Posts by shadowheron4

Hey everyone—it’s been a minute since I’ve checked in here, and honestly, opening the site today just bummed me out. Sometimes it feels easier to stay away because the news just hits so hard. First off, hearing about Dan really crushed me. I was genuinely holding out hope that things would turn out okay for her in the end. My heart goes out to the family... and Amy Hayes28, my deepest condolences to you too. You guys have been such staples here, always stepping up to help and give advice—I'm just so sorry. As for the foundation, massive respect to you all; keep doing what you're doing regardless of whatever anyone else thinks or says. Regarding heart cancer? It’s definitely rare, but a distant relative of mine dealt with it about 10 years ago, had surgery, and she’s doing great today. So yeah, it’s definitely a thing. I don't have any specific details on her case to share with you guys, though. To everyone else fighting this: stay strong and keep believing you can beat this damn disease once and for all. Hopefully, we finally see a real cure soon—maybe one day this demon will be as easy to fix as a sore throat. I truly hope so, for all of us dealing with it now and everyone who'll have to face it later. Sending big hugs and nothing but good vibes to you all!👍

Hey there, fellow warriors—Happy New Year! I’m really hoping this one turns out to be at least twice as good as the last one for all of us. Honestly, I just want to wish you guys what you need most: health, pure and simple. Let's all come out on top of this uphill battle we're fighting. Truly, from the bottom of my heart.🙂

🙂

Angela Wright said:Here's the rest of the story:
I'm actually tearing up here. I feel completely screwed over in this miserable country—my own home. And man, I can't even imagine what Alenka and everyone else in her shoes is going through right now.

Seriously, I have to wonder if there's even any point in trying anything anymore in this valley of tears. Maybe the best move is just to let all those assholes sit in their own filth and let everything just fall apart... poor Americans! 🙂

🙂

Rebecca Young63 said:Hey there—early May, I had my breast removed due to cancer. I'm supposed to start chemo in a few days, and honestly, I'm terrified.
I'm only 24, and man, life has really thrown everything at me lately. Sometimes I feel like I'm buckling under the weight of it all, but I have every reason to keep fighting—my 3-year-old daughter needs me. It's the chemo that scares the hell out of me; I just don't know how I'll handle it, and that's my biggest fear right now.

hey

Hey Rebecca Young63, I was in almost the exact same boat about four years ago. I was 27 then, also had a 3-year-old, and was dealing with some really nasty breast cancer that had spread to my lymph nodes. They removed the breast and all those nodes, and I went through six brutal rounds of chemo plus 25 radiation sessions. I won't sugarcoat it—it wasn't easy. But honestly? I found a strength in myself that I didn't even know existed, and I actually feel stronger now than I did four years ago. My little girl was my entire world—she was the only reason I needed to stay focused. I never even let myself think about dying; I was just counting down the days until treatment was over so I could get back to a normal life. The chemo definitely kicked my butt, but I stayed on schedule and didn't miss a single session. Radiation was way more manageable, by the way. Look, it passes quickly, and you just have to grit your teeth and get through it. I’ve been healthy for four years now, living a pretty regular life. Sure, I still go in for checkups every six months, which gets the nerves jumping a little, but it's okay. I'm still here, and my girl is finishing up first grade now. So, please, don't let the fear win. Just be brave—you can do this, and you will. It’ll be over before you know it, and soon enough, you'll be living your life and enjoying your daughter, only visiting the doctors twice a year to remind yourself that this stupid cancer was just a temporary visitor that's gone for good. Sending you so much love and luck!

Jessica Booth35 said:Hey everyone,

I just signed up for this forum today... I was searching the web for info, help, advice, maybe even just a little hope, and ended up here...
Basically, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer just under a year ago. They had to perform a mastectomy, but unfortunately, it spread to the nearby lymph nodes... which put her at Stage III. She’s already gone through chemo and radiation. Then, during a checkup about a month ago, her markers spiked, and after all the testing, they found out the cancer has metastasized to her liver... She starts a new round of chemo this Thursday—Taxotere combined with Xerox... I’ve been digging into it, and people say Xerox is a "smart, effective drug," but while researching, I stumbled onto some stuff I really wish I hadn't read... you know, things like "5-year survival rates" and all that grim stuff...
Trying to wrap my head around everything... since there isn't a "cure" per se, and it's more about improving—and hopefully extending—quality of life, I came across Pfizer (I've seen mentions of it online, and heard about it over the last year while Mom's been fighting)...
I wanted to ask if anyone here has experience with Pfizer? Specifically, do you know if she can take it while undergoing chemo, or should she wait until the cycle is over? (I'm not sure how many cycles she'll need yet; her doctor mentioned 10 sessions, which would be one full cycle)... and honestly, I'd be grateful for any advice, stories, or help you can offer...
Thanks so much, everyone!
Hang in there,
Mary

