Around this time last year, my family's life just took a turn for the absolute worst... Dad got his tumor marker results back, and they were way too high to leave any room for doubt regarding a terrifying diagnosis... which was confirmed just a few days later. We were hoping for at least a year... but Dad passed away only three months after that. He didn't even get that full year we were clinging to. I'm feeling pretty low today, so I figured I’d come here to vent somewhere where people actually understand what this feels like. Sending love to everyone out there fighting this beast. There are always those who defy the statistics, and I'm keeping everything crossed that you'll be one of them.
Dear Rachel Williams, urbanharbor15, I am so incredibly sorry you’re going through this. Unfortunately, most of us here know all too well what this feels like... My dad was absolutely terrified of death, so we just never even touched the subject. He was just as scared of chemotherapy; every single time he went in, he’d be hit by such intense panic attacks that they’d have to give him a Xanax just to get him to settle down. We didn't tell him it was Xanax because he used to refuse any kind of sedative. Toward the end, they were giving him sleep aids because he wouldn't sleep for days at a time out of pure fear—which, obviously, doesn't exactly help the treatment process... Maintaining a positive mindset is so vital, and my dad just couldn't find it... If there's any silver lining, it's that his agony didn't drag on forever. It was a horrific, soul-crushing ordeal. Hang in there as best as you possibly can given the circumstances. I held it together until the very end, acting as the rock for my entire family, but once it was over, I broke down both mentally and physically so hard that I'm still recovering even now. Rachel Williams, your mother is a hero. From the moment my dad first got sick, her story gave me hope that it actually is possible to beat those ugly statistics. I know that probably means nothing to you right now, but back then, it meant everything to me. I am truly, deeply sorry.
Angela Wright said:Hair takes time to grow back, but it eventually will. Honestly, that should be the least of her concerns right now. She might as well just pick out some high-quality wigs or find a chic new haircut that suits her better.
I actually know two women who survived breast cancer. It took quite a while for their hair to start coming back, but like you said, they had much bigger fish to fry... Interestingly enough, one of them ended up with a completely different hair texture and color after chemo than what she had before. It was a total transformation. :confused:
Rachel Williams said:If you can recall the specific name of that gel, maybe Joshua Kim69 could ask Dr. Smith to look into it?
I haven’t been replying much because the site hasn't been letting me log in over the last few days...
Look, I know how Candida typically presents itself; I was asking about a very specific case here—specifically whether it shows up in the mouth. As it turns out, what my dad was prescribed was called GlaxoSmithKline. He had those exact same creamy patches all over his tongue and throat...
By the way, I went to check my dad's medicine cabinet to find the name of that gel, and seeing everything there just prompted me to pack up all his medications. I'm taking them to the doctor tomorrow so they can be used before they expire. It's a massive bag. Honestly, it's overwhelming. I didn't even include the supplements. This damn illness is relentless.
**Bolded:** I gave them a call a few days ago and they mentioned there shouldn't be any issue getting a second opinion; the cost is $167 and it's doable, they just need me to email them so they can follow up with a call. I'll check out what the situation looks like with Dr. Cepulic next...
Well, that's great news for St. Nedelj! I paid $233 for my consultations with Dr. Cepulic, which also covered subsequent follow-ups after finishing chemotherapy to determine which medications to start on next.
ruggedfox11, I know exactly what you’re going through. I’ve always considered myself a rational, resilient person—the type who can dig herself out of any hole without help—but losing my father absolutely broke me, both mentally and physically. It got to the point where I was nearly hospitalized myself, though I had the "luck" of arriving when they were overcapacity, so they basically treated me like an outpatient. Honestly, getting my head straight was what saved me, and while I did rely on medication to get there, I don't think there was any other way given how bad things were. I’ve since decided to taper off the meds on my own terms. It isn't easy, but once I started addressing the physical fallout—my thyroid actually developed nodules from the sheer stress—things finally began to feel manageable. I’ve survived the worst of it. I still have those moments where I instinctively "rush" to tell Dad about some win at work, only to be hit by the crushing realization that he’s gone, and I just fall apart. But lately, I find I’m able to pull myself together much faster after those breaks. Looking back, I am so incredibly grateful that I had this community and all the kind souls here during my father's illness; I truly don't know how I would have made it through without you all...
