Posts by Ashley Reed98

Yesterday marked exactly 16 months since my boyfriend passed away.... It is truly staggering how quickly time flies—it feels as if we were just sitting together at a coffee shop yesterday. He was gone almost overnight.

I still miss him terribly; there is this massive, overwhelming void inside me that has existed ever since he left. Fortunately, I have my job to keep me busy, which helps pass the time, but when the weekend rolls around and I am back home, the loneliness hits me quite hard. Even his "friends" seem to have moved on as if they had already forgotten him—not a single soul mentions him anymore. That makes things incredibly difficult for me. You just end up feeling so isolated in all of this.

Rachel Williams said:No one is ever truly ready—it’s just not how it works. Neither those who are suffering nor those of us standing by them are ever asked if we feel prepared or capable of handling it... it simply is what it is, and we have to brace ourselves and face it head-on if we don't want things to get even harder for our loved ones. Our own feelings aren't the priority here.

That is exactly right 👍. You have to stay strong and somehow find the grit to keep going. For instance, this month marks five months since I lost my boyfriend. To be honest, I don't even know when that feeling of emptiness will pass. I don't know how I managed to navigate through all of it, either. Even while he was still alive, I found myself constantly wondering what lay ahead. Once the diagnosis hit, I was terrified of what would happen when he became immobile or helpless, and eventually, the crushing thought of life without him. On the other hand—he was such an incredibly positive, optimistic soul—which gave me this flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could pull through this fight. None of us ever let him see us cry or show any sign of weakness, but then again, he was that way too, so I suppose that influenced how we all acted. I was by his side constantly (thankfully, I didn't have a job at the time), and his family was always there as well, so he was never alone. Despite everything, we actually had a beautiful year together. We went everywhere together; I accompanied him to radiation sessions, and we endured chemo together—he actually tolerated it quite well, so we didn't deal with many major complications.

When the reality set in—when they discovered the cancer had returned—it was a massive shock. He didn't want to see me or even take a call, which, looking back, I completely understood. Once he started the radiation and chemo again, it was as if he had settled into this deep sense of optimism. He never once spoke about how he was feeling mentally or what was racing through his mind. It wasn't until they stopped the Temozolomide and switched him to IV chemo that he finally told me the truth: he was terrified of how this was all going to end. And it didn't end well; he didn't make it to the second cycle of IV treatment. He was gone almost overnight.

Unfortunately, we can't control everything in our lives. It is incredibly difficult when you find yourself in a situation like this. But those of us who are healthy must find the strength for our loved ones—I don't know where it comes from, but we have to find it. I have a sister who has been completely paralyzed following an accident; we've been caring for her at home for 17 years now (she's 41). I can't even bear the thought of putting her in some facility; we know how much being home with us means to her. She can't speak, but she finds ways to show us exactly what she's feeling.

As for me, I am slowly moving forward. I started a new job, so I stay busy, but I still think of him a hundred times a day. Everything still reminds me of him, and I still have his number saved in my iPhone. I have this strange sensation, as if he's still out there somewhere—it's all very surreal.

After he passed, I spent a lot of time reading through this thread, and it really helped me. It felt a little easier to breathe knowing I wasn't alone in these experiences. I only have one close friend I can talk to openly and just break down with, so having this community has been a huge help.

Laura Sanchez23, I am truly, deeply sorry 😢. Please accept my most sincere condolences.

Grace Ross20 said:Time really does fly by, especially when you feel like you're just counting down the days.
It’s so obvious how much you loved him—and honestly, that kind of love? Neither death nor time can ever strip it away from you. He’s going to live on through you, forever.

We all carry our own stories, don't we? And there’s really no way to answer that haunting question of "why me?" Maybe there's a profound reason behind it all, or maybe there isn't. If anything brings me comfort amidst this heartache, it's the fact that I've grown up alongside all of this; it has made me stronger and far more resilient against life's trivial nonsense.

I truly hope you find a way to navigate this pain—that eventually, this ache transforms into pride and beautiful memories. I want you to be able to live fully again, to laugh and find joy in the little things, all while never forgetting that you were part of such a magnificent fight.

Wishing you so much luck, dear 😘

Thank you 🙂, I am wishing you so much strength! Angela Wright and you too 🙂. Words like yours mean the world to me—I find myself coming back to your messages over and over again, and they truly make things a bit easier.
Lately, I've been spending a lot of time looking at our old photos, just thinking and reminiscing about everything. I was visiting a friend abroad recently, which kept my mind occupied with so many things, but now that I'm back home, everything feels heavier... especially with the holidays approaching...

boldridge3, please accept my deepest condolences.

My son experienced a recurrence of his brain tumor last year. His initial diagnosis ten years ago was an anaplastic astrocytoma; he underwent chemotherapy with Temodal, radiation, and surgery back in 2005. In 2006, he had to undergo a second surgery following a severe seizure and a fall that resulted in a brain contusion.

