Posts by Angela Wright

Talking about Jane brings Dan to mind. She used to post in this thread back in the first chapter. We met through here, and man, she was incredible. She was battling ovarian cancer and actually hit remission. But ten years later, the radiation caught up with her, and she developed a new tumor on her bladder. She was a walking target—living with a partial hysterectomy and a stoma—but despite weighing only about 100 pounds, she’d drive her car around visiting people who were less sick than she was, just to boost their spirits. She was wild, full of life, and absolutely fearless. Her biggest worry? How her husband was going to pay off the mortgage after she passed. She’d badger me to vent about my own relationship drama, giving me advice while I’d end up feeling like a complete jerk afterward; I'd get so caught up in our talks that I’d forget how sick she actually was, making my "problems" feel totally trivial. Then, I’d call her to vent again, and she’d just laugh it off—because hey, we're alive, and this stuff happens to everyone. Then, out of nowhere, she was gone. Her blood counts just plummeted overnight...
My mission in life is trying to find some higher purpose in everything that’s happened. If I don't, I can't deal with it all without losing my mind. Everything ends one way or another; you learn the lessons, you take the hits, but it still leaves you wrecked. You probably spend your whole life trying to bring order to that chaotic part of your soul. It feels like nobody ever truly succeeds at it, but if you want to function, you have to try to create some semblance of balance in that corner of your universe.
This thread is part of that process for me. It’s also a tribute to my old friends—Dan, Vivian, Vida, Joe, Vedra... and everyone else I haven't named who touched my life with their struggles right here.
You just have to...

Sent from my iPhone using Reddit

Angela Foster4 said:I’m jumping into this thread too. It’s 6:00 AM and I can’t sleep; I’m wide awake again, just lying there playing the same painful loop over and over in my head all night long.

I’ve been searching for support for people dealing with cancer and their families, but I couldn't find much until I stumbled upon this forum and this specific topic, which is why I decided to sign up. Seven months ago, my mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer, and it had already metastasized to her brain. She has 14 metastases, though thankfully radiation therapy has managed to shrink them slightly.

No one in my family has ever dealt with cancer before; we only knew about it through movies or TV shows. My entire world collapsed, and honestly, it hasn't stopped falling apart. Some days are better than others, but mostly it feels like everything has ground to a halt—like our entire little universe has been swallowed whole by this disease. Mom has already undergone cranial radiation, alternating between different types of chemo, and this illness has completely transformed her life.

I watch her every single day becoming the very thing she feared most in life: helpless. Our relationship has shifted drastically, and not for the better. In movies, you usually see people drawing closer during crises, but we’ve actually drifted apart.

She’s withdrawn into herself, becoming incredibly negative and listless. Meanwhile, I’m fighting my own demons—anxiety and endless, spiraling thoughts about the future—while she battles a cancer that is slowly consuming her. No matter how hard I try to be there for her in every way I know how, she isn't satisfied with me, and all the things we used to talk about have just evaporated. I don't blame her; she’s in pain every single day, she can barely walk, and she’s lost so much weight in the last two months that her skin just hangs off her. She’s dealing with agonizing pain and nausea. Some days are so brutal she does nothing but stay in bed.

This isn't living. This isn't what life is supposed to be. For all of us, life has turned into nothing more than an anxious wait for some hypothetical "better tomorrow." It’s hard because even during the moments when she feels okay, she’s changed. We don't laugh anymore; we don't enjoy anything. She’s become sharp and biting with everything, and I just miss her tenderness. Being her only child, I just miss my mom—missing the laughter, the silliness, the random deep philosophical talks, or just talking about absolutely nothing... anything at all.

It’s overwhelming because she is suffering so intensely, and I don't know how to handle these massive shifts in my life or where to look for hope. On top of everything, I’ve isolated myself from people who are more curious than they are concerned—those so-called friends and acquaintances. So here I am, alone at 6:00 AM after another sleepless night, typing this out in the hopes of finding good people who are going through something similar. I feel like my head is a balloon ready to pop because I spend too much time trapped inside my own thoughts.

Not long before her diagnosis, I ended a serious relationship and hit another personal tragedy, and then the cancer hit... it’s just been one downward spiral after another.

Her condition is terminal. All I want now is for her to have quality of life for whatever time she has left, rather than just quantity.

