Posts by Linda Morales66

Linda Morales66 said:😢 It’s bad. Really bad...
A nurse at the care facility told us to bring some clothes that
she can wear when...
I saw Mom today... and no matter how much I prepared myself—god...
Her mouth was open and her breathing sounded heavy, almost like gasping... her eyes were
closed.
I went over to her and stroked her hand... she was cold, and she didn't open her eyes. So I
just brushed her hair back and whispered, "Mom, I love you." A single tear just rolled down her face.
I cried harder than I ever have in my life.
I kissed her forehead; it felt cold, almost like dew... and I just kept talking to her.
The doctor there said her heart is failing now (she's on an IV drip along with all those heavy painkillers since she isn't eating or drinking anything), and the question is whether she'll make it through the night. She might be gone by tomorrow.
I can't even begin to describe what's going through my head right now... my sweet mother... my dear Mom...
And I just can't wrap my head around it. It's only been a month and a half since the diagnosis... I know this damn disease hasn't just appeared out of thin air, but still...
😢
I am just so heartbroken. .....................

Last night, around 10 PM—barely a month and a half after we got the full diagnosis—my mom passed away... just a few hours after my last visit and saying my goodbyes.

😢 It’s bad. Really bad...
A nurse at the nursing home told us to bring some clothes that
she can put on her when...
I saw Mom today... and honestly, no matter how much I mentally prepared myself—oh god...
Her mouth was open and her breathing sounded like this heavy, labored rattling... her eyes were
closed.
I went over to her and just stroked her hand... she was cold, and she didn't open her eyes... so I
gently ran my hand through her hair and whispered, "Mom, I love you." All I saw were tears slipping down her face.
I cried harder than I ever have in my life.
I kissed her, but her forehead felt cold too, almost like dew... and I just kept talking to her...
The doctor there said her heart is failing now (she's on an IV with all those heavy painkillers since she isn't eating or drinking anything), and they aren't sure if she'll make it through the night, or if she might pass away as early as tomorrow...
I can't even put into words what I'm feeling or how chaotic my head is right now... my sweet mom... my precious girl...
I just can't wrap my head around it, especially since it's only been a month and a half since the diagnosis. I know this damn disease didn't just appear overnight, but still...
😢
I am just so heartbroken...

Just checking in here after quite a while...
I had my son on August 16th. :-)
But my mom... she’s just not herself. We took photos of the baby and sent them over; she scrolled through them three times and
just held onto them. But after that—it’s like she just gave up. She refused to eat, became so weak that she’s practically skin and bones... her hands won't stop shaking. Once they told her they'd have to start using a feeding tube if she didn't start eating, she promised she would. She managed to eat for maybe two days—just a few spoonfuls of something soft—and then it was right back to square one. Now she’s refusing food again, won't drink anything either... so they have her on an IV. She doesn't talk at all; she barely waves a hand or mumbles something under her breath. She just sleeps all day.
As for starting chemo or physical therapy? We can forget about that right now. She’s far too weak; none of those treatments have even been touched. She just lies there in silence...😢

dustyjackal10
Please accept my deepest condolences.

Angela Wright said:😍Man, this is honestly such a beautiful thing to read. It’s the perfect example of how you're supposed to handle a diagnosis—don't let it run your life; you run it. This person just kept moving forward, found a new passion that actually fulfills them, and is out there living life to the fullest.
With that kind of mindset, they've got a massive head start on staying this way for a long time to come.

I couldn't agree more.

