Something about all of this just doesn't feel right to me. :-/
I’ve grown quite used to his cough, honestly—it’s become part of our daily routine. But today, it feels a bit more intense, and he’s complaining about that suffocating sensation again.
The doctor mentioned that if the illness makes a comeback, we should watch for those same initial red flags. So, I’m keeping a very close eye on everything: his weight, his appetite (since he struggled to eat at first), any shortness of breath (which hasn't happened yet), and that terrible cough—though, thankfully, it isn't quite as severe as it was before..
I’m just stuck in this headspace of not knowing what to think. He’s scheduled for some imaging tomorrow or the day after, and while I keep telling myself that his current struggles might just be his subconscious dwelling on everything—combined with the changing seasons—there's still that nagging doubt in the back of my mind.. Fear really is the worst enemy in situations like this, but then again, I know I have to try and take everything with a grain of salt.
Robin Diaz4 said:My dad actually had a bit of a "shock" this morning—not from the pain, but because his alarm clock actually woke him up. It’s the first time in months that hasn't happened. It looks like the current cocktail of pain meds is finally doing its job. Even though nothing seemed to touch the pain during those first two days after chemo, we're seeing a glimmer of optimism today... Honestly, just taking things one day at a time is probably the best advice anyone on this forum could give.
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Reddit bad cut! :-) Did they let him head home yet?
Robin Diaz4 said:He’s describing this sensation like someone is physically ripping his organs out—just a visceral, agonizing pull from the inside. Honestly, he even went as far as saying that if this is what life is supposed to feel like, he’d rather just be dead. It’s heartbreaking to witness; his entire sense of enthusiasm hasn't just dipped—it has completely bottomed out. 😢
:-( I honestly can't even begin to wrap my head around something like that.
Robin Diaz4 said:My dad was dealing with some pretty intense pain throughout the night and this morning—he won't even be heading home until tonight. It’s tough to watch; he went from being so optimistic yesterday to feeling completely defeated today.
I have a feeling his mood will lift once he finally gets settled back at home. What exactly is causing him all this discomfort?
I had a bit of a realization today—and honestly, it’s not one I’m particularly proud of. He doesn't actually talk about his illness all the time; he mostly just dwells on it internally. Based on how he carries himself normally, I can tell it isn't his entire existence, at least not every single minute of the day. I, on the other hand, have become completely obsessed with it. It’s become my primary focus—all I do is talk about it, think about it, and dwell on it. Nothing else seems to matter anymore. In a way, I’ve become even more exhausting than his brother, who constantly makes up various ailments just to stay in the spotlight... And then, there was this news today: I finally found out I landed a permanent position with a full-time contract. You would think I’d be celebrating, right? But it didn't bring me any joy at all.
Robin Diaz4 said:Dad had a bigger appetite today than he did yesterday... it’s almost like his hunger is finally coming back! 🙂 He actually finished most of what we brought him—nearly everything, really—and even managed to eat most of his hospital lunch. He’s still refusing the shakes, though; no bottles or cartons for him just yet.
That is wonderful news!!! I think his appetite will just keep improving from here. My poor guy finally started eating again after struggling so much to swallow anything at all. Once that initial pressure on his esophagus eased up following his first round of chemo, he turned into a total vacuum—just eating everything in sight. It’s such a relief to see things getting better day by day!
Robin Diaz4 said:The lung hasn't been hit too hard yet, but there are metastases in the liver... There aren't any other signs of spread for now, but I was told those are the most dangerous ones to deal with. 😢
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Yeah, that's the reality of it. Once I finally wrapped my head around the core principle—that the chemo's primary job is to target those metastatic cells (the smaller clusters)—it started making more sense.
