to train medical staff, while the actual terminal patients still aren't getting any real, hands-on help. It’s a complete joke—this whole push only happened because it was a requirement for joining the European Union. It's honestly shameful that the only way to get actual support is through a private hospice that charges an arm and a leg. $110 It’s honestly pathetic how the government can’t manage to open a single hospice in this entire country.
It feels like in this country, nobody follows the rules anymore and everyone just does whatever they feel like. When my mom’s pain spiked and she needed her Tramal injections, I couldn't even get a nurse to come out to the house. Instead, I had to call 911 and practically get into a shouting match with the dispatchers just to get them to actually show up and do their jobs. When the pain hits that hard, those emergency responders are your only lifeline, and they need to be there—no matter how much they try to brush you off over the phone.

I'll address your bolded points directly, since I actually represent an association like that:
It’s because people like you stay quiet. You refuse to stand up and back those "aggressive" stances when they happen. We’ve been branded as some scandalous "mercenary industry group" countless times just because we had the nerve to lobby for patients to get access to the best possible therapy available for their diagnoses. Usually, the patients—or their families—just keep their mouths shut because they don't want to ruffle any feathers. People need to wake up and realize that an association is made up of civil society, and civil society consists of all those "little guys" who get trampled by the system. An association is an organization, a channel, designed specifically to use its structure to make securing rights and driving change actually possible.
That’s just the way we’re wired. Once an issue blows over, most people are happy to turn their backs on anyone else caught in the same mess. There's this pervasive "not my problem" mentality—people look at someone struggling and think, "Well, nobody lifted a finger when I was drowning, so why should I bother reaching out now?" It’s a cycle of indifference that we just can't seem to break.
Personally, when it comes to myself and my own people. Three. Listen up, you intergalactic idiots. I’ve been lying here in the hospital for two months now with my premature baby, handing out brochures to oncology patients even though my own battle ended a long time ago. It's clear as day that in your eyes, we’re just a bunch of passive, inert masses of people actually dealing with the problem.
Here’s the link to the association on my Sig. Don't just sit there—reach out, throw your ideas on the table, join up, and let's start organizing some actual, boots-on-the-ground action. My colleagues and I are waiting for you like a heatwave in the middle of July.
Look, you’ve clearly got it wrong when it comes to setting up a Hospice. You can't just flip a switch and expect it to work. Opening an institution like that requires training a specialized workforce specifically for palliative care. It isn't some side project; palliative medicine is a legitimate medical specialty, standing right alongside curative and preventive medicine. Having a medical degree is a start, sure, but without specific specialization, you aren't ready to run a facility like this. That expertise is the absolute prerequisite for establishing such an institution. Buying land and putting up a building? That’s the easy part. You can pull funding from various grants or access capital to get the construction done, but you can't just buy expertise—you have to earn it through education.

Sam Roberts8 said:I'm starting this thread because I want to see if we can find ways to support women battling uterine cancer.

What exactly are you thinking?

amberdriver8 said:...I just wanted to jump in and share that my mom suffered through five agonizing years with a dangerous stomach tumor called GIST that eventually spread to other organs. To make a long story short, we all went through absolute hell—both mentally and physically. The pain was unbearable, and toward the end, her abdomen was massively swollen; it was just horrific. But thank God, and thank Dr. Kocman, who recently performed the surgery on her despite there being almost zero chance of survival. I won't even mention how we spent five years hunting for a surgeon capable of this; we searched the entire world and nobody would even touch her case. Then, finally, an American doctor steps up and does it. I'm still in shock, but it's a positive kind of shock... she’s doing okay now. He removed everything—the tumor, the metastases—and had to shorten her large intestine and stomach a bit, but hey, at least she'll be "fit" since she can eat less now, haha. All in all, she’s recovered, even though they say no one survives more than five years with GIST. So, between the doctors and God, we made it. Alternative medicine didn't help much, so feel free to ask me for any advice regarding malignant diseases.

That’s amazing! We have experts right here, but they're constantly being squeezed by budget cuts and cost-saving measures.
Is Mom on Sutent?

brisksurfer said:isn't it a sin to just sit back and let people suffer right in front of your eyes?😲

I’m dying to know if they’d actually go looking for a cure for themselves or their loved ones if they were stuck in a spot like that...

