Posts by Lisa White54

goldenharbor42 said:lost a few more pounds again....😢
...hugs to everyone....
the grind continues...

Have you tried using that Megostat syrup? It actually works. It helped my husband out big time. It really kicked his appetite back into gear and he finally started putting some meat on his bones.

Rebecca Chavez85 said:Hey, Lisa White54!

Look, I'm not trying to rain on anyone's parade here. I'm just speaking from experience, and honestly, reality can be a bitch.
One of these days, you’re gonna look back and realize exactly what I was getting at.

I'm sorry you're going through this loss. I get it—you probably held onto hope until the very last second, and now you're just left feeling bitter and miserable because things didn't go your way. That's why you're posting like this, coming from a place of pure resentment.
But personally? I'm not about giving up hope. As long as there's even a tiny chance to see tomorrow, I'm taking it.
I've seen too many sick people pass away, unfortunately. Way too many gone far too soon. Life isn't fair—it doesn't follow any rules, and it sure as hell doesn't care about justice. All we really have is hope and finding some small reason to smile for making it through another day.
I know we're all mortal. We're all eventually headed for the exit, one way or another... But while we're still breathing, we live. We fight.
Later, everyone.

Megan Phillips9 said:Hey everyone, I’ve been reading through some of your posts and honestly, I’m just at a loss for words. It’s been weighing on me for a while now...

Since there are so many pages here and we're all running on empty, sorry if I'm asking something that was already answered somewhere else...

Here’s the deal:
- My mother-in-law had a mastectomy on her right breast two years ago.
- Now they've found metastases in her lungs and brain, so she's going through another round of chemo and radiation.
- This Friday, after spending two weeks in the hospital, they’re discharging her, but the issue is she’s totally overwhelmed—she lives like a renter and needs constant medical supervision.
- For now, we managed to snag a spot in a facility near Columbus for a month, but the big question is what happens after that...
- She can't be alone in an apartment; we're renters too and we aren't equipped to handle her care, no matter how much we want to, even though she's only 59 and doesn't qualify for state-run nursing homes (where you end up waiting years anyway, which we don't have).
- Does anyone have info on where we could place her that actually provides decent care? We're checking out private facilities right now, but it's a total mess and the prices are absolutely astronomical.
- She's lucid and semi-mobile, but she definitely needs medical attention.

If anyone has any ideas or knows a reliable, high-quality private care home, please help us out with some advice..

Thanks so much, and good luck to all the fighters... and to those of you taking care of them..

Maybe the best move is having her stay with you guys. She'd feel way more secure, because let's face it, she's probably terrified. Chemo kicks your teeth in—the nausea, the weakness... I don't think anyone could be dearer to her in those moments than family. My husband went through all those treatments too; I was working, so I couldn't be by his side 24/7. But for him, just being home, in his own bed, surrounded by family instead of strangers, was enough. I always look at it this way: how I’d want people to treat me if I got sick—and that’s exactly how I acted toward my husband.
I don't know how your mother-in-law managed living without medical care before... I don't know, just think about it... She's the one going through the hardest part.

Carol Mitchell86 said:My mom ended up stuck in the hospital for neurology because the pain was just too much. She had an MRI on Thursday, and get this—it shows the tumor is actually twice the size it was before surgery. And that’s only been 20 days since they operated. I can't wrap my head around how that thing can grow that fast. It's insane. The doctors are basically just shrugging their shoulders now, telling us there isn't anything else they can do besides managing the pain and her headaches. I'm honestly at a loss. I don't even know what to do anymore.

I am so incredibly sorry for you and your mom. You've gotta stay strong through this. Just be there for her as much as you possibly can and let her feel how much you love her. Hold her hand... people always say a little physical connection helps with healing.
This has to be such a heavy weight to carry. Sending a massive hug your way. Hang in there.

Linda Cox69 said:Hey everyone.
Been MIA for a bit, haven't posted, but I've been lurking and reading everything you guys say.
My heart goes out to anyone here who’s lost someone close lately...

