Posts by Angela Wright

Steven Williams14 said:First off, sorry if I’m posting this in the wrong spot...
Basically, I'm asking about shadowing surgical procedures. I want to test the waters because I'm planning to go to med school. Is that even an option at any American hospitals, and what's the standard protocol?

From what I know, that isn't really an option here. Even fathers can't usually be in the room for their own kid's C-section.
If you aren't squeamish about blood, everything else is just a matter of mindset. The first time might gross you out, but once you force yourself to focus on the actual clinical issue, you stop seeing an intestine as some slimy thing and start seeing it as an organ made of specific tissue, for example.

vividcanyon13 said:I didn't come to this thread looking for some magic word or a miracle cure to fix everything. I just wanted to share what's on my mind with people who are walking this path right now, or those who have already survived similar traumas.
I’m fully aware of the reality here, and I’m doing everything humanly possible; I support her, I talk to her, I shower her with attention and love, and I spend almost all my free time by her side.
But the truth is, I can't just reach in and take away that horrific pain. I can't give her the quality of life she deserves during the time she has left.
And yeah, maybe that sounds selfish, but I can't shake this fear of the inevitable. Watching her suffer... it feels like this damn demon is slowly eating me alive from the inside out.
Honestly, I just want to wake up from this nightmare, but I know that doesn't answer your question.😢

Pain can be managed—it *must* be managed. Talk to the anesthesiologists and insist that they titrate her medication doses to keep her comfortable.
I know exactly where you are right now. I pushed myself to the brink of anorexia because I was so consumed by this "inevitability." Eventually, something just clicked in my brain. I decided to focus strictly on the "here" and "now," refusing to look any further than tomorrow. That became my way of surviving. Day by day, I processed it. It might sound grim, but I spent a lot of time Googling the horrors that came with my mother's diagnosis until it just became my daily reality. My entire focus shifted to ensuring Mom had peace and received the best palliative care available. She passed away in my arms, finally at peace after two and a half years of suffering. You know, I think the greatest act of love a child can show a parent is actually letting go. I prayed to God to take her home; I let go, and I told her it was okay to leave, that everything would be fine, and that I would be okay too. Something in a person just... matures when that happens. She went peacefully, truly. She had the most serene expression on her face. And even though it's incredibly hard and I don't have anyone else in the world besides my dad, and even though it hurts like hell, I know it had to be this way and that I did everything I possibly could.
Even as things get worse for her, please don't bury yourself along with her before it's time. You have to stay alive for yourself as much as for her. It’s vital to realize that this is primarily happening to her. Even though we are deeply connected to our mothers, we are still separate individuals caught in a situation. We have the choice of how to handle this—whether we choose a healthy path or a self-destructive one. She only has her cross to carry until the end. I don't think it helps if she senses our agony, because that only makes her burden heavier. Now that I am a mother myself and have felt the pain of my own child, I am even more acutely aware of that reality.
I wish you peace in your heart and your mind. You are doing everything right for her, but please, do something for yourself too—for your own sake, and for hers.

vividcanyon13 said:Thanks for responding, Angela Wright, and thank you for always making time to offer a kind word to those who really need it.
My biggest struggle is exactly what you pointed out—I just can't shift my focus. I work directly with people, and far too often, clients walk in with tear-streaked faces and swollen eyes, and I just lose all ability to concentrate on my job. My boss has started getting irritated by it; they think I'm unstable and overly sensitive, which is the last thing you want to be perceived as in this profession right now.
Honestly, I’m hitting a breaking point. I get these suffocating sensations, I wake up sobbing in the middle of the night, and the nightmares are constant. I can't relax, and I can't find any time for myself because I feel like I'm constantly being crushed by this overwhelming weight.
I know I need to dig deep and find some strength, but I just can't find it. When life gets this heavy, motivation is everything, and right now, I have zero.
Your words don't feel like empty platitudes; they feel incredibly grounded. It sounds like they come from someone who actually understands the hell I'm walking through, and for that, I am truly grateful.

