Melissa Sanchez8 said:I really hope she was given more aggressive pain management. Speaking from both my own experience and my perspective as a healthcare professional, I find the American healthcare system to be utterly heartless when it comes to the suffering of oncology patients. What they prescribe often feels like nothing at all. When someone is in that position, the absolute priority should be ensuring whatever time they have left is spent with as little pain as possible.
I couldn't agree more. We were actually quite "lucky" in our case—my father ended up under the care of an excellent doctor who didn't hold back on the pain relief. Because of that, he wasn't suffering needlessly once it became clear that the end was inevitable. He had access to everything from patches to various types of pills—both extended-release and fast-acting options. It’s funny, though; a colleague of mine was genuinely baffled by how we managed to get those medications, because when her mother was being treated, they told her that using Matrifen wasn't recommended due to the risk of addiction (!?). With all due respect to the medical establishment, I truly believe that when someone is facing a terminal illness, worrying about addiction is the very least of our concerns.
I did some digging, and those patches my dad was using are actually called Matrifen. The bottom line is this: look into every possible pain management option out there. There’s absolutely no reason for someone to be suffering through unnecessary pain when they're already dealing with everything else life is throwing at them.
My dad actually discovered he had cancer because of some intense spinal pain. Once we finally got a diagnosis, it turned out the primary cancer was in his lungs, and it had practically metastasized everywhere—including his spine. Given that your grandmother isn't in a position to undergo chemo, please don't assume that means her pain has to go unmanaged. I can't recall the exact brand names off the top of my head, but my dad used transdermal patches along with both slow-release and fast-acting fentanyl-based painkillers. Honestly, he was virtually pain-free right up until his very last day. Just a word of caution: you have to be incredibly careful when using those patches, especially if there are small children in the house; definitely read the instructions thoroughly. You’ll need to consult her doctor, as these medications are strictly prescription-only. The regulations are incredibly tight—I remember having to show my ID at the pharmacy every single time and provide full details on who I was and why I needed them (since, naturally, my dad couldn't pick them up himself). I hope this offers at least a little bit of guidance.
Chris Mitchell4 said:.... I'm wondering who to reach out to for help and whether these side effects are actually typical. He’s spent literal days just lying down or sitting around like this for a couple of weeks now. The ER at VŽ Hospital basically told us to come back once his COVID situation stabilizes (believe it or not).
Regarding that last part, I unfortunately believe them. Look, I know COVID is dangerous, but it's equally dangerous how chronic and critically ill patients—who can barely even make it to their treatments—are being caught in the crossfire because of it. As for the side effects, honestly, I can't tell you if they're "standard" or not. With my dad, he experienced the whole damn spectrum; after every single cycle, it was something new (nausea, swollen joints, fevers hitting 102, diarrhea, constipation, bloating, mouth sores, fungal issues, massive appetite spikes, loss of appetite... well, everything). I don't know who your oncologist is, but my dad's doctor was incredibly approachable and always willing to step up. As soon as any symptom popped up, she’d provide prescriptions. We treated every single issue individually; he was even put on antidepressants for a while.
This whole situation is absolutely mental. A friend’s wife tested positive, and she was listed as his primary contact, yet nobody bothered to notify him that he needed to go into isolation. I mean, does anyone actually follow protocol anymore, or is common sense just dead? I’m not even asking on behalf of my friend—I’m asking for myself, because I was in close contact too. 😁
Dear mistyviper53, my dad also battled lung cancer. Regarding his appetite, he was prescribed this high-calorie supplement called Megostat to kickstart things, and he also relied on drinks like Ensure, which basically act as a meal replacement to help maintain weight. Thanks to those, he didn't lose any weight at all during his illness. We were able to get everything via prescription, but from what I understand, buying it over the counter can be incredibly pricey. Regarding the breathing difficulties, he used a Ventolin inhaler along with something else, though unfortunately, I can't recall the specific name—I've pushed quite a few of those medical details out of my mind...
