Posts by ruggedpuma47

I’m all too familiar with that agonizing wait for a phone call. In the beginning, I was so cautious—just sitting there, waiting, trembling, losing sleep while running every possible nightmare scenario through my head. I don't do that anymore. Now? I just pick up the phone and ask. Honestly, given everything I’ve been through and everything I’m still dealing with, I simply can't afford the extra stress of playing the waiting game. I haven't had a bad experience yet, but even if they decide to tell me I'm being a nuisance or whatever... well, I’ll just call them again. I refuse to sit here waiting indefinitely. I'd much rather swallow my pride if they give me any attitude than spend my life waiting for a ringback.🙂

Hey everyone!
I haven't been around for long, but I'm back. That bastard hasn't finished me off just yet.🙂 Days turn into weeks, and it’s already been a year since I first found out about him. In the meantime, they removed the upper lobe of my left lung, and I went through adjuvant chemotherapy—the results were actually pretty solid. After that came the recovery phase, followed by some pleural effusion that they’re monitoring, though they aren't touching it because it's minimal. Then, about two months ago, I started getting this pain in my left femur. They rushed me in for imaging immediately, and sure enough, a shadow appeared. Naturally, that meant an immediate bone scan. The report says the leg itself is fine, but there’s some increased activity showing up in my first left rib. Nowhere else in the skeleton shows any pathological changes. Of course, I had a bit of a meltdown because I know how this works—I know the bastard is trying to make a comeback. But my doctor (who has never hidden anything from me, though she’s never been one to exaggerate or toss around wild prognoses either) says there’s no reason to panic right now. She mentioned she’s seen things like this before and we just have to watch it and see which way it goes. Along with the bone scan, my tumor markers came back normal, and my blood work looks so good you wouldn't even guess what I've been through. On that left side, I don't feel any pain or discomfort at all. I trust my doctor, but that little spot on the left rib still has me feeling uneasy.🙂 I've been catching up on a lot of posts while I was away, and honestly, my heart goes out to those who have lost loved ones, and much strength to those currently in the fight. I just wanted to say that during this past year, I haven't encountered a single instance of medical rudeness or misunderstanding. From the very beginning, I knew exactly where I stood and what my next steps needed to be. No one has ever even hinted at specific prognoses, like "you have this much time left." I actually asked the doctor who has been managing my care since day one once, and she told me she couldn't say anything for certain because she doesn't know my body well enough yet—and, as she puts it, she doesn't trust cancer, because some of them are just stubborn and cursed. So, that's all from me. Take care of yourselves, look after your loved ones, and don't you dare give up. Big hugs from Angela Wright.

Hey everyone. Sorry I've been MIA; I’ve been dealing with some pleural effusion lately, so things have been a bit rough, but I'm hanging in there. 🙂 Whether you're fighting this yourself or watching a loved one go through it, just hang tough. Sending my best to Angela Wright—I really hope everything is going okay on your end. Kevin Bishop10, stay strong. And wiredotter75, seeing how you handle this gives me strength, so thank you for that.

Since I’ve been getting my treatment over at Jordan, I’ve had the chance to chat with patients from all over the country. On my way to chemo sessions, I kept running into people from Miami, San Diego, Indianapolis, and pretty much everywhere else, all arriving via medical transport. I can't say for certain if it's some kind of unwritten rule, but it seemed like almost everyone was using an ambulance service. I honestly have no clue how they handle the follow-up checkups.

nimblepanther14 said:I’m not asking anything in this post, I just want to get my impressions and feelings out there.

I was at the hospital visiting my sister today...
Things have taken a turn for the worse since a few days ago... she agreed to a lung puncture; she might have a little more time left... 😢
It is so incredibly hard to look at her... I can tell she knows her time is running short. There isn't much left to say to her, so I just fix her blanket, adjust that tube going into her nose, or offer to go grab her the newspaper...
She struggles to breathe, struggles to sit up, speaks softly and with such difficulty... physically, she’s just not herself anymore... all that remains of her face are her eyes and her teeth...
I don't know what it feels like to be someone who knows they are about to die—it must be horrific... or maybe people eventually find peace with it? I certainly can't find peace with it, and maybe that's why everything feels so jumbled inside me. I'm terrified of the nothingness waiting for her soon, and for me, and for all of us, whenever our time comes...
That uncertainty, that inevitability of death... it "kills" me. If only it were uncertain, if there were even a sliver of hope or some possibility left...
The only thing that brought me any joy was when she told me to bring her a fruit cake this Sunday... it shows there is still a spark of life and desire in her somewhere...
And I just hope that some bad news doesn't stop me from bringing her that cake on Sunday...
As I write this tonight, I feel this endless sadness... mixed in with every other emotion imaginable.
I'm going to take a bath now to try and wash this day away...

