Posts by steelbadger83

I haven't been able to check in here as often as I'd like, but I really just wanted to reach out and tell everyone currently in the fight—both the patients and their families—that I hope you can find the strength to stay persistent, to keep believing, and to try to hold onto a positive mindset.

It was actually September 20th when I hit my one-year milestone since that very first chemo session (I ended up going through 8 cycles and 30 radiation treatments). These days, my treatment has scaled back quite a bit; I'm mostly just managing things with hormone pills and injections, plus a Herceptin shot every 21 days. Honestly, I feel wonderful. I’m living a totally normal life, working, and I don't spend my time dwelling on the illness anymore. Looking back, that whole experience was this intense chapter where I learned so much about myself, how to truly value life, and how to fight for my own well-being, but it isn't something I want to dwell on constantly or live in fear of what might happen down the road. I suppose I just try to take things one day at a time, living as if I have an eternity ahead of me.

Grace Fowler, good luck! 😘

I mean, looking at how northernfox9 is reacting, it seems pretty obvious he’s just completely spooked, and honestly, that kind of behavior usually feels like a way to grab everyone's attention. Maybe he should consider sitting down with a therapist or even just talking things out with a priest?

Iscador is actually registered over in Austria or Germany and is even included on the lists used by oncology hospitals. It’s got a proven track record as an immunostimulator and works to help fight off cancer cells.
As for our local oncologists here in the States, their opinions are pretty split, I suppose, mostly depending on how open they are to alternative types of treatment.
Personally, I feel like I should try anything that seems reasonable to me, and I don't want to limit myself strictly to conventional medicine, though I know I might not always be thinking about it the right way.

I ended up going through six jars of Biocil. If I had one complaint, it would definitely be how expensive it is. But the truth is, I managed to get through both chemo and radiation without any major issues, and I even made it through this past spring without dealing with any seasonal allergies. Plus, I didn't catch any of those nasty viruses the kids usually bring home, which is pretty unusual for me. It's also true that my test results look good, though I think it would be a bit much—maybe even totally unfounded—to claim that it was all thanks to the Biocil. Regardless, it certainly didn't hurt me.

The injections are called Iscador, and if I recall correctly, there are different series—like 0, 1, and 2. Right now, I’m actually on series 2.
It’s basically an immunostimulator, and it’s been shown to have anticancer properties too, which I guess is why we use it.
I started doing two injections a week just under a year ago, though you have to be careful because you shouldn't take them if you're dealing with any bleeding or if you happen to run a fever. Once you finish a box, you take a one-week break, but since I'm on series 2, I actually take a two-week break instead. Also, you probably shouldn't give them within at least 48 hours of chemotherapy, just to be safe. Each box comes with seven injections that you follow in order, since they're numbered. Usually, the reaction is just some redness and swelling, which seems normal, but it shouldn't be anything too extreme. If the reaction feels like too much, I think you're supposed to cut the next dose in half—basically, put half the contents in one syringe for yourself, then fill a second syringe with the remaining half, pop that one in the fridge, and use it two days later. I haven't really dealt with any other side effects, at least personally.
Right now, I’m just doing one injection a week, with those two-week breaks between each box. I order them through a pharmaceutical marketing company, and two boxes cost about $250, which ends up being enough to last me for three months.

slyseal28, I think you’re totally right, Adriamycin is just so hard on the heart and it really does a number on your veins. In my case, my heart function actually started dipping, though it didn't happen until I finished my very last cycle, but thankfully it was reversible and my numbers eventually bounced back to normal.

I guess every chemo cycle hits you differently, too. For me, that first round was by far the absolute worst, and then each subsequent one felt a little bit easier to manage. Maybe it's just because the body eventually gets used to the cytostatics and learns how to handle them better. I ended up losing about 11 pounds during the whole treatment, but my blood work stayed pretty steady. To help out, I drank beet juice, took some raw propolis and Biocil honey, and used some homeopathic remedies for my liver to help it process all those toxins more easily. I also made sure to drink nettle leaf tea three times a day and kept up with my Imelda injections—I’m actually still taking those since the protocol lasts for five years. I mostly just ate whatever my body felt like accepting, usually in smaller portions, and I made a point to walk a lot and spend time outdoors. I also went for massages quite often, which, honestly, were often the only thing that could pull me back from the brink.

