Posts by Angela Wright

There are these incredible medicated patches for cold sores. They’re super thin and practically invisible once you put them on—they blend right in with your skin so nobody even notices. Just ask the pharmacist at CVS.

quietpilot87 said:My mother passed away this morning.

My entire family is just profoundly grateful we had this much time together—both for her sake and ours. It might sound crazy to say, but given everything we’ve been through, there couldn't have been a more beautiful outcome.

I feel so lucky that I truly grasped the magnitude of who she was and managed to make sure she knew it while she was still able to hear me. She was the kind of soul who never harbored a single bitter thought or an ounce of selfishness; she never once complained. Instead, until her very last breath, she focused entirely on everyone else—especially Dad, my brother, and me, making sure our mental well-being stayed intact.

Her heart was so massive that trying to put it into words feels almost cliché. During this entire critical stretch, there were moments where I felt completely overwhelmed, and I found myself simply leaning on her sheer love and strength.

A beautiful soul... fly high. I love you.

🙂🙂😘
I am right there with you, heart and soul. May she rest in peace.

Kimberly Davis52 said:So you’re just an expert on every single infectious disease out there? 🙂

Look, I don't think anyone actually has a PhD in every single contagion under the sun, but when it comes to something like Hepatitis, people really ought to have a baseline level of knowledge. It’s a matter of basic health safety—minimizing infection risks—and social decency, too, so we aren't needlessly isolating or discriminating against those who are sick. This isn't some minor thing; it's a widespread infectious disease that's notoriously difficult to treat.

As far as Americans go, though, public awareness regarding most critical health issues is hovering somewhere between zero and a microscopic amoeba. Honestly, I wouldn't use "the general public" as any kind of reliable benchmark for how much people actually know about life-and-death matters.

quietsurfer9 said:We’re begging for any info that might help us out here. It honestly feels impossible to believe that every single radiation machine in the entire country is out of commission right now, and nobody can give a straight answer on when they’ll be fixed. We just can't wrap our heads around the idea that this is actually happening! If anyone has any intel on which specific hospitals still have working equipment, please let us know—maybe there's still a chance somewhere.
thanks in advance.

If you check out the website www.zanovidan.com, you'll find a directory of hospitals with oncology departments. At this point, the only real option is to sit down and start calling them one by one to see if their machines are actually functional.

granitebadger21 said:But I’m not waiting for a drug; I’m waiting for radiation therapy.

And what is radiation if not a medicine? Radiation is simply a method used to treat malignant diseases.

Maria Fox said:My goal wasn't to offend you.
And look, I get what you're saying, but it’s not actually relevant to me right now. It isn't important enough for me to spend the next ten days bickering about it in a space meant for something much more noble. I thought we could share our thoughts here, but after listening to your lecture on how the world works, I’ve realized I’d rather save my venting for people who don't fully grasp what I'm talking about—mostly because they aren't going through this either, thank God.

It’s about frustration. That’s where it all starts...
So, let's pull from the dictionary for a second:
"Frustration is a state of emotional tension, discomfort, unrest, and dissatisfaction, caused by obstacles or difficulties in achieving a certain goal or satisfying a need."
To put it bluntly: it's just anger, misery, rage, or whatever you want to call it when you feel completely powerless.
And don't tell me to just "make peace" with being sick (because I’m not that kind of person, regardless of any other reason) or to be okay with how painfully slow medical progress is. Yes, I am furious that we haven't found a way to prevent cancer altogether. But I am also helpless in this situation because I don't have the specialized knowledge or the massive bank account required to contribute to a medical breakthrough.

I hope that clarifies my headspace and helps you finally understand where I'm coming from—this helplessness is devastating.

And regarding the association, please don't take my comments as an attack. I truly value everything you do and how hard you try to change things, even if your actual capacity to do so feels limited.

As for you playing the altruist in a "world of frustrated people"...☕
If you were trying to belittle me by implying I’m not doing anything worthwhile (and by "worthwhile," I mean on a human level, like the work you do with the organization), you missed the mark. Besides, this isn't the place for self-promotion, which would be the only point of saying that.