rustyowl52 said:My mom is battling lung cancer. It’s been a year since the diagnosis... they told me she wouldn't even last that long... but she’s tough, just like all mothers are. The test results don't seem to matter anymore; I can see her fading away. She can't swallow properly and she's losing weight—she's down to 43 kg, it's heartbreaking. And she still smokes. I know quitting won't save her at this stage, but it feels like she's just throwing away those extra days we could have together. Why? I can't wrap my head around it. I get angry, I yell, and then I just break down and cry. Doesn't she love us? Doesn't she love herself? She tells me to leave her be, but I simply can't... I'm a fighter, and I only have one mother. I find myself thinking about death because I know it's close, yet I try to ignore it because she's my mom and it just doesn't feel like her time... damn those cigarettes!!! I dread every phone call when I'm not with her... my family is the only thing keeping me from losing my mind, but I feel like I'm falling apart day by day. I see so many people going through the same thing, finding comfort in each other's pain, yet the ache within each of us remains uniquely, immeasurably intense.
Right after my dad got his diagnosis, he quit smoking immediately. Honestly, I ended up being furious at him for ever having picked up the habit in the first place, and even for refusing to drink that revolting beet juice. I found myself getting angry over the most trivial, nonsensical things, but in reality, I was just lashing out at the entire situation because it was painfully obvious I was going to lose him.
That anger you're feeling? It's completely normal. A few more cigarettes aren't going to save your mother, nor will they destroy her life at this point. Quitting causes its own massive amount of stress, so if your mom wants to keep smoking, let her. Like others have already said, please look after yourself too. I know how incredibly hard this is, and I don't want you to end up getting sick yourself from the strain, like I did. You are in one of the most stressful periods of your life, but try—as difficult as it sounds—to lean into the moments you have left with her instead of letting the anger take over. We used to make Dad laugh by bringing up silly childhood stories that we had conveniently "forgotten" until then, and those moments became such beautiful memories for us...
Donna Reyes11 said:I took my mom to the hospital on Wednesday, and after some IV fluids and medication, she seemed to perk up just a little bit... though it was very brief. On Thursday, she had breakfast at the hospital and then fell asleep... forever. Her heart finally stopped beating on Saturday morning. I’m surprisingly calm. Honestly, I’m almost grateful for COVID-19 because it gave us the chance to be together nearly constantly for two months. Under normal circumstances, you could never afford that much time with her—grabbing coffee every day, having breakfast, watching "Marriage at First Sight" during lunch and dinner... most of our time was spent just being home together. Since school was closed, my kid stayed home with Grandma, doing homework and playing chess... I did my crying a week ago. I said my goodbyes, told her everything I needed to say, heard everything I needed to hear, and finally gave her permission to let go and find peace. In the end, there wasn't even any pain; her body simply reached its limit. Safe travels, dear Mom. Drop us a sign every now and then so I know you're watching over us!
Dear Christian Lopez29, I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. I'm glad you're finding some peace right now, but please, if you ever feel the weight of it all, don't hesitate to reach out—whether it's here on the forum or to a professional.
Donna Reyes11 said:I'm thinking maybe our last or second to last day together, and she'll just sleep right through it.
That sentence really hit home for me—it took me straight back. I had this desperate hope that my dad would just sleep through all of it too. They told me he passed away in his sleep, and honestly, I truly hope that’s the truth. Dear Christian Lopez29, I am so incredibly sorry you're going through this. Everything I would want to say was already covered in the previous post. Hang in there.
