Given how my husband looks physically, I’m really hoping the CT scan results come back clean. We’re also scheduled for a bone scan afterward because his shoulders and arms are killing him, even though the X-rays didn't show anything out of the ordinary. I honestly think all this pain is just from the sudden temperature swings we've been having lately—one minute it's boiling, the next it's freezing. It's a catch-22, really. The more tests we push for, the more terrified we get. Like, what if the results actually show things have gone south?
All these crises? They come and go. It’s just me, my husband, and the kids—we’re each other's rock. We get it. People on the outside? Honestly, they couldn't begin to wrap their heads around what we're actually dealing with. So, I don't even bother looking for sympathy from anyone else anymore. There are moments when I just want to vent and let it all out, but... My husband has his CT scan for his chest and abdomen coming up on August 8th. The last time he had one was exactly two years ago, and everything looked fine back then. No metastases, just that button-sized tumor sitting there, totally unchanged.. I'm terrified right now. And my husband? He’s a nervous wreck. I just need this to turn out okay..
mistyridge5 said:It’s nice to see some positivity in here; it gets pretty heavy hearing nothing but pain and sadness all the time.
But what about us?! The days just blur together, the heat is brutal, and we're out here just trying to keep up a rhythm and stick to our routines. My man is looking a bit rough; hair's thinning out everywhere. We just joke that he's turning into his future g. I. Joe self, like he can finally justify using those ultra-mega razors... we find humor in everything, honestly, it's the only way to make it work.
Moods swing wildly, and I'm just riding the wave. My birthday is coming up next week, but he’s heading into the hospital the day before, so yeah, Round 2 of this cycle is officially starting.
Don't get me wrong, it sucks that my birthday is hitting like this. It's not like I'm throwing a party for getting older, but lately, it's just been the two of us, a good bottle of wine, some old songs, and plenty of laughs. This year is gonna look totally different. And hey, maybe let's just keep it that way for this one...
As for me, I'm definitely on edge sometimes. My nerves are shot. People surprise me every single day, and usually in the worst way. I'm shrinking my inner circle even more—just keeping it to the people we both actually trust. It's rare to find anyone these days who actually understands empathy, family, or what real friendship looks like...
I've been through hell and back fighting for my husband. In the end, it feels like it all falls on my shoulders. Friends just... vanished. At first, there were tons of them popping in to visit, but now it feels like they were just coming by for the gossip, just to have something to talk about. Family? Forget it. It's just me and the kids. I've gotten used to carrying the weight of everything alone. The hardest part is having nobody to vent to when things hit the fan. So many people have taken my weakest moments and turned them into coffee-talk chatter. I can't keep it all bottled up forever. Sometimes I just snap, have a good cry where nobody can see me, and then I just keep moving.
mistyridge5 said:It’s nice seeing some positivity here; it’s hard enough dealing with all the pain and sadness already.
But what about us?! Days are just dragging by, it’s boiling hot, and we’re out here trying to keep up a routine and stay on track. The chemo is doing its thing; hair’s falling out, body hair too. We just joke that he’s turning into his future g. I. Joe self, like finally being able to use those ultra-mega razors... we find humor in everything because honestly, that’s the only way we make it through.
Moods swing wildly, and I’m just riding the wave. My birthday is coming up next week, but he’s headed back into the hospital the day before, so yeah, round two of this cycle begins.
Don't get me wrong, it stings, having my birthday hit like this. It’s not that I’m obsessed with getting older, but lately, it’s just been him and me, sharing a good bottle of wine, listening to old songs, laughing, just being us. This year is going to be different. And hopefully, it stays that way for just this one...
As for me, I’m on edge sometimes. My nerves are frayed. People surprise me every single day, and usually not in a good way. So, I’m shrinking my circle—the people I’m close to, the people *we* are both close to. It’s rare to find anyone who actually understands empathy, family, or what real friendship even looks like...
I’ve been through hell and back fighting for my husband. In the end, it all felt like it fell squarely on my shoulders. Friends? They vanished. At first, there were plenty of them, but they only showed up to visit. Now, it feels like they were just popping in for the gossip, looking for something to talk about. Family? Nobody. It’s just the kids and me. I’ve gotten used to carrying every single problem by myself. The hardest part is having no one to vent to when things hit the fan. So many times people have taken my weakest moments and turned them into coffee-talk chatter. It’s exhausting holding it all in. Sometimes I just snap, cry my eyes out where nobody can see me, and then I just keep moving.
Thanks for the kind words. Honestly, I just want to send all the love and patience in the world to every family out there currently fighting a battle against illness. When you're going up against cancer, you've gotta fight it with a positive attitude and pure optimism. It’s all about mindset—it starts right there in the head!
