Posts by Robin Diaz4

I’ve never been one to let the wind blow me off course, if you know what I mean...

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Rachel Williams said:If I haven't mistaken you for someone else, you're dealing with the same situation at Beverly Hills that my mother is. When they send her for a General Electric scan, it’s usually very targeted—typically just an annual head and abdomen scan.

I suppose if I were feeling particularly spiteful, I should have demanded they scan his head too.
That said, I truly believe this confusion is just a direct side effect of the chemo. He seemed much more himself this afternoon; he was still a little foggy this morning, but yesterday he genuinely acted like he was intoxicated—I wouldn't go so far as to say drunk, but close.

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A close friend of mine—whose father actually went through the exact same cancer battle—told me her doctors gave her some very specific advice regarding detox supplements. Apparently, they recommended waiting until the entire chemotherapy regimen was completely finished before starting any of those "toxin-flushing" protocols. They weren't suggesting anything during the treatment itself, nor even in the gaps between cycles; they wanted her to wait until everything was done. In the meantime, the focus was strictly on boosting the immune system. Honestly, there’s a certain logic to it; you wouldn't want to flush things out of your system prematurely while the primary treatment is still working its magic. I haven't dove too deep into the research on this yet, mostly because my dad still has one to three cycles left, depending on what his lab results look like after this fourth round. For what it's worth, she ended up using zeolite and some kind of algae, maybe spirulina?

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I’m on the same page as ruggedfox11 here—they’re asking for head scans to be sure everything is okay. My dad is scheduled for a General Electric scan after his next cycle. Now, here’s my question: when he goes in for the scan, is the head imaging done automatically at the same time, or do we need to specifically request that? I apologize if this sounds like a rookie question, I just want to make sure we aren't missing anything. 😢

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Carol Reed19 said:I’m desperately looking for some advice here—my mother has mesothelioma. She had her regular chemo session this past Friday and went in for a General Electric scan on Tuesday. Two nights ago, she started vomiting and lost consciousness along with her sense of orientation. We ended up in the ER, but they sent her home, essentially claiming it was just a reaction to one of the medications. She’s somewhat regained her senses, but she still can't remember even the simplest things or words, and at times, she isn't making any sense at all. Until recently, she could get out of bed on her own, but now she can't.
Is this just a temporary phase caused by the drugs, or should we be pushing for more tests? Are we looking at the final stages?
Thanks!

It is entirely possible that’s what’s happening. My dad hasn't dealt with nausea so far, but during his last two sessions following chemo, he looks and acts like he’s completely intoxicated. He doesn't lose consciousness, per se, but he’s certainly not himself; he'll ask me something and then five minutes later, he's asking the exact same thing again. I truly believe it’s all temporary. Usually, about two or three days after the chemo, he settles back into his normal self.
My dad struggles with anemia constantly, so I suspect that plays a role in the confusion as well.

I don't have any profound medical wisdom to offer, so I'll just send my best wishes and strength to you all!

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It’s been a little while since I last checked in. There isn't much to report, really, other than the fact that as Dad’s physical health starts looking up, his mental state is taking a massive dive. It is honestly staggering how negative he can be. It's almost as if he wakes up every single day with a personal mission to find some new reason to believe there’s absolutely no hope left for him. Of course, he’s still dead certain that I’m lying to him about his diagnosis, mostly because I can't give him a definitive roadmap of what happens after he finishes these four cycles of Chemo. In his mind, if the doctor says the exact same thing, then we're clearly just conspiring together to feed him lies. I’m at a total loss for how to lift his spirits anymore... I can't even begin to imagine what it feels like to be in his shoes, but I’m terrified that with this attitude, he isn't going to make it very far, and that thought is just haunting me.

Honestly, our male patients are all cut from the same cloth... there isn't a damn thing in it, whether it's the medication or the doctors trying to calm them down.

Is there anything you’re taking to help stay calm? Or would you be open to sitting down with a therapist, for instance?
It breaks my heart that we can't just get together and head out somewhere. I know exactly how you feel because I spend the vast majority of my daily life just trying to keep my head above water emotionally. It feels like every time I finally make a little progress, the next day I'm right back at square one. I find myself repeating the same script like a broken record—listing off all the chemo side effects and reminding everyone that feeling this way isn't "crazy," or insisting that the treatment actually makes sense because the scans show improvement... but then the next morning, it all resets. Do you have any capacity to look into some professional mental health support? My friends jumped on the task immediately and found someone who specializes specifically in supporting families of patients, but I just can't seem to find the bandwidth to seek help for myself. There was even a day recently where I completely forgot to eat. It didn't even cross my mind until the next day when my stomach started absolutely killing me. I don't go out for coffee anymore; I don't socialize with anyone. Honestly, having this forum is a godsend, because at least I have people here to talk to.

ruggedfox11, I honestly can't remember if I already asked you—is your husband still in the hospital, or has he made it back home? Also, what kind of nebulizer are you all talking about? (Good grief, there is still so much I have yet to learn)...

That’s fantastic news about the markers! 🙂 As for the doctors' attitudes, we’ve been lucky enough to encounter nothing but politeness so far... at least, that's the silver lining. Though, my dad interprets that very politeness as a red flag; he’s convinced they’re just being nice because they're "sugarcoating things" and that his actual condition is way worse than what they’re letting on. Regarding talking to others who have walked this same path—unfortunately, much like ruggedfox11 mentioned, everyone we knew with that specific diagnosis has already passed away. A friend of my dad's is dealing with a completely different type of cancer and is also undergoing chemo right now. This guy actually rolls up to our place on a bicycle (!) which is wild, considering just a few months ago he looked like a walking skeleton who could barely move. He’s gained his weight back and feels better than ever. He keeps trying to convince my dad that he’ll pull through just like he did, but Dad just shuts it down, insisting he isn't quite that lucky. End of story.

