Posts by Angela Wright

Chloe Gray5 said:I honestly don't know where to start. Now that my dad has finally started eating again after nearly three months of nothing, his digestion has really kicked into gear. He’s experiencing rectal pain—it isn't constant, but it hits whenever he has to go to the bathroom. Is it possible that since he wasn't eating and was mostly just on IV fluids, some old stool stayed stuck in his rectum, and now that he's eating, the new waste is pushing against it and causing this pain?
Aside from that specific discomfort when he needs to use the restroom, he doesn't have any other pains. He's actually feeling hungry again, eating, and recovering well, which is a good sign.
But remember, he hasn't eaten and has just been bedridden on an IV drip for months...
They drew blood yesterday to check for various cancer markers—lung, liver, pancreas, colon, stomach, prostate... How long does it usually take to get those results back?
His bowel movements are regular and a bit softer, probably because he's getting so much fluid.
I'm just so worried. My paternal grandmother passed away from colon cancer. My dad never had digestive issues, never ate greasy junk food, and never struggled with weight.
He's slowly recovering from his amputation, and this rectal issue is the only thing bothering him, and even then, only when he's on the toilet.
And then today, my mom found out her brother was diagnosed with colon cancer too.
😢.

In my opinion, his digestive system is just trying to find its rhythm again after being dormant, so that's likely why he's uncomfortable. It should pass.
Usually, you're looking at a few days for marker results. Stick to things like steamed chicken and rice to let his gut recover gently; try not to stress too much over it.
I am so sorry to hear about your uncle.😢

Donna Fowler2 said:So, basically, my symptoms come and go. Except for my left foot—specifically the toes—which have been numb for over a week now.
Does this necessarily mean it’s something serious?

I don't know what your definition of "serious" even is.
We've already laid out our thoughts across three whole pages and look at that—all ten of us have essentially said the exact same thing! Having outbursts like this in an 18-year-old is so profoundly abnormal that you should be ready to jump through a window just to get them to a hospital immediately. If this were happening to my kid, God forbid, I would absolutely lose my mind from pure terror.

Lisa Ward52 said:Thanks for explaining.
It’s starting to click now, because I just couldn't wrap my head around this non-surgical option. So, if I'm following correctly regarding the first scenario—they would start with radiation, and if he responds well to the treatment, they’d move toward surgery?
Basically, they were trying to preserve his quality of life by avoiding a hole in his neck. A specialist told me that if they go through with the surgery, they'd have to remove his wisdom teeth, larynx, and lymph nodes, meaning he wouldn't be able to speak without that device. Based on what you described, was that their way of finding a workaround?

I went to the hospital today to pick up the CT scans, and one of the staff members there told me to really think everything through. That actually gave me more to chew on. Look, I know everyone thinks their own side is best, but I could tell she was speaking to me from the heart.

The worst part for Dad is that he'll lose everything and won't be able to talk, and for me, the absolute worst thing would be sitting around doing nothing while it spreads further before we can even get to radiation, God forbid.

The real question is whether he could still avoid surgery and a laryngectomy after the radiation. It's much more likely the procedure would be less complicated, but I'm worried about the laryngectomy being a point of no return.😢
And honestly, having a laryngectomy isn't the end of the world, no matter how grim it sounds.
There are support groups for people who've had laryngectomies that prove life without a voice can be just as high-quality—some people even learn how to sing again. http://www.larynx-us.org/

Donna Fowler2 said:I just read online that most people dealing with thyroid issues also have multiple sclerosis, so I can rule that out—it might be a tumor instead.

You know what? Since you're such an expert at diagnosing yourself based on a Google search, why don't you just crack your own skull open and check for a tumor yourself? That way you can be absolutely sure.☕

Lisa Ward52 said:Man, I honestly don't know what to say... At the first hospital, they told us the attending physician decided against surgery. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to catch the actual doctor; I was just talking to a resident who could tell me if there would be an operation or not, but I couldn't make sense of the logic behind any of it. That said, I am actually quite happy with that department. The resident wanted to talk to me whenever necessary, he’d check in with my dad before rounds, they let me stay by my father's side at any hour, and the nurses were accessible and friendly. The attending is highly respected here in the States.
But I still can't wrap my head around the logic of radiation without surgery.
Look, I'm no doctor, and I shouldn't be sticking my nose into their business, but you do a little digging, you read up...

At the second hospital, they're saying they don't understand why surgery wouldn't be done. And the doctor there is also highly regarded.
He actually told me everything is okay—not "okay" because it's cancer, obviously, but that things aren't nearly as grim as we first understood from that first hospital.