Here she goes again. No, I wasn't trying to put you down. Honestly, reading it back, I see how it sounds, since you're clearly feeling frustrated by this powerlessness. My bad. I was referring to people who are generally frustrated by trivial nonsense. Let's just call it a draw—1 to 1. I took your comment about the association as you trying to soothe your own complex.
Regarding my take on frustration, I think I made myself clear. To me, frustration caused by the helplessness of illness is counterproductive. You can feel powerless without necessarily feeling "frustrated" in the sense of being angry. Personally, I was never frustrated by my mom's illness. Okay, fine, I lied—I *was* frustrated. I was frustrated that out of all the malignant diseases out there, my mother had to catch the one with absolutely zero good prognosis or chance from the very start... that was the part that floored me and kept me stuck for about fifteen minutes. Then, I fell into despair and lethargy, which I fought my way out of after six months. I decided we had to fight and stop obsessing over everything else if we wanted to stay sane and live as normally and healthily as possible. I was desperate, I was sad, and yeah, I was angry at the doctors and the system (meaning, I'm not helpless; I push for changes in certain situations), but I was never again "frustrated" directly because of my mom's condition. Maybe I'm crazy, but honestly, that mindset made it so much easier to handle the horrible situations I faced.

I really don't want to discuss this anymore. Clearly, we are starting from two different places regarding how we perceive this. Beyond that, it's incredibly difficult to talk to someone who interprets every single thing I write as a personal slight or an attack on their views. I'm genuinely sorry it's come to this.
When it comes to self-promotion, I don't see anything wrong with sharing your own story if the goal is to help others. Personally, I wouldn't hold it against you at all if you wanted to write about your own situation. That’s exactly why this thread exists—so we can actually get to know one another and clear up any confusion.

@granitebadger21/">@@granitebadger21
Listen, if you change your mind, give me a call. But before you do, ask that doctor if he’s truly ready to take full responsibility if things take a turn for the worse in two months. I am genuinely curious to hear how he handles that question.
The way your tumor is sitting right now is actually a silver lining; it hasn't moved into the pelvic area and is still contained within the uterine body, which is a huge win. We need to keep it that way. I’m no doctor, so I can't tell you exactly how fast a tumor like that might progress, but my philosophy is simple: you never, ever give cancer an inch of breathing room.

@granitebadger21/">@@granitebadger21
Reach out to the association so we can investigate why you're being kept waiting for so long. Besides, our Secretary of Health recently stated that no patient should be waiting more than a week for their medication. I'd say that applies to your situation too.
Regarding whether surgery is an option, there are several different factors that go into that call. In a case like this, you really ought to seek a second, if not a third opinion, with a full explanation.

Rebro doesn't have a gynecology department. You might want to try contacting the hospital at Holy Spirit.

Maria Fox said:Analogies are actually a logical method, I just don't see how you applied it here 😁
But whatever, this isn't the place to debate nonsense 😉

Look, I wasn't going to reply to you, but now I have to, because otherwise I'm just sitting here looking uneducated and dense.
Let me finally walk you through my thought process and the analogy I spotted here—since you once again wrote an observation that you yourself labeled as unimportant (which is why you bolded it). You also went after me in that other thread because you felt personally attacked by my view that life doesn't operate on some fair, predictable system. You took my stance as if I were lecturing you, stating: "...without the need for someone to explain that this is just life, because I am fully aware of that myself..." Well, here is my logic based on that analogy: if you already know that, why write it out as if you don't? It’s redundant, isn't it? A complete waste of breath.😉