Look, I’m no psychologist or psychiatrist, so I can’t claim to know exactly how things work 100%, and I can only speak from my own perspective. But in my experience, in 99% of those situations where everything looks hopeless and you're just trying to survive—even if there isn't necessarily an easy way out—it all comes down to a personal decision.
So, tell me: what would you actually want right now? What is something realistic that could actually take some of the pressure off?

vividcanyon13 said:Hey everyone!
I never imagined I’d be the one posting on this thread, but life has a way of forcing your hand. I’ve been lurking here for a while now, reading through everyone's stories, and honestly, every single post just breaks me. I find myself sitting there, completely falling apart, overwhelmed by the tears and the sheer pain of it all. I always tell myself, "No, I can't do this, I won't read anymore," but then reality hits, and I realize it's finally my turn to step up and add my own voice to this conversation.
Honestly, I don't even know why I feel this sudden urge to share this with you all. Maybe it’s just because you're the only ones who actually get it—you’re right there in the trenches with me, feeling exactly what I’m feeling.
My mother is fighting a brutal battle right now—cancer with metastases. She’s 65, and honestly, she’s always been the picture of health, so this whole thing hit us like a freight train. It’s just pure shock, terror, and total disbelief. We’re currently cycling through everything: chemotherapy, radiation, a massive cocktail of pain meds, and a heavy dose of alternative therapies, faith, and just plain old love.
Once the initial shock wore off, I finally pulled myself together and made a pact with both her and myself: we’re going to fight this. People overcome everything, even the most brutal diseases imaginable. I've spent endless hours scouring the internet, devouring stacks of books, and bouncing ideas between doctors and alternative practitioners. All of it has kept my mind occupied and fueled this hope that my mother will actually pull through. Honestly, that hope is the only thing keeping me from falling apart; it's the only reason I can still show up to work and try to live a semi-normal life despite the crushing stress I've been carrying for months since her cancer diagnosis.
My dad’s lost his footing, he’s completely overwhelmed, and now he’s leaning on me for everything—which just leads to us clashing constantly. And the worst part? I don't have anyone else to lean on myself.
She’s feeling worse, and honestly, it’s getting progressively harder for me to keep my head above water. Even now, just trying to put these thoughts into words, I feel like I'm falling apart. There's this crushing weight in my chest that won't let up, and I can't stop crying. The mere thought of losing her is just unbearable.
People around me keep trying to offer these hollow comforts, telling me it’s just the natural order of things—that parents passing away is a normal part of life. But honestly? It feels like my entire world is collapsing.
I don't have a family. She is my family—she is my everything, my only rock, and the one person who truly understood me and with whom I loved sharing absolutely everything.
I can't handle all of this on my own. I need help, and I'm stuck in a city where there isn't any professional support to be found.
I am just not ready for this loss. How are you even supposed to prepare for losing the most important person in your life?! How do you survive it? How do you actually help yourself through the wreckage? I’m not suicidal, but there are days when I truly feel like everything will only pass once I’m gone too.

There’s no magic recipe for this, and there isn't some savior coming to pull you out—you are the only one who can help yourself. Look, reality is what it is. You have to sit down, get quiet, and start organizing the chaos in your own head. You are exactly where you are right now, so you might as well make the absolute most of it. Your primary focus needs to be her. Make sure she isn't in pain, that she isn't hungry or thirsty, that she’s clean, and that she feels loved. That is quite literally everything you can do for her at this moment. As for yourself, find at least thirty minutes a day to just go for a walk. Force yourself to shift your focus elsewhere. It is absolutely vital that you don't hit a breaking point. When I had a dog, he was my forced motivation; I had to take him out, which meant I had to actually step outside and talk to people in the park.
When it comes to losing a parent, it’s a reality we all face. It’s part of life, plain and simple. Even though it hurts like hell and you can't even wrap your head around a world where they aren't there—mostly because you don't know any other way to live—the truth is that life keeps moving. You have to find a way to make that next chapter meaningful and actually worth living. But look, don't go spiraling about this right now. Don't dwell on it today. When that moment eventually arrives, you'll deal with it then. For now, just focus on breathing. And you really have to make sure your mother gets to live out whatever time she has left in peace, surrounded by nothing but love. Believe me, you have this strength inside you, and that’s what makes all the difference in the end. Once this is all over, having that strength will bring you an incredible sense of peace, which is honestly everything.
Hang in there

Kate Brooks2 said:Honestly, reading these heavy, battle-worn posts gets so hard sometimes. We started our own fight just over a year ago. My father-in-law has gone through 11 rounds of chemo so far. For those first nine sessions, he had to stay at the hospital for five days straight every single time to get his treatment, but now he only needs to go in for one day a month. After his last CT scan, the news was incredible—the sarcoma shrank again and there are no metastases. He feels amazing and is living life just like he always has. Since I work in animal rescue, I brought home some little pups that need care before they can be adopted, alongside his own dog. He’s absolutely thrilled to have that responsibility again; those tiny, happy creatures are just what he needed. Honestly, things are going better than we ever dared to hope. It’s hard to believe how far he's come from the beginning, when he was nothing but skin and bones and actually considering giving up the fight. Now, he’s got his weight back, his mobility, and most importantly, his smile. We’re just praying this trend continues for a long time.
Sending strength and patience to everyone here.

