8 posts shown.
Emily Fox15 said:My dear, my only one is gone forever. I just hope she's somewhere where there's no more pain, suffering, or tears. I'm left with this massive void, this crushing sadness, and all these questions about whether I really did everything I could. May God watch over you all.
My deepest, most sincere condolences.
Stay strong. It’s going to take time before things feel even remotely 'normal' again—though let’s be real, nothing is ever truly the same after this. You did everything within your power; you did everything a human being possibly could. Now, you have an ally watching over you from the Father's wings. Just hang in there.
Melissa Parker37 said:Yesterday, they started giving Dad morphine straight into his veins because he just couldn't take the pain anymore. His physical state is pretty rough since he hasn't really eaten anything for over a month, and for the last two weeks, it's been barely a few bites. Naturally, his blood work is terrible, and having Type 2 diabetes doesn't help—his liver and pancreas are basically a disaster zone. He was still lucid until the day before yesterday, but yesterday he slept almost the whole day because of the morphine. I asked the head doctor to explain what we should expect. He said things are only going to get worse and that morphine is our only option left. This morning, Mom begged me to ask the hospital if they could let him come home so she could look after him, but I don't think that's the smartest move. I don't want to crush her hopes, and he is my father too, so I’d give anything for him. They take good care of him at the hospital, and neither Mom nor I are equipped to handle this. I feel so lost. God, please help!
Melissa, I know exactly what you're going through right now.
We dealt with something similar three months ago. After fighting my dad's kidney cancer for a year and my mom's breast cancer, Dad held on until December, but then everything just spiraled downward, and there was nothing we could do to help... It's a horrific feeling, watching someone who was always your rock slowly fade away while the pain gets worse every single day. Every day feels like starting from zero. But we couldn't keep my dad at home; he was bleeding into his catheter, so he had to be in the hospital. And five days later, he was gone. Just like that. Now, I honestly don't know if we made the right call letting the doctors keep him. In my town, getting a home health nurse is a rare luxury. Even though he was entitled to one (but only starting in December!!!), we had to jump through endless hoops with social services and insurance approvals, and he simply didn't have the time. Mom, my sister, and I did everything we possibly could.
So, I don't know what you should do. I know how incredibly hard it was for us, practically living at the hospital, but on the other hand, there was no way he could stay home because we couldn't provide the level of care the hospital could. Although, I found out later that a lot of things we thought were standard hospital procedures were actually just signs that our local hospital is stuck in the middle ages.
It's impossible to be rational in a situation like this. Don't let this massive weight crush you. Neither you nor your family should have to carry all that guilt.
My post about Sutent has been sitting there for a few days now. Is it actually possible that nobody needs this stuff?
(If that's the case, thank God!)
Hey everyone, I haven't been around these forums in a while. Sadly, it's not because my parents' health improved—it was actually the exact opposite. My dad had renal cell carcinoma with metastasis in his spine and lungs, and my mom was battling breast cancer with lymph node involvement (3/14 axilla). Things just kept getting worse for my dad over this last year, and he finally lost his fight. He passed away on September 1st, leaving a massive hole in our lives... As for my mom, her checkups are looking good so far (thank God).
Anyway, we have 12 tablets of 50mg Sutent left over. It’s used for treating kidney cancer—one of those "smart drugs"—and we’d rather pass them on to someone who actually needs them. If this could help someone, please shoot me a private message or email me at
tinnaos@net.hr and we can figure out the details. A full bottle holds 30 tablets and is taken in 4-week cycles (28 tablets total). My dad worked with his oncologist to complete 6 cycles, and it truly made a difference for him; it gave him more time, as much as he could get.
Hang in there, everyone.
Rebecca Young63 said:Hi, I had my breast removed due to cancer at the start of May. I should be starting chemo in a few days, but I am absolutely terrified.
I'm only 24 and life has already thrown everything at me. Sometimes I feel like I'm stumbling, but I have plenty of reasons to keep going—my 3-year-old daughter needs me. My biggest fear is the chemotherapy; I just don't know how my body will handle it.
Hey there.
