Posts by Angela Wright

Jamie Jones8 said:Hi everyone...

A close friend of mine was diagnosed with stomach cancer... they had to perform surgery to remove her entire stomach... and according to the doctor, she caught it "just in time." She lives in another state, and I honestly never imagined how incredibly difficult it would be to talk about this disease. I keep trying to stay upbeat and optimistic, but I feel like I'm being "transparent," so I don't really know the specific medical details...
All I know is that I'm absolutely devastated. When she told me tonight that the cancer has metastasized to her bones and she’s starting a new round of chemo and radiation, I just broke down in tears.
...She started feeling pain in her back..😢😢😢😢 and she’s been complaining about how intense it is for days now... I was terrified to hear the results of the bone scan.

Can the therapy actually help, and is there any hope of stopping this downward spiral?😢

Radiation is used specifically for bone metastases, and it’s usually the most effective approach.
Look, it’s hard to give much insight when you don't have the full clinical picture. No target is a good one, and the circumstances are definitely grim, but these types of situations are managed in modern medicine every day.
But you? You need to stop the crying and quit internalizing this as if it's your own crisis to solve. This is your friend, and she is the one living through the reality of this. It’s hard on you because you love her, but don't make it harder for her. A lot of people pull away or shut down entirely because the guilt of "bringing others down" with their illness becomes a heavier burden than the actual disease itself. So, pull yourself together and just *be there* for her. Don't pity her and don't mourn her while she's still fighting. She is in the trenches, and she needs you to be her rock when she starts to waver.

Nancy Robinson26 said:URGENT!

Does anyone have experience with specific supplements to help bring down a fever quickly during chemo? I think she isn't receiving treatment right now because her temperature keeps fluctuating wildly...

Anyone undergoing chemotherapy who develops a fever needs to seek medical attention immediately—it’s non-negotiable. A high temperature is a massive red flag; it often means the immune system has been compromised by the chemo, leaving the door wide open for an infection. If you don't get antibiotics into the system fast enough, things can turn lethal very quickly.
Beyond that, there isn't much you can do besides standard over-the-counter stuff like Tylenol, Advil, or Aleve, but you absolutely have to consult a doctor regarding antibiotics. Masking a fever with painkillers can be dangerous because it hides what's actually happening inside the body, potentially allowing a serious situation to spiral out of control before anyone realizes the gravity of it.

Edward Gray5, I honestly think quite a bit of what you wrote belongs over in the alternativa subforum. You're definitely playing in a gray area here, and this specific board's rules are pretty clear about sticking to discussions centered on mainstream, scientifically accepted treatments—the kind backed by actual randomized studies and solid evidence-based medicine.

Henry Lee38 said:They put in his drain back in March. The fluid is still leaking out of it. It slows down for a bit, then his legs swell up again, and before you know it, they have to expand the drainage system just to keep up.
My mom mentioned he’ll be staying in the hospital longer; apparently, he spoke with a doctor who needs to take another look at the swelling in his legs.

I'm trying my hardest to stay strong because I know how much he relies on me, and he goes out of his way to hide the struggle so I won't see it. They didn't even give me the full details for a month or two while I was busy carrying around paperwork just to extend his medical leave. Only then did they finally admit it was cancer. Honestly... I had a gut feeling from the very start, but I kept trying to convince myself it wasn't true.

From what I can gather, he’s had about 6 or 8 doses of albumin during these five days in the hospital. Now they’re just waiting on more test results and some lab work they ran here.

Thanks for the support, regardless.

In "real life," I know I have to hold it together. I have an older daughter who is incredibly close to her grandfather—she can tell something is wrong—and then there's my youngest, who, thank God, doesn't understand anything yet. On top of that, I feel like I have to be the cheerleader for my mom to keep her spirits up. But lately, I feel like I'm hitting a breaking point. 🙂

I know exactly how you feel. Your family thought they were protecting you by withholding the truth, but all they really did was make the shock hit ten times harder once everything spiraled. If they had been upfront from day one, you could have processed it gradually and adjusted as things unfolded. I know this is agonizing, but you have to realize there is nothing more you can physically do for your dad right now. You have to protect your own health and look after your kids. As brutal as this situation is, we all eventually have to face this reality—the fact that our parents are temporary and that we will lose them. Having walked this path myself, I can tell you that as heavy as it feels, it’s a natural part of life, and nature finds a way to help us endure it. When things get dark, just remember that.
Spend as much time with him as possible and talk about the good times and the memories you share. It will mean the world to him, and honestly, it’ll help you too. Everything will unfold exactly as it's meant to. Hang in there.