My biggest fear is when the end comes. I’m terrified that we aren't close anymore; the cancer changed her, made her distance herself and turn cold, even on the relatively "good" days. I’m scared of it all, but it’s so hard to share this with anyone else who might actually understand, given how close I've always been to my mother.

I’m also scared that I won't be able to endure this. I feel like the burden is getting heavier and heavier, and it’s difficult to focus on anything during the day since I’m not working right now—and like I said, I’m battling my own anxiety, which is a whole other story. I’ve pushed away people who drain me with their shallow stories about themselves; it just sucks the energy right out of me. I realize this first post is more about me than it is about my mom, and part of me feels selfish, but then I think, no, I’m not—I’m only human, and this is genuinely one of the hardest periods of my life. I’m looking for support and understanding, and that’s only natural. I hope I’m right.

P.S. Honestly, it took everything in me just to sit down and type this out, but here we are. I’ve been lurking and reading through your posts, and I genuinely admire the courage and grit you all are showing. Sending strength, faith, and nothing but good vibes to everyone here—and wishing your loved ones a steady recovery!

My story played out almost exactly like yours, just with a few different beats, which is why I originally started this thread back in 2007.
The biggest hurdle was actually myself. I kept projecting my own anxieties and preconceived notions onto the situation, and honestly, that was the heaviest weight to carry. My relationship with my mother had started hitting some rough patches right before she got sick, and then the illness just came along and leveled everything. Right before she fell ill, I was in a dark place because of those strained ties—feeling isolated and lost in every sense of the word. When the diagnosis hit, it absolutely crushed me. I remember lying there, feeling just like you do, praying, "God, I can't do this alone. You're my witness, I truly can't handle this, please send someone to help me." And He did. He sent my husband. In the most unexpected, surreal turn of events, he was right by my side from that moment on. He was the one pulling me up when I collapsed, driving me to the hospital, and after she passed, he was the one helping me wash and dress her... It’s strange how my greatest blessing emerged from my deepest tragedy. Out of a situation that usually tears marriages apart, my relationship and our new family were built.
One thing you really need to realize—and it might be the root of the friction between you and your mom—is that you haven't fully processed that this is *her* illness. This is happening to her, not to you. You are caught in the whirlwind, sure, but the reality is hers. She isn't going to feel any better if you spend all your energy fighting against the fact that things simply *are* what they are. Mothers have a sixth sense for that tension, and it just adds more weight to her shoulders, fueling a sense of guilt. You still have time to just let her be, to let her live life on her terms for as long as she has left. When the end draws near, let her go peacefully. Tell her everything is okay, tell her you'll be fine, that she did a wonderful job, and that you're going to make sure you live a happy life... giving her that peace is the greatest gift you can offer.
Make the most of the time you have. Dig out the old photo albums, talk about the old memories. At the end of the road, it always feels like there wasn't enough time.
As for friends and social circles—situations like this act as the ultimate life filter. It’s one of those silver linings that comes packaged with the trauma. You learn exactly who people are and what you can actually expect from them. People you thought were your inner circle will surprise you in ways you didn't see coming, while those you never expected to rely on will be the ones to step up.
I'm here if you ever need to vent.
Hang in there and just take it one day at a time. Deal with the circumstances as they unfold. You cross the bridges when you get to them; you can't cross them ahead of schedule.

neoncyclist792 said:My dad passed away this Monday. He was just waiting for all of us to get there so we could be together one last time, and then he just stopped breathing—less than two months after his diagnosis. I don't even have the strength to talk about the healthcare system or how broken everything is right now..

I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.
Let him rest in peace.

neoncyclist792 said:Hi everyone, does anyone have the time or interest to walk me through how cancer treatment studies actually work? What are they exactly? How is the process structured? And when should someone start looking for one? Thanks a million!