Thanks so much for the understanding, the support, and everything else... if you were all here right now, I’d give you a huge hug😍
My dad has basically turned into a little kid; he’s become so insecure that he needs constant reassurance for every tiny thing and keeps calling me... I get it, I really do. His whole world has been flipped upside down and the routine he relied on is gone. It doesn't bother me that he calls me for every little thing, but I have to admit, it’s getting frustrating because I feel like a broken record, repeating the exact same things day after day. He goes through these phases where he finally seems to grasp Mom's illness, and then other times where he acts like he doesn't understand her condition at all, which leads to these incredibly draining situations (like what happened this morning)... In the end, we just have to talk and talk until things settle, but as soon as the drama starts again, it's just more empty repetition. Maybe I'm just being hypersensitive right now, but today I simply snapped. I am trying—I really am. I fully empathize with Mom, but I also understand Dad, and I'm acutely aware of the whole mess we're in.
I told Dad to tell Mom that once she recovers and can at least walk with the help of crutches or a walker, then we can talk about bringing her home. Because as she is now—immobile with that deep vein thrombosis in her leg (on top of everything else)—what's the point of even thinking about home? Not to mention she had a coronary bypass, and her labs are a mess—coma-level readings, high white blood cell count, and she's dehydrated because she won't drink properly, so she's on an IV... and don't even get me started on the food. Honestly, I highly doubt they'll even consider her for that first round of radiation.
The epilogue to today's drama: he actually went to visit her this afternoon (even though he was terrified to go—I mean, how did we get to this point?) and she was doing okay. Everything seemed fine; there wasn't even a hint of the morning meltdown when he was insisting on going back to his own house... You just have to weather these phases!!
And she got a "roommate" in her hospital room.
I'm too mentally exhausted to write much more, but I wanted to thank you all again and say that I finally caught my breath once things calmed down a bit... I'm just... I'm scared that this is unfortunately just the beginning of the long, painful road ahead...
Mom's mental state is 🙄and that's just one more complicating factor we have to deal with.
Damn this disease!!!😠

🙂🙂🙂I honestly feel like screaming, throwing my phone across the room, and fleeing to some deserted island far away from civilization!
I get it—being in a care facility is hard for Mom. But now she’s started calling me constantly (first call at 6:00 AM sharp) and obsessively counting everything out loud because she insists on dying at home. I truly understand her desire, I really do... but the reality is she's immobile, incontinent, mentally unstable, in constant pain, and on 24/7 medication. My dad is already reaching his breaking point; he’s desperate to bring her home to live with him (they're alone), but even he is struggling with blood pressure and heart issues from all the stress. He can barely manage himself as it is, so how on earth could he handle her? (??) I’m just trying to balance everything, but I am right on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I'm pregnant, and I am completely losing my mind. She was always the "General" of our household, and it's obvious Dad is reeling because the "routine and discipline" he lived by has been totally shattered—but I don't even know how to cope anymore. I'm tapped out.
I know what most of you are going to say: it would be best if he brought her home and did everything possible to be there for her. But let me be clear—he can't even take care of himself right now, let alone someone else. And while I know there are home health aides, they aren't enough since they're only there for an hour or two a day. What happens at night? What then? Given her entire diagnosis (as mentioned in a few posts above), how would that even work? On top of everything, she’s been prescribed Haldol (10mg in the morning and evening), but instead of calming her down, she just keeps arguing about everything. Dad takes it incredibly hard—he just can't seem to grasp that she's actually sick and this isn't something she can just snap out of—and he ends up in tears. Meanwhile, I'm just hovering between trying to stay sane and feeling like I've mentally checked out of reality entirely.
I've just had it. Maybe it's a crisis or something? Please don't misunderstand me; I might just sound selfish... (or maybe I actually am being selfish??!!)
😢😢😢😢

Excerpt from the discharge summary😢
Mom was born in 1942

Diagnosis: Carcinoma (NSCLC) of the left lung lobe (C34.1)
Metastasis to the adrenal gland
Metastasis to the liver (C78.7)
Mediastinal lymph node metastasis (C77.1)
Bone metastasis (iliac and sacral bones) (C79.5)
Proximal femoral metaphysis fracture, left side
CT scan completed
Dislocation of the right sternoclavicular joint (S43.2)
Superficial femoral vein thrombosis (I80.1)

Can someone please "translate" this medical jargon for me? Is there any hope for a better tomorrow here?😢

My mom called me today... honestly, I lost it the second I heard her
voice... and then she has the nerve to tell me not to cry.
I'm so incredibly heartbroken right now that I can't even find the words to describe it...