Hi there, and welcome. I dealt with Stage 3 breast cancer with lymph node metastasis myself. Thank God, it's been four years and no recurrence—fingers crossed it stays that way. I went through Taxotere and 25 radiation treatments. It was rough, but I made it through.
As for those survival stats and death rates—honestly, just skip them. Every single case is unique; even two identical diagnoses can end up totally differently. Let me give you an example of a lady I know who became a dear friend through this whole struggle (I think I've mentioned her here before).
She had breast cancer that wasn't caught until it had already spread to her bones and liver—so, pretty late. Doctors didn't give her much hope, but she refused to give up. After 12 rounds of chemo (Taxotere), everything retreated, but then it flared up in her brain. Radiation took care of that. Then she had recurrences in her liver, then back to the breast, then lymph nodes in her neck... it went on like that for four years. She powered through countless rounds of chemo—literally stayed on her feet the whole time, never even crawled into bed. And look at her now: she's alive and just as tough as the day we met. She's got one tiny scar on her liver and that's it, even though according to every statistic out there, she should have been gone a long time ago. So, please, don't look at the numbers. Just focus on helping your mom get through the treatments and keeping her spirits up. Be right there by her side, and I'm certain you'll beat this thing together. Sending love, hang in there!👍

Angela Wright said:The "FOR A NEW DAY" association—supporting those fighting cancer, their families, and friends—is officially up and running as of today!🙂

Seriously guys, I’m actually tearing up right now. So happy for them.

BRAVO!!! WAY TO GO!!! HUGE CONGRATS FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!!!👍

Angela Wright said:Man, I am seriously counting down the days until our association is officially registered. Once that's done, we can finally step up, ask the hard questions publicly, and actually hold them accountable. Until then—well, we’re basically just spinning our wheels and biting our nails.😠

It’s gotta happen—fingers crossed!👍

Nathan Bailey said:Hey everyone!

Has anyone been to Mayo Clinic since they did that "restructuring" in oncology? We need to go in for a follow-up, but we have no clue which doctor we'll see—they didn't mention anything when we booked the appointment. Does anyone know who handles brain tumors now, and is this whole new departmental split actually final despite all the patient complaints? Thanks.

Honestly, it's a total mess at Mayo right now. I’ve got my own oncology check-up coming up in about 20 days, and I just found out I can't even see the same doctor I've been seeing for four years. I've reached out to a few others in the same boat and even posted about it here before, but nothing changes. It feels like we're all just shouting into the void—everyone's frustrated, but nobody is listening. The head of oncology couldn't care less about us; he's pushing these new divisions that don't make sense for patients or doctors—unless, of course, it suits him and a tiny handful of others. There’s talk about getting some media attention involved, but we’re still waiting for a group of influential people to step up and actually do something. For the rest of us, we're stuck waiting and hoping they'll let us see the doctors we actually trust—the ones we finally felt comfortable with after all the stress. Hang in there, everyone.👍

slyseal28 said:My sweetie just had his chest CT and the results are SPECTACULAR!!!

The report says: "...No signs of potential tumor enlargement in the mediastinal lymph nodes. Trachea and both main bronchi show normal lumen width and regular flow. Following IV contrast application, there are no signs of pathological opacification. Regarding lung parenchyma imaging, no focal lesions or signs of pleural effusion were observed."

The only thing visible is scarring: "On the left, an extremely high aortic arch is noted, along with soft tissue, fibrotic, postoperative, and post-radiation scarring seen distally from the aortic arch and left laterally from the pulmonary artery trunk." — that’s where that SS-guy used to be, but now he’s GONE!!!

We did the CT at a private clinic called Diagnostic Center 2000. We actually did an MRI there before the surgery. They take Medicare, so you can use a referral—though if you go that route, you're looking at a 2-3 week wait. The staff is super professional, friendly, and welcoming, whether you're coming in with a referral or paying out of pocket. Plus, they really respect patient privacy and data, so they had zero issues printing the old scans to compare them with the new ones.

