Posts by brisksurfer

George Bishop2 said:Today I found out my dad has lung cancer that’s already spread to his brain and a rib. I’ve been getting bits and pieces of this news for two weeks while all the tests were running, but today everything finally hit home when the doctor—who is actually a family friend—laid it all out for me. According to the statistics, she says he might only have a year left with this diagnosis. I’m only 20 years old and I have never dealt with anything this heavy in my life. I’m currently the only one in my family who isn't breaking down; I’m staying strong for everyone else because they’re absolutely falling apart, but honestly, I don't know how much longer I can hold it together myself. Thank God I don't personally know anyone who has gone through this, but I really wish I could talk to someone who has lived through it—someone who can tell me that no matter what happens, time eventually heals the wounds. If there is anyone here in the same boat as me, or if you’ve been through something similar and are willing to talk to someone who truly understands, please reach out. It would be nice to connect, maybe even in person. I know I can talk to my friends or a therapist, but I just know nobody will understand quite like someone who has actually walked this path. How do you live with the reality that you’re going to lose your dad, or the fact that you already have? Sorry for the monologue, but this is my very first post on this forum.

Angela Wright said:Thank you, dear. I’m holding onto hope too, even though life has thrown me a massive curveball again. My baby had to be delivered via emergency C-section at 28 weeks because of my preeclampsia. My organs started failing—there was simply no other choice. He was only 950g at birth. Since then, he’s fought through two severe infections, brain damage graded at 2/3, and convulsions. But he refuses to quit. Even after 50 days, he’s up to 1700g and they say he’s doing okay for now, which is the best news we've had. We’re praying he can come home by Easter, but the road to rehabilitation ahead of us is going to be brutal and uphill. As of right now, we don't even know the full extent of the damage. Honestly, I don't even need to explain the hell I'm going through; just thinking about my own mother's neurological outbursts brings it all back. I always used to say that after everything I dealt with regarding my mom, nothing could break me—unless, God forbid, something happened to my child. And here I am. It feels like God decided I needed one more lesson in this.

ironsailor22 said:My mom isn't in pain anymore. She passed away yesterday morning.

Angela Wright said:I know exactly what I’d demand for myself... but I’m just one person, and this world operates on a completely different set of rules.

amberdriver8 said:...I just wanted to chime in. My mother suffered for five long years from a dangerous stomach tumor called GIST that spread to other organs. I won't linger on the details, but we went through absolute hell. Both mentally and physically, the pain was unbearable. Toward the end, her abdomen was massive. It was just horrific. But there is God, and then there is Dr. Kocman, who recently operated on her despite having almost zero chance of survival. Not to mention the five years we spent hunting for a surgeon capable of this—we searched all over the world and nobody would even touch her. Then, finally, an American doctor steps up and performs the surgery. I am still in shock, but