Xena, I’m actually in total agreement regarding Dr. Cepulic. I went to him myself to seek a second opinion for my father, though unfortunately, he wasn't able to offer much more than we already knew given his diagnosis (lung cancer with metastases to the liver and potentially the bones, which I only fully realized after Dad passed away)... As for St. Nedelj, getting a second opinion there was out of the question; they wouldn't even see us for a consultation because their policy is basically to stay out of other doctors' business. We weren't willing to take any risks by pulling Dad out of the hospital just for the sake of a different perspective. Besides, in his case, it would have effectively been a fourth opinion—everyone else had already reached the exact same conclusion. We even went as far as bringing in an alternative "practitioner," who turned out to be nothing more than a complete charlatan, naturally. If any of those other opinions had differed from the initial one, we would have hunted down a hundred more if someone promised a different outcome, especially since it seemed like the chemotherapy was working and he was tolerating it well, but sadly, that wasn't the reality... My thoughts are a bit scattered here, but to sum it up: yes, you absolutely should seek a second opinion.
Dear ruggedfox11, I am so sorry to hear you're going through this... I won't sit here and give you empty promises that everything will suddenly be perfect, but I know what a fighter you are, and I truly believe you'll find a way to win this battle too... 🙂
It’s been four months today since my dad passed away... and honestly, not a single day goes by where I don't think of him. Even worse, there are moments when I start heading home and instinctively find myself wanting to ask him something, only to realize he isn't there. Damn this wretched, miserable disease!
This really takes me back to what happened with my father. Every time he’d be admitted to the internal medicine ward—specifically where they handle hematology and oncology—they’d practically brush him off and send him straight to pulmonology without even giving him a proper look. And the thing was, his issue wasn't even lung-related at the time; it was strictly a hematology matter involving crashing platelet counts. Honestly, don't even get me started on how every department tells you a completely different story. One day the pulmonologists are claiming regression, then two days later the oncologists are telling you it's progression. It makes you wonder, which is why I actually asked on here once: is it possible for a doctor to give a "prettier" diagnosis than the actual reality just to keep the patient and the family calm? Anyway, if someone hasn't slept for fifteen days, I'm pretty sure even a perfectly healthy person would start losing their mind. Back in college, I went four days without sleep trying to hit deadlines, and let me tell you, things get blurry fast. I hope the neurology team can get him stabilized and back on track! Hang in there, I know how incredibly tough this is...
Dear ruggedfox11, we all know just how much you're going through right now. Hang in there—there are definitely rough patches, but better days are coming. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that your ultrasound results come back positive!
My logic tells me everything you guys are saying, I really do get it, but sometimes that irrational side of my brain just takes over the driver's seat... I can't stress this enough to everyone following this thread: please, for the love of God, take care of yourselves. I didn't listen to reason back then, and I nearly completely destroyed myself both mentally and physically.
ruggedfox11 said:People always say that time heals all wounds, that life just moves on. It does move on, but I don't think it actually heals anything... it just gets a little easier to carry. Hang in there.
It’s not about healing; it’s about accepting the facts and finding a way to live alongside them... A friend of mine, who lost her mother five years ago, tells me there isn't a single day that goes by where she doesn't think of her. In fact, it was only recently, after all this time, that she finally had a day where she *didn't* think of her—and then she spent the entire following day in tears because of it.
For me, the hardest part was dealing with my father’s stubbornness. He refused so many things; for instance, he wouldn't even catch a whiff of beet juice, let alone drink it, and he absolutely refused to travel abroad just to get a second medical opinion. Because of that, I find myself constantly wondering if things would have turned out differently if he had just been more flexible... Or, for that matter, would it have been better if he hadn't agreed to the chemotherapy in the first place? I honestly don't know, and I never will, and I can't seem to stop myself from dwelling on it—even though my rational mind insists that everything happened exactly as it had to.
As for his mental state, given the sheer volume of medication he was on and the physical stress his body was under, it’s hardly surprising when people occasionally lose their grip. Just looking at the amount of heavy-duty painkillers my dad was taking—and please forgive my bluntness—those are serious drugs. It would be stranger if his brain didn't occasionally wander off into uncharted territory.
ruggedfox11, I truly, deeply hope everything starts looking up for you soon! Honestly, I think you are an absolute powerhouse—the way you’re fighting through this relentless illness is nothing short of incredible. You deserve to come out on top of this beast! Those swollen lymph nodes could just be a reaction to inflammation; I'm really crossing my fingers that's all it is. As for that strange mental fog you mentioned, my dad used to go through similar episodes whenever his blood counts dropped. He always felt much better once he had transfusions. I’ve been feeling a bit low lately myself (partly because I’m currently tapering off antidepressants), and after a family gathering yesterday, I had this dream last night that my dad was still alive and I was rushing him from hospital to hospital. I woke up in a complete puddle of tears... Even though I keep telling myself I won't dwell on it, I can't help but wonder if there was anything more I could have done. That nagging "what if" just keeps haunting me...