And please, stop treating everything I write as a personal vendetta against you, for God's sake... and honestly, I have no idea what my work with the nonprofit has to do with anything I've said to you, let alone with anyone's frustrations or treatments 😕That actually feels insulting 😠. I work with the foundation because I'm trying to take all the negativity my family and I have faced and turn it into something positive—to give our tragedy some sense of purpose. Believe me, when you're trying to tackle the absolute garbage we deal with every single day for the benefit of everyone suffering, those frustrations feel like a hundred-ton weight. I am a pure altruist, no matter how strange that might seem to you in today's world of frustrated people. ☕
You have every right to be frustrated, but some things are just cold, hard facts, and that's what I was writing to you about . Everything else is just a matter of opinion. Sorry, but that's just how it is.🤷

Maria Fox said:Look, I honestly can't follow your logic. I have no idea how you reached the conclusion that any kind of frustration—or to put it more gently, any sense of distress—is somehow analogous to this. 🤷

With some people, even after they accept their diagnosis, certain frustrations just stick with them for life.

I respect what you're saying about the support group, I really do, but personally? I’m going to be frustrated forever. I’ll keep feeling this way until someone develops a treatment that actually works and stops making people suffer so much. I’m just not the type of person to sit back and accept things as they are. If the absolute worst were to happen, I might suppress those feelings just to get through the moment, but they wouldn't go anywhere.
Clearly, I completely misread the point of this thread, so there you go... 👋

It’s an analogy, not a logical proof.
😕
Anyway, I'm just as sorry as you are that we're talking past each other.

Maria Fox Asks:
Well... what else is there to say?
It’s crystal clear to me that life doesn't operate on some kind of "fairness meter." If things actually worked that way, we wouldn't be dealing with devastating illnesses—because nobody deserves to get sick—nor would we see the massive tragedies like famine, war, or the endless cycle of poverty and homelessness. Life just isn't rigged toward justice.
The whole point was that I’m exhausted from fighting this nightmare of a situation. You spend all your energy trying to spin a bad hand into something positive, only for some other jerk to show up and ruin it all. I wasn't looking for a debate; I was just venting my frustration. There’s really no need for anyone to lecture me about how "that's just life." I am fully aware of that reality myself.
I’ve had the chance to meet so many people who simply refuse to back down—people fighting tooth and nail because they have an unyielding love for life. Honestly, I admire them every single day. I feel that same deep respect for my mother, who is going through this exact same battle right now. So far, by some stroke of luck, she’s only dealing with one type of cancer, and I am praying it stays that way.

Look, the whole point was just venting some frustration. I’m fully aware that blowing off steam like this isn't actually going to change anything or get me any results. 👋

Then by that logic, venting your frustration is just as pointless, wouldn't you agree?😉

I’m sorry if you took my last post as a personal attack. That truly wasn't my intention, and honestly, that’s not what this thread is about at all. What I said was just me venting my own frustration regarding the sheer unfairness of everything. Unfortunately, there comes a point in this fight where simple frustration just gets swallowed up by much heavier, more complicated emotions—it happens when people hit those harder stages of their battle against illness, whether they're facing it head-on or dealing with the fallout. I really hope as few of us as possible have to go through that.

Maria Fox said:Ugh, honestly, it just drives me absolutely insane. 😠
It’s one of those twisted ironies of modern medicine: you go in to fight off one tumor, only to have the radiation treatment itself pave the way for a second one. 🙂

That just isn't fair. 😢
I’m only speaking up because I just read what was posted about Dini9.

Unfortunately, life doesn't operate on some kind of fair-play system. It doesn't work that way. You get hit with problems simply BECAUSE you exist, and once they land, your only move is to deal with them as best you can and try to squeeze every bit of positivity out of the wreckage. As for Dini9—whom I’ve actually had the privilege of meeting in person—I can tell you that she is significantly more resilient, positive, and centered than thousands of us who are perfectly healthy on paper but spend every single day whining and bellyaching over absolute nonsense.
Life is just plain weird.

Is it benign or malignant? And if it's malignant, are we talking primary or secondary?

If you want to check for malignancy, take a look at www.zanovidan.com—they have a database covering various types of cancer
.
Our friend Grace Fowler is actually fighting a bladder tumor right now that developed as a complication from her ovarian cancer treatment. I'm sure she'll reach out to you herself.