wiredbison14 said:Hi everyone. My son (21) was diagnosed with a malignant testicular tumor. He finished chemo and things are looking good now. However, we’ve hit a bit of a crossroads regarding his first follow-up scan. Before the chemo started, he had a CT scan, and now his doctor has ordered another one. When we went to schedule it, the technician on duty looked visibly shaken and advised us to request an MRI instead, mentioning that for younger patients at their facility, an MRI is the standard protocol. After looking into both options, my son and I feel much more comfortable with an MRI because there's no radiation involved—no risk of secondary cancer issues. I’m looking for some advice here: can I refuse the CT and opt for the MRI, and which one do you think is actually the better choice?

An MRI is definitely superior when it comes to avoiding radiation exposure, but honestly, I have no idea why the doctor specifically requested a CT over an MRI; that's entirely down to the physician's clinical judgment. My advice? Reach out to the doctor and frame it carefully. Don't make it sound like you're accusing them—just mention that a technician suggested an MRI might be more appropriate for someone his age and ask if they could double-check the order just to ensure everything is correct. It keeps the conversation professional rather than confrontational. In medicine, everything boils down to weighing risks against benefits. If that specific CT provides data that an MRI simply can't capture, then the doctor has every right to order it despite the radiation.

I am truly sorry to hear this 😢
I’m no doctor, but speaking as someone with some experience in navigating these situations, I’m worried. This fluid buildup suggests that Dad might have moved into the terminal stage of his illness. At this point, we're likely looking at symptomatic management—things like diuretics or perhaps even a procedure to insert a drain so that fluid can escape. You should really consult with a private internist in San Francisco or reach out to a palliative care team. Those specialists deal with this exact scenario every single day.
Hang in there, and try to be his rock right now.

edit: I can't edit my previous post anymore, but instead of saying "ascites"—which refers to fluid buildup caused by liver failure—I accidentally wrote "abscess," which means something entirely different and has nothing to do with Dad's condition. That was a slip of the tongue, my apologies. 🙈

Unfortunately, nobody is going to do that for you for free.😢
You might want to check with Mayo Clinic, though obviously, there’s a cost involved. Beyond that, you have private specialists like Dr. Smith—just Google it, and you'll find all the contact info instantly.
The fact that they're collecting fluid is a clear sign the disease is progressing. You don't necessarily need to see malignant cells in the puncture sample to know what's happening. Since your dad was already showing jaundice at the start of treatment, it's obvious the liver was already compromised, and these kinds of abscesses are a telltale sign that the organ is failing. Given that he's diabetic, it's honestly a miracle he's managed to hold out against the illness this long.
For your own peace of mind, even if they had taken him seriously at the local clinic right away, it wouldn't have changed the outcome in his case. It's possible to catch ovarian cancer early enough with routine abdominal ultrasounds, but by the time actual symptoms kick in, the disease is almost always quite advanced. That's why ovarian cancer is widely considered one of the most insidious types of cancer.

It’s highly likely Mom is dealing with a severe bladder infection, and if those bacteria have migrated to her kidneys, they could enter her bloodstream. We're talking about the risk of sepsis here. If she hasn't shown any signs of improvement by now, she absolutely needs to head to the ER immediately. If the infection has already become systemic, she's going to need heavy-duty antibiotics and potentially an overnight stay at the hospital.
I find it hard to believe it's a brain tumor. A nasty bacterial infection can cause all of these symptoms. Once you clear the infection, things should settle down. Otherwise, following a head injury, people often deal with lingering headaches or migraines.

Rebecca Morris54 said:Hey everyone!
Since I just moved to this Suburban neighborhood, I need to find a new doctor. My current GP is amazing, but she’s just way too far away now... So, I'm on the hunt for a solid, conscientious, easy-to-reach, and friendly general practitioner. Does anyone have any recommendations?

I did a little digging online, and both Lidija Drobnjak-Pušnik and
Zorica Pahor-Zdravev seem to be highly rated... has anyone actually seen them? What are they like—do they get straight to the point and take action, or are they all talk and no substance? Also, are they older or younger? (Not that it matters much, I'm just trying to get a feel for their vibe.)