Austin Moore said:It’s awful. Truly devastating. I’m going through all of this with my mom right now, though she’s still lucid—it just gets so overwhelming sometimes that I actually have to walk out of her room just to catch my breath. It breaks my heart. I try to massage her legs because they go numb when she lies down, which could be from the medication (Tramal, Zaldiar) or maybe the tumor pressing on a nerve or a vein. She is my entire world; we’ve been inseparable for over 50 years, and since she raised me as a single mother, she is everything to me. Aside from a few relatives I barely know, there isn't anyone else left in my life... everything else just fell away. The only thing that helps even slightly is taking four Normabel, which dulls the ache in my chest a little, but I can only get one box a month, which isn't enough. I really should see a psychiatrist, but I just don't have the time... Anyway, what I meant to say is that I won't put my mother in a nursing home under any circumstances. I simply couldn't live with myself. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night; I intend to care for her until the very end, provided I don't pass away first.🤷

Unfortunately, we don't have a choice but to move her into a facility. We found a private one, and the costs are 🙂, but we just can't do anything else. It’s gut-wrenching. My dad is there alone with her (we're in a different city), and he’s already struggling with high blood pressure and heart issues... I don't think having a visiting nurse come by occasionally would be enough. She needs around-the-clock, 24/7 care.😢
Today, my dad ended up back in the hospital. She’s having severe hallucinations; she even tried to rip the stitches out of her leg. She kept telling him to take down the bed rails and open the window so she could wait for him in the car while she climbed out the window... seeing that is enough to make a man break down, and that’s just one small part of it. A few days ago, she was fine, totally present, and then suddenly this happens. It’ll likely keep coming in waves.
Dad was born in '39, so he just can't handle this. It's hard for him to witness, and even harder for him to accept. He's just weeping from the grief.
Now he's terrified—what if things go wrong when they transport her directly to the facility instead of home? Because in her mind, everything is fine and she's just going home. Again, this is a private facility, it's expensive, and I pray they don't turn her away. If they reject her because of her condition, I don't even want to think about how bad things could get.
We've played out every possible scenario in our heads a hundred times, and there is no other way out unless we're missing something obvious. I honestly don't know anymore.
How is your mother doing? Sending you so many hugs...

Well, I guess we got ahead of ourselves thinking everything was going to be fine..
God, this is just so hard..
Dad called a little while ago (he was talking to the doctor), and they’re discharging her this Friday.
The thing is, she’s in the middle of heavy hallucinations and is totally out of it, right on the edge of being aggressive.😢
She was doing okay yesterday, totally lucid... she was my "old" mom again.
She told Dad to open the window so she could jump out, and she practically chased him out of the room with the language she was using... we know it's the illness talking, but still... it's just so much to take. She's even trying to rip off those patches...

Today was the first time I actually broke down; I woke up sobbing uncontrollably. I dreamed about Mom—specifically, that I was looking at old photos with my daughter (who's 5), and in every single picture, she was smiling and talking to us. It was all those photos from the good times, the little stories we shared... it just completely wrecked me.

And now comes the worst part. Just when I was thinking about telling Dad that maybe it’s best if Mom comes home to her familiar surroundings—since she seemed fine (lucid) earlier—how that damn disease can trick you...🙂 after what happened today, we don't have a choice. Dad is going to start looking into assisted living facilities. My heart is breaking; I feel like it's tearing in every direction because I could never forgive myself for putting her in a facility. Maybe we could help her, you know, make things easier... basically stay by her bedside and watch over her alongside a visiting nurse... but it's just not doable. I'm only realizing that now... and it's so hard to accept.
I'm waiting for Dad to get to our place, and I need to be strong for him, even though I'm falling apart inside. I also have my own hospital appointment tomorrow (waiting on the baby)..

