Posts by Angela Wright

Melissa Kim45 said:When it comes to the carcinoma, my mom is actually doing better. It didn't show up on the X-ray anymore, so they sent her back for another bronchoscopy. She refused to do it, and we backed her up on that decision. That first one was incredibly, incredibly hard on her. Then they sent her for a CT scan, and the doctor says the results look clean. I honestly don't know how much weight to put on all this, though—we're dealing with small cell lung cancer here, after all. They said they’d mail the results, but things are a total mess at the clinic right now because they're doing some renovations over in Jordanovac and everything has been moved around. Her next checkup (definitely electrolytes, but I'm not sure about anything else yet) is in two weeks. She’s scheduled for another round of chemo in December. Beyond that, I'm still in the dark.

Have you guys considered a PET-CT? I think that might provide much clearer answers.

Carol Ramirez said:We buried my Grandfather today—my second father and my biggest rock.
I honestly don't know how to move forward. Everywhere I look, there are just reminders of our fight: the bottles of meds he was taking, everything I used to prep for him, the prescriptions, the lab results, his glasses. If I could, I’d just run away to Mars.

This is just devastating. It feels like everyone we love is slipping away lately.😢
My dear, I am so incredibly sorry. I truly, honestly believed he was going to pull through. I had such a good feeling about him.
Please take comfort in knowing you were right there fighting alongside him. He already performed a miracle just by defying the odds and pushing past those grim prognoses. He was a powerhouse in every sense of the word, and clearly, you inherited that strength from him.
Hang in there.

Michelle Hernandez43 said:Dear Angela Wright, you've always been such an inspiration to us all.
How have you been holding up lately?

I'm doing alright. I just got back home from St. Louis today. Mom had a beautiful send-off at the house. It was tough, honestly, but at the same time, I felt this massive wave of pride for her—so many people showed up, and so many were genuinely moved to tears. She was truly loved.
Every now and then, the sadness hits me hard, but I somehow manage to pull myself together each time. She’s still right here with me; I can feel her presence.

Ancica, you have the same name as my mom😢 I know exactly what you’re going through, but let me tell you something... nothing ever turns out quite the way we expect it to. My mother endured so much more than any prognosis ever predicted. There is still so much you can do for her. Honestly, look into finding a bioenergetic specialist or a herbalist—you can find plenty of great folk healers all over the US. I personally know a guy living in NYC, a biochemist whom doctors had basically given up on, so he started treating himself. He gathered certain herbs, concocted his own liquid remedy, and healed himself. Now he helps others. People come to him with their diagnoses, and he crafts specific tinctures for them. I can look into his name and let you know.
You have to live strictly in the here and now. Tomorrow is a total mystery; it doesn't even exist yet. You have to frame things in your head this way, otherwise, you'll just snap, and that won't help anyone. Our loved ones get sick, and eventually, everyone passes away, but we have to keep moving forward with our lives regardless. Keep that in mind every single day, and always ask yourself what your mother would say or advise you to do.
The strength is inside you. Don't be afraid of anything; you can handle whatever God puts in your path, no matter how insurmountable things feel right now. This is coming from a soul that has suffered deeply and felt exactly what you are feeling at this very moment. And don't forget, you aren't alone.
Hang in there, hugs

slyseal28 said:Tomorrow, carcinoms.com should be featured in The Morning News as a web feature—look for it on the second to last page, right under the weather report. Fingers crossed!

😍 👍

Amanda Williams64 said:Or anyone who might know the right place to take this...
Where can I file a formal complaint or publicly put someone on blast—specifically an individual acting as a "director of a nursing home"—who brutally insults a family member just for showing up to request placement for a disabled loved one in their facility?

Go to the Department of Social Services. But honestly, don't hold your breath; you’ll just end up spinning your wheels. And whatever you do, don't go public with it unless you have witnesses to back you up, otherwise, they could sue you for libel.

wanderingranger3 said:You misunderstood me. I'm just asking if it's actually possible for a benign tumor to cause edema.