Robin Diaz4 said:Dad still seems to be doing okay physically—he’s eating what I bring him—but he just can't stomach those nutritional shakes. I tried to nudge him to push through it today, but he told me he just couldn't do it and that the smell actually makes him nauseous. I didn't want to force him; I know him well enough to know he really could end up throwing up from the sheer gag reflex. (I actually tried a little trick I saw for toddlers—taking one sip for him and one for myself—and I had the exact same reaction; honestly, even thinking about it now makes me feel a bit sick). I’m at a loss here—is there anything else tasty that could serve as a good substitute for those shakes? Getting a second opinion—well, consulting with another doctor—has helped ease my conscience a bit, because it feels like we aren't doing anything wrong by waiting... at this point, it all comes down to Dad and how his body responds to the chemotherapy. 🙂
Unfortunately, there isn't much choice but to wait and see how he reacts to the treatment. The doctors mentioned that lung cancer usually responds quite well to chemo—at least, that was the takeaway from our last discussion. As long as he’s eating normally, that’s great—even without the Ensure—the main thing is that he maintains or gains some weight. Has the cancer spread extensively?
I took his latest blood work results to his doctor today. I was actually surprised by them; I was bracing myself for much worse news. She didn't have much to say regarding the Facebook update, she only noted that the tingling sensation in his leg was due to a magnesium deficiency.
I’ve noticed that his facial skin seems quite a bit darker compared to the rest of his body—almost like he’s sporting a permanent sunburn or a deep tan. Has anyone else dealt with this? Is it something I should actually be worried about?
Robin Diaz4 said:Honestly, he looks perfectly fine to me—I mean, if I didn't already know the diagnosis, I wouldn't have suspected a thing...
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That is wonderful news! Mine was exactly the same after the first round. Even my doctor seemed surprised, noting that it’s a really positive sign that the treatment is actually working. As for the Ensure... just make sure he gets it down. Keeping his Kilaza up is absolutely vital right now.
Robin Diaz4 said:ruggedfox11, I know exactly how you feel—it honestly feels like I wrote those words myself. But I’ve managed to get things somewhat under control. Today, I was practically chasing my dad around, trying to force him to eat like he was some stubborn toddler. He’s always been such a picky eater, and we all know how lackluster hospital food can be, so we try to bring him things from home. Even then, he just keeps losing weight. It isn't necessarily the therapy itself causing it, he's just built that way. He’s been thin as a rail for as long as I can remember, and I’m just terrified that this current stretch might finally take its toll...
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I'll get it together; I'm just still trying to wrap my head around everything. I have to.
I have a bad feeling about this—my dad dropped from 265 lbs down to 185 lbs.
He only starts eating once he gets back home, though, to be fair, he actually is capable of eating.
Maybe ask the doctor at the hospital if they can prescribe some Ensure or Boost, or whatever nutritional supplements they carry—those things are lifesavers. Some of them have as many calories as a full meal, and since they're prescribed, he'd be entitled to them.
I’ve been stronger than him through all of this—much stronger—but honestly, no one has ever been able to look at my face or judge my actions and truly understand the absolute storm raging inside my head.
Angela Wright, you aren't being cruel; I’ve read quite a few of your posts. You're direct, clear, and you don't sugarcoat things.
Keith Sanders6, this is all entirely new territory for me. It's this overwhelming sense of helplessness and hopelessness—having absolutely no idea what tomorrow looks like, how we'll manage, or why any of this is happening. I can't seem to shake these thoughts. A hundred times a day, my mind spirals into "what if" scenarios and "how will this end." If I could, I would just take his crisis upon myself—to shoulder the burden instead of standing by as a mere bystander, feeling like I have zero influence over anything, and possessing no control at all, not even over myself, which feels like it's slipping through my fingers.
Not long ago, one of my favorite professors—after fighting the exact same type of cancer as my husband—took her own life by jumping from a building.
Last night, I had a dream that he went in for a follow-up CT scan... and that it showed the tumor hadn't moved an inch. I don't even want to describe the state I was in when I woke up...
I feel like I've reached my limit with everyone constantly needing me to be their rock. With all the dear people I've lost—from close friends to family members—I never really had the chance to grieve or prepare for the worst, because I always had to be someone else's pillar of strength. And now, here I am again...