Honestly, calling them parasites is a stretch; we’re basically living in symbiosis with these little guys.
You should have seen that killer documentary they aired on the Discovery Channel about it a while back.👍

quietpilot87 said:Mom took a turn for the worse today.
Dad and I showed up thinking it was just a standard visit, only to find out she had to undergo emergency procedures this morning. Her fever spiked, her breathing got erratic—it’s all a bit of a blur. The nurse actually pulled us aside later and admitted she thought it was over for her.
But, miraculously, they pulled through. She’s even asking for water and soup; she actually managed some pudding earlier. They have her on oxygen, and she’s mostly just resting. Her speech is getting harder to follow, but she’s still lucid, still herself.
Dad already called the priest, since that was something she asked for about a month ago back when things were stable.

My heart breaks for Dad. I think he’s just waiting for the floor to fall out from under him.

quietpilot87, we went through this exact same thing with my mom, and it was more than a year before she finally passed. Everyone was certain the end had come.
The thing is, when it actually happens, you're usually least prepared for it.
My mom was also given palliative care at that stage. She was in a semi-comatose state, but the second the priest left the room, she opened her eyes.
Don't lose hope.

How? By being damn lucky you figured out the truth before they stabbed you in the back at the absolute worst possible moment. For me, my "friends" vanished into thin air the second my mother got seriously ill and I had to step up to take care of her. Not a single one of them even bothered to check in to see if I was still breathing.
Those kinds of reality checks are actually a godsend.
Look forward toward the future and focus on the people who actually earn your love and attention. Everything else is just dead weight from the past that isn't worth a second thought.

Bryan Anderson2 said:Hello

For several months now, I have been experiencing strange chest pains when I try to nap during the day. It isn't exactly an ache, but rather a sensation of suffocation and burning, almost as if my lungs were running a high fever. The pressure is quite intense.

Furthermore, breathing feels labored during the day; I can only take shallow breaths, and I have to strain myself just to get a full inhalation.

The same thing happens at night when I lie down to sleep—I struggle to breathe and feel suffocated.

At times, it even feels as though I might swallow my own tongue.

Does anyone have any words of comfort or advice?
I am currently caught up in a busy schedule and haven't had the chance to see a doctor yet.

P.S.

I smoke a pack a day, though it doesn't seem to bother my roommate. 🤷

You probably have GERD.
Check the existing thread.

briskscout583 said:Hi everyone,

I’m going to skip the long-winded medical debates about cures or diagnoses and get straight to the point. I need some help finding urgent residential placement and professional nursing care for my dad...

The facts:
- He’s 67.
- Heavy smoker from age 15 to 65.
- Vascular system atrophy.
- October 1st: Suffered a mild stroke (which happened to be the first day of my mom's retirement). During that same visit, they found a shadow on his lungs. He was discharged on November 14th to the pulmonary unit at the local hospital.
- October 30th: Confirmed advanced adenocarcinoma in both lungs with metastases—he’s started chemotherapy.
- November 2nd: Second stroke (coincidentally on my birthday). This one was much worse; visible on the CT scan, severe ischemia in the frontal lobe. He’s developed dementia, doesn't recognize me or my mom, has no sense of time or place, and currently requires physical restraints to stay in bed.
- Friday, Nov 8th, 4:00 PM: The hospital informed us he’s being discharged this coming Monday, Nov 11th.

Given how incredibly difficult he is to care for in this state—dealing with catheters, IVs, and restraints—I urgently need recommendations for a facility or specialized care home that can take him and provide dignified nursing care. Fortunately, finances aren't an issue for us right now.

From what we’ve gathered so far, most facilities are completely full, especially with such short notice before Monday.

Please let me know:
- Which institutions are high-quality and professional (even when we aren't there to supervise)?
- What are the typical costs?
- Where is there actual availability?
- Any other good ideas?