It's absolutely possible. Any growth in or on the brain acts like a physical intruder, pushing against the surrounding tissue, which then reacts by swelling up with fluid—that's your edema.

Nancy Hernandez43 said:Here I am... and honestly, who knows. She spent half the day on an IV drip, but the dizziness just won't quit. CT scan, EKG... everything came back fine.

She’s heading back in a few days. My guess is this morning was just a massive spike from stress and high blood pressure. I really doubt it's anything major because, frankly, we aren't ready for that kind of news.

Mom is doing okay, though she can't quite wrap her head around all of this. I wasn't online earlier to give you guys a heads-up at a decent hour.

Angela Wright, thanks for checking in. How are you holding up? You've been on my mind constantly... kiss

I'm doing better. The initial shock has finally worn off. We're picking up the urn today and heading to St. Louis, where we'll lay her to rest in the family plot tomorrow. To be honest, I'm dreading going through the whole thing again—all the funerals, the eulogies, reliving those final moments... I'd skip it all in a heartbeat if I could, but I owe it to our relatives down south; they're older and couldn't make the trip up to NYC.
Dad, Goga, and I have already started looking toward the future. Dad will be home for two weeks now. He still has some vacation time left, and he seriously needs to just sit down and decompress. We're going to use this time to sort through her things, give the apartment a deep clean, repaint her room, and reorganize the layout. There's a lot of work ahead, especially since we haven't dealt with this kind of stuff in two years.
Life moves on. Does it hurt? Yeah, it hurts. But Mom hasn't truly been *with* us for a long time; she was just existing in a vegetative state. If anything, the pain is sharper now because the hope is finally gone.

I still have the box of Prozac left, and I’d much rather donate it to someone in Canada or Mexico. Over there, you have to pay for everything out of pocket since there aren't any subsidies from their insurance providers, and a single carton costs about $23 if I remember correctly. So, if anyone wants it, shoot me a PM and I'll make sure it gets to someone who actually needs it.

jadetinker42 said:.

On a serious note, my heart goes out to Jane. You can't just surrender when you lose people you love. It honestly feels like, despite giving it everything you have and fighting with every ounce of willpower, this disease often wins in the end. Those who make it through sometimes feel like they need to go light a candle at Vatican City just to feel like they've been reborn...

Best to everyone.

Yeah, that’s how it looks, but it doesn't have to be that way. I lost my mom, but I still believe it’s possible to beat any form of cancer.
My mother was operated on by a top-tier neurosurgeon—the absolute best in the field—and he gave us a grim prognosis of maybe one year left. Instead, she fought for nearly two and a half years. We might have had even more time if they hadn't lied to us and kept it quiet that we could continue therapy with Unknown, simply because Medicare refuses to foot the bill.
Healing is a whole process; it's not just about the medical side of things, it involves a massive range of other equally vital factors. Every single moment I spent with my mom was precious, and if there were any way to squeeze out more time, we would have taken it. My mom survived those two-plus years solely because of the highest quality palliative care available at home. She passed away in her own house, full, clean, and comfortable, held in the arms of her daughter and husband. We are all limited in this life, which is why I’ll be lighting a candle at Vatican City, praying to God for the mercy to eventually pass away under those same good conditions. It isn't all about the drugs; there is so much power in love, faith, hope, and care.

Thank you both for your condolences.

Nancy Hernandez43 said:Way to go! I just finished reading the article in the paper, and my mom sends her best to everyone here! We’re having a pretty rough day today—Dad isn't feeling well, and we've all been spiraling a bit worrying about him too. Later today, I'm going to walk Mom through www.carcinoms.com so she can start wrapping her head around everything. I'm sure she will!

Hang in there and keep pushing forward! Sending love from San Francisco!