There’s an actual registry for clinical trials.
https://clinicaltrials.gov/
You can search by specific diagnosis or drug name, and then narrow it down by location or current study status. Each trial recruits based on its own strict set of criteria—which are clearly posted once the trial opens in the registry—so it's tough to give a "best time" to start searching. Generally, people start looking once they've exhausted all standard lines of treatment protocols, though sometimes if your doctor is directly involved in a study, they'll suggest the optimal timing themselves. Some trials also include specific criteria regarding whether patients have already undergone certain treatments or not.
Once you're enrolled in a study, depending on which phase of testing it is, you'll receive either the actual medication or a placebo. All participants are blinded via coding; nobody, not even the doctors, knows who is getting the real drug and who is getting the placebo. Unfortunately, it’s a bit of a lottery, but it's absolutely necessary to ensure the drug is tested accurately. If the treatment proves effective for a patient, they often continue receiving it after the study concludes at the pharmaceutical company's expense, provided it remains effective for them. Participation in the studies is free since they are funded exclusively by big pharma, but the patient is responsible for their own lodging and travel.

Regarding IV drips and home health visits—the local health department is actually responsible for responding to patient calls, sourcing the fluids from the main headquarters, and ensuring they get administered. The visiting nurse acts as the middleman here. Her job is to call them first, who then coordinates with the health department to get everything organized. That’s how the system is supposed to work. On weekends, you’re looking at the on-call doctor or the ER.

quietpilot87 said:I’ll try to keep this brief.

Ten years ago, my mom passed away from lung adenocarcinoma at age 60.
Today, I found out my 68-year-old father has small cell lung cancer.
Both were heavy smokers for decades. Both quit before their diagnoses (Mom a few years prior, Dad nearly 20 years ago).

My dad and I haven't been close over the last few years; we struggled with emotional distance and communication issues. I kept him at arm's length, but secretly, I was just glad he was healthy—he's an incredibly high-energy, active guy. I honestly convinced myself he’d live to be a hundred, which gave me a sense of peace. Until now.

Right now, I can't tell if having gone through this once makes it easier or harder. On one hand, there's that "here we go again with this lung demon" feeling, but on the other, I'm in much deeper shock than I was when Mom got sick. Back then, I didn't even fully grasp what we were up against. Now? I've been crying for days and just can't pull myself together. The only silver lining is that I've seen my psychiatrist for seven years, and I have someone who can prescribe whatever calming meds I need to get by.

The worst part is that this overwhelming grief and hopelessness is the absolute worst thing I could do to myself, my dad, and the rest of the family. I know I should be staying strong and holding onto hope, but at the same time, I am absolutely terrified of everything repeating itself. Of course, I'm going to give it my all to be a rock for my father because I know how this plays out, but I'm scared for myself too. How am I supposed to function? How am I going to run my business? I was planning on having a child soon and maybe even moving abroad (my husband works overseas), and I have no idea how to balance any of that right now. I'm falling apart; I feel like I'm dying inside. No matter how prepared you think you are for life, you are never actually ready for things like this.

Anyway, thanks for listening.

Basically, don't let your mind spin out into a thousand different "what-if" scenarios. You have to take it one day at a time and tackle obstacles only as they actually show up. Most importantly, remind yourself that this is happening to your father, not to you. Everyone else is just caught in the wake.
That is the only healthy way to handle it. Life is unpredictable, and there are always a million different ways a situation can play out.

silentpanther32 said:Patients receiving palliative care are entitled to 120 minutes of home health nursing. Generally, when things get truly critical, a home health nurse can visit up to five times a week. They can also set up an IV drip and stay with the patient while it’s running. Just so we're clear, IV fluids are administered based on medical professionals' assessment in cases of dehydration or when a patient can't take fluids by mouth. An IV isn't some magic wand that "revives" a patient; its purpose is strictly hydration (unless glucose is involved).

Palliative teams exist in Chicago (just like in other parts of the US—there are currently 22 active teams nationwide). Their job is symptom management: adjusting and titrating pain meds, easing nausea and vomiting, advising families on nutrition, changing urinary catheters for men, and setting up subcutaneous infusions. Those infusions run for about 8 hours, and the family is trained on how to manage them—since it's not going into a vein, there's no fear of major complications, so you don't need a nurse sitting bedside the whole time.

In Chicago, you have teams provided through local health centers. If you aren't sure which district you fall under, check their websites and match your street against the service area lists provided by the visiting nurses. If, for example, the East District covers your street, their mobile palliative team can visit you. You don't need a formal referral to get a palliative team involved; just call the number and coordinate a visit with them.

Wow, that's a massive shift compared to back when we were in the thick of it. For my mom, the maximum we ever got was a field nurse seven times a week for 45 minutes at a time, though she’d stay longer if I wasn't solo with her over the weekend.