Also, just a heads-up, chemo can sometimes cause mouth sores or inflammation. When that happens, I found it helpful to brew some blackberry and raspberry leaf tea and use it as a gargle, because it helps constrict the tiny blood vessels in your mouth.

Basically, when you're dealing with red chemo, it starts affecting your blood cells around day seven, so you might notice your immune system dropping or feeling extra exhausted during that second week. That's the time when you really have to be careful about infections, since your white blood cell counts tend to get pretty low.

In hospital slang, people usually talk about "red" and "white," though the red stuff is actually the Adriamycin therapy, which feels pretty aggressive since it tends to cause a lot of nausea and makes your hair fall out.
The white chemo can vary quite a bit depending on what it’s being used for, and while it definitely has its own set of side effects, it rarely, if ever, causes you to lose your hair.

Have you guys ever heard about alternative medicine? They use brain scans to actually detect what’s going on with your body and all sorts of ailments, and they can even pinpoint exactly when something started. Apparently, the timing is everything because that’s how they link the illness back to a specific stressful event we went through. Basically, the idea is that every single sickness is just a reaction to some sudden shock in our lives, and since we picked them up that way, we can supposedly heal them too—as long as we tackle the actual root cause.
I mean, I find it pretty plausible, especially since they claim things like metastasis don't really exist in the way we think; instead, they view them as entirely new conditions triggered by specific internal conflicts.
I actually picked up a manual that goes into quite a bit of detail about all this, and it's honestly pretty fascinating. I even went to see a specialist who practices this, and I have to say, I was kind of blown away by the whole thing.

I've finished up my more intense treatments, though I'm still on hormones and taking a few other medications that help me keep functioning normally day-to-day.

Grace Fowler, hang in there.

Brenda Richardson33, I promise you, this too shall pass.
The start of this year was just... it was incredibly heavy for me. First, I lost my dearest one, then Zoe, and then a close friend, all taken by such cruel illnesses. On top of that, I was fighting through rounds of chemotherapy, dealing with the bureaucracy at Social Security, and trying to manage the cost of expensive medications. Everything felt so bleak and depressing, but I suppose I just refused to let it break me.
It’s only been four months, really, but today I feel like I’m living life at a hundred miles an hour—it sounds crazy, I know—but I’m just so full of optimism, energy, and this deep belief in the future and in life itself.
In some strange way, cancer actually made me a better person; it changed me and gave me this chance to look at everything from a completely different perspective. It helped me realize that even when things are ugly, there's still beauty in it, because life is just so wonderful and beautiful, and I guess we all carry the responsibility for our own lives, choosing our own paths and how we want to live.

I truly wish for all of you to first and foremost find a way to accept the illnesses of your loved ones, to treat them as if they were healthy, and to be that steady support system while they try to find themselves again. I mean, cancer can be this intense, accelerated path toward reaching the very core of who you are—I might even go so far as to say it makes the journey easier in its own way. Some people succeed on this path and some don't, there are no guarantees, of course, but I feel like anyone who falls ill is given a special opportunity by God to grow spiritually, and those closest to them can really help facilitate that growth.

It’s honestly so wonderful to see everyone coming together like this, and I really hope it’s just the start of something massive.

As someone who is currently navigating life while being treated for cancer, I find that I rarely actually dwell on the idea of a relapse, or even think about the disease coming back, and I don't really approach it with a ton of fear, either. I suppose I feel like we all kind of manifest our own illnesses if we don't take the time to truly connect with ourselves. Socrates once suggested that some people die without ever having truly lived, and I find myself believing in that quite deeply.
For me, this illness has sort of opened up these huge doors to my psyche, teaching me so much and lifting me up to a completely different level of my own personality. The growth I've gained from it has been incredibly significant. In that sense, I feel like the only way I would face a recurrence is if I stopped listening to my gut and my own needs—if I kept bottling up negative emotions for too long or suppressing things instead of living my life the way I truly want to. But then again, I also know that if that happens, I’ll probably just view it as another chance to find myself again because I think I tend to lose my way sometimes. And if I can't manage that, well, I have this feeling that someone will make sure I leave this world in peace, since my mission here will be complete, and maybe one day I'll just get a fresh start in some other form.