My Pigeon is doing great now. He'll probably head back to work sometime after New Year's. For now, let him get some much-needed rest... These days spent waiting have really drained us. Between the anxiety and the fear, things have felt pretty heavy lately. We still have a follow-up with the specialist next week and a PET scan on Dec 19th, and then we should be set for the year. I'm not sure how often we'll need checkups, but I'm guessing it'll be fairly frequent—maybe every 3 months or so.

Anyway, everyone, we are doing good and we are happy! Both of us have birthdays coming up, and this CT result is the most beautiful birthday gift we could ask for! We beat that SS-guy!!!

You totally made my day. Keep it up—I am so happy for you guys. News like this gives all of us strength. God bless you!👍

Nancy Thomas18 said:Thanks for all the kind words of support from everyone who reached out. Honestly, these last few days have been rough—I've been feeling pretty lousy, and I'm starting to get a bit anxious about whether I'll need another surgery. Things have gotten complicated again. I just can't seem to shake this abscess forming under my liver, though it's way smaller now than it was after the first operation. On Friday, I'm finally going in to set my chemo schedule, so that whole situation is stressing me out. Reading through so many posts here, it seems like everyone deals with horrible side effects, and I'm scared of how I'll handle it—but I know I have to. My biggest wish is just to live long enough to see my son graduate. He’s only three years away from finishing, so hopefully, I'll make it to that milestone. I'm not that unlucky, right?
Hang in there, everyone fighting for the ones you love. We patients just have to grit our teeth and take it one day at a time... aiming for a little more happiness ahead. Sending love to everyone, and my deepest sympathies to those who have lost loved ones.

You're going to be there to see your son graduate, get married, and everything else... You've gotta stay positive, believe me, it makes a huge difference. When I got sick, my daughter was only 3, and it never even crossed my mind that I might die—I'm already planning on looking after my grandkids. And let me tell you, not everyone gets hit with brutal side effects from chemo. I couldn't eat and felt terrible for about 10 days after mine, but after that, I bounced back to "normal" before the next round started. I met a lady at the University Hospital who's become a dear friend; she went through 30 rounds of chemo and didn't even need to stay in bed after them. She handled it like she was just taking an antibiotic, not some toxic poison. Plus, she had breast, bone, and liver cancer and was basically written off 4 years ago—now, she just has a tiny scar on her liver. So, don't give up. You'll get through this chemo just fine and watch your son at his graduation, no worries. Crossing my fingers for you and wishing you nothing but the best!👍

mellowbadger5 said:I have a quick favor—can anyone tell me what actually works to prevent constipation? I know the usual advice, but after chemo, things change. My mother-in-law has been drinking Bekunis tea, taking Donat, and eating a varied diet, but her system just stalled out so hard she had to end up at the hospital for an enema.

If all that stuff doesn't do the trick, try Senna tea—it’s honestly great for these kinds of issues. Just have about a cup in the evening. You can find it at any local pharmacy, and it won't break the bank. Hang in there.

slyseal28 said:Thinking about it, this kind of split actually makes sense for new patients. It’s probably best if you’re seeing a specialist who lives and breathes one specific type of cancer—someone with that deep, narrow expertise. If they organize it that way, doctors end up focusing on specific tumors, which might lead to better data collection and figuring out which treatments actually work best for what.

But honestly? This whole thing is a mess for anyone already mid-treatment. Switching doctors while you're in the middle of everything is brutal—you have to start from scratch, meet someone new, and try to build that trust all over again. I'm really not sure I’d be okay with getting a new doctor right now. 🤷
I guess this shake-up had to happen eventually, but they could've handled the transition with a bit more empathy.😕
Either way, we need to hear the other side—the oncologists'. Are they even happy with how things are being split up?

Can't wait to head to the University Hospital to see the attending physician and get his take on the situation.

All I can tell you is that I know for a fact the doctors are absolutely floored by this move and totally disagree with it. There's also this whole issue with bad blood involving the department head, who apparently targets certain oncologists and basically bullies them. That’s not just hearsay, either. And word is politics have gotten involved—because, well, that's how it goes everywhere—and the result is once again innocent patients getting crushed in the crossfire. As for the newly diagnosed, maybe it helps them, but after four years, there's no way I'm switching doctors who already know my history and whom I trust completely. Let me know what your attending says. Best!