I could also use a recommendation for a dermatologist at Siget Medical Center if there's one available!
Thanks in advance!!! 🙂

I've been seeing Dr. Chawala since I was in elementary school. She's incredibly kind, approachable, and super flexible with scheduling. The nurse isn't exactly the friendliest person you'll meet—she's more perpetually grumpy than anything else—but honestly, I haven't had a single bad experience with her over all these years, so you have my full endorsement.

Amanda Anderson87 said:We’re doing everything within our power, but what kills you is just how little we can actually influence...

That’s one way to look at it. Maybe we can't fight biology and the laws of nature—those are heavy hitters—but we aren't just machines; we're spiritual beings. We love and we are loved, and honestly, that's the whole point of being alive. The fact that you're standing by his side, ensuring he doesn't have to face this alone through the storm, is a massive blessing. We're all fragile, temporary flickers in the dark. When a life finally wraps up, the number of years on the calendar matters far less than the substance of those years. It’s like a candle; it doesn't matter if it burned for a hundred hours or ten if it spent its time flickering out in total isolation and resentment. What matters is the quality. Hold onto your family peace and stay close to one another; everything else is in God's hands, and let's hope for the best.
I hope you get to spend the holidays surrounded by the peace and love of your family.

Listen, Carl Kern66, sometimes the nature of an illness is such that both the primary tumor and any metastases are microscopic, yet the complications start regardless. Using phrases like "if only" or "what if" is just empty speculation. Don't let it weigh you down; that’s all in the past, and if there were something significant to be seen, someone would have spotted it by now. For heaven's sake, it's not like everyone lacks common sense.
It is what it is. I know you were probably hoping for some kind of plot twist from that second opinion, but try to flip the script. Look at it this way: you now have confirmation that he's receiving the best possible care. Anything beyond that is honestly just spinning your wheels. You take it one day at a time and tackle whatever hurdles pop up in your path. Even finding out that lemon juice actually helps him—that's a small win in the bag.
Take it easy; you're doing everything humanly possible.

You really ought to clean your fruits and veggies by soaking them in a bowl of water mixed with baking soda. I remember my niece's husband was told to do exactly that. As for the meds, the treatment is pretty standard; it mostly just stops the vomiting. Personally, I think the nausea is more of a psychological thing. A friend of mine used to absolutely gorge herself on pizza during chemo—she’d feel fine while eating, then she’d throw up later. After that, she couldn't look at a slice of pizza again for the rest of her life.

cosmiclynx14 said:redfox81 I know it’s brutal. It is incredibly hard to find any sense of hope once you've already been through the wringer and seen the reality of the situation. I went through this exact same nightmare recently when I found out my dad had metastases. That one word—metastases—felt like the beginning of the end, and I just couldn't shake that feeling no matter how hard I tried. I would tell my dad one thing, but inside, my mind was racing with total dread. But eventually, once the initial shock wears off, you just start fighting. Even the smallest wins feel like hitting the jackpot. It doesn't have to be a massive breakthrough; sometimes it's just seeing him actually have an appetite, or getting a decent blood count back before chemo. We’re constantly scouting for treatment options abroad, too. We fight every single day. For me, faith was the anchor. I believe in God, and that’s where I found my peace... and honestly, miracles really do happen, you know? 😉

Also, quick question—is it safe to take Avemar alongside beta-glucan and raw propolis?
He’s been using the beta-glucan and propolis from the start, and now his doctor suggested Avemar, but my dad didn't think to ask if mixing them all together was okay.

Absolutely! In fact, I just finished reading an abstract for a study on PubMed: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20155632

Nicole Richardson51 said:Thanks for getting back to me.

We actually went to the pain management center, where they gave her some plasters—though I’m not sure if they’re the same ones you mentioned—and some tablets that absolutely wrecked her stomach.
After a month of zero progress, the doctor just gave up on those and switched her over to a different prescription.

I agree that we were kept in the dark, mostly because the doctor refuses to give us a straight answer. She just keeps looping back, insisting this is all just a consequence of the surgery, without offering any actual guidance on how to manage it.
To be honest, the pain itself is tormenting my grandmother more than the melanoma ever did.
She can't sleep properly or function at all because of it.

In my experience, I haven't met a single woman who dealt with these specific issues.
And I'm talking about women who were right there in the hospital room with her, going through the exact same thing or something very similar.