I felt like I needed to jump in because of this whole "hope" thing people keep bringing up.
And honestly? Yeah, hope matters. It really does.
Anyone who actually knows me knows we've been going through hell dealing with my mom's breast cancer.

At first, the prognosis was pretty damn grim. The doctors gave us the straight facts—you know, all those cold statistics and survival rates tied to her specific diagnosis.
I'll admit, that was my first instinct too. Once the news hits, all you can think about is: what's the outlook? What kind of life expectancy are we looking at?
But things have shifted for me now.
I don't give a damn about the stats anymore. Forget the numbers or the averages. All I care about is my mom—how she's doing, how the treatment is hitting, and if she's handling the therapy okay.
Thank God, things are looking up. She finished chemo, had surgery on the breast (they cleared 16 lymph nodes—all negative, thank goodness🙂), and just got her radiation schedule set.
She feels good, looks good. We're giving her everything we've got to support her. Her attitude is incredibly positive, and I swear, that mindset plays a huge part in how you deal with this whole mess. Her dog is her emotional outlet, family is her rock, and the doctors are top-tier specialists.
We know cancer is a sneaky bastard and it can flare up anytime, but we're trying not to dwell on that. Most of the heavy lifting with treatment is done. The docs are happy with the progress.We're just hoping that little monster is dead and gone for good so we can get back to living our lives together for years to come.

Sending nothing but good vibes to everyone~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kisses

Bravo Vita!
That's us too, not even thinking about whether or when the sickness might try to pull a comeback. Right now, things are good, and we're also hoping my husband is the one who finally kicked that thing's ass!
Big hugs to all the fighters out there!

Rebecca Chavez85 said:I’m pretty much nodding along to all of this. Real talk: when it comes down to just surviving, I don't see any light at the end of the tunnel. Honestly, those tiny bits of hope people talk about? Usually just some fake stuff doctors feed you because they want to look good or cover their own tracks. Sure, there are exceptions, but they're rare.

One more thing:
don't ever go stripping someone of their hope. It might be the only thing they've actually got left.

Rebecca Chavez85 said:I’m pretty much signing off on everything here. Look, the reality is that if you’re just looking at pure survival rates, in my book, there isn't any hope left. Honestly, the only "hope" people get is that fake stuff doctors feed you just to cover their own backs. Sure, there are exceptions, but whatever.

That’s just not fair. Not when you consider all of us—the patients and the families stuck in this whole mess! We’re all out here fighting, all of us holding onto some kind of hope. It’s literally all we have left.
And what even is "survival" anyway?? Healthy people go through life and "survive" things every single day.
If my doctor gives me a reason to keep going, or if they actually step up and try to help, I don't see them as being selfish. I’m grateful for them.
Given how many sick people are following this forum, it really isn't—seriously, it isn't!—fair to just say there’s no hope.

Kate Reed63 said:Does anyone happen to know if patients who just finished their chemo rounds are eligible for rehab at some kind of medical spa or wellness retreat?
Thanks!

They definitely have the right, but you’ve gotta have a doctor weigh in first to see if it's actually a good move. My husband didn't even go until this year—which was like, four and a half years after everything started. And even then, it was nothing intense; just some light exercises tailored to what he could handle and a super chill pearl bath, again, really mellow stuff. He stayed for 14 days, and honestly, he didn't feel much better after.
Can't speak for everyone else's experience, though.

Melissa Parker37 said:My guiding light just went out.
Dad, I love you so much. I really hope you're somewhere better now.

Melissa, I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. Your dad is definitely in a better place now, far away from all the pain and suffering of this world.

casualrider21 said:Just dropping in to say hey.
I’m just totally drained. No energy left to type much.
Some things... they just don't sit right with me.😕

Dad, man, I miss you so much. 😢
The hole you left behind is just this massive, dark void. It feels impossible to fill.
Love you more than anything.

casualrider21, there really aren't any words that can fix this. The pain is just brutal, honestly.. But, honey, you've got those memories. Just lean into all those good times you shared together. That’s what matters. That's what'll get you through.
Hang in there. I'm right here with you.