Angela Wright said:To the Clinic Director, I’m writing this because I need to be extremely clear about my situation—I am formally requesting that Dr. Grgic be allowed to continue managing my case. There’s no way around it; he’s the one who knows my history, and switching now would be a disaster. Look, beyond the legal right of a patient to continuity of care, there’s a massive human element here that can’t be ignored. We’re talking about ethics and basic compassion. Dealing with an illness this severe is exhausting enough as it is—it's a constant uphill battle. To be told mid-treatment that I have to start from zero with a new doctor? That’s just cruel. Having to go through the whole cycle of introductions, trying to adjust to a new personality, and attempting to build trust all over again while I’m already fighting for my life... it's too much. It's unnecessary stress that I shouldn't have to shoulder. I’m asking you to do the right thing and prioritize medical stability and patient well-being. If this isn't resolved and I'm forced into a new rotation with someone else, I won't sit idly by. I am fully prepared to bring this matter to the Patient Rights Advocacy Group and, if necessary, take this story to the media to ensure the public understands how patients are being treated here. Please, let’s handle this professionally and humanely. Let Dr. Grgic stay on my case.
That’s honestly all you can do—anything else is just wasting your breath and burning through energy you're gonna need for the fight.
Please, reach out and share what you're going through on the forum too. www.carcinoms.com So, you might actually be able to get an official statement on this whole new situation through that channel—which means you probably won't even have to deal with all this crap on your own. Basically, we’re setting up an association these days that'll focus on these kinds of issues and problems instead of just dealing with being sick.

I was thinking the exact same thing. Honestly, things have always been a mess at the University Hospital, but now they’ve totally crossed the line. I’m positive all of the primary physician's patients are going to step up and defend him—I’ve already reached out to a few people I know, and everyone is in total agreement that they’re going to fight this. So, I definitely won't be standing alone here. I’m planning to write to the administration and, if this situation doesn't change immediately, I'll absolutely take this to the media. I'll keep you guys posted. Thanks. Hey!

Angela Wright said:No way, of course Dr. Grgic is going to keep seeing you. Most oncologists specialize in specific types of cancer anyway. It sounds like they’re just trying to reorganize things at the University Hospital, so what used to be standard practice feels totally unfair right now. They probably brought in some new staff, too. While my mom was being treated by Dr. Gamulin, she was finishing up her doctorate—which she’s likely done by now—so it makes sense she’s sticking to the area where she's most specialized. There's usually a set protocol for most cancers, so theoretically it shouldn't matter who's in charge, but since it's a major university hospital, they're always researching new methods based on whatever specific tumor type a specialist focuses on.

Dear Angela, unfortunately, I actually talked to Dr. Grgic and he confirmed everything I said earlier. He simply isn't allowed to treat me anymore. Honestly, the poor guy is so miserable about it. He says his hands are tied and that I have to switch oncologists. It’s unbelievable. I told him I’d take this to The Morning News, and he just said go ahead—as long as I don't mention his name, because the poor thing is probably terrified of losing his job. I’ve already checked with some women I know who are also seeing him, and everyone’s heard about this; we're all in total shock. What are we supposed to do now?🤷

Hey everyone. Is anyone here—or anyone close to you—currently seeing Dr. Grgic or Dr. Gamulin over at the University Hospital? I’ve been seeing Dr. Grgic personally for four years now, but I heard some news yesterday that absolutely floored me. Apparently, Dr. Grgic, Dr. Gamulin, and a few other oncologists have been barred from treating all other types of cancer. Specifically, those two have been restricted to just urinary tract cancers, which means the rest of us are being forced to hunt for new oncologists. They basically just "stripped" them of all their other patients. Now, after four years, I can't even see my own doctor anymore! It feels criminal—it's like our right to choose our own physician has just been snatched away. I'm still reeling from this. Does anyone else know anything about what's going on? Sending love to you all, hang in there...😕 😠

electricgardener14 said:My husband—after six months of pure agony, suffering, and constant fear—closed his eyes for the last time on November 18th. I couldn't help him; nobody could. This disease moved so fast, it was always one step ahead of us. Honestly, I don't even know what I'm feeling right now—it’s just this numbness, this total helplessness, and then that sudden flash of anger at God, and at myself for not being able to do more. He wanted to live so badly. Even when he couldn't move, even when he couldn't lift a finger, that spark in his eyes never faded. Sometimes I get this crushing feeling that I gave up before he did—that I should have fought harder, tried something else. That I let him go too soon. It’s so hard, and I don't think I'll ever get that last look of his out of my head. It felt like all the sadness in the world was in those eyes. Does it really have to be this painful?!
electricgardener14

My heart goes out to you, and to everyone here who’s lost someone they love... This is just brutal. It feels like almost every day someone new posts about losing their battle... I am so incredibly sorry. I hope God gives you all the strength and courage you need right now...😢

northernfox9 said:My dad passed away on November 8th at 8:30 AM. It feels like we lost the battle, but I truly believe God knows best—that He’s got a better plan—and that he's in a much more beautiful place now...