Thanks in advance.
Best,

Look, you have a list of facilities on the "for a new day" association forum under the palliative care section. There isn't a magic shortcut here; you just have to sit down and start calling them one by one. Honestly, the situation is pretty much the same everywhere you look.
Your other option is to rent a hospital bed for the house (medical supply companies do this, and it costs roughly $100 bucks) and hire a private caregiver to stay with him at home. In many cases, that actually ends up being cheaper than a facility.
I am truly sorry things escalated so fast. Just keep in mind that it will mean the world to him if he gets to spend his final days surrounded by family, which, looking at the situation, seems likely. It will also matter deeply to you later on; you won't have to live with the crushing "what ifs" regarding whether you could have done more, and having that peace of mind is vital.😢.

Nancy Thomas18 said:Hey everyone... my results finally arrived all neatly packaged, but they're absolute garbage. Intestinal inflammation, swollen lymph nodes in the abdomen, and some other crap on the ascending colon... I'm honestly just sitting here wondering what the hell is going to come of all this.

Come on, look—it might look grim right now, but that doesn't mean it's the end of the road. Just brace yourself, take the hits, and whatever happens, you're going to keep fighting. It’s going to get better, it has to! Hang in there and remember that you are one hell of a woman!😉

ruggedraven29 said:A few days ago, our family hit a wall when we were faced with a heavy diagnosis. My mom was diagnosed with a liver tumor that has already spread to her lymph nodes. The doctor down in Miami basically told us that modern medicine has reached its limit with her case.

Just like so many others before us, we want to look into alternative treatment paths because there isn't much left to expect from standard protocols. She’s still full of life, cheerful, and active—she's always been that way. What have your experiences been like? Who can we reach out to for some actual hope?

Use Google to hunt down specialized clinics that focus specifically on these kinds of cases. Once you track them down, send over copies of all the medical records and ask for their expert opinion. It might not be free, but it usually isn't so expensive that it's out of reach. You can handle the whole process via email.
From what I've seen secondhand, there is almost always an exit strategy offered to people who have been "written off." Unfortunately, in this country, doctors often throw up their hands the moment they don't see a path toward a permanent cure, which is a fundamentally flawed way to approach medicine. The goal here is to buy time, because plenty of brilliant drugs are just sitting in the wings waiting for the green light for clinical application.

quietpilot87 said:Today, I finally broke. 😢
I knew this moment was coming eventually. Well, today was the day.
My mom's roommate moved out, so I stayed over at her place a little longer than planned. And then, it just happened—I snapped. I started sobbing. A million thoughts came rushing through my head at once; I couldn't maintain that cold, detached shell I've been clinging to for the last two months. She hugged me, and I just crumbled even harder.
She’s so small now, almost like a child, yet she’s still so incredibly nurturing. It’s like those medications have sucked away all her anxiety and fear, leaving behind nothing but her true self: this beautiful, caring soul who isn't even fully aware of her own condition. Instead, she just worries about everyone else—about her brother, about me... I try to hide my tears so she won't see, hugging her while I weep, and she just tells me what an amazing daughter I am and how lucky she feels to have me. I just lost it, damn it all. I feel like I could have been a better daughter a thousand times over. I should have seen the real HER sooner, seen her essence, fought with her less, hugged her more, and told her the truth—how much I LOVE her and how incredible I think she is.

And she doesn't hold anything against me. She doesn't remember the friction; she just wants me to be okay.
Life is brutal.
My darling, my dearest... 😢

Tinchi, listen to me: you are exactly who you need to be. You are the most wonderful creature to your mother, and regardless of whether she thinks you did things perfectly or made mistakes, her love for you remains unchanged. Don't beat yourself up for breaking down in front of her... even if you hadn't, a mother knows her child. She feels everything you're going through. That's the bond between a mother and daughter.
You've been doing the absolute best you can. She's still here. Tell her you love her and tell her how wonderful she is. One day, hopefully much later, it might be too late to say these vital things.
Give her a huge hug—the kind of hug I would give her so desperately right now, a hug I haven't been able to give for a year.