So now I'm stuck with two completely different opinions from two very good doctors. Just great. 🙂

I'm leaning more toward the surgery, to get out that part that has metastasized to the lymph nodes. I think we're going to go with that option after all.

A lot of this comes down to individual experience. This first doctor probably has more experience using radiation to shrink a tumor so the targets pull back (since they're close), allowing whatever remains to be surgically removed later. In those cases, the procedure is much less invasive. But in your dad's case, that seems like a poor choice to me simply because waiting a month just to get in line for radiation makes the whole concept fall apart.

The second doctor clearly has a better relationship with the surgeons, and since the surgeon is excellent, his experiences are great too. The procedure itself might be more invasive, but let them remove whatever can be removed now, then move on to radiation and the rest of the treatment with some peace of mind.
To put it bluntly, this second option is far more acceptable to me, regardless of how invasive it is.

Susan Gonzalez22 said:Regarding beta-glucan—we actually order my mom's supply straight from the USA. I stick with Solgar because they seem reliable enough. We usually pay about $20 for a 60-capsule bottle including shipping, whereas here in the States it would be closer to $83 if I recall correctly.

That said, when you're buying stuff online, you really have to watch your back regarding who you're buying from and what exactly is in the bottle; there are plenty of scammers out there.

Unfortunately, we've had our fair share of experience ordering similar things for other health issues.

Around here, prices start at $83 and go up depending on the manufacturer, the concentration, and the quantity.

I honestly don't get how you manage to get that stuff. As far as I know, it's impossible to legally import any kind of medication or supplement from the USA unless it's already registered here in America.

Lisa Ross81 said:Angela Wright, can you recommend a cheaper beta-glucan? I want to start with that before committing to the mushroom extracts. The price of the mushrooms absolutely floored us, so it's going to take some time to scrape the cash together.
I’m heading out to my parents' place this Saturday to check their test results. Honestly, listening to them try to interpret medical jargon is exhausting. The latest word is that there are new growths, and the old ones have expanded. Basically, this PET/CT scan looks worse than the one they had back in March.

You can pick it up at any local pharmacy, though prices fluctuate—usually around $500 per$267 bottle, and I think the concentration varies too. Personally, I wouldn't even bother with Myko san; you might end up dropping a ton of money on it only to find out nobody can stand the taste. Online marketplaces are crawling with desperate people trying to offload those doses just to get a little bit of their money back.

Lisa Ward52 said:I'm checking back in briefly. We went out to get a second opinion, and honestly, it was a relief. They told us things aren't nearly as bleak as what the other hospital had suggested. Surgery is actually an option. Over the next couple of days, they'll run more tests, and if God wills it, we'll move straight to the operation. If that happens, the radiation schedule works perfectly for us.
Wishing everyone else tons of luck and strength as you keep fighting!

Thank God for that second opinion!🙏

Donna Fowler2 said:I haven't had any major issues over the last few days, just feeling exhausted and getting into arguments with my parents, so I have no idea how I'm going to make it to the weekend

Friends, extended family, or even a bus if all else fails...?

Look, I’m going to be straight with you. You have absolutely every symptom—plus a few others—that my late mother had. Her diagnosis was a malignant brain tumor. When you're dealing with something like that, every single day counts, and you need to start treatment immediately.

Honestly, at this point, your replies are starting to feel a lot like trolling.☕

Lisa Ross81 said:just quoting myself here—the new spots on the follow-up PET/CT are still there, but no new ones have popped up (is it actually possible for them to just vanish if nothing was treated or used specifically for that...)
the oncologist isn't available until August 20th, so we won't be seen until then. though, I honestly don't think they'll want to prescribe any further treatment anyway.

Anyway, I wanted to ask if anyone has experience with Myko san - Mushroom Health ( )
Ever since this diagnosis, I've been hearing about mushrooms. Can they actually help, or are they just a distraction?

Anything is possible. But let's not get ahead of ourselves; just wait until you hear what the doctor has to say regarding next steps.

As for Myko Sana, sure, there are published studies and evidence regarding efficacy, but frankly, most of that is just massive marketing fluff on their end. They are essentially trying to price themselves high enough to fund the purchase of incredibly sophisticated cytostatics and smart drugs—medications that undergo far more expensive and exhaustive research before ever reaching clinical application. Given the prices they're asking, there really isn't any justification for it.
The core foundation of those mushrooms is beta-glucan, which you can get in much cheaper encapsulated forms.