Melissa Parker37 said:I'm with you on this!

I haven't really had the energy to post lately because everything just kind of crushed me. Sometimes I wonder why life has to be such a jerk. My dad's been in the hospital for a week now. The cancer spread to his brain, liver, kidneys... it's bad. Really, really bad. His left side is paralyzed, he's struggling to talk, and he gets disoriented.
The whole situation is heavy enough on its own, but before we got him settled into the hospital, I can't even begin to tell you what we dealt with back in Manhattan from those doctors—or rather, the people who shouldn't even be allowed to wear scrubs. It’s too painful to talk about right now... maybe one day... (once I've had my fill of suing shady doctors). Thank God we finally ran into a "real" oncologist who actually stepped up for him and pushed for inpatient care.
You only get one life, no matter how messy it gets. Mine feels like the best one because I had a father that a lot of people never get. He shaped me into the person he knew I could be. He poured everything he had into teaching me right from wrong. Dad, I love you!

You're lucky to have such an amazing dad, and he's definitely got the best daughter on the planet!
Thinking about saying goodbye is just brutal. Honestly, I'm scared to even let the thought cross my mind. No matter how much you know the reality of the illness, the outcome, or the end... I don't think anyone ever truly prepares for that kind of pain.
Stay strong and soak up every single second you can with him. Don't let the fear of losing him take over; try to let those moments be nothing but pure love.

Melissa Morgan67 said:Lisa White54@ said earlier, maybe like a month ago in this thread, but I just lost my nerve because reading about people dying sent me "even deeper" into a hole
this is about someone really close to me

Look, I get it. It’s brutal. There are plenty of times I find myself stuck in that exact same spot—just feeling completely drained, wanting nothing more than to just sit there and sob, wondering why this mess had to land on our doorstep specifically..
Crises hit, then they pass. It's like weather; you get the storms and then the sun breaks through.
Things will look better tomorrow, seriously. Don't let it break you. People die from everything under the sun. Who can actually guarantee they'll even wake up tomorrow morning? You can't spend your life staring down death. Just fight for every single day you've got.
Pull yourself out of that funk and keep swinging.

Melissa Morgan67 said:I'm just totally over all of this

Look, I haven't been scrolling through your old posts, so I don't really know if you've been posting before this or what—just seeing this stuff from the last few days, so I'm not sure who we're even talking about here. Is this about you personally or someone close to you?
Whatever it is, listen: in medicine, two plus two doesn't always equal four. Just keep that in your head. My husband was given maybe a month or two to live, and here he is, still kicking in year five, and more importantly, she's doing great. The disease is actually regressing.
Don't even bother stressing over those prognoses, because there aren't any hard rules. Every single person is different, every cancer is its own beast, and everyone reacts to treatment in their own way. It’s simple: there are no rules, no guaranteed predictions. Just take it one day at a time and try to find some joy in every new morning.

casualrider21, please accept my deepest condolences. I know there aren't any words out there that can actually make this better. Just stay strong—your angel was lucky to have you by their side.

Terry Rogers said:Hey everyone... haven't been around here in a while. Honestly, I just didn't have the energy to keep reading through all the bad news.

My mom passed away yesterday after six months of pure agony fighting glioblastoma. To make matters even worse, she’d already battled Stage 3 breast cancer, and then just a month ago, everything just fell apart with metastases spreading to her lungs...
The stuff I've been looking into over the last few days—man, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. It makes me see her death as a kind of release, like a beginning rather than an end....
Sadly, I think only people who've dealt with the same or similar nightmares can actually get where I'm coming from...
But if there's one silver lining in this short, brutal stretch, it's seeing who your real friends are. At least there's that. As for our absolute disaster of a healthcare system and everything we had to endure? I could write ten pages on that alone... the absolute worst experiences we had at the local county hospital (if you've ever been in a spot like this, you know exactly what I mean), versus how much better things were at the neurosurgery department in the new hospital...