😍Man, this is such an inspiring read. It’s the perfect example of how you handle a diagnosis—you don't let it run your life; you take control of it. He kept moving forward, found a new purpose that fills him up, and is truly living life to the fullest.
With that kind of mindset, he has the best possible foundation for a long, healthy future!

Steven Jackson13 said:The crux of the matter—if I can call it that—is that my mother isn't entirely certain whether I’ve ever actually had chickenpox before. However, I am fairly convinced that I have; after all, when my son caught them recently, I didn't contract the virus myself, and there were a few other instances where I was exposed to someone with chickenpox and came out unscathed. My real concern, though—and this is what keeps me up—is whether they pose any risk to the baby if I am indeed immune. Specifically, if I've already had it, is there any danger in being in contact with someone suffering from chickenpox while I'm pregnant?

I already addressed this in my last post: your antibodies protect your baby while they're still in the womb. That said, don't just take my word for it. You should call the CDC or your local health department and ask them directly; they are the actual experts who can give you a definitive answer.

Linda Morales66, listen, I cared for my mom at home for two full years and four months. I had a visiting nurse helping out for maybe 45 minutes a day max, plus my dad stepping in during the afternoons, and my boyfriend literally sprinting home from work whenever she’d collapse because there was no way I could lift her by myself.

Sure, it sounds beautiful—the idea that someone facing a terminal diagnosis should spend their final days surrounded by familiar faces in the comfort of their own home. But that only works if you actually have the resources to pull it off. I was only 30, running on pure adrenaline, using every ounce of knowledge and strength I had just to scrape by. I barely managed to make it through, and I'm still paying the price physically and mentally for that sacrifice.

Under these specific circumstances, you simply cannot provide your mother with everything she needs. I am telling you this as an absolute fact.

Stop letting the "sentimental" crowd get in your head. This is an incredibly intimate decision, and nobody has the right to judge you. Everyone knows what’s best for themselves. There are people out there who technically have the means to care for a loved one at home, but they just don't have the stomach for it. And those people have every right to make that choice. Desires and capabilities are two very different things. Unfortunately, we want so many things in life—above all else, we want health—but life doesn't always follow our script.

Hang in there and keep a clear conscience, because you truly couldn't do any better than this. Just tell Mom you'll bring her home once she's recovered, since she can't exactly whip up dinner for Dad right now. Tell her stories; it’ll soothe her and help the time pass. Because of the treatment, her sense of time is warped anyway; she won't even realize how long she's been there. The priority is that she isn't in pain, that she's clean, fed, hydrated, and visited. You’re doing this more for your own sake than hers, honestly, depending on how much she can actually process reality right now.

Megan Williams6 said:You're right, I am falling apart. The mornings are the absolute worst. You have a nice dream, wake up feeling okay, and then reality hits—you remember Mom and everything else, and the first thing you think is, "Oh god, not again." Just another day of misery and uncertainty. It’s like living with a guillotine hanging over your head by a thin thread for months on end; you never know when it’s going to drop, and the worst part is that you've already been robbed of any chance at joy or peace. My mind is stuck on a loop: "What do I do?" The situation feels impossible, yet I have to find a way out. This year, I haven't heard a single comforting word from the doctors—except from one of them—it's just been nothing but the worst news over and over. I can't even get enough calming medication; I can only get one box of Normabel a month, which barely lasts me four days because I need to take four or five pills at once just to feel a tiny bit of relief. It’s a dosage issue—I weigh 320 pounds, so I need more than that, but I refuse to turn to alcohol or cigarettes to cope, because that would just make everything worse—between this and the hangovers, I wouldn't stand a chance. I honestly wish I could just "hate" my mother or have her hate me; it would be so much easier.🙂🙂🤷

I don't think your love for your mother should be an excuse for this kind of self-destruction. To be blunt, you're making yourself even sicker than she is, and honestly, that feels pretty selfish. Being 320 pounds, relying on heavy meds, and potentially leaning on alcohol or nicotine is a ticking time bomb. You're sitting there ready to explode and take your family and everything you actually value down with you. At this rate, you might actually die before she does.
Sit down, look in the mirror, and get REAL about this situation, please. I can tell you're a good person, and it would be a damn tragedy if your wife and kids lost you just because your priorities and values have gone completely sideways.