Sandra Adams66 said:Oh my god... I had no idea. 😳

Thankfully I noticed it right then. I mentioned it to my mom—I can still vividly remember the slight shift in her expression (she was basically non-responsive at the time). Very shortly after that, she passed away. 😢

Why does it matter so much to them?

It’s because people don't want to be a burden or a constant source of pain and misery for those they love. It’s a sort of letting go; the person isn't fighting through cramps or intense anxiety anymore—they just peacefully surrender, trusting that everything will be alright. Having support and the reassurance that this is all natural and meant to be is vital. People who experience that kind of peaceful release often find the grieving process a little easier later on, because they've already begun the process of acceptance. Acceptance is truly the hardest part of the whole ordeal.

Dana Martin87 said:He went into the hospital the night before last and came home yesterday. They gave him five IV drips and he felt better, so he actually managed to sleep last night. Now, the vomiting is back and he can't keep anything down. He says he’s heading back to the ER.

How long can they actually keep him in the hospital on an IV? It clearly helps him, but I assume since there isn't much else they can realistically do for him, they have no incentive to keep him admitted longer than necessary?

He really should be getting those IVs at home. His primary care physician should be arranging for a visiting nurse and home health services. Based on his diagnosis, he’s entitled to daily home visits lasting about 45 minutes. Since he’s a palliative patient, hospitals aren't technically designed for this level of ongoing care—they step in because hospice facilities are scarce, and how long they keep someone depends heavily on bed availability. Their priority is usually patients they can actually cure. Essentially, once they stabilize the situation slightly, they discharge him. There ought to be dedicated palliative teams within primary care that operate out of the field. Beyond that, there used to be—and I don't know if they still do—volunteer palliative teams through the American Hospice Association.
Basically, the family doctor needs to step up and get more involved. A relative of mine is a GP, and she makes it a point to regularly visit her terminal patients and administer IV fluids, so don't listen to anyone telling you that's not how it works.
EDIT:
http://www.palliativedirect.org/

Dana Martin87 said:My dad is in the terminal stage of colon cancer. Technically, he doesn't have cancer in the large intestine, but the section involving his small intestine is only a few centimeters long. For three days now, he’s been dealing with incredibly intense diarrhea. He lost a couple of pounds overnight, he's seeing double, and he feels completely wiped out. The doctor just handed him some anti-diarrheal meds and sent him home. What can we actually do here? Is this diarrhea ever going to stop? And why on earth is it hitting him like this right now?

Who knows? That’s just the nature of this disease. Everything starts breaking down at once—his kidneys and liver are both starting to fail. That double vision could be anything from brain metastases to a sudden shift in electrolytes. At this point, the only thing that matters is keeping him hydrated and making sure he isn't in pain. In the terminal phase, providing comfort is the gold standard.
Most of the time, this doesn't last very long. Make the most of every single second you have left with him. Keep things calm, be his rock, and keep telling him that everything is going to be okay. Honestly, that’s what matters most—to people in his position, those words mean everything.
Hang in there.

rustyowl52 said:Hey everyone, my mom was recently diagnosed with stage 4 lung adenocarcinoma. Based on her mutation profile, she isn't a candidate for targeted therapy, so they're recommending standard chemo instead. My big fear is that she’ll refuse it because she lives in a different city, and just making the trip to Chicago is exhausting for her. I know she doesn't have much time left, but how much time could she actually have...? I'm asking based on anyone's experience with loved ones who chose to skip chemo...

There is absolutely no way for anyone to give you a definitive answer. You might get a rough estimate from a doctor, but even then, there are zero guarantees. It all comes down to her immune system, her overall physical strength, and even her mental state—those variables change everything. Generally speaking, once the liver starts failing and the body begins retaining fluid, we're talking about a matter of weeks.

Carol Martinez said:Hi there,

Someone very close to me is battling breast cancer. While she’s waiting for her first round of chemo (surgery comes later), I want to do something special for her, but I'm stuck. She’s having a really hard time processing everything—mostly just feeling sad and angry, which I totally get. I don't have much say in the medical logistics; I'm mostly trying to be an emotional pillar through conversation, but I feel like I'm struggling to truly reach her.

It’s not that I don't know how to act; I think I’m doing the right things, but I can't shake this feeling that I'm not making enough of an impact.