Thanks for the kind words. We’re sending all that love and patience right back to every single family out there fighting the good fight against illness. When you're battling cancer, you've gotta go at it with total positivity and grit. It’s all about mindset—everything starts in the head!
Susan Ruiz76 said:I honestly wish nothing but the best for everyone I've met on this forum. I don't post much—hardly at all, really—mostly because I’m intimidated by how established you all are, just this tight-knit group of women sharing their struggles. I’m a grandmother, and just like Angela Wright, I’m heading to the coast tomorrow morning. That’s pretty much our only thing in common. I’m traveling with my 7-year-old granddaughter and my husband, who was diagnosed with lung cancer a year ago. I don't need to spell out how that feels to any of you; I'm sure you get it. He’s doing "okay" for now. In fact, he’s driving us from the Midwest down to the central Atlantic coast, trying his hardest to act like everything is fine even when it isn't—but it isn't. But look, we made a choice: we live for today. When we wake up in the morning, we take that day. Stay strong. It's not like the healthcare system is a total nightmare all the time, and not every single person working there is a jerk. Things move at the pace they move. Just know that what your loved ones need most is LOVE and ATTENTION—and you can't put a price tag on that. Sending a special shout-out to the fajterica (wherever she is, I hope her husband is doing alright)!
Ever since my husband got sick, we've just been taking it one day at a time. Every single morning, we just thank God that we woke up together. We fight through today just to make it to tomorrow. That’s been our life for three and a half years now. When this first started, I was absolutely livid at every doctor and nurse in sight... But eventually, you realize they aren't magicians. They did the best they could with what they knew. It’s been a massive rollercoaster of emotions. We’ve crashed, we’ve bounced back, and we’ve leaned on each other. Once the hospital treatment is over, having your family behind you is the only thing that actually matters.
Dag Chez, seriously, you need to go in there and shake things up. Be blunt, be rude, whatever it takes. You gotta intimidate them so they actually start showing some respect to your old man. Threaten to call the local news, leak something to the press—just stir the pot at the facility! There’s no other way. I’m telling you, I’ve been there. Being all polite and "civilized" isn't going to get you anywhere in a place like this. At the end of the day, you're crying too much about it. Look, you paid for a service, and you have every right to demand what you actually paid for.
Amanda Miller69 said:For sure she was. Honestly, I’m just so grateful my mom spared me all that agony during those two years we fought so hard. Even in those final days... if I had asked her if she was hurting, she would've said "no," but let's be real—she would've been screaming in pain within two minutes. I didn't get it back then. I used to blame her, thinking she was being difficult, but looking back, she just didn't have the strength left. She wasn't lying when she said she "didn't feel like" doing something; she literally couldn't. Thinking about it now still hits me right in the chest. It's heavy.
I know you were the best daughter anyone could ask for. Your mom knew that, period.
In a brutal fight like this one, the most important thing is just making sure the person suffering keeps their dignity intact. They're the ones going through hell.
Whenever I’m spiraling—just totally consumed by this raw anger and bitterness, wondering why everything has to be such a mess for us specifically, losing my damn mind—I just stop and ask myself one thing: how would I want people to treat me if I were actually sick? That usually snaps me out of it. Then I just break down, go give my husband and kids a huge hug, and suddenly, things don't feel quite so impossible.
It’s brutal when someone gets sick. You aren't just dealing with the physical stuff; there's all this fear and misery that just hangs over everything. And honestly? The whole family takes the hit too. It’s one of those things where if you haven't lived through it, you just can't wrap your head around how heavy it feels. We’ve been in the trenches for three and a half years now, fighting my husband's lung cancer. But man, the mental toll is the absolute worst part—all the side effects from being on meds for so long, not to mention the heavy stuff they have to give him. When I hit a wall and felt like I couldn't take another step, I turned to my faith. I was just desperately praying to God to help me find a way through. And He did. Now, I can handle the chaos a lot better. I’ve got more patience and a bit more clarity than I used to. I really do get what you're going through. My heart goes out to you and your dad. I'm praying God gives you the strength and the grit to keep moving forward.
fajterica;15107863 said:I gotta say, I was actually shocked by how chill everyone in the studio was. Really bummed I didn't get a chance to dig into the whole mess with drugs that aren't covered on the formulary list.
The host felt way too soft for my liking...
At least we showed the Department of Health we’ve got some bite. I really hope they caught the vibe that we aren't pushovers and we won't let them treat us like idiots.
Honestly? I just hope something actually shifts at the Department for the sake of the patients. Like, I hope they find a shred of conscience in there somewhere. My husband went through bronchus and trachea cancer about three and a half years ago. He did 4 cycles of chemo using the MIC protocol followed by 4 cycles of Taxotere. Getting his treatment sorted out at Mayo Clinic was smooth sailing—so thanks to them for that.