Linda Morales66 said:Well, looks like we got ahead of ourselves thinking everything was fine... turns out we were wrong.
God, I am struggling so much right now...
Dad just called—he was talking to the doctor—and they’re discharging her this Friday.
Look, she’s deep in a heavy hallucination right now—totally out of her mind and right on the edge of becoming aggressive.😢
She was perfectly fine and sharp just yesterday... that's the thing about my old mom.
She told Dad to open the window and jump out. She kicked him right out of the room using such foul language... I know it’s the illness talking, but still... it’s just so incredibly hard on all of us. Now she's even trying to rip off her bandages.

Today was the first time I truly broke. I woke up sobbing uncontrollably. I had this dream about my mom—we were sitting there with my five-year-old daughter, just flipping through old photos. In every single picture, she’s smiling at us, and she keeps talking about all those beautiful moments and little inside jokes we used to share. It just completely overwhelmed me.

And now comes the absolute worst part. I was just sitting here thinking about telling Dad that it would be better if Mom actually came home—to be back in her own familiar surroundings where she feels safe. She seemed okay, almost herself, for a moment... but that’s exactly how this damn disease tricks you. It gives you a glimmer of hope just to pull the rug out from under you.🙂 So, after everything that happened today—it's basically a done deal. Dad is heading out to finalize her placement in an assisted living facility. Honestly, my heart is just breaking; I feel like I’m being torn apart because I know I’d never forgive myself if we just handed her over to a nursing home. Part of me keeps thinking maybe there’s another way, maybe we could actually help her—you know, make things easier by staying right by her bedside and watching over her while the home health aides come in and out. But it’s just not realistic, and it's only hitting me now. It’s incredibly hard to come to terms with this.
I’m just sitting here waiting for my dad to get home, trying my best to stay strong for him while I'm absolutely falling apart physically. It's tough. On top of that, I’ve got my own hospital appointment tomorrow—we’re expecting a baby, so things are pretty intense right now.

Damn cancer! It makes me want to scream. 🙂

Look, even if she’s as sweet as freshly baked bread, based on what you've told me, her dad is simply not equipped to care for someone that sick. I remember being home taking care of my mom when I was young and full of energy; now I'm 35 and my body is paying the price. My spine, my shoulder, and my hands are absolutely shot. You have to lift them, turn them, change them, wash them... a 150-pound person becomes like a heavy sack of flour once they're completely limp. I still get a knot in my stomach remembering one time she fell; I could barely get her back onto the couch. I actually had to drop down onto the floor myself just to roll her over and leverage her up against me, then struggle through that awkward transition from a squat to standing just to get her settled on the edge of the sofa. It’s a brutal, soul-crushing kind of work.
If she’s out of her mind, it won't matter one bit that she isn't home. On the flip side, I'm pretty certain her dad is going to be glued to her side most of the time anyway.
I am incredibly sorry you’re having to deal with all of this while you're pregnant. But please, try to wrap your head around one thing: as much as you love your parents, they are their own people with their own lives. You have your own children to think about now, and that has to be your priority. Please, just try to stay focused on that—you don't want this stress to mess with the baby or turn an already bad situation into something even worse.

Lisa Ward52 said:We’re headed to a second hospital tomorrow to get a second opinion. Honestly, it’s such a relief having someone in the family who works in healthcare; you can't just wander into these situations blindly without some guidance. It’s a tough reality. 😢

The main issue is this one lymph node that’s proving really difficult to reach. According to the specialist my dad saw during his hospital stay, there’s a question of whether they can actually get it out.

Now we just have to wait and see what the second doctor's take is.

We would have opted for radiation much sooner if we had been 100% certain surgery was off the table, since you can't go straight into radiation immediately following an operation.

On the bright side, my dad is holding up incredibly well, which makes this whole ordeal a lot easier for me to handle.

All I can say is I'm rooting for everything to go perfectly and for them to be able to remove something via surgery after all. If that happens, he'll be in a great spot, because the timing for radiation would line up perfectly right after the procedure.