I feel like faith is such a deeply personal thing, you know? It’s all about how an individual experiences it, so I don't really want to get dragged into any big debates or arguments about it, but I can certainly share my own perspective.
I honestly believe that God loves every single one of us equally, and I don't think He wants us to suffer or expects us to go through pain at all. To me, suffering feels more like a personal choice we make—just like how we choose our own happiness, or sadness, or anger, or even joy... I guess you could say we are all the architects of our own destinies through our thoughts, picking out the kind of life we want to lead and deciding how to react whenever life throws something at us.
When it comes to being sick, I sort of feel like people choose illness based on what they're trying to achieve with it, and then they also decide whether they want to heal or just stay unwell. In my view, sickness might actually be one of the best things we can choose, mostly because it gives us this chance to rise up spiritually and learn so much about ourselves. I think the greatest gift you can get from it is realizing that love is what drives everything, and that the whole point of living isn't just to eventually reach God, but to realize that God has been inside us all along, as long as we live through LOVE. Through love, we become one with everything around us; there's no room for hate, or fighting, or arguing, because if you truly love someone, you don't feel the need to push them away. But, I suppose, before we can love anyone else, we have to LEARN TO LOVE OURSELVES FIRST. That's where the secret to healing lies, because once you truly love, you're free and happy, and there's just nothing left for sickness to latch onto.

I didn't catch it either, though I really wish I had. There was actually this program about breast cancer on NBC yesterday around 11:00, but I was at my appointment for Herceptin so I couldn't tune in.
I’ve been thinking more and more lately about starting an association of my own, maybe something a bit broader than what exists now—a place where you could access all kinds of specialists, not just psychologists. I actually have a meeting coming up next week to talk about it.

It’s so true, everyone seems to forget that the families of those who are sick need psychological support too. It isn't just that the patient doesn't get enough help—and certainly not the kind of adequate, free support you'd expect through insurance—but it feels like the families themselves aren't even considered at all.

In the United States (since they are such a practical people), they've put out all these different brochures, you know? Things like how to support a spouse, or how to help the kids, or the parents... I find those kinds of tips really helpful.

Personally, I've been thinking about registering a non-profit focused primarily on breast cancer, though maybe it could expand to other illnesses later on. I imagine it being organized so that a patient and their family could go to one single place to get all the information, advice, and recommendations they might need regarding their condition—everything from surgeons, oncologists, and internists to radiologists, psychologists, psychiatrists, physiatrists, physical therapists, nutritionists, and even holistic practitioners. As part of that, we could print brochures like: What to eat during treatment, How to talk to your children, What chemotherapy actually means and the different types available, how to handle yourself during radiation, physical activity and physiotherapy tips, or even the different stages of accepting a diagnosis and how behavior changes during that process.

It was done using the d-minor protocol. You could probably get it done in Graz—though they haven't been taking our patients since last October because they're totally overbooked—or maybe in Vienna. I guess your oncologist would need to set everything up and book the appointment for you. You’d have to pay for the scan upfront, but I heard that Medicare eventually reimburses the cost. It costs roughly $1,500. They give you all the results on a CD, I think. I'm not entirely sure about the rest of the details, honestly. I'm actually getting ready to go through the same thing myself toward the end of the year.

Reading this is just... honestly, it's too much. It’s absolutely heartbreaking. My heart goes out to all her family and friends during such a difficult time. I guess even though I never actually had the chance to meet Zendaya in person, she was someone I feel like I'll never truly forget.

I’ve actually heard about two different options, though I haven't reached out to them personally yet. The first one is Komarov, who has an office out in the suburbs, and then there's this other practitioner, a Ruskin, who supposedly managed to help the head of the Alcohol Institute when everyone else had basically given up on him—she even helped Janez Janša, if that's true. I have phone numbers for both of them, so if it's okay to share stuff like that here, I could leave them for you.

I’ve been using those Hepeel n homeopathic tablets from Heel, along with some Hepatodoron by Weleda, lately. I usually just chew them about three times a day right before I sit down for a meal. I guess they just seem to help my liver out a bit more easily when it comes to flushing all those toxins out of my system.