Oh, and one more thing—she keeps complaining about feeling like there's a sharp thorn stuck in that spot.😕
And whatever way she moves her arm, that sensation shifts around inside her too.😕
I honestly don't know how to describe it better, since she can't quite put the feeling into words herself either.

On top of the lymphedema, she's dealing with neuropathic pain too... You really should reach out to Dr. Miller at the outpatient pain clinic at Mount Sinai. He has extensive experience handling these exact types of cases. He can tailor a specialized therapy plan to cover that entire spectrum of pain she's experiencing; you just have to tackle it head-on with someone who knows what they're doing.
Phone: 212-376-2000

redfox81 said:I get why you’re frustrated, but honestly, no doctor has ever mentioned a cure to us. It’s always been about survival rates. Right after her first surgery, Dr. Miller told us straight up: she’s got five years, maybe six at most.
Once she moved over to oncology, Dr. Smith told us it’s human nature to hold onto hope. Along with her standard chemo, they suggested we BUY Taxol as an add-on. For some reason, the hospital wouldn't cover it under insurance. Probably because they were too busy playing politics with whoever was running things back then. So, we’re doing 12 doses of Taxol, 130 ml $1233 per dose, and just pushing forward.
After her latest brain surgery, the surgeon, Dr. Anderson, basically told us, "I'm sorry, it's malignant and quite large. We did everything we could on our end; now it's up to oncology to see if there's anything left to do."
There isn't much room for optimism here. She knows the deal—the doctors haven't kept her in the dark—and she has the full support of the family and everyone else. But looking at her family tree, there's a heavy history of cancer among the younger generation.

Listen, redfox81, once you're hit with a malignant diagnosis, every single day becomes a gift. Cancer is a chronic battle. We all have malignant cells inside us that our immune systems keep in check. Why it hits one person and misses another—and what the specific triggers are—is something we might figure out one day, but right now, the goal of treatment is simply extending the quality of life. For some, remission lasts a few months; for others, it's five years; and some people just pass away from heart failure at 80. Unfortunately, nobody can predict or guarantee any of it. There are statistics and clinical indicators, but nothing is a sure thing.

Regarding Taxol, I actually posted here recently about the specific reasons why certain drugs aren't prescribed when they absolutely should be.

And please, stop looking for genuine, necessary optimism in the wrong places. Doctors and medical professionals definitely aren't it. Optimism, strength, and hope have to come from within ourselves. Try to internalize that and filter out the noise that disturbs your peace—and especially your wife's peace. She made it seven years, blowing past that "optimistic" five-year estimate the doctor gave her. So who's to say she won't grab the bull by the horns and finish this fight again? Don't weigh yourselves down with other people's stories or comparing what they can do versus what you can. Everyone is fighting their own unique battle. Reach out to the "All for Her" foundation; they have massive experience with this stuff. They can point you toward some "shortcuts" that could really help you out.

Nicole Richardson51 said:Respectfully,
...

Man, oh man... there’s a lot of noise here, just pure guesswork and total incompetence.

My grandmother dealt with lymphedema caused by removed lymph nodes, so let’s get one thing straight: these issues are very real. Women who have their axillary nodes removed following breast cancer treatment deal with this constantly.
In my opinion, two specific failures led to your grandmother ending up in this state:
1. A dermatologist botched the melanoma diagnosis by missing something that should have been obvious to anyone with half a brain—at least based on how you described it. That delay likely allowed the malignant cells to spread into the surrounding tissue.

2. Massaging the painful area, which likely did the exact same damage. It’s a tragedy that nobody bothered to tell you that you absolutely cannot massage a site where malignancy is still present.
Pain can only be managed through actual pain management therapy, like using patches such as Durogesic. You have to coordinate with an oncologist and an anesthesiologist to fine-tune the dosage and create a cocktail of other painkillers to use alongside the patch. Otherwise, you look at lymphatic drainage and bandaging where applicable —and those procedures must be performed by specialists specifically licensed to work with oncology patients. So, feel free to give a polite "thank you" to the so-called "professionals" who were massaging her. They should have known better, but apparently, cutting corners was easier. In the entire US, I think there might only be a handful of people actually qualified to handle this.
The harsh reality is that melanoma is the kind of disease where there isn't a magic chemo bullet; it's about surgical removal whenever possible.
It's obvious you're running on empty right now, but you're going to have to find a way to dig deep, stay composed, and keep being the support system she needs.