Linda Morales66 said:Dear Angela Wright,

Mom had her surgery today, and she handled it well. Dad saw her in the hallway
when they were moving her to her room and they shared a quick moment. The nurses let him stay with her in the room for just a very short time... she was doing okay, totally alert. The nurse told Dad to come back tomorrow after rounds, and then he can talk to the doctor managing "her case."
We all felt such a massive weight lift off our shoulders once the surgery was over; we’ve been so incredibly tense (even my little one was kicking around in my womb).
First off, I want to thank you for every single word you've written here. I truly value it because you stay grounded, and at the same time, I admire your patience and the compassion you show to all of us. I have to admit, I’ve never really looked into these kinds of topics on forums or sought out this kind of information before. We didn't exactly have "reason" to—to put it bluntly. The truth is, it's only when your whole world gets turned upside down that you actually start paying attention and becoming aware of these tragic stories. Especially since this is the first time cancer has hit our family (not even in my husband's side), so we are being forced, quite suddenly, into the middle of this entire agony of this disgusting, cursed disease... so—even though we realize Mom's condition—we are trying our best to wrap our heads around these medical "phrases" and terms, searching for any similar stories that might give us a shred of hope that everything will turn out alright.
When you wrote "terminal stage" and "palliative care"—believe me, I Googled exactly what those meant. Maybe it sounds stupid or whatever (kind of ridiculous?), but it completely blindsided us. I think it's only now that we're all slowly accepting that the disease has spread so much that there really isn't a cure. That's why, on one hand, I'm glad the doctor I spoke with on the phone gave us the reality of the situation (I hope you understand me speaking like this)... I haven't stopped hoping, but still...
By the way, those patches—Dad finally managed to read which ones they are (Matrifen 50p)... she had two of them a few days ago.
I have a few more questions that might sound silly. It isn't clear to me—if a patient is in that final stage—how is it possible for one day they are perfectly fine (alert, talking), and the next day there's a total shift? For instance, Mom has been her "old self" for two days now, just like she was before she ever ended up in the hospital. Dad is very attached to her, and I'm worried he thinks she's getting better (not that I mean she's cured) rather than... well, like everything is under control (I don't know how else to say it). How should we approach him regarding this?
And one more thing... I read the previous post... Mom had radiation scheduled for August 2nd, but they postponed it because of this surgery. Given that she has metastases everywhere, how does it look—won't it be too late for her by the time the first radiation starts? (Apparently, physical therapy is planned first to get her back on her feet). What do you think? Should we push the doctors? (Even though I know they don't like people "meddling" in their business). I just want her to fight, and I want us to fight right alongside her!
Again, I can't provide specific medical records or anything like that because Mom is in the hospital full-time... (Dad just mentioned he saw her file had four pages of tiny print covering her history and diagnosis...)

Thanks so much

It’s hard to say exactly how things will unfold for her, but you can expect anything at this point. Since the tumors are in the liver, as the bilirubin levels rise, her consciousness will likely fluctuate or decline. On the other hand, some people stay lucid until the very end. I honestly don't know which of those two scenarios is the lesser of two evils. Perhaps the worst evil of all was what my own mother went through with her brain tumor—where for a solid year, we couldn't gauge her condition at all because she couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't signal anything to us... maybe that's the absolute worst. I think it's necessary to be calm and honest with Dad; a person has to face it and find a way to accept it. Still, it might be a relief for him that she'll be placed in a facility where he won't have to witness every single detail firsthand, even if he's there by her side. The most important thing is that she isn't in pain, that she stays clean, comfortable, fed, and hydrated, and above all, that she feels loved and knows you are right there with her, making sure everything is okay.
Regarding radiation, in your mother's case—given her overall condition—it would have been palliative, meaning the goal would just be managing symptoms and improving her quality of life. Instead, they opted for surgery to physically remove the source of her discomfort, which is actually the superior move, and honestly, it’s great that she advocated for herself. When we talk about curative radiation, the intent is different: it's meant to actually cure the disease. In this situation, the metastases are sitting right near the primary tumor in the lymph nodes, so moving fast is critical to shrinking that mass and making surgery a viable option.

@Lisa Ward52/">@@Lisa Ward52
It would be the ideal scenario if they could just surgically excise everything at once. From there, you'd follow up with radiation and potentially chemo depending on the stage and severity. Summer is hands down the worst time to get hit with a cancer diagnosis 🙄

Look, someone should just throw you in a car right now and drive you straight to the Mayo Clinic. They’ll probably have to keep you under observation indefinitely once you get there.