Damn this cancer! I just want to scream.🙂

Dear Angela Wright,

Mom had her surgery today. She handled it well, and Dad managed to catch a glimpse of her in the hallway
while they were moving her back to her room so they could say a quick hello. The nurses let him stay in the room with her for just a tiny bit... she was doing okay, totally lucid. The nurse told Dad to come by tomorrow after rounds, and that’s when he can actually sit down and talk to the doctor in charge of "her case."
We all felt such a massive weight lift once the surgery was over; the tension had been killing us (even my little one started kicking around in my womb like crazy)
First off, I want to thank you for everything you've written. I really value how honest you are, and I honestly admire your patience and the empathy you show all of us. I have to admit, I've never looked into these kinds of topics on forums or even tried to research this stuff before. We didn't exactly have "reason" to—to put it bluntly. It’s just that when your whole world suddenly flips upside down like this, you finally start paying attention and becoming aware of these tragic stories. This is the first time cancer has hit our family (not even in my husband's side), so we are being forced, quite suddenly, into the middle of this entire agony involving this disgusting, cursed disease. So, even though we understand Mom's condition, we're trying our best to wrap our heads around all the medical jargon and find any similar stories out there that might give us a shred of hope that things will turn out alright.
When you mentioned "terminal stage" and "palliative care"—believe me, I went straight to Google to see what those terms actually meant. Maybe it sounds silly or ridiculous, but it completely blindsided us. I think we're only just beginning to accept that the disease has progressed so far that there isn't really a cure. That's why, on one hand, I'm actually glad the doctor I spoke to on the phone gave me the realistic version of things (I hope you understand why I say that). I haven't stopped hoping, but still...
By the way, regarding those patches—Dad finally managed to read which ones they are (Matrifen 50mcg). She had two of them a few days ago.
I have a few more questions that might sound a bit naive. I don't really get it—if a patient is in that final stage, how is it possible that they can be perfectly fine one day (lucid, chatty), and then experience a total shift the next? For example, Mom has been her "old self" for two days now, just like she was before she ever stepped foot in the hospital. Dad is very attached to her, and I'm worried he thinks she's getting better (not that I think she's cured, but...) as if everything is under control. How should we handle this with him?
And one more thing... I was reading the previous post... Mom had radiation scheduled for August 2nd, but they pushed it back because of this surgery. Given that she has metastases everywhere, I wonder—won't it be too late for her by the time the radiation actually starts? (Apparently, the plan is to start with physical therapy to get her back on her feet first). What do you think? Should we push the doctors for answers? (Even though I know they don't like people "meddling" in their business.) I just want her to fight, and I want us to fight right alongside her!
Again, I can't provide specific medical records or anything like that since Mom is in the hospital full-time... (Dad just mentioned seeing her chart, and it looks like it's about four pages of tiny print covering her history and diagnosis...)

Thanks so much

Visited Mom today, and honestly, Dad says there’s been a complete 180 regarding her
condition: 🙂 She actually managed some soup and a bit of lunch (yesterday, she wouldn't touch a thing). She was chatty and in good spirits, too—which is a massive change from yesterday when she was just mumbling under her breath, barely making sense. She even asked why she was moved to a different ward (she knows the surgery is coming up)... Dad mentioned she even went as far as fixing her hair. When Dad left, they had a really sweet goodbye.
The only complaint she had was about the pain. Apparently, since she’s on the surgical floor now, they aren't giving her the same meds she was getting over in Pulmonology???? So Dad had to call the nurse to get her an injection...