My dad keeps insisting that everyone around him claims he’s doing better than he actually feels. Honestly, bemti—it’s almost as if he thinks he’s undergoing a spa treatment instead of chemo. I try my best to explain that his side effects are actually incredibly mild compared to how most people react to this kind of treatment. I get it; for a man who has been active his entire life, being completely drained just by trips to the bathroom is exhausting. But on the flip side, he can't seem to ignore the facts: he hasn't felt nauseous once after a session, he isn't losing weight (in fact, he eats more than I do), his pain levels are significantly lower, and his lung X-ray showed no worsening since the first cycle. He acts like none of that counts. He maintains that his progress is just too slow. Unfortunately, this isn't the kind of illness where you stage a miraculous recovery in a week, but just because progress is gradual doesn't mean it's bad. Every single day, I find myself battling his moods, spending up to two hours a day just trying to lift his spirits. And of course, talking to a psychiatrist or psychologist is completely off the table because, in his eyes, "he's not crazy."

I’m fairly certain a doctor wouldn’t recommend Chemo if the treatment itself posed a greater risk to the patient's life than the illness being treated. My dad has his own history of health issues that have mostly taken a backseat now; while his condition isn't exactly trivial, skipping the chemo would undoubtedly lead to a much worse outcome.

As for my dad, we’re basically just taking things one day at a time. One day he’s doing fine, the next his mental state takes a hit—even if he’s physically feeling a bit better—and honestly, who knows what tomorrow brings? He is incredibly anxious about the third cycle. At the start, the doctors told us that we’d finally be able to see whether the therapy is actually working right after that third round, and now he's absolutely terrified of that realization. Personally, I feel like things are trending in the right direction; if nothing else, the pain seems to be subsiding. For instance, today is the day we change his pain patch, and he only started complaining about feeling physically unwell today, whereas he usually starts flagging a full day in advance... I don't know, we'll just have to wait and see.

ruggedfox11, you sound exactly like my dad. He’ll trigger a full-blown panic, but then the moment our doctor pulls up to the house, suddenly everything is just fine. He claims he isn't in any pain at all if you ask him directly, leaving me standing there looking like some Gestapo officer, trying to explain, "He's lying! I called you because he specifically said he was hurting!" And then he'll have this sudden "realization" like, "Oh, that? Yeah, it hurt for a second, but it's gone now!" It’s all just a desperate attempt to avoid us forcing him back to the hospital.

I am genuinely thrilled to hear such wonderful news! Over here, we are just counting down the days until his third cycle begins... My dad actually managed to get some decent sleep last night for once—no racing thoughts, no tossing and turning, no midnight sweats... He even went so far as to claim he’s having a fantastic day today.

What exactly constitutes "cooking" anyway? :confused::

ruggedfox11 said:It’s viral season over here. We’ve just been hammering away at honey, lemon, and tea. Prosurge. I went through the exact same thing about ten days ago—went in for a routine checkup only to find out I had strep throat and bronchitis.

Oh, wonderful, more weight gain!

Just great.

How is everyone doing today? I’m finally starting to turn a corner, but Mom’s cold is getting progressively worse, and Dad ran a slight fever earlier this evening—though we managed to get that under control. Tomorrow is a new day!

We're in the same boat over here. My mom is dealing with this absolutely brutal cough, and I actually ended up heading to my doctor for a preventative checkup to see if I needed an antibiotic (which, for the record, I try to avoid whenever possible). Turns out, I’ve already developed a sore throat. It was a perfect little reminder of why I’m so wary of antibiotics—they absolutely wreck my stomach. As it turns out, Dad managed to pass his cold on to both of us. On the bright side, though, Dad seems to be putting on some weight. Slowly but surely...

Dad’s hitting day three on that pain patch today, and predictably, he’s been feeling absolutely miserable all day long. 😢

The hardest part of all of this is watching my dad struggle to accept his own mortality... honestly, I’m sitting here tearing up just thinking about it right now. Maybe that denial is what gives him the strength to keep fighting, though. Today marks his third day following his second round of chemo. He spent the last two days feeling pretty miserable—not necessarily in a physical sense, but more of a psychological toll. Sure, he’s dealing with that general post-chemo exhaustion, but he tends to experience every single setback with such tragic intensity. Even a simple cold he picked up isn't helping; he's currently on antibiotics to clear it out. I was thinking about starting him on some immune boosters today, but I am genuinely terrified to even try. Is it safe to use native propolis and beta-glucan together? I desperately want to get rid of this cold for him as quickly as possible, but I have this nagging fear that by trying to nourish his immune system, I might inadvertently be feeding the cancer. This damn disease is relentless.

Are you ever truly ready? Personally, I don't think so. Don't get me wrong—I’m fully aware that we’re all mortal and that nobody stays around forever, but losing the people you love? You're never prepared for that. It’s always a shock to the system. Even if all of this were happening twenty years from now, I’d still be sitting here thinking it isn't fair and asking, "Why me?" As for how to find peace with it, I honestly have no clue; right now, I'm just trying to figure out how to accept being sick.