Posts by Nancy Ward16

Grace Campbell88 said:Hello everyone,

My father was admitted to the hospital two weeks ago. About a week before that, he had this persistent cough, but just two weeks prior to that, everything seemed perfectly normal. Since then, things have spiraled at an overwhelming speed. We’re still waiting on some of the final test results, but the doctors have already sat our family down to tell us they found cancer in his abdomen with metastases in his lungs—at least, that's the current assessment—and that pursuing aggressive treatment no longer makes sense. That is how they put it, though when they say "cancer in the abdomen," I assume they mean stomach cancer 🤷. Dad is quite depressed right now; even though he doesn't officially know the full extent yet, he suspects something is wrong, though he likely hasn't grasped just how advanced this stage actually is. In about three weeks, once all the diagnostic work is complete, they will discharge him to come home—meaning, to my place, where my mother and I will be caring for him with the support of the rest of the family.

What am I feeling? Primarily, it's a profound sense of grief and pure shock, followed closely by fear—this constant, gnawing anxiety every single day wondering when they will break the news to him, how he will take it, and a terrifying dread that this is merely the opening chapter of an agonizing struggle that we know exactly how it ends, even if we don't know how long it will last. He is emotionally fragile and quite unstable, and I honestly don't know how he is going to process this.
Am I ready for this? To lose a parent? I'm certainly not old enough to be facing this, but I suppose no one ever truly is. I feel completely unmoored; for the past few days, I've barely been able to function, yet I know I have to. I am terrified beyond words, and there is simply no way to escape this feeling. And yes, I am endlessly, profoundly sad.

It is only natural that you feel this sadness, and truthfully, you will continue to carry it for a long time regardless of how things unfold. When I first received the news regarding my husband, I was submerged in that same tidal wave of pain, sorrow, misery, shock, and fear; I knew immediately that a grueling battle lay ahead of us, leading toward an outcome I desperately wanted to avoid. No one is ever truly prepared for something like this, no matter your age, whether you are a child or a spouse. You find that you must become incredibly strong, primarily for his sake and also for your own, because there is so much left to do and you have to try to maintain a sense of hope. In moments like these, you convince yourself that you won't be able to endure certain things—that you won't be able to hear the grim prognoses from the doctors—but believe me, you never truly realize the depth of your own strength until you are thrust into the center of such a storm. I used to think I could never face death head-on, or fight so hard for a loved one, or perform tasks that seem impossible, but you find you must. This realization stays with me every single day; I know I have to stay strong for him, for my children, and for myself. You have to stand by his side and offer him hope, while finding somewhere far away to wipe your own tears so he doesn't see them. A difficult road lies ahead of you, but you must hold onto hope until the very last moment, because there is simply no escaping the reality of what you are going through.

Angela Wright said:

Yes, I caught that article, and I have to admit, I’m feeling a heavy sense of disappointment all over again. It feels as though the window of opportunity has already closed for us; if this had arrived just a little sooner, perhaps the support we were looking for could have helped him stay with us just a bit longer. While it is true that he is being utilized abroad and showing such promising results, there is still a bittersweet sting to it all. At the same time, though, my heart swells with a certain happiness knowing that somewhere out there, someone’s husband, someone’s father, or someone’s mother might receive this treatment and finally find a cure. Regardless of our own outcome, this should have been on the approved list from the very beginning, because even when things feel dark for us, there is still a glimmer of hope left for everyone else fighting these battles.

It was never my intention to discourage anyone; I truly understand how Sutent works, and for a while there, we actually managed to maintain a sense of normalcy for nearly a year, though unfortunately, we weren't able to sustain it. I am genuinely heartened to hear that she is doing well, and please know that we have been following her fight for access to Sutent with such hope. I empathize deeply with everything you are all going through in any battle against cancer, and my sincerest wish is for every single one of you to emerge victorious—it is an incredibly difficult road. Sadly, we aren't located near Washington, D.C., so accessing the kind of psychological support that would be so vital for both me and my children, who are also struggling deeply with this, isn't easily within our reach. Wishing strength and luck to all the fighters out there.

I’ve been lurking here for about two years now, reading through everyone's stories, but I never quite found the courage to actually post until today. My world was completely shattered when my husband was diagnosed with kidney cancer; during his surgery, they discovered it had already spread to his lungs. It felt like the ground disappeared from beneath my feet because, up until that exact moment, he had been the picture of perfect health. We managed to get him on Sutent, even though he wasn't officially on the approved list yet, and we fought with everything we had until last year, around nine months ago, when the medication finally stopped working. What started with fluid buildup in his lungs eventually progressed to metastases in his brain. By February 12th—just this past second—my soulmate was gone, and he was only 42 years old. We tried everything imaginable: macrobiotics, energy healers, Megamin, endless dietary supplements, consultations at Mayo Clinic, you name it—but nothing worked. The illness was simply more powerful than he was, and he truly was an incredibly strong, positive man right until the very end. I just need to say out loud that none of it mattered; I feel such a deep sense of anger toward Sutent and everything else, because the suffering he endured, and the pain we all felt, was just too much to bear. Please forgive me for such a long post, but I just felt this overwhelming need to tell someone.