Steven Jackson13 said:I have a question for the veterans here while I wait for my doctor to get back from vacation. How contagious is chickenpox, really? My mother is convinced I’ve had it before—she isn't entirely certain—but my son just battled it through a few months ago, and somehow, despite being by his side 24/7, I didn't catch a single thing. Now, I’ve just taken a test and found out I’m pregnant—about five weeks along—and I was in close contact with an infected child just a couple of days ago, even before any spots appeared. So, is it actually possible that I lack immunity, yet managed to dodge it when my son was sick? I am honestly spiraling a bit with worry regarding the pregnancy and the whole chickenpox situation 🙂

From what I understand, you're most infectious once the chickenpox actually breaks out, because the fluid in those blisters is what carries the virus. If you truly did have it in the past, your antibodies should protect both you and the baby. The incubation period usually runs about two to three weeks. You absolutely need to talk to your OB/GYN and follow their lead on this!

Megan Williams6 said:Thank you so much for the response. What would be the standard chemotherapy used for Osteosarcoma, and is it readily available here in the States if needed? Also, is there any truth to what I read online suggesting that Osteosarcoma isn't typically treated with radiation? Thanks again and best regards.

http://sarcomahelp.org/osteosarcoma.html

Honestly, I still don't get why you're so fixated on this specific diagnosis when there isn't a single shred of relevant evidence—like a pathology report—to confirm it yet. It feels like you're mentally burning yourself out, wasting precious energy on "what ifs" before the actual groundwork, like the surgery, has even been finalized or even decided upon.
You seriously need some support just as much as your mother does right now. If you snap, you won't be any help to her at all; you'll just become an extra heavy burden for her to carry, and frankly, that isn't fair to her.

Vertex Pharmaceuticals has proven its effectiveness against soft tissue Sarcoma. That means it isn't indicated for osteosarcoma.
According to EMEA guidelines, this is prescribed for patients facing advanced disease who have already seen a relapse after trying other therapies.

Here are the links to the EMEA documents: http://www.ema.europa.eu/docs/en_GB/...C500045833.pdf
http://www.ema.europa.eu/docs/en_GB/...C500045833.pdf

For context, the EMA is the primary regulatory body for drugs in Europe, and their guidelines are followed by all European nations as well as our own Medicare.

Chloe Gray5 said:I’m just counting down the minutes until Dad gets home. I'm praying those markers come back negative so he can be discharged this Wednesday after the medical board meeting. It's been so hard on him; he's spiraling into this deep depression. He told Mom today that he feels like he's going to die in the hospital and that he doesn't know how we'll manage without him. Mom said he actually cried—and Dad is the kind of man who has never shed a single tear in his entire life. We're all heading over there now—Mom, my sister, and me—just to sit with him and try to talk, but he’s barely eating or drinking anything. This whole thing with his legs has just crushed him 😢. I just need these next three days to fly by; I think he'll feel better once he's back home seeing that things are actually improving.....
We honestly have no clue how to reach him or make this easier. We keep telling him we love him, that we're right here, that a leg doesn't define who he is, and that we need him—that he'll be home soon. That calms him down for a second, but then it's like he isn't even listening or just doesn't believe us..
How do we even approach this? I'm terrified he won't recover physically, even though he was actually starting to show signs of progress...

Remind him about that soldier we saw who came back from Afghanistan—the one a drunk driver picked up off the road and left without both legs. That guy fought like a lion and accepted his reality like a true soldier. Life is unpredictable; people lose parts of themselves, sure, it's a tragedy, but he's still here, he's alive, and there is absolutely no reason why he can't live a high-quality life. Whatever happened is in the past; now, he needs to lock in on the future and getting back home. Bring a laptop or a smartphone and show him this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__mo1JXmi7U

Linda Morales66 said:here is what's in the discharge papers😢
mom was born in 1942

Diagnosis: Carcinoma (NSCLC) of the left lung lobe (C34.1)
Metastasis in the adrenal gland above the kidney
Metastasis in the liver (C78.7)
Mediastinal lymph node metastasis (C77.1)
Bone metastasis (iliac and sacral bones) (C79.5)
Proximal femoral metaphysis fracture, left side
CT scan performed
Sternoclavicular joint dislocation, right side (S43.2)
Superficial femoral vein thrombosis (I80.1)

Can someone please "translate" all this... is there any hope for a better tomorrow here??😢

Oh man, 😢
I already replied to your email, so I don't want to just repeat myself here
Hang in there

unknown Aaron Rodriguez3, I am so incredibly sorry, and your story really hit me hard 😢

My mother had surgery for glioblastoma and turned down chemo and radiation for those exact same reasons. After six months, she suffered a relapse, fell into a coma that they barely managed to pull her out of, and then finally decided to go through with the chemo and radiation.
Unfortunately, there is no cure here; radiation and chemo are just meant to slow the disease down 😢. While how fast it progresses is different for everyone, the trajectory is always the same—it’s like a power grid shutting down section by section, from the limbs until everything is completely paralyzed. My mom was bedridden and totally immobile for a full six months before the end. I hope she wasn't in pain, but she couldn't tell us. Toward the end, her treatment consisted of steroids to manage brain swelling and phenobarbital for seizures.