😲
Hopefully it’s nothing serious; maybe the weather change is just getting to him.😕
Keep us posted, we're thinking of you.😢

slyseal28, congrats! I honestly think we're watching something massive take shape here—maybe even bigger than any of us can wrap our heads around right now.
It all started with me giving this thread a little nudge, then you kicked things up a notch with a new page, and now we’ve actually made it into the news... you see how those dominoes fall? It's snowballing, and it's only getting bigger.👍

northernfox9 said:My dad passed away forever on November 8th at 8:30 AM. The battle is lost, but I believe God always knows best and has a plan, and that he’s in a much more beautiful place now...

Angela Wright, please accept my deepest condolences.

A huge thank you to everyone who has stood by us over these last 10 months.

Honey, I am so sorry. I hope you can find some comfort in knowing, just like I have, that we did everything humanly possible—we gave everything we had, even more than we ever thought we were capable of giving.😢

Yesterday, we said our final goodbyes to my mom at the crematorium. There was such an incredible turnout; people showed up whom I didn't even recognize, but that’s just how she was. Her gentle nature, her vibrant spirit, and her pure kindness left a mark on everyone she met.
These are the darkest days of my life. Her photos are sitting right there on the table. She’s looking back at me with that constant smile, and it hits me all over again—I can't believe I won't be able to touch her or hear that ringing laughter of hers, or the sound of her quick footsteps in the hallway. I won't be able to run my hands through those blue-streaked locks of hers or look into those warm, deep eyes. No more listening to her little catchphrases and jokes, no more eating her homemade cheese pies, or grabbing coffee with her on the Boardwalk... It’s like a montage of memories playing on loop in my head, and every single one screams "never again."
On Monday, we’re taking her ashes down to San Diego, and by Tuesday, she’ll finally be at rest alongside her mother, father, aunts, and grandmother. They loved her beyond measure.

"Farewell, my one and only,
Sleep peacefully by the beauty of Central Park.
Stay with me, goodbye, let the sun warm you,
And may the seagulls watch over you."

Finally, this exhausting day is over. I’m sitting down to get some thoughts out before I try to catch some sleep, and I want to thank everyone again for the kind words. Some of your posts really touched my heart.

The morning kicked off at 5:30 AM with my dad panicking because Mom had choked on some cream of wheat and couldn't breathe. I spent a solid 15 minutes performing CPR; she managed two gasping breaths, vomited once, and then her pulse just vanished. I was massaging her chest while we waited for the paramedics, who arrived almost immediately. They pumped her with adrenaline, cleared her airways, tried everything to resuscitate her... but nothing worked.
Even though deep down I knew the end was near, the sheer speed and violence of how she passed caught me completely off guard. Because things had been dragging on for so long, I expected it to be a slow fade—just one day where she’d gradually drift off and stop breathing.
Maybe this was actually better for everyone involved. It was fast, almost instantaneous, and she took her last breath right in my arms. I was terrified she wouldn't go peacefully in her sleep; I desperately wanted to be there.
I was also struck by this strange numbness that washed over me during the entire resuscitation attempt. Watching her blue lips and dilated pupils... I felt totally numb, stuck in this state of disbelief, like I was watching a movie of someone else's life.
That fog has hung over me all day. I’ve only found myself crying when dear friends stopped by to talk about the woman she was before the illness took hold.
Perhaps I’m feeling this way because I actually mourned her a long time ago. Even while she was still alive, I used to be hit by these terrifying waves of grief—the realization that she was slipping away and my inability to say anything to her, ask her things, or tell her stories and have her answer back.
The hardest part is likely what comes next: being left alone in this house and facing the true void. I think the most brutal transition will be moving from a "normal routine" that has been centered entirely around her for the last two years, to a sudden, jarring reality where I have to focus entirely on myself.
As always, I’m putting my faith in God’s providence to light my path forward.

And one last thing:
I found out today that a close friend of mine—someone who beat Hodgins and was told she’d never be able to conceive—is pregnant again. She’s my mother’s godmother, and I can't help but feel like my mom traded her own life for this pregnancy.
Life is beautiful and bizarre.