Don't let the fear win, Rebecca Young63. I am so sorry you’re going through this at only 24. My mom is actually battling breast cancer right now too; she’s already on her third round of chemo, and honestly, she’s handling it better than expected. There’s no reason you won't pull through too, especially being young and otherwise healthy (my mom is 51). For the nausea, ask about Zofran—it works wonders for my mom. Don't you dare give up; that little girl needs her mom. You clearly have a lot of strength if life handed you this much to carry, but seriously—YOU CAN DO THIS. Never doubt that.
Hang in there!
Amy Jones20 said:And yeah, the surgery was at the start of February. Mom insisted it couldn't be anything serious since her lung scans right before the procedure came back totally clear.
Look, if I were you, I'd tell your mom to just go get those lungs scanned again. If everything is fine, great—you've got peace of mind. But if something actually is brewing, it's way better to catch it now rather than later. Either way, you won't be sitting around worrying about it.
I’ve been lurking on this forum for quite a while now, just watching and wondering if I should actually say anything. It’s a weird feeling seeing so many people here fighting the exact same battles I am. It doesn't exactly make the heavy stuff easier to deal with—knowing there's a whole crowd of us stuck dealing with absolute garbage—but honestly, reading about how everyone is still pushing through makes things feel a little less lonely. So, here goes nothing. This is my story.
Three years ago, my dad underwent surgery for a renal cell carcinoma that took out almost his entire left kidney. For three years straight, we played by the book—every six months, he’d go in for checkups with all his CT scans and bloodwork ready to go. Everything seemed fine until last year, around August, when he started getting this weird pain in his right leg. It wasn't even a sharp pain in one spot; it was just this dull, heavy ache high up near the glute. We spent four grueling months bouncing from specialist to specialist, trying to figure out what was wrong. Finally, an ultrasound caught it: a massive 12.5 x 8cm tumor on his sacrum. It was a recurrence of the renal cancer. And honestly? That wasn't even the worst part. They found metastases in his lungs, too. He’s hanging in there for now, currently on Sutent, but man, the costs are insane. Just one single dose pack of 30 tablets at 50mg runs him thousands. $0.00So, she’s starting her third round now. Honestly, I can't agree enough with what someone else already said—our healthcare system is completely screwed. My dad's medication is technically covered on the list, but nobody actually gets it because the price tag is just astronomical. Then people wonder why you spend your entire life grinding and setting aside money for medical emergencies. It feels like a scam. To make things even worse, my mom is sick too. Just a month or two after Dad, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She went straight into surgery, and now she’s mid-chemo; she has her third session in a week. She’s actually handling it pretty well so far—no vomiting, just some headaches here and there, and she’s losing a bit of hair. On top of all that, my grandmother passed away two weeks ago. We were incredibly close, and she was really my rock through this whole nightmare. Basically, this is just the prelude to the chaos ahead.
Look, I didn't write all this just to whine or play the victim. I’m sharing my story because maybe, just maybe, someone out there needs to hear it. I'm not the type of person who rolls over and quits, and I sure as hell don't plan on giving up on the life I've built, no matter how messy things look right now. We all deal with our own brand of chaos in our own way, but you have to remember one thing: this too shall pass. That's my mantra through all this madness. 😉
Hang in there, everyone. We’ll get through this.
Linda Wright5 said:Hey everyone,
I check this sub regularly, though I mostly post over on our association's main board.
I have a question... how do you guys handle the psychological toll on patients?
My sister was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and she’s dealing with deep vein thrombosis and ascites, so she’s been pretty immobile for about ten months now. Sometimes she acts like a spoiled toddler (even though she's 39), throwing fits if things aren't her way, trying to control everything and manipulate people... And honestly, I don't know how to deal with her. I don't want to just cave to every whim, but sometimes she drives me absolutely insane. Should I be straight with someone like that, or should I walk on eggshells and just swallow their outbursts?
She saw a psychiatrist a few times and liked her, but it's been a while since her last appointment...
I'm not sure what the magic answer is, but my approach is basically acting as normally as possible given the circumstances—sometimes I just stay quiet, and other times I lose it! You just have to lead with a lot of love, because your sister is terrified, and all this behavior is just coming from that fear. It’s tough. It's okay to tell someone when they're actually bothering you or hurting your feelings; personally, I think honesty is the way to go. No matter how much she lashes out when you speak up, just remember it isn't actually about you—it's just the fear talking. I don't know if that helps much, but hang in there!