Is this a sign things are looking up? We are all so incredibly relieved; it feels like she’s already won before we've even started. It’s like she’s finally decided to fight!
Surgery is tomorrow

Angela Wright said:Mom has Fentanyl patches for the pain. Each of those two patches has its own color because they vary by dose and how much fentanyl is released per hour. Side effects include disorientation, depression, anxiety, and even hallucinations. So, all of that could be coming from the Fentanyl patch. Unfortunately, it’s a necessary evil.
Mom is going through palliative procedures now, including that palliative radiation meant to slow the disease down slightly without causing more harm—the goal is just to improve her quality of life and make things as comfortable as possible at this stage.
Everyone needs to try and pull yourselves together. I know it’s incredibly hard and you’re feeling desperate, but this is the reality, and you just have to deal with it. Is there anyone who can step in and spend some time with Dad so he isn't constantly alone? He’s clearly very emotional and deeply attached to her, and if he breaks down and falls into depression, the whole situation is going to get much worse.

John Smith, your words really mean a lot to us, and thank you again for sharing them...
I managed to talk to the doctor over Dad's cell phone (while he was at the hospital signing the consent forms for Mom's procedure)... even though I had a hundred questions, the doctor was very blunt, if realistic, telling us it's lung cancer that has spread throughout her entire body (??)... we know it has metastasized to the bones and looks like it's in the liver too... I don't know if he was confused or if there truly are that many metastases and the prognosis is just that grim that he said "throughout the body"... she still isn't eating and was on an IV... he said her condition is extremely critical...😢😢
I was also browsing some online health forums reading about lung cancer, and my God, there are so many heartbreaking stories.😢
It's tough on Dad, but we call him constantly and visit whenever we can... we're trying to talk to him more realistically, and we're staying strong for his sake because he's such an emotional person and this has been incredibly hard for him to take... we're currently considering whether he should come stay with us or if we should go to him for a while... this all caught us completely off guard.
I wish I could tell you exactly what Mom's diagnosis was, what tests she had done, or what medications she's on (since I see people posting here knowing their exact therapy, the specific stage of carcinoma, etc.), but we don't have any paperwork—Mom has been in the hospital since July 12th when the paramedics took her in... the doctors are curt, very brief, and always seem to be in a massive rush... I don't know... how can we find out all this information?? Is there any kind of supplement or remedy that might ease her pain and suffering? I don't know, maybe it sounds like we're giving up—but based on the diagnosis and the fact that she arrived so late in the process—does it even make sense to look for alternatives or anything else???? We feel like we're walking a path and have no idea where it's leading.

Dad’s calling again... they reached out to him from the hospital because he needs to sign off on her hip surgery since Mom isn't in any state to make decisions for herself right now...
Oh my God, listening to Dad cry over the phone is just... he's looking to me for some kind of reassurance because this whole thing is clearly weighing on him so heavily. He’ll sign the papers, obviously...

God, there are just so many heartbreaking stories here 😢

Dad called me this morning and even swung by my place (after visiting Mom at the hospital). He’s having a really hard time himself... it’s honestly devastating... but we managed to steer the conversation away from Mom's illness for a bit, which gave him a little spark of life again. I’m just so relieved to see him smile, even if briefly..
And yeah,let me correct myself from my previous post—they aren't operating on her collarbone; it's actually that hairline fracture in her left hip. They're moving her from the pulmonary ward over to surgery today, so then comes the whole gauntlet of pre-op testing..
I asked Dad what kind of meds they're giving her, but he's clueless. He just said a nurse comes by, hands out the pills, and leaves. Plus, there isn't any paperwork near the bed for him to read; her entire medical history is tucked away in some thick folder kept by the staff... he's just completely overwhelmed and disoriented, so I worry he might be mishearing or misinterpreting things when he talks to the doctors..
Mom barely ate anything today—literally just a tiny bit of semolina porridge. She even asked him what she signed for the doctors yesterday... Oh God, how much has this illness taken hold if she can't even remember that???! Or is she starting to hallucinate??
Dad also mentioned she has these two patches stuck on her chest; he says they look transparent, but then claims one is red and the other is blue(??) ..honestly, I'm totally lost... 🤷
I'm just feeling so heavy-hearted... it's wild how much everything has shifted in just two weeks... (even though, let's face it, this has clearly been dragging on for a long, long time)