redfox81 said:Unfortunately, we can talk all we want, but once metastases show up, you’re essentially looking at the beginning of the end. Seven years after my wife had her left breast removed—and survived aggressive chemo, radiation, hormone therapy, and endless checkups—she suddenly developed a 3x2x1 cm metastasis in her brain. They performed neurosurgery to remove it, and everything went smoothly from a surgical standpoint. But when her oncologist, who has been with her since day one, broke the news, my wife was absolutely devastated; she just couldn't wrap her head around it. Immediately after, she was sent for an emergency PET/CT scan, which revealed another metastasis right near the site of the original surgery. It involves part of the pectoral muscle, some lymph nodes that were already compromised, and a section of a rib.
So what now? You might as well just take pictures. Right now, she’s undergoing radiation for the brain surgery, and they might start chemotherapy too. After that, they have to go back in to remove this second mass, followed by more treatments. The real question is when and where the third or fourth one will pop up...

Redfox, forgive my bluntness, but the only thing she needs to "take pictures" of is the total lack of support coming from you.

It seems like over these last seven years, you haven't seen fit to actually educate yourself about her illness or even the basic nature of malignant diseases and breast cancer in general. 😳
The reality is that remission doesn't mean the disease won't return.
I don't know the specifics of her medical history or how closely she was monitored, if she was at all, but claiming the battle is lost and it's the "beginning of the end" just because the cancer returned with metastases is absolute nonsense. Sure, having metastases is a heavy blow, but thank God modern American medicine has made strides in treating them. However, medical treatment needs to be paired with a positive environment—not one filled with frustration, paranoia, and despair. A patient needs someone by their side who acts as a rock, someone with actual steel in their spine. Sometimes, for women facing breast cancer, the diagnosis itself feels like the smallest hurdle they have to clear. I sincerely hope that for your wife, the real problem hasn't "metastasized" into this kind of attitude.
Start acting like a man and do some meaningful research on Google, instead of just cherry-picking information that fits your own narrative.

wiredraven82 said:None of those work—I actually looked into it myself. A user on this forum recommended it to me nearly a year ago...

Just try to remember the general topic and search your own username on Google.

feralsurfer72 said:Rachel Wood27, sorry about that, I totally missed your last post. Thanks a ton!

Angela Wright, I just got off the phone with a private oncology radiologist over in Chicago. We set an appointment for Thursday, and I’m bringing every single scrap of medical paperwork with me. At the very least, he’ll run through everything, walk me through what's actually happening, and write the referral for the biopsy.

Let's hope things finally start moving in a better direction. Personally, I think they really ought to run another pHD analysis.

feralsurfer72 said:In my town, the oncologist travels in from the major regional medical center to cover the whole area. So, we’re basically stuck heading back to that same big hospital again. It honestly worries me because if we go there, we might just end up circling the same drain. That’s exactly why I was thinking about looking into private care—not because money isn't an issue, but for clarity. He only performed a gastric mucosa biopsy; he hasn't done a pancreatic biopsy yet.
My mom got a referral from her primary care doctor for oncology and radiation at the regional medical center for an exam and opinion. But guess what? It's the exact same oncologist working there.
This is my first time dealing with a disease like this, and my first time navigating this entire healthcare system. I'm trying to piece together the next steps, but... I'm struggling.

I'm looking over the paperwork, and the oncologist wrote:
"Oncology tumor not indicated for patient. Continue symptomatic treatment via [unclear] and home health services. Use analgesics and opioids for pain management." (Some parts are honestly illegible.)
Is it actually possible to make all those calls—to "decide" everything—without a biopsy?

Which specialist is actually qualified to request a pancreatic biopsy?

Good luck trying to drag your dad all the way to a major metro hospital like Mayo Clinic or Johns Hopkins to get things done strictly by the book. Look, even Rachel Wood27 is suggesting it. Try calling them first to coordinate; if they won't budge, then look into private options or make the trek to a big city. At the very least, get them to redo that one specific test.
From what she's saying about home health and the family doctor... forget it. They clearly just didn't want to deal with him. This is going to have to be handled in a major city somehow.

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if we're looking at some rare tumor, like a sarcoma, that they simply aren't equipped to identify.