Fortunately, after all of that, he recovered beautifully. While there were some minor lingering effects, he lived a practically normal life for ten years—right up until last year. He even drove his own car and lived quite a standard life, for lack of a better word.

Then, at the end of April last year, he was watching TV and seemed to lose consciousness for a few moments. We immediately scheduled an MRI, which confirmed it was a recurrence. Following that, we met with a neurosurgeon who made it clear that surgery was off the table, and the oncologist was skeptical about radiation since he had already undergone significant radiation during his first round. They performed a biopsy, which revealed both glioblastoma and anaplastic astrocytoma. By late August, they started him on radiation again because there simply wasn't any other option, along with Temodal. He completed 30 sessions of radiation while taking Temodal 160 mg daily. After the biopsy, he was also prescribed dex—8 ml twice a day.

After that initial cycle, we had one cycle of 160 mg for 20 days, followed by two or three cycles of 320 mg for five days. He struggled immensely with those higher doses, so they moved him back to the 20-day cycle of 160 mg with a nine-day break. He tolerated the lower doses much better; he took the Temodal alongside Reglan to manage the weakness, and he did alright.

He continued that way through the end of August. Of course, we were doing MRIs every three months and monitoring his blood work... there weren't any major issues. I know that toward the end of May, the oncologist was still satisfied with the MRI results. Gradually, we were able to taper his dex down until he was only taking 2 ml in the morning.

We remained somewhat optimistic through the end of August—but then the MRI showed things had worsened significantly. The medical board decided on PCV chemotherapy; he completed one cycle, but he didn't make it to the second.😢.

One night, there was a hemorrhage—bleeding in the brain. Everything moved so incredibly fast... I honestly never imagined it would mean the end. He woke up in the middle of the night with a massive headache, losing function on his right side, and vomiting. There was nothing the hospital could do; we just had to wait. By the time the ambulance got us to the hospital, he was unconscious, and within two hours, he had slipped into a deep coma.

I spend so much time reflecting on that night. Could I have done more? Did I do everything within my power? I can still vividly remember waiting for the paramedics; he was almost unconscious already. I kept wiping him with a wet cloth, repeatedly telling him that I loved him and that everything was going to be okay.
The doctors told us the hemorrhage was too extensive; too much of the brain was affected. Late that night, he fell asleep forever.

Up until his final day, he lived "normally"—he was mobile and pain-free, which provides us with a small measure of comfort. It would have been so much harder if he had lost himself bit by bit; he was terrified of that happening. But he was such an optimist, always talking about what he would do once he recovered. I was aware of his diagnosis—I think we all were—but no one expected it to end this abruptly.

But the fact that he is gone hurts so deeply. I miss him so much; it feels like there is this massive, hollow void inside me.

p.s.: Please excuse my poor English; I am not from the US.

Thank you all so much for your kind words—it truly means a lot. In a few days, I am planning to sit down and write out a full account of his treatment process and how everything unfolded.

It is all quite difficult to navigate, honestly. This past week was particularly brutal; it has been a month since he passed, and yesterday marked what would have been his 34th birthday. I am just trying to find my way through it all, one day at a time.

I am sending each and every one of you an abundance of courage and strength 🙂.

I’ve walked this same path alongside my partner—the very one you all are navigating right now. He passed away just three weeks ago after battling a brain tumor. I know this community exists, but I honestly never had the courage to dive into these threads until now. I held onto such a desperate, flickering hope for his recovery; even with a diagnosis that heavy, watching him face everything with such unwavering bravery and optimism gave me a tiny shred of hope to cling to.

Now that he’s gone... I’m just taking things one day at a time, though the void he left is immense. I miss him terribly—truly, deeply—and that ache seems to grow more intense with every passing day.

My heart goes out to every single one of you 🙂

I found myself quite moved by that news today... 🙂

Thank you for all those beautiful verses and songs.

Oh, goodness, thank you so much for the ad blocker 🙂

Now we finally have a high-performance forum 😍

Thanks so much for the help.

I definitely won't be picking up those items from CVS then—I did a little more digging online, and apparently, some people swear they’re actually pretty terrible.

So, I'll just stick with the whey 👍

Experts, I would truly appreciate your guidance here 🙂.

So, I am finally getting back into the gym this week to get myself back in shape—I’m looking to drop those last 5 or 6 pounds so I can actually feel good about my weight again.
From what I understand, protein intake after a workout is essential, isn't it? (Though, just to be clear, I am excluding cottage cheese and tuna from the equation 😁.)
I was considering heading over to CVS to pick up one of their protein powders.
On this specific link, there are three options available: the plain version, chocolate, and vanilla.
http://dm-drogeriemarkt.de/cms/servl...sport_eiweiss/

However, I noticed these CVS brands mostly consist of milk and soy proteins, and a friend mentioned that ordering a whey protein might actually be the superior choice for results.

I would love to hear your thoughts and perspectives on this.