Regarding the actual treatment, it’s a combination of radiation and unknown in capsule form. My mother didn't have any major side effects other than fatigue and hair loss, so it isn't necessarily unbearable. Not every chemo regimen is the same for every type of cancer, and the side effects vary wildly. Try explaining that to her so she can give it one more thought. When you're dealing with kids that young, you have to fight for every single extra day you can get.
But regardless of what happens or what she decides, you have to respect her choice, no matter what it is. I really hope your mom reconsidered being angry with her sister. At the end of the day, this is her cross to bear, her illness, and she is the one suffering most. As a sister, her primary job should be supporting whatever decision is made rather than judging it. Don't waste precious, quality time being angry. Later on, it will be devastatingly hard, and she'll regret the lost time, but there's no going back. 😢
Just be there for her—without judgment, without bias, unconditionally—and breathe in every moment you have left together.

Robin Rodriguez5 said:Doesn't this first part of the report cover hormone sensitivity? You know, PR for progesterone and ER for estrogen. Based on these results, it looks like hormone therapy probably isn't even an option.🤷

Most likely. So, like I mentioned before, we're talking about the specific reagents used during the typing process.

Donna Fowler2 said:Look, I get where you guys are coming from, but you aren't getting me either. I got into another blowout fight with my parents yesterday, and you know what my old man said? He basically told me he can't wait for this EEG to be over, because if everything comes back normal, he's completely done with me—he thinks I'm just being a massive drama queen.

Honey, believe me, I hear you loud and clear.
Parents are who they are, period. You can't change them, and you already know exactly what kind of reaction you're going to get. Just please, whatever the results turn out to be, don't let yourself become your own worst enemy. Don't be harder on yourself than they are being on you.
Unfortunately, one thing is certain: we're all just hoping this is treatable so you can come out the other side of this with as little damage as possible.

rowdyfox12 said:Alright, thanks.
I thought maybe you’d just know off the top of your head what those abbreviations meant. 😳

Here are the results:

Specifically, the part that was bothering you seems to be about the analysis itself—basically, how the tissue reacted during the staining process. Those are the technical benchmarks used to "categorize" the sample and ultimately reach a diagnosis. At least, that's my best guess.
What we know for certain is that we're looking at an adenocarcinoma that has spread into the peritoneum. What really trips me up, though, is this note saying they couldn't find any intact ovarian or fallopian tube tissue, either macroscopically or microscopically. Does that mean it was already removed, that they didn't receive it, or did the tumor just completely obliterate everything? 🤷
I'm hoping an oncologist or someone with more specialized experience gets back to you soon.

rowdyfox12 said:Angela Wright,

(or anyone else following this thread 🙂)

do you happen to know what this part of the biopsy report means

?

I can't make any guesses without seeing the full context. Just type out the entire report; I'm sure one of the doctors on here will give you a much smarter answer than I can.

Linda Morales66 said:My mom called me today... honestly, I lost it. I couldn't stop the tears the second I heard her
voice... and then she tells me not to cry...
I am just so heartbroken right now, I can't even find the words to explain it...

🙂
There isn't a single soul on this planet who will love you more unconditionally than your mother, and in moments like these, she’s the only one who's going to give it to you straight.
Listen to your mom, honey! There will be plenty of time to cry later, but right now, you need to find some peace. The fact that she reached out to you is everything.

Donna Fowler2 said:Well, mine isn't actually that big of a deal, I don't care that much

My kid is only eighteen months old; they can't exactly look after themselves. You, on the other hand, are practically an adult. If you’re this reckless with your own health, mark my words: you won't be any better at taking care of your own kids than your parents were.

Look, those symptoms you're describing could very well point to something neurological. If we're talking about a malignant tumor, every single day you waste without medical intervention directly guts your chances of survival. Brain cancer cells multiply exponentially. Think about it: something that's 2cm this week could be 4cm by next week. That’s a massive difference because a 2cm tumor might be manageable with a Gamma Knife, but once it hits 4cm, it's too large for that procedure, which drastically tanks your prognosis. Every single cancerous cell is irreversible damage. Even if it turns out to just be epilepsy, every seizure leaves permanent, irreparable scarring on the brain. So go ahead, keep wasting time and see where it lands you.
You clearly haven't done your homework, which is why you're so quick to take our advice—which, frankly, is bordering on panic. Honestly, you have plenty of reasons to be worried.