Angela Wright, I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.

Big thanks to everyone who's been there for us over these last 10 months.

Never give up. Sending my deepest condolences... hang in there...🙂

Angela Wright said:So, this exhausting day is finally over. I’m just sitting here trying to get some thoughts down before I crash, and I really wanted to say thanks again to everyone for the kind words. Some of your posts—man, they really hit home.

The morning kicked off at 5:30 AM with my dad panicking because Mom choked on some grits and couldn't breathe. I was doing CPR on her for a good 15 minutes—she managed two gasping breaths, threw up once, then she lost her pulse. I was massaging her heart, we called 911, and the paramedics arrived immediately. They gave her adrenaline, cleared her airways, tried everything to resuscitate her... but nothing worked.
Even though I knew the end was coming, the speed of it all still shocked me. It felt like things had been moving so slowly lately, I honestly thought she’d just gradually fade away one day, like she'd just stop breathing.
Maybe this was better for everyone. It was fast—almost instantaneous—and she took her last breath in my arms. I was terrified she wouldn't go peacefully in her sleep; I really wanted to be there.
I was also surprised by how numb I felt while I was performing CPR—just staring at her blue lips and those fixed pupils... just total numbness and disbelief, like I was watching a movie.
That numbness has stuck with me all day. I only really broke down when dear friends stopped by and started talking about who she was before she got sick.
Maybe I'm just numb because I mourned her a long time ago. Even while she was still alive, I used to get hit by these terrible waves of grief just knowing she wasn't here, and knowing I couldn't say anything to her, ask her questions, or just talk to her like normal.
I think the hardest part will be when I'm alone in this house and feel that true emptiness. The toughest transition will probably be moving from this "new normal"—where the last two years were almost entirely dedicated to her—back to a daily life where I actually have to focus on myself.
I’m just putting my faith in God’s providence to light the way again.

And one last thing:
I found out today that a friend of mine—someone who beat Hodgins and was told she’d never be able to have kids—is actually pregnant. She's my mom's godmother, and somehow, it feels like my mom traded her life for this pregnancy.
Life is beautiful and strange.

Dear Ivanica, the kind of courage and selflessness you showed is something you rarely see even on TV, let alone in real life. You are an incredible person; you touched my heart deeply and showed me how to handle the heaviest things life can throw at you.
I had a breast ultrasound a few days ago and was scared to death because it was so painful, but they only found some cysts, so I can breathe a little easier now. Just hoping the other results come back fine too. And hearing about your friend's pregnancy gave me hope, because I want to be a mother again, too, even though doctors are split on whether it's possible—most are against it. Maybe I'll make it happen... Please, stay brave and really try to focus on yourself now. Your mother would want to see you happy, and you truly deserve that... Sending you so many hugs, take care!🙂

Angela Wright said:My mom passed away peacefully this morning.
Thanks everyone for being there for me during such a rough patch in my life.
Love you all! God bless you in whatever battles you're fighting! Just keep pushing...

Dear Ivanica, please accept my deepest condolences. I'm so sorry. Your mom surely went peacefully because she had an angel right by her side—and honestly, you should be so proud of yourself. You were a true fighter until her very last breath, giving everything you had for that final battle. Now you’ve got an angel watching over you from above, and Mom can finally rest... Don't let it get you down—stay as strong as you've always been. Sending a huge hug, hang in there...🙂

Nancy Hernandez43 said:Hey everyone... especially you guys. Angela WrightHey, you.
The last six months have been a total whirlwind for me and my family—just constant ups and downs. There’s been plenty of crying, some much-needed laughs, and a whole lot of stress... you know how it goes when your entire family is suddenly staring down a diagnosis like cancer.

I joined this forum because I just couldn't find any real support, understanding, or—most importantly—actual help in my own circles. Honestly, I can't even tell who's having a harder time dealing with all this—Mom or the rest of the family.🤷 It’s honestly gut-wrenching looking back—we were never given any real psychological support, and now that we're older, you can finally see just how much it all messed with us. It’s also pretty wild how little info you actually get from our healthcare system—whether it's about medications, co-pays, treatment options, or what everything is going to cost... you're basically left in the dark.

Back on April 27th, they discharged my Mom from the hospital for home care—all while telling us she needs a follow-up in just four days once her test results are finalized. They’ve already flagged markers and deformed ovarian cells. So, after a month of her being in pain, dealing with biopsies, and getting told it’s ovarian cancer... they just sent her home to recover?!?!? Honestly, I’ll never wrap my head around how that makes any sense.