Angela Wright said:I am just so incredibly sorry things are this bad... I’m terrified that Mom has entered the terminal stage where everything starts slowly shutting down. It breaks my heart to have to tell you that, but it looks that way. I know the diagnosis alone is enough of a shock, let alone finding out she’s in her final stages. I really hope Dad can find a decent facility where she can get all the palliative care she needs. He’s definitely not equipped to handle this on his own, and even if you lived in the same city, you certainly couldn't be nursing a patient like this while you're pregnant. Just try to spend as much time with her as your body allows. I know how brutal this is; I went through this with my own mother while dealing with a high-risk pregnancy and premature labor.
For Dad, you might be able to arrange for some meal delivery service—like DoorDash or a local meal prep company—to drop off food at his house for a small fee. It’s pretty practical and lets him eat a decent meal at home without the stress.
Honey, goodbyes are devastating, especially with parents and especially when it happens so suddenly, but as hard as it is, it’s part of life, just like the anticipation of your little one arriving. I hope you can face all of this with peace in your heart. I truly hope your Mom lives to see her grandchild born. My mother didn't get that chance, though she wanted nothing more in the world.
Stay strong and trust your inner resilience. You have more than you realize.

Thank you so much for the comfort and the kind words... So, they called Dad this morning telling him to head to the hospital around 2 p.m. to pick her up and figure out where she was being transferred... He’s been running around since dawn, trying to coordinate a facility and everything, only to get to the hospital and have the nurse tell him to wait because the doctor still needs to talk to him... Basically, since she isn't mobile (they didn't provide those two aides who were supposed to help her stand up), and apparently radiation would "finish her off" because she wouldn't be able to walk at all (meaning—they said she’d likely be completely immobile from then on)—the medical board changed their minds. Now they want to go ahead with surgery (something involving the collarbone??), and after that, maybe some physical therapy to start... I don't have the actual medical diagnosis on paper yet, so I can't be more specific... everything I'm hearing is just what Dad tells me—and they are trying to keep it as simple as possible for him...
After that, she would start radiation...
All this would probably extend her hospital stay by another ten days or so...
Dad has put the nursing home plans on hold for now... and I guess it’s a relief for him too, because it feels like they've offered a glimmer of hope... As for Mom? After she heard the news about the decision, she actually managed to eat a little bit (thank God!!!)... Now I'm wondering if the whole thing was a massive shock to her too... though, I'm trying to be realistic, and it feels like this might just be slightly prolonging the inevitable agony, right?

Oh, and Dad mentioned he saw them marking both hips with arrows; does that mean that's where the radiation goes?? Ugh, this ignorance and having to deal with all this second-hand information is killing me...

What’s actually the worst part? It’s this crushing feeling that we’ve somehow let her down... and honestly, half the time we just want to bang our heads against a wall out of pure frustration. But then, she’s all we can think about. We're constantly searching for an answer, some way to fix this, some idea of what comes next or how to help her. Then, when we see she isn't even willing to fight anymore—it just pulls us under even deeper. It feels like she’s just given up and is waiting for the end.
I don't even know who I'm supposed to be crying for right now......

She pushes everyone away. She doesn't ask about any of us... she won't even engage with Dad.

Angela Wright said:Sweetie, I am so incredibly sorry. 😢
It wasn't just something that popped up two weeks ago. The tumor had been there for a while, slowly progressing and spreading, and it only really got a formal diagnosis once the metastases started causing real trouble. Unfortunately, I suspect we're looking at aggressive small cell lung cancer. The statistics are brutal when the disease has spread this far, but stats are just curves—they have two ends and a middle. No one can say for certain where Mom sits on that curve right now. She’s going to start treatment and take whatever shot she gets. There isn't any other choice; you can't just crawl out of your own skin. You need to be her rock and realize that any outbursts of anger or uncharacteristic behavior are just the illness talking. If you want to go see her, go if it’s truly what you want, talk things through, and set expectations, but you have to pace yourself. As much as she is your mom and the most important person in the world, right now, your baby is the priority, and you have to put that first. I'm sure she wants that for you too, so don't make things harder on yourself. Try to get through the rest of this pregnancy in peace, and see if you can organize things so Dad gets some help without placing the entire burden on your shoulders.
Hang in there and stay strong.