Thanks, everyone.

My mom passed away peacefully this morning.
I just wanted to say thank you to everyone here for standing by me during one of the hardest chapters of my life.
Love you all! May God bless you in everything you're fighting through. Keep pushing forward.

Jose Miller3 said:But wait, isn't it actually from eating too much fat instead????

That's part of it, sure, but don't forget about this side of things too.

Your triglycerides are spiking because you're overloading on carbs—think white bread or pasta.
Try not to mix everything together on one plate. You should probably look into restructuring your meals based on some of those UN diet principles.
Cut out the sugar and soda entirely, and don't even think about touching alcohol. Give your liver some breathing room to actually recover.

We really need to get this page updated. Everyone, please jump in—we need all hands on deck to support those dealing with Sickness and anyone else who might suddenly hit that wall we’ve all become so intimately acquainted with. I promised slyseal28 I’d lend a hand, but now that I'm back home, things have gotten so hectic that I just haven't been able to get moving.😢

My mom has been feeling absolutely terrible for a few days now😢. She picked up a fever today, though it’s hovering right around 99.3°F. Her breathing is labored—it's like she's gasping for air like a fish out of water. Her blood pressure is totally fine, but her heart rate was spiking up to 120, though it's settled down to about 100 for the moment. We went to see the doctor, and they said there aren't any murmurs; apparently, even though her pulse is fast, it’s a steady rhythm without any arrhythmia. Tomorrow, the home health nurse is coming back to draw blood, and once again, I have to spend the entire day trying to catch a urine sample in a cup. Both of these tasks feel like mission impossible in this twilight zone we're living in.😢
Honestly, I think she needs to be on oxygen. Does anyone know how to get a tank delivered to the house? This local clinic is claiming they can only provide it if she's actually admitted to the hospital.

Hannah Thomas28 said:I need help!
Does anyone have experience dealing with pancreatic cancer?
My mom was diagnosed with cancer in the head of her pancreas just a month ago. She was admitted to the hospital with "painless" jaundice; we originally thought it was just gallstones. She’s had surgery now, and they removed the lymph nodes just to be safe. There are no metastases. Though, from what I can gather, it doesn't even matter if there are—it's bad enough that it's right there in the pancreas itself.
The statistics are devastating. They told us she might only have 2 to 6 months, even though she seems doing okay right now.
No chemo, no radiation...
They even told us to let her eat whatever she wants! And not to tell her the truth!!! Of course, we told her, but we didn't mention the survival rates.
And I can't find a single person who actually recovered! Or at least lived much longer.
I feel hopeless... This Sickness is terrifying.

Don't look at the statistics! That is the absolute worst thing you can do to yourself when you're just starting this fight. It's a self-inflicted wound. Don't waste a single ounce of your energy or your thoughts on statistical data.
Every person is different, and every cancer is different. Just live your life and focus on making the quality of that life as high as possible! Look into alternative options, but don't turn your back on conventional medicine at the same time. Get a second opinion. We have people here who have sent their medical records to world-renowned hospitals like the Mayo Clinic or Johns Hopkins and actually received real answers.
Sickness is terrifying, but you'll feel immediate relief once you start fighting back and hunting down every possible answer and chance available.
That initial moment of realization is the most brutal and shocking part; eventually, a person adapts and pours everything into the fight, learning how to accept and carry the heavy stuff.
Let me repeat something I've said before: In my experience, all those tiny percentages in those damn statistics representing survivors are actually the people who bit into their fight by completely transforming themselves. They changed their mindset, their lifestyle, worked on their spiritual growth, used holistic treatments, and reconnected with nature and family. Naturally, the love and support of family and friends is absolutely vital... all of these things are powerful weapons in the war against any cancer, just as important as chemo or radiation.
We've had plenty of stories here about people who were written off a long time ago but are still living healthy lives today. Just know that there are large groups of "numbers" in the real world that aren't included in research because those people simply stopped calling their oncologists.