Lisa Ward52 said:I’m stuck in this nightmare too, unfortunately. My dad was diagnosed with throat cancer that has already spread to his lymph nodes. Radiation is our only real option right now, but we aren't scheduled until late August. I spent so many nights crying before I finally had to face the reality that my dad could actually get sick. I'm doing better now, though part of that is just because he's holding up incredibly well. You wouldn't even know he was battling something.
Now we're gearing up for the fight and trying to figure out how to live with this for years to come. Maybe I'm being way too optimistic, but I don't have any other choice, and I refuse to try. 🙂

I don't want to nag you, but waiting for radiation without having surgery to address those metastases sounds like a dangerous amount of lost time.
Do everything in your power to get him seen by a specialist sooner!
And don't listen to anyone saying chemo isn't an option—ask the oncologist specifically about Erbitux!

Chloe Gray5 said:They moved Dad to a regular ward today, and I’m dying to see him. He wasn't on Seroquel yesterday, and he seemed completely himself.
We were sitting there telling him how much we love him and how badly we're looking forward to having him back home. Then, out of nowhere, he starts spinning this story about some guy who passed away—how his kids finally realized they actually needed him, whereas before, they didn't. He even went as far as giving the guy a specific name in his little made-up tale.
I can't help but wonder if he's trying to say he's afraid he's become a burden to us??
For the last few months, there hasn't been a single day where we didn't make trips to the hospital, usually several times a day.
We've done everything—bathing him, turning him, massaging him, feeding him, caring for him, loving him. It hurts knowing there isn't anything else we can do.
And then he drops that story on us yesterday, totally making it up on the spot. I just told him straight up that I didn't see what that had to do with us or the fact that we love him. After that, he just dropped the subject..

Poor man. He probably just needed some reassurance from you all that you aren't doing this because you have to, but strictly because you love him. I'm certain that's what it was.

Linda Morales66 said:Dad visited Mom today and he said there was a complete 180-degree turn in her
condition: 🙂 She ate a little soup and some lunch (yesterday she had nothing at all), she was talkative and in good spirits (yesterday she was just mumbling briefly and incoherently under her breath), and she even asked why she was moved to a different ward (she knows surgery is coming up)... Dad says she even fixed her hair... When Dad left, they had a really lovely goodbye...
And yeah, her only complaint was that she was in pain (since she's on the surgical floor now, maybe they aren't giving her the same meds she was getting over in pulmonology????), so Dad called the nurse who gave her an injection...

Is this a sign things will get better? We are so happy, it’s like she pulled through before things even truly started... it's like she's decided to fight!!!!
The surgery is tomorrow

Of course it's an improvement—it's obvious they haven't given up on her since they're actually taking action.
Listen, regarding your first post about tonics and alternative stuff, I wouldn't advise anything right now, except maybe some supplements like beta glucan or native propolis. Honestly, I think most of that stuff causes more suffering than actual benefit. You guys are in such a vulnerable stage where you can easily be hooked by all sorts of sugary sales pitches full of pseudo-scientific jargon designed to sound heavy and serious, just so you'll buy some encapsulated "miracle" junk... believe me, I've been exactly where you are. If someone told me that feeding my mom crap would help, I'd probably shove it down their throat myself. But it doesn't work that simply. What Mom needs most right now is solid palliative care. That doesn't mean they've stopped fighting; it just means she isn't currently stable enough for curative medicine, making palliative care the best choice for her at this moment. If her condition stabilizes, she might become a candidate for other therapies.
I don't want to give you false hope; you have to realize what this disease is, and at this stage, talking about remission is incredibly difficult. This is a disease that spreads fast, and when the doctor said it's throughout the body, he meant it—especially with those major secondary masses on the liver and bones.
But let's take it one step at a time. First, get through the surgery, then we see how things go.
Hang in there.

Donna Fowler2 said:I ended up in the ER, and they actually needed to admit me, but since I'm a minor and my parents weren't around at the moment, they wouldn't let me stay. They ordered every test under the sun—CT scans, EEGs, TCDs, you name it—but everything is scheduled for later this year, sometime in November. Until then, who knows? I could have a stroke or something lol

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!😲
Get yourself back there right now! Did you even explain what was happening to them?
You need to get back to the hospital immediately. You are describing serious symptoms that demand urgent medical attention without any delay. I can't believe they turned you away! Which hospital were you at? Whoever sent you home should be reported for denying emergency medical care!

Chloe Gray5 said:We tell him all the time how much we love him and how lucky we feel to have him by our side. Honestly, considering everything he’s been through, it’s nothing short of a miracle that he survived at all. I truly believe he wants to be part of this family and that he loves us too, so I just hope that connection is enough to carry him through.

That's really what matters most here. 🙂
He'll start tapering off the Seroquel gradually as things stabilize. Since he’s already quite aware of his own limitations, I'm confident he'll handle that transition just fine.