Unfortunately, it’s only when someone close to you falls ill that you realize just how much people are being misled by those who are willing to try absolutely anything out of sheer desperation. Vitamin B17, baking soda, iodine, graviola—I could go on forever... (and while maybe one of those things offers some minor benefit, let's be clear: they aren't cures). On the recommendation of a friend, we actually had this so-called "healer" come to visit us. Honestly, I wouldn't have even let the man through my front door, but initially, I thought he might be a nutritionist who could actually offer something useful. However, once he started rambling about these "special" (and I use that word loosely, bordering on magical) powders that only *he* can source—claiming he wasn't even making a profit and just wanted us to reimburse him what he paid, which was $2333—I was nearly moved to tears. What broke me most, though, was seeing that momentary glint in my father's eyes; for a split second, he actually believed that this idiot could truly help him. To be perfectly honest, I pushed everything regarding him aside and I've actually forgotten his name, but if I hadn't, I would have reported him in a heartbeat. He even had the audacity to brag about how he's "saved" countless people from undergoing chemotherapy.
Maybe someone will argue that this doesn't belong on this specific thread, but I believe I'm doing a service to patients by warning them about these scammers. Believe me, they tend to swarm around you very quickly.
My uncle at the Jordanovac location (or what they're calling Rebro Hospital now) can't even land a slot for a basic initial consultation. This is wild, considering he actually had his surgery scheduled just two weeks ago. 😢
Does anyone know if there’s a legitimate way to pick up someone who just finished their quarantine yesterday in another state? Is there any kind of special permit or exemption available for this kind of situation? A buddy of mine just wrapped up his isolation period, and he’s in the middle of a bit of a life pivot—he lost his job in the hospitality industry, so he’s moving back in with his parents. He doesn't have a car, so he really needs someone to go grab him and help haul his belongings out of his apartment.
The situation is just abysmal. As if dealing with COVID-19 wasn't enough, now we’re stuck navigating this earthquake uncertainty too. They basically told us our only option is to sit around and wait for them to call. Honestly, I have a feeling it'll be more of the same waiting we've endured so far, while they waste months running him through endless, inconclusive tests. His markers aren't showing any cancer, yet the PET scan shows something, and then he has to undergo a bronchoscopy—which he’s already had three times now—only for them to come up empty-handed again. I went through this exact same ordeal with my dad regarding lung cancer, and frankly, I’ve got the distinct impression that nobody actually knows what they're doing.
We managed to pull some strings and get a hold of someone through a contact. They’re claiming they’ve also taken a hit from the earthquake, so we’ll just have to wait and see if that holds water...
We actually drove out to the airport in two separate cars, leaving one behind with the friend we were picking up—who, naturally, was the designated driver for the trip. Since that second vehicle isn't exactly our daily driver anyway, it’s currently just sitting in the driveway waiting for some better weather to roll around.
Well, here I am back on this thread, unfortunately. Uncle needs to head over to Jordanovac tomorrow; after a mountain of tests, they’ve finally confirmed it's cancer. He needs more follow-up scans to pin down exactly what we're dealing with... does anyone here know what the situation is like right now given the COVID-19 mess? Are they actually seeing patients normally, or is everything a disaster? I don't exactly have anyone to call for the inside scoop...
A close friend of mine is currently in quarantine after flying back from an international trip. "Luckily," she lives alone, so there won't be any issues with transmission, and I actually beat her home to it by dropping off all her essentials at her place before she even landed—I have a spare key, so it was easy. If she ends up needing anything else, either I or another friend will just grab it and hang it on her doorknob. I’ve got elderly folks in my immediate circle that I simply refuse to risk exposing, and honestly, I’m not exactly putting my own immune system's strength in the "guaranteed" column right now either.
I’m really hoping someone steps up with some insight here; my dad had a secondary lesion on his liver, and it just wasn't operable.
In these kinds of grim situations, it always seems to me that if a surgeon says it *is* operable, that’s actually a silver lining worth holding onto. Sending you strength—wishing you a very speedy recovery!
Unfortunately, I can't quite recall the specific names—I’ve pretty much suppressed that entire chapter of my life—but my dad was prescribed medication specifically to manage those hiccups. It was our family doctor who recommended them to us.
None of us ever anticipated we'd end up discussing this, but this is one of those illnesses that doesn't discriminate. Hang in there.