...fix her blanket, adjust her nasal tube, get her the paper, bring her fruit cake...
You are doing everything within your power. I know that feeling of helplessness makes you angry and sad, but being there by her side—that is exactly what she needs.
Smile at her, and try not to let her see you looking so broken and unhappy... those of us dealing with illness find it especially hard to cope (speaking from experience) when we see grief etched on the faces of our loved ones. It hurts us to see you hurting, yet we are powerless to change it.

Last year, I got hit with a lung cancer diagnosis. Everything moved at lightning speed; one minute I was getting a routine chest X-ray on a doctor's suggestion, and the next, I was being rushed over to the hospital in Smalltown, USA. Honestly, I can't even say I had any major, terrifying symptoms beforehand. It all happened so fast. I ended up having surgery, and it wasn't just one tumor—there were actually two primary malignant tumors, completely independent of each other and with different typings (if that’s the right term). Currently, I'm pushing through my fourth cycle of chemotherapy. Life is okay; the side effects definitely show up, but they pass, and then I'm back to feeling like myself again. I don't want to lecture anyone, but please, listen to your doctors. Ask them everything. If you or someone close to you is facing chemo, talk to them. The nurses there? They are a wealth of knowledge and can help you navigate so much. Now, look, I have absolutely nothing against herbal supplements to boost the immune system—lemons, ginger, all that good stuff... it doesn't hurt. But for heaven's sake, only do it if you keep your doctor in the loop about what you're taking. When I first realized what I was dealing with, I wanted to try *everything*—every single thing under the sun. But the sooner you or your loved ones get your head straight and accept the reality, the easier things become. When I was admitted to the hospital, I realized I was exactly where I needed to be, surrounded by people who actually know how to help. And I still feel that way today. Even after these four cycles, if more are needed, I’ll go. Even on those brutal days when the side effects are so bad I swear I'll never step foot in that clinic again, I'll still go.🙂 I'm going because I want to live the life ahead of me as fully as possible, no matter how long that life turns out to be.

Hey everyone. I’ve been off the grid for a little while, just doing my own thing... A special hello to Angela Wright and Amy Torres4.🙂

Nancy Lee said:What actually works for lung cancer coughing besides Codeine? My dad’s cough is just brutal. He takes Codeine, but by the second day, it barely makes a dent. He can't even speak anymore—he's just whispering everything now.

I’ve had surgery for lung cancer and I’m about to start chemo. Even now, those heavy coughing fits still hit me hard. My doctor suggested putting the Codeine under my tongue instead of swallowing it. If you haven't tried that yet, give it a shot—it might help you out too.

Amy Torres4 said:ruggedpuma47, Angela Wright.... I feel like an orphan now..😢

Amy..
If only I could give you a hug.. 😢

I truly feel for you, and my heart goes out to you and your whole family.

...I know it doesn't help much, but... honey, your mom isn't in pain anymore.

Eh... my fifties. I completely forgot to mention the most important part.
Now, look, I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings here, and God forbid I offend someone who has a sick loved one in their family—so I’m apologizing in advance if any of this comes off as insensitive.

When I found out, totally out of the blue, that I had lung cancer... that my left lung had to go... well, I won't drag the story out.
But there was this moment where my biggest struggle wasn't even the illness itself; it was worrying about my family.
I could handle the sickness, sure, but dealing with their grief, those looks they gave me, the tears, that sudden sense of defeat and surrender... it was destroying me. And I knew instinctively that if I stayed that miserable, I wouldn't stand a chance.
One morning, I signed up for this forum, sent a private message to Angela Wright to tell her honestly how things were going, and after she replied, I did the very first thing I thought would "kill" me.
The very first thing I did? I used my loudest, most serious voice to tell everyone in my family that they were officially BANNED from buying me pajamas ever again!! After that, I dealt with everything else that was "killing" me... and now, regardless of how sick I am, we are happy.

I just wanted to tell you all: be there for your loved ones, but trust me, no matter how sick someone is, they still crave happiness and smiles. 🙂

Kimberly Cox58 said:Everyone, please help, I am in total shock. We found out yesterday that my husband has colon cancer. He’s only 43. His surgery is already scheduled for Monday. I have no idea what comes next. Do they know the results immediately after the operation, or is there a long wait? I feel like I'm losing my mind, though I'm trying to stay strong for him (but honestly, I'm failing at it). The most important thing, I think, is that he hasn't lost his spirit.

Hey, Kimberly Cox58...
It’s a heavy way to start the morning, logging onto this forum for the first time over your very first cup of coffee. 😢
But... that's just how life goes, honey. We don't get a vote in these things.
It wasn't long ago that I did the exact same thing you did—signed up here—and then everything just started unfolding...
Your husband is sick, the diagnosis is what it is, and the surgery is Monday. Everything that follows will come to light in due time, whether the doctors tell you or if our friend
Angela Wright🙂 weighs in with her experience.
Don't lose your mind. You can't, and frankly, you aren't allowed to let yourself break right now. You know, "in sickness and in health" and all that.