It all comes down to how an individual perceives things and what they choose to accept; it's deeply personal stuff, and honestly, it's a slippery slope once you start digging deeper.
I know exactly what I would hunt for if I were in their shoes...but I am one person, and this world operates on an entirely different set of rules.

ironsailor22 said:It’s primary breast cancer, and her doctor gave her a prognosis of about two years because they caught bone metastases right away, and since then, those have just been spreading through her entire skeleton. She actually just hit her one-year mark this past Thursday, but things took a terrifying turn within just a single month—she went from being an active woman to being completely immobile. Within that month, we tripled her dose of Flastere, and now she can at least sleep through the night. Every little movement hurts, so I managed to scrape the money together and bought a medical bed with an anti-decubitus mattress today. It gets delivered and set up tomorrow morning; I just hope it brings her some relief.
I honestly don't get why we have to fight with the doctor every single time just to get her a higher dose. What is the logic there? And isn't euthanasia for patients in this condition actually an act of mercy and humanity?

Unfortunately, mercy and humanity are one thing, but the legal reality is quite another. Beyond the legal hurdles, many doctors are people of faith who view such actions as a major sin. It’s all part of a much larger, more complex issue.
Definitely reach out to Dr. Loncar regarding the pain management, just like slyseal28 suggested. We’re hoping to coordinate a partnership with them soon through our Association, and once we do, we'll post an official update here.
Zoran Loncar, PhD, MD
specialist in anesthesiology, resuscitation, and intensive care
Traumatology Clinic
Address: 19 Draskovic St., New York City
Mobile: 098 23 56 69
E-mail: zoloncar@inet.hr This email address is protected from spam robots and won't be visible if you have JavaScript disabled
zoran.loncar@trauma.

Jesse Flores842 said:I feel a little ridiculous saying this, but here we go...
I’m dropping this post here in hopes that someone else has dealt with something similar—or better yet, exactly the same thing—so maybe we can actually trade some advice.
Moderators—if there’s already an existing thread for this, please feel free to merge it.

Over the last month—give or take a week—I’ve been having some serious issues with food. Or, to be more precise, I can’t even wrap my head around the idea of red meat. It’s completely off the table. At first, I genuinely thought maybe I was just feeling weak or that everything smelled off because I was pregnant (spoiler alert: I’m not), or perhaps my sense of taste and smell had just gone haywire from all the sugar (not the case either), or even that I was simply making things up in my own head (I am certainly not). I even considered if it might be a side effect of my diabetes medication—I actually brought the whole thing up with my endocrinologist, who ended up adjusting my prescription to something else entirely—but nope, none of those were the culprit.
I take a bite of meat—doesn't matter if it’s boiled, roasted, or grilled—and the taste is absolutely revolting; I can literally taste blood. 😕 The stench of rot—it’s getting even worse. 😕
Elon Musk—honestly, I haven’t changed a single thing about how I prep my meals, and I certainly don't go around buying "retro" or old-school products—so I truly don't get the confusion! Back home, everyone just eats perfectly normal food without all this fuss. It’s the exact same story no matter where I travel in America.
Exactly—it’s the same story when you're looking at deli ham.
I ended up sticking with the chicken, but even that’s starting to pick up a bit of a... questionable aroma.
Honestly, I don’t know what they’re doing differently over there lately—maybe it’s the soil, maybe it’s the season—but I have to say, the fruits and vegetables I've been getting lately have never tasted this incredible. It’s almost ridiculous how much better everything is.
Am I actually losing my marbles, or am I just being reasonable here? Should I be looking for a psychiatrist, or am I just completely off the deep end?

Much appreciated.

That was my experience during the first three months of pregnancy.

Robin Stewart44 said:Thanks—right back at you and everyone else here who’s been through or is currently wading through the heavy stuff...

I know how things go with hospitals... obviously, the system is broken and the government we live under is to blame. But the way doctors behave and what they can or can't do—acting as just one gear in a massive machine—is a whole other conversation with plenty of angles. Personally, I’d probably agree with you there.

I wouldn't fully agree here either. In my mother's case, it was just one night, one bed, in one hospital. And they're supposed to be trained for people in their final stages. With my dad, it was different because he needed long-term care; he was sick for a much longer stretch in the terminal phase. In that instance, I eventually accepted that our country just doesn't have specialized facilities for patients like him, though I still haven't truly made peace with it. Taxpayer money gets poured into everything under the sun, yet people die as if they never contributed a dime to this country. But again, that's a whole separate debate.

I get that exhaustion and all that isn't nothing compared to the sheer agony and heartache parents endure—knowing they were right there by their side until the very end and all that. But let's circle back to the actual issue of care for these patients. My willpower and physical stamina might be strong, but at the end of the day, they need professional medical expertise, not just my amateur efforts. What I will say, though, is that the fatigue and the emotions piled up from that time don't just vanish. They don't fade easily; if anything, it's the exact opposite. You don't even realize the weight of it until years have passed.