My dad just couldn't wait for all the test results to roll in. He’s been through the ringer with cancer more than a few times—survived two bouts himself—but it’s been a rough road for the whole family. My grandfather passed away from lung cancer, my mom survived breast cancer, and she had already dealt with uterine cancer too. Within ten days of that diagnosis, he was gone right along with her. We actually followed a recommendation and went to Aviano, Italy. The day they were supposed to do the checkup, everything was suddenly ready—results and all. Their staging system goes from 1 to 4, with each stage broken down into four parts (a, b, c, d). They clocked Mom at stage 3c (with 4d being the absolute worst), and she was literally on the operating table the very next day. Since money was tight for us, there wasn't even a question about wanting to get everything done at that specific hospital—they just jumped into action immediately. Now, we’re just left wondering how much longer our doctors back home would have made us wait for an operation like that.

The surgery lasted six hours—definitely the longest day of our lives—and honestly, the days that followed were just pure terror. Mom couldn't get out of bed, couldn't eat, couldn't even talk. It was just Dad by her side; she flat-out refused to see any of us. Even though he was in total shock and didn't speak a word of Italian, Dad stepped up big time. He found her this medical brace that really helped ease the pain and gave her enough strength to take those first little steps every day (she actually still wears it). I can't even wrap my head around what that first month was like for him. When my brother saw her for the first time, he thought there was no hope—and unfortunately, that’s how she felt, too. She went into her first round of chemo terrified, but she came out the other side stronger than ever. Seeing the other patients struggling with all that nausea and pain while she felt relatively okay—no major side effects—actually gave her the mental boost she needed. The doctors gave her a strict list of "dos and don'ts," but she wasn't about to let them boss her around if she felt like getting up and walking that day. Once summer hit, we basically lived at the beach to stay sane. Being stuck in the house without AC was brutal, especially for her since she had to stay put. We’d spend the evenings relaxing with a quick swim, and the days just seemed to fly by. But after the third chemo session, things got messy with her bloodwork. We spent an entire 24-hour stretch running between different labs, and man, it was gut-wrenching watching them poke her for the fourth time in a single day. She ended up missing one treatment, which threw off her whole cycle, so they had to push her schedule from 21 days to 28 days between rounds. You could tell she was wearing down—physically and mentally—even if she's way too stubborn to ever admit it.

About a month and a half ago, my dad came to visit and told me he was sorry—that he felt like we were losing the fight because Mom is just getting worse and doesn't have any strength left. Honestly? I felt it too. There were days when she could barely squeeze out a single coherent sentence. Then, when she told me her sister had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer... man, I just had this sinking feeling that it was going to pull her even further down. She went for her fifth round of chemo and came back looking worse than ever. Physically, she's just spent; you can see the toll it's taking right on her face, even if she keeps trying to deny it. It’s been about 20 days since her last session, and we've all just been sitting here, not knowing what to expect. When she finally got back to Aviano, the doctor basically laid it out for us—we’re looking at about six months of fighting to buy her whatever time we can.

So, after 6 months of searching, they couldn't find any cancer sites—everything came back clean. Our battle is finally over, and honestly, I just had to share this with everyone here who follows my journey! My folks are still out in Aviano, so I’m just waiting on the hour they get home so I can call them and hear it straight from their mouths. Anyway, I shared some of your advice and posts with Mom, and she’s actually super grateful to you all! Back when we first dealt with those low neutrophil and white blood cell counts... I read some tip about yeast and raisins somewhere, and now, whenever someone asks her how to boost those levels, she just says, "My little girl read about it on a forum."

I don't know enough about the medical side or specific meds to give you guys any real advice, but once Mom settles back in, I'll try to get her active on the forum too. For now, though, we're just keeping up with those same "small" steps for our health.

Just stay Brave !! and believe, even when it feels impossible. When I told a friend the news today, he asked me, "If anyone had told you a month ago that you'd be hearing this today, would you have believed them?"... I just told him: "My life is built on faith every single day."

I'm with you guys through it all—and THANK YOU!!!

Katherine

Dear Katherine, first off, I am so incredibly happy for you and your family. Thank God there are cases like this where it seems like there's no hope left, and then everything turns out amazing. Let’s pray it stays that way. And thank you for sharing this with us—you've given us all a huge dose of hope and extra courage. Sending love and thanks! 👍