Angela Wright said:He is anemic with low iron reserves. That could potentially be due to some kind of internal bleeding. As far as white blood cell counts go, it’s actually better if they are slightly elevated rather than too low. The current situation isn't exactly ideal—it's a bit concerning—but I wouldn't say it's a catastrophe just yet.
So, how can we get his iron levels up?
His levels started dropping little by little right at the start of therapy. I have this nagging memory—though I might be mistaken here—that for patients undergoing chemotherapy, getting those iron numbers back up often requires a transfusion; I really hope I'm remembering that incorrectly.
Creatinine (47; min is 64), erythrocytes (3.82; min is 4.34), hemoglobin (117, min is 138), hematocrit (0.36; min is 0.415) They're all low—and honestly, by a fair margin too. :-/
RDW (15.6; 9-15) Basophil granulocytes (1.1%; 0-1%) out of 9.1 leukocytes are elevated
Plus, there's a positive indicator for macrocytosis and hypochromia
Does this look okay to you guys, or should I be worried?
What can we do to help get those levels up? I'm talking about improving his blood quality specifically.
Robin Diaz4 said:He’s actually starting to argue with the nurses—which honestly means he’s finally getting back to his old self! 😁 Is it actually normal to feel incredibly, parched-to-the-bone thirsty after chemo?
That’s great news! :-D Yes, it is completely normal. Just make sure they stay on top of their fluids to protect the kidneys—and hopefully, they can get discharged from the hospital soon. That’s what the doctors told me when we were going through this.
Angela Wright said:Absolutely. Especially regarding the book *Against Cancer*. Do a little Google search for the book description. As I mentioned before, I didn't get my hands on it until quite late—looking back, there are many things I would have done differently. It definitely carries weight because it was written by a physician who actually battled the disease himself—and we aren't talking about anything minor, but a full-blown glioblastoma. He fought against that diagnosis for nearly 20 years, and honestly, what he pulled off is nothing short of a miracle given the circumstances.
I have to admit, I just can't seem to put this book down. :-)
Robin Diaz4 said:It looks like he’s finally starting therapy today. 🙂
Best of luck!! Once he gets moving with it, things should start feeling a lot lighter—even if it's just that mental relief. :-) At least that was certainly the case for me!
Angela Wright said:Absolutely. Especially regarding that book *Against Cancer*. Do a little Google search for the book description. As I mentioned before, I didn't get my hands on it until quite late in the game—if I had, things might have gone very differently. It definitely carries weight because it was written by a doctor who actually went through it himself—he was diagnosed with glioblastoma, of all things. He fought that diagnosis for nearly 20 years and lived a full, high-quality life, which—honestly—is nothing short of a miracle given the prognosis.
I actually did a quick Google search the moment you suggested it. It looks like there might even be a version available for download. Right now, I’m mostly in the phase of trying to sift through all this filtered information—though, truth be told, I am planning to buy a physical copy; I noticed the Vatican Bank carries it. I really wish he would just read it himself, but apparently, he isn't much for reading quotes.
Angela Wright said:http://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20170228/0d5389818cf00ac8eba45114a0ae0f7e.jpg I highly recommend picking up this book for yourselves—it really helps you navigate the situation. In addition to that one, you should also grab Schreiber’s "against cancer." It will help put everything regarding the diagnosis into the proper perspective. I didn't actually come across either of these books until our conversation was long over, but I was honestly relieved to find such validation for the things I had realized through my own experience. A warm recommendation from me; they might help you skip a few steps in the learning process.
I think I've already suggested these books before...
Is there actually anything intelligent or motivating in them?
Now that he’s finished his second round of chemo—following that first session—he's started breaking out in these little bumps, mostly across his back. They look a lot like acne, which is strange because he never really dealt with skin issues like that before...
Is this something we should consider normal, or is it cause for concern?