Posts by Emily Fox15

I’m looking for some advice: where can I get a high-quality gastroscopy done without facing an endless waiting list, and ideally, without breaking the bank?

My dear, my one and only, has left me forever. I can only hope that wherever she is, there is no more pain, no more suffering, and no more tears. All that remains is an indescribable emptiness, a heavy grief, and the constant, gnawing question of whether I truly did everything within my power to save her. May the good Lord watch over you all.

Thank you so much! This was exactly what I needed to hear. We’re heading to see the oncologist now, and honestly, we aren't leaving until we get answers, even if they try to kick us out of the office. I know deep down I could never forgive myself if I didn't push for this—it would feel like I was just turning my back on her. On another note, regarding Prosure, Mom can't stomach it at all; she simply can't take it. She is still using Megostat, but over the last few days, she's barely eaten anything.

Donna Chase said:I know exactly where one finds strength. In faith. If you are a believer, go to church, or even just set aside five minutes in the silence of your own room each day for prayer. Prayer is simply a conversation with God. That is precisely why Jesus went to the cross—to give our suffering a sense of purpose. He is our greatest friend. Tell Him from the depths of your heart: "Jesus, this burden is too heavy for me; help me carry it." Šimun Cirenac helped carry his cross, too. With Him, I can do anything; without Him, I am nothing.
If you aren't religious, find an honest friend, a brother, a sister, a relative, or someone who has walked a similar path. Just talking or even a firm handshake can provide immense relief.
Humans are social creatures; we aren't meant to face this alone.
When my father passed away, having people I cared about by my side made the weight much easier to bear. There were times, though, when it was better to just be alone and cry it out. Time is the ultimate healer.
For now, focus on being there for your mother. Making her comfort your absolute priority right now will actually serve to strengthen you. Find some small joy in being able to help her. Accept what you cannot change. I wish you nothing but the best.

Please forgive me for not having the strength or the time to respond to such beautiful words of comfort until now—words that I truly needed then, and still need today. Based on everything I’ve read here on the forum, I believe my mother is currently in what they call the terminal phase, and any hope for a cure has vanished. We are doing our best to make her final moments easier, even if we often fall short. As for strength, I truly find it through prayer and God.
Thanks again, and may the good Lord watch over you all!

I am reaching out to anyone who has navigated what I am currently walking through with my mother. I need some perspective because I am genuinely struggling to know if I am making the right calls. To be blunt, Mom is fading. Every single day she seems weaker, less mobile, and her appetite has all but vanished. Most of the time, she’s just sleeping—which, honestly, probably feels like the easiest way for her to cope. But when she does wake up, she’s often disoriented, occasionally drifting into nonsensical sentences. When I ask her simple questions about what she wants, her default answer is almost always, "I don't know." The hardest part, the thing that truly guts me, is when she asks me to take her somewhere—to a hospital, to another specialist, anywhere—begging for help because she’s convinced that without it, she’s going to die. I can't bring myself to crush that final shred of hope by telling her the truth: that in a hospital setting, patients in her condition are often sidelined or ignored. Yet, it is equally agonizing to look her in the eye and lie to her, promising a recovery that neither of us truly believes is coming. I feel utterly helpless and heavy with sadness. It isn't that the work I do for her is hard; it's the crushing realization of how little I can actually do.
She has an appointment scheduled for Saturday, October 24th—her first follow-up since the surgery—with her oncologist. In my gut, I feel like this appointment is futile. I have no idea how an oncologist would even react to seeing her in this state. Still, I wonder if taking her might offer her some psychological relief, giving her the illusion that something is still being done for her.
Please, if you have been here before, share your experience.
- How do I respond to her pleas without wounding her or sinking her further into despair?
- Is there any actual point in putting her through the exhaustion of a car ride to the oncologist, or is it just prolonging the inevitable?

Hi everyone. I’m joining this group in hopes of finding some semblance of peace for my soul. To be honest, the last two months have been such a relentless barrage of hardship that I find myself questioning if I can actually weather this storm and come out on the other side sane—though I know I don't have much of a choice. My granddaughter still needs me to be whole.
On July 19th, my father passed away quite suddenly, leaving a massive, aching void in our lives. Then, just four short weeks later, we received the news that my mother has colon cancer, and it has already metastasized to her liver and lungs. I haven't even had a moment to process losing my dad before I'm forced to brace for the reality of losing my mom. Where does one even begin to find the strength for this?