Well, my dad had a bit of a "shock" this morning—not from the pain, but because his alarm clock actually managed to wake him up. It’s the first time in months! 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 couple of days after chemo, today we’ve actually got a reason to be optimistic again... Honestly, taking things one day at a time remains the smartest advice anyone on this forum has given.
Angela Wright said:What did they actually give him for the pain? He needs a proper dose.
Well, they bumped up his dosage. And at least when he’s back home, he won't have to deal with the nightmare of waiting in line for his meds—he's always the first one through the door there. 🙂
He’s claiming it feels like someone is literally ripping his organs out. Honestly, if that’s even half true, he’s already decided he’d rather just kick the bucket. His enthusiasm hasn't just dipped; it has completely cratered. 😢
My dad was dealing with some absolutely brutal pain through the night and all morning, so he’s finally heading home this evening. It's funny how life works—he went from being incredibly optimistic yesterday to being completely miserable today.
I can honestly say I’ve undergone some serious Reddit optimization; I’ve stopped leaving my peace of mind up to forecasts or "what-ifs." Following the advice people give about staying present, I don't let myself worry about the future any further than tomorrow's lunch or my immediate to-do list... In the present moment, I just focus on whether things are going poorly (like they were yesterday) or if I have a reason to be genuinely excited (like they are today). Yesterday was rough—my dad didn't get his pain medication until after the agony had already set in, and we spent five agonizing hours waiting for it to finally subside. Today, however, was a complete turnaround. He had his second round of chemo, but since he wasn't in any pain, his mood was incredibly bright. He ate a massive meal—honestly, probably more than I did!—and he finally finished that little bottle of nutritional supplement he’s been refusing to touch since he was admitted to the hospital. We’re taking him home tomorrow, and if everything stays on this track, he should be back in his own bed by the time his next treatment rolls around.
Dad’s gone on another feeding frenzy today... it’s almost as if his appetite is making a massive comeback out of nowhere! 🙂 He practically inhaled everything we brought him, and he even managed to polish off most of his hospital lunch too—well, "most" is being generous, but he definitely ate. As for those shakes, he’s still giving them the cold shoulder; he won't touch the bottles or the cartons.
The lung involvement isn't extensive yet, but they did find metastases in the liver... There aren't any other signs of spread for now, though I was told those are the most dangerous ones to deal with. 😢
Dad still seems pretty steady and he’s eating whatever I put in front of him, but those nutritional shakes just aren't happening. I tried to coax him into pushing through it today, but he insisted he just couldn't stomach them—he said they actually make him feel nauseous, so I didn't want to push my luck. I know him well enough to know he wasn't exaggerating; he really could have gagged. Honestly, I even tried a little "experiment" to see if it was just psychological—you know, that silly thing where you take a spoonful, then let someone else take one? Well, I had the exact same reaction as him, and now I feel a bit sick just thinking about how much I underestimated his discomfort. I'm at a bit of a loss here. Does anyone know of a tasty alternative that might provide similar nutrition? Getting a second opinion from another doctor has definitely helped ease my conscience, because it feels like we aren't doing anything wrong by letting this slide for now... at this point, it all comes down to Dad and how his body is going to handle the chemotherapy. 🙂
I already told him straight up: it’s just medicine like any other, and he needs to suck it up and deal with it. But no, apparently I haven't been persistent enough. Fine. I guess I’ll just keep nagging him until every last drop is gone.
ruggedfox11, I know exactly how you feel; it’s almost like you’re reading my mind. I’ve definitely tried to pull myself together, though. Today, I found myself practically hovering over my dad, nagging him to eat like he was some stubborn toddler. He’s always been incredibly picky, and let’s be honest, hospital food is notoriously terrible, even when we bring him his favorites from home. Despite our best efforts, he just keeps losing weight. It isn't necessarily the treatment itself causing the decline; that's just who he's always been. He’s been thin as a rail for as long as I can remember, and I’m honestly terrified that this current stretch might finally take its toll on him...
He’s already started picking fights with the nurses, which means he’s finally starting to feel like himself again! 😁 Is it actually normal to be absolutely parched after chemo?
Dad was actually in a better mood today than he has been at any point over the last three weeks. He even managed to eat more than usual, which feels like a small victory. His roommates were chatting with him about people they know who have the exact same diagnosis but have gone on to live healthy lives for years. Even if those stories are a bit exaggerated, they were exactly the kind of encouragement he needed right now. I also made it halfway through reading "Against Cancer." It’s actually a relief to see that so many of the foods recommended in the diet plan are things Dad genuinely enjoys eating.
So, I've got a consultation scheduled with Dr. Čepulić next week. I won't need to drag Dad along for this initial run-through; I can just bring my test results, and we'll figure out our next steps from there.
I absolutely agree that this isn't primarily my burden to carry—it’s his. When I'm around my father, I’m basically putting on an Oscar-worthy performance. I stay relentlessly positive; nothing else. Honestly, I maintain that exact same facade with the rest of my family and friends too. There is zero crying when he's around, period. The depression tends to catch up with me once I'm finally alone, but even then, I make sure to give myself some breathing room. I suppose being an anonymous poster here means I can admit that, at times, I feel pretty pathetic. Today, I picked up some beta-glucan for him to help boost his immune system. His doctor mentioned it was perfectly safe for him to take.
Rachel Williams said:If you're located in New York City, I highly recommend Dr. Cepulica. We went to see him ourselves—my mother is actually fighting lung cancer right now—and we were incredibly impressed with his approach and everything else.
Thanks for the recommendation. We’ve already started hitting complications; my dad ran a fever, so they’ve had to postpone his chemo indefinitely. Honestly, I feel like a total wreck. Somehow, miraculously, we went from complete ignorance to a full diagnosis in just one week. Chemo was supposed to start immediately, and I truly held onto this sliver of hope that it would just work and heal him. I was still feeling positive just yesterday, but today? It's nothing but despair... I simply wasn't prepared for all of this, and frankly, I'm still not.