It’s like nothing brings her joy anymore, so I don't know what to "offer."

Are people waiting to start these kinds of treatments allowed to visit wellness centers, for example? Are there any health restrictions regarding that?

Forgive me if this sounds like a silly question; I'm just feeling pretty desperate to help her. Maybe I'm being too pushy about it, but I'm trying to balance helping out with giving her space... 😢

The best thing you can do is connect her with women in her own circle who have gone through this or are going through it right now. No one will understand her better or be able to lift her up quite like they can. Organizations like local cancer support groups or national foundations are great places to find that kind of community.

hiddentiger80 said:Hey Jeffrey Hernandez79, I was looking into options like Ensure, Prosure, Dipsip, and Glucerna... but it seems like every drink has a different sugar content. I’ve found some that are supposedly marketed for diabetics, yet they still have high sugar concentrations, and websites claim they aren't actually good for people managing blood sugar. Does anyone have any insight on this? I really need a high-protein supplement. If anyone can help me out, thanks! 🙂

My mom used Prosure because it's specifically formulated for people watching their sugar.

This guy absolutely nailed what I would tell every single one of you—whether you're fighting this battle yourself or watching someone you love go through it. This is the ultimate rule, the only blueprint you need to navigate a life situation this fundamentally heavy.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?sto...77725675598682

Kate Wells44 said:The PhD results usually take about 7 to 10 days. Unless they need to run extra tests, which drags things out, you shouldn't be looking at a 3 or 4-week wait.

Are we talking about textbook theories or how things actually go down in American hospitals, man?
I’ve been dealing with this mess for years now, and honestly, I haven't met anyone who got their PhD results back in less than two weeks—and those were rare exceptions. Most of the time, when everything goes smoothly, you’re looking at about three weeks before you see anything.

wearybison8 said:ugh, I was really hoping this would move faster. 😢

thanks!

Look, things take time. It could actually drag on even longer since everyone is starting to head out for summer vacation.

wearybison8 said:Hey everyone,

If anyone’s dealt with this recently, can you let me know how long the wait usually is for PhD results in Chicago?

(It's for a biopsy, most likely melanoma)

It should be somewhere between 3 and 4 days.

LLju

George Sullivan31 said:Good afternoon, I have a question regarding Angela Wright. A friend of mine was diagnosed with a brain tumor (Grade IV Glioblastoma) two years ago. He went through surgery and completed a round of chemo. Things were actually looking relatively stable until about two months ago when his condition took a turn for the worse. He had a second surgery, but things aren't going well. His last CT scan showed edema (if I'm remembering correctly), so his oncologist prescribed some pills to bring the swelling down. She also mentioned that continuing chemotherapy doesn't make sense anymore. If anyone has any advice on what to do next, I'd appreciate it. Thanks in advance.

It’s a recurrence. Unfortunately, that’s just how it goes with GBM—you basically live from one relapse to the next. If he was on Temodal the first time, I don't see why he couldn't get a few more cycles following this second surgery. With this diagnosis, the whole fight is really about squeezing out more quality time.
I'd suggest Googling open clinical trials for GBM and looking into proton beam therapy (maybe check options in Munich). He should probably get an MRI every three months. That’s the only way to properly monitor the situation and react quickly enough.
As for the edema, that’s usually managed with steroid therapy. If they start accumulating too much cerebrospinal fluid, they can perform a mechanical puncture or implant a shunt pump.

https://clinicaltrials.gov/ct2/resul...e=&city=&dist=

Jacob Stewart2 said:You can't just return medication like you're returning a pair of shoes at a department store.
Once a pharmacist hands over a prescription, they lose all control over how that medicine is stored or if it’s been tampered with.
I have no idea which pharmacy actually took it back, and honestly, maybe it's better that way.

I realize this is a bit off-topic and doesn't exactly scream "charity work" (even though it really does), but according to professional regulations, it just doesn't happen. Meds aren't refundable.

The only way they could have taken it back was to process it as a disposal, which is what they're required to do anyway. I highly doubt they issued a refund; why would they risk massive fines or losing their license just to give money back?

vividsurfer20 said:My mom passed away two months ago.
If anyone can make use of them, I have three packs of Graviola—two are still sealed and one was just opened.
I also have some Vidatox drops.

I am so incredibly sorry; please accept my deepest condolences.