Palliative care isn't just found in Hospices; it's also provided at home by palliative teams from the Hospice who come to assist those patients. Hospices aren't places where you stay for more than a week. Of course, professional help is vital, but you can't expect to receive that kind of specialized care properly within a curative medical facility. It’s like going to a dentist for anesthesia when you have appendicitis—it’s just the wrong setting. Personally, the internet and some insights from a home health nurse who specializes in this kind of work helped me immensely. But the most important thing you seem to have missed is that sense of home, of family warmth, and domesticity that you simply cannot find anywhere except at home. That is irreplaceable, and for someone who is dying, it's everything.
It’s only now that I feel sufficiently informed about all this. Don't let guilt over "humanity" or lack thereof haunt you; rest easy knowing you fulfilled your mother's wishes.

And don't just accept the fact that there aren't enough Hospices! That is precisely the problem—people settle too easily for things that are fundamental human rights. One of the main reasons I’ve become so active in advocating for oncology patients is specifically because of this lack of Hospice care. Whenever I get five minutes with any bigwig or decision-maker, I grill them about this issue.

Robin Stewart44 said:I know perfectly well they don't want to show up when cancer is involved.

Honey, first off, let me just say how deeply sorry I am for everything you’ve been through.
I went through the exact same thing, though mine was maybe a bit more complicated since the cancer hit her brain and that "coma" dragged on for over a year.
I came to terms with the situation—probably because I had more time to process things than you did. As horrific as it was, I got the chance to gradually face the inevitable and accept that this outcome was actually the best thing, not just for her, but for all of us in the family.
Hospitals are built for curative medicine; they aren't designed for patients in the terminal phase like your mom or mine. The terminal stage is the domain of palliative medicine, a specialized field practiced by highly trained doctors in facilities called Hospices—which we still lack here in America, being one of the last places to really catch up with the rest of the developed world. In that sense, the doctor you think is being inhuman is actually just the final cog in a broken machine. He’s arguably the least to blame; the real culprit is the government apparatus that still doesn't see the necessity of these institutions, because in this country, the dignity of living and dying has been pushed to the sidelines. It’s become a privilege reserved for those who have lined their pockets while the poor die like stray dogs in the streets.
The doctor who actually tried to take your mother in was going against the regulations and the pressure from his hospital administration, and honestly, against his own training too, since he isn't specifically educated to provide care for people in that state.
No matter how exhausted I felt—even when I was pushed to my absolute breaking point—it pales in comparison to the realization that I gave my mom so much more in her final days and hours than she ever would have received in any palliative or curative care facility. There is an immeasurable peace and a blessing in my heart and soul knowing she passed away at home, in my arms, clean, comfortable, fed, and without a single wound on her body. For a human being, a mortal creature, there is no greater mercy. If I could sign a contract right now, I’d choose that same kind of end for myself.

Carol Chase31 said:Hi everyone
I was trying to find some info on Tarceva, which led me here. My dad has been on it for 15 days now and he was actually doing great until two days ago. His appetite came back, his leg pain and coughing stopped, and he was finally in high spirits—something we hadn't seen since this whole ordeal started over a year ago.
But now he has this rash on his face, nose, and scalp, and it’s driving him crazy.
For the last couple of days, the scabs have been drying out, the itching has intensified, and he can't sleep. He took some Zaldiar and that helped stop the itching, but now he's dealing with nausea, can't eat, and just feels miserable.
And the doctor, who is supposedly "always" available, hasn't returned my calls in two days.
Can anyone recommend something for the itching and nausea that isn't a new medication? :-(
I would read more on my own, but I'm already paying after just two posts and honestly, I'm at my breaking point.
Thanks

Those are pretty standard side effects. You could try using some baby cream, though I suspect as long as he's on the drug, this discomfort is going to stick around. Tell him to try and hang in there for a few days, but you absolutely need to get a hold of his doctor to see what they recommend.

Arthur Palmer said:The doctors at the Mayo Clinic told my mom (45) that she has colon cancer with liver metastases, but they also said it's in an early stage. Because of that, she didn't have any symptoms, and they think everything can be operated on and handled with chemo. But now I don't know... how does that work?
How long does it take?
What's needed?
Is it even possible to survive this kind of cancer if it's in an early stage?
I'm honestly terrified of what might happen to her, and I really don't want to lose her.

Early-stage colon cancer is curable in over 90% of cases, even though those liver metastases make things more complicated. They'll likely perform surgery first, followed by radiation and chemotherapy to wipe out any remaining malignant cells and prevent a recurrence.
After the surgery, there's usually a recovery period of about 2 to 3 weeks, after which she'll meet with the oncologist to map out the rest of the treatment plan.
Every cancer and every patient is different, so outcomes vary. It's important to stay positive, face the diagnosis head-on, and accept the reality that one has to live with the possibility of the disease returning.
You can find more information about the disease and treatment options on the American Cancer Society website.