Let's just wait for the pathology reports after the surgery; once those are in, much more will be clear. 🙂 Sometimes—and I'm almost certain it's always true, even if I shouldn't say it out loud
—things aren't quite as catastrophic as they seem in the moment. All these "Terrible-But-Not-So-Terrible-Things" somehow end up refining the soul, forcing us to see ourselves in a completely different light. 🙂 I know these kinds of thoughts aren't what you need to read right now, but... maybe they'll stick with you and help when you eventually need them.

wiredcanyon39 said:The PET scan results just came back, and there are no signs of metabolic disease.😁

Absolutely wonderful news.🙂 🙂

Amy Torres4 said:please pray for my mom... please...😢

Our thoughts are with you, Amy.🙂

wiredcanyon39 said:Thanks for all the advice, everyone. Had my PET/CT scan today and everything turned out fine. 👍

That's great news. You handled that like a total pro. 🤣

wiredcanyon39 said:Thanks, 👍

So, where do you even go after the PET scan?

I had my PET done at Mayo Clinic... once everything wraps up, they don't just let you walk right back out the way you came in. Instead, they point you toward these tiny little side doors, and once you step through, you find yourself in this incredibly long hallway that leads straight into the parking garage and then outside..
It honestly threw me for a loop; I was pretty lost for a second. It took me about ten minutes just wandering around outside trying to figure out which direction actually led back to my car. 🙂 🙂

But look, regardless of which hospital you end up at, I’m certain they’ll get you pointed in the right direction quickly enough. You won't have any real trouble navigating it..
And seriously, there is absolutely no reason to stress. The scan itself isn't some terrifying ordeal. It isn't painful. It just takes a bit longer than other tests, but that's it. Don't worry about it.

wiredcanyon39 said:So you mean nothing is given via IV?

Actually, it does..
As soon as you step into that first room, they hook you up to an IV with something—I honestly have no clue what it is—but it’s over before you know it..
After that, you move into the next room still carrying that fluid in your system

wiredcanyon39 said:thanks 👍

Wait, what liquid are we actually talking about here? Is it just standard IV glucose, or is this some extra stuff they throw at you?

It’s definitely not glucose... brace yourself for a flavor profile you haven't even imagined yet.
They hand you a whole liter of this nasty liquid and tell you that you have to chug the entire thing in maybe 10 to 15 minutes.
And listen, it is absolutely vital that you just lie still once you're done drinking it—at least that’s what they told me. Before you even start, get yourself settled. You need to be lying flat on your back, arms stretched out by your sides, legs stretched out too... just stay still.
The taste is revolting. It’s like gasoline diluted with acetone 🙂 🙂, but hey, if I managed to swallow it, you can too.
I basically tilted my head back and downed as much as humanly possible on the first try...
Everything in those rooms is soundproofed, so when they tell you to finish the rest, you don't really have a choice. You just drink it.🙂 🙂

Oh, one more thing... make sure you memorize the exit procedure. Seriously. Especially the way you're supposed to leave once everything is finished, because once you've swallowed that stuff and completed the PET scan, nobody is coming near you again.

Amy Torres4 said:Does anyone have any experience using beta-glucan for immune support? Thanks!

I've been taking 500mg of beta-glucan for about two months now, and honestly, I haven't had any issues at all.
From what I can gather, everyone I know who’s tried it seems pretty happy with the results...
It's probably not going to hurt you, I'd assume, though I suspect Angela Wright might actually have some more insight on this than I do.

wiredcanyon39 said:I’ve been wondering about this myself lately. When you actually go in for a PET/CT, what kind of room are they putting you in for that hour after the injection? Is it just some standard waiting area, or something more specific? And regarding the scan itself—does the PET part look exactly like a regular CT scan, or is there a difference in how the machine operates? I'm trying to get a better sense of the whole process.

Hey there...
Before you even start the actual search, they walk you through all the instructions for the entire procedure, so you really don't have to worry about messing up the order or anything like that. The room where you lie down comfortably is just a stone's throw away from the room with the PET CT scanner. While you're lying there, you have to drink that liquid, and then you head straight in for the scan. Honestly, I felt quite comfortable. If I had one piece of advice, though—maybe wear a thicker shirt? I was freezing while they were scanning me. The actual scanning part just takes a bit longer than a standard CT, and that’s pretty much it. Oh, and one more thing... it doesn't take an hour; it's more like half an hour. The whole thing, from start to finish, takes about an hour and a half.
I hope I was able to help out. 🙂

Hey there...
I’m about to start chemo soon, and I was wondering—do the side effects just keep getting worse with every single cycle, or do they level out? Or is this one of those things where it’s almost entirely different for everyone?
Thanks.