Chloe Gray5 said:Hey again, I’ve been offline for a bit... Here’s the latest: Dad finally made it home from Washington, D.C., but he didn't last even a week before the ER had to show up five different times. Eventually, they sent him over to the hospital in Miami. His blood work was looking pretty rough, which is why he needed inpatient care—he hasn't been able to eat or drink anything at home, whereas while he was in D.C., they were keeping him hydrated with IVs and everything else he needed. Even so, they tried to discharge him just a month after his admission, despite it being less than two weeks since his second amputation..
Regarding that shadow on his lungs that showed up after the pulmonary embolism—even though the markers were negative back then—they performed a puncture the day before yesterday. We won't have the results until next week, but he developed a pneumothorax, so he’s currently in the ICU. Honestly, physically speaking, he seems okay while he's getting his IV fluids and meds, but he’s a bit disoriented; he’s on Seroquel, so that’s likely why. I’m just praying that spot on the lung doesn't mean anything bad; he doesn't have a fever or a cough, it just appeared after the embolism when nothing was there before..

My heart goes out to all of you and your loved ones. Hang in there, stay strong, keep the faith, and just be there for them!

Hang in there, honey. The main thing is that he’s under medical supervision now. They’ll get him patched up and he'll be back home before you know it. How is he handling everything else, specifically the amputation?

Linda Morales66 said:God, there are just so many heartbreaking stories being shared here. 😢

Dad called me this morning and actually made the trip out to see me after he finished visiting Mom. It’s been incredibly heavy on him lately—he's really struggling, and honestly, it's just heartbreaking to watch. But we managed to steer the conversation away from Mom's illness for a little while, which seemed to lift his spirits just enough to bring some life back into him. I'm so relieved to see that tiny spark again.
And yeah,Let me just correct myself regarding my previous post. They aren't doing the collarbone surgery on my mom after all; they're focusing on that fractured left hip instead. She’s being moved from the pulmonary ward over to surgery today, so now it's just a waiting game while they run all those pre-op tests.
I asked my dad what kind of meds they’re giving her, but he’s completely clueless. He just says a nurse shows up, hands over the pills, and leaves. There isn't even a chart by the bed for him to look at because the hospital keeps all those records tucked away in some massive file somewhere. Honestly, he’s so disoriented and confused right now that I’m worried he’s mishearing the doctors or totally misinterpreting everything they tell him.
Mom basically ate nothing today besides some grits and an egg, and then she had the nerve to ask him what exactly she signed for the doctors yesterday... My God, if she can't even remember that, how bad has this illness actually taken hold? Or are we looking at full-blown hallucinations at this point?
My dad is telling me he’s got two of those patches stuck on his chest—he says they look almost transparent, but then one is red and the other is blue? Honestly, I can’t make heads or tails of any of this... 🤷
Honestly, I’m feeling pretty down about all of this... It feels like everything shifted so abruptly over the last two weeks, though if you really look closely, the rot has clearly been setting in for a long, long time.

Linda Morales66 said:Dad's getting calls again... the hospital reached out to him because he needs to sign off on her hip surgery. Since Mom isn't in any position to make medical decisions on her own right now, the responsibility falls on him.
Oh my God, listening to Dad cry over the phone is just gut-wrenching. He’s practically begging me for confirmation; he's so rattled by this whole situation that he can't think straight. He’ll sign it, of course—he always does—but it's hard to watch him break down like this.

My mom is using Duragesic patches to manage her pain. Each patch comes in a different color to signify the specific dosage and how much fentanyl is being released per hour. It’s a bit of a minefield because the side effects can be pretty intense—we're talking everything from disorientation and depression to anxiety and even hallucinations. Honestly, all of that could easily be attributed to the Duragesic itself. It’s a total catch-22; unfortunately, it's just one of those necessary evils you have to deal with.
Mom is going to go through with those palliative procedures—even that palliative radiation meant to slow the disease down. The whole point isn't to cause more harm; it’s about improving her quality of life and making things as easy as possible for her during this stage.
Everyone needs to pull themselves together. I get that this is heavy and you’re all feeling pretty desperate, but what happened, happened—now you just have to deal with the reality of it. Is there anyone who can step up and help Dad out so he isn't stuck dealing with this entirely on his own? It's obvious he’s incredibly emotional and deeply attached to her, and if he hits a breaking point and spirals into depression, we’re going to be facing an even bigger disaster on our hands.