Mom, I'm certain it's everything we imagined it would be. Enjoy being at peace up there...
And hey, give djed Flo a hug for me too.😁

Terry Rogers, please accept my condolences. I'm sure your mother is in a much more beautiful place now, somewhere where pain and suffering just don't exist.

Casey Palmer5, tell me this isn't actually happening. Is it really over? Man, life just hits you out of nowhere, doesn't it? It’s so unfair. I can't believe how fast everything went down..
Sending my deepest condolences. I am truly sorry.

nimbletrucker72 said:Hey everyone. I’ve been feeling absolutely terrible for the last 7 days. My dad (he's 68) just had an X-ray and they found a 6 cm tumor on his lungs. We were at Jordanovac today, but they sent him home and scheduled a bronchoscopy for the 12th, plus he needs a CT scan of his chest and abdomen somewhere else because apparently their machines are junk—even though the "experts" swear they're top-tier. The doctor basically told us not to expect anything good. What does that even mean? Everyone keeps wondering why he didn't stay for observation. He went in after dealing with a massive headache for about 20 days (plus chest pain, but he's had that for years) which he manages with Voltaren twice a day. Can I assume this means it's almost over and they're just not telling us straight? Or is there still hope for surgery or other treatments to slow things down? If anyone can help me out, please write back. Thanks!

nimbletrucker72, my husband has been fighting cancer for four and a half years now. It started exactly like your dad's—hit him with a brutal headache, then coughing up blood, then a tumor around 6 cm... He was a total athlete, played soccer, and when this hit, he was only 48.
When he got transferred from our local clinic to Jordanovac, I didn't even dream that it could be cancer. It was such a massive shock for all of us—for him, for our two kids, and for me.
We're still holding our own in this fight.
Look, I'm telling you, getting the diagnosis isn't the end of the world. There's a battle ahead. It's heavy, but you have to stay focused and just take it one day at a time.
And as for those "projections" when someone is near the end... don't go there. Don't think about it. Nobody actually knows. There are no rules.

Casey Palmer5 said:The bastard just won this round, unfortunately.

I’m never gonna find another guy that good again. He was one of a kind.

So what actually happened? Please, reach out.

Susan Diaz91 said:Hey everyone, quick question for those going through chemo—is it normal to have these brief moments where you just black out?
My mom has finished 8 rounds of chemo now. Yesterday was just one of those brutal days (she’s got super low blood pressure), and she actually stood up, got dizzy, and just passed out for a second... totally out of it...

They hooked her up to an IV immediately. It looks like dehydration might be playing a part too, since she barely drinks anything, and she’s already on meds to manage fluid balance because of her heart...

I'm just sitting here thinking, trying to wrap my head around it—is this fainting thing a red flag for something else, or is it just the chemo doing its thing?
She isn't in pain, per se, she's just wiped out. She spends most of her time either lying down or sitting, maybe shuffling around the room a little bit. There's no fluid buildup in her lungs (thank God), but that doesn't mean it won't happen eventually... someone mentioned earlier that Gemzar works, but it's not a forever fix... 😢

My husband used to feel absolutely trashed after his chemo sessions. He’d get so weak, honestly just like your mom. But he pushed through and made sure to chug at least 1.5 to 2 liters of water every single day. That really helped him. He deals with low blood pressure too. Your mom will get back on her feet eventually, just taking it one step at a time... This kind of exhaustion is a classic side effect of chemo, and it'll pass.

Honestly, if you're looking to boost your blood counts or just trying to scrub all those chemo toxins out of your liver, a little beet juice goes a long way. I'm talking about maybe a few ounces of fresh beet juice mixed with a spoonful of honey and half a squeezed lemon. For me, beets were basically my MVP during the whole ordeal!