Eight days ago, Mom told Dad she didn't want me coming around and causing stress, especially since my pregnancy is considered high-risk. But today, Dad tells me she hasn't even asked about anyone for three days; she just spends her time blaming him for everything. It reached a point where she actually asked him which hospital she was in, or she'd ask for his thermometer and claim she was lying on it (???)... honestly, it sounds like hallucinations. What is happening? And then I remembered—the doctor told Dad today that she might slip into a coma and never wake up (??!!!). Is it because she isn't eating? It's almost like she's made peace with dying, like she's just waiting for it...😢
The other day she asked him to pick up some Radenska (the one with the three hearts), so Dad drove all over town trying to find it. When he finally brought it to her, she snapped that she didn't want it and never even asked for it. She's treating him like a fool, God help him. He's taking it all so hard, and he's already struggling with high blood pressure and heart issues himself..
What's worst of all is they live alone (I'm in a different city), and he's being forced to look for a facility for her because he just can't manage this—especially since she's still immobile—and he doesn't even know how to cook...
I honestly can't believe any of this is happening. Looking back, I'm starting to recognize those "symptoms," but still... how does it all happen so fast? Cancer really is a silent killer.
And thank you for the reply... it means so much...

Hi everyone

Unfortunately, I have to join you all on this thread..
My mom (70) was rushed to the Mayo Clinic back on July 12th.. she just couldn't stay
on her feet anymore. I’m currently in my third trimester (36 weeks), so I suspect my dad didn't want to overwhelm me with the truth right away...
Initially, they diagnosed her with a fractured hip and collarbone (both on the left side). I remember my dad mentioning she had a fall at home about a month prior. Aside from that, her lower leg was extremely swollen..
Today, we finally got the diagnosis: primary lung cancer (she was a smoker) with metastases in her bones and liver..😢 She’s supposedly being discharged tomorrow, though they say it’s inoperable... radiation is scheduled for August 2nd.
The doctors are saying she arrived too late.. and they aren't exactly optimistic.
She’s barely eating anything, and today she seems completely lost. The doctors mentioned she isn't even fully lucid anymore...
I’m honestly speechless. My dad is a total wreck. I'm trying to be there for him—but at the same time, the reality of it all is hitting me hard.
Lately, Mom has become "aggressive" toward him, blaming him for everything in her life.. Today, she just sits there in silence, staring at him. Dad says he can see the tears welling up in her eyes..
I’m trying to hold it together as best I can—but I haven't actually seen her because everyone, including the doctors, is advising me not to go.
I don't know the exact clinical stage or how they officially categorize her diagnosis since the doctor just used layman's terms when talking to my dad... something about a "galloping tumor," according to him..
What I really want to know is: is it actually possible for things to deteriorate this fast in just two weeks? (Up until now, neither Mom nor anyone else in our family knew she was sick; this is the first cancer we've dealt with). Can a diagnosis really crush someone's psyche and will to live that suddenly, causing these kinds of "aggressive" outbursts???
Looking back, she really has had these waves of "good" and "bad" days over the last two years, though the bad ones usually won out... She always refused to see a doctor because she felt she "knew best."
I just can't believe any of this is happening. What is going on here? Is there any hope left? Is there anything we can actually do?
It feels like they've already written her off; they're discharging her tomorrow, yet they've already scheduled her for radiation... I don't get it..
Oh, and there’s some kind of clear patch on the left side of her lung area—what would that be? My dad is so distraught he can't even process what questions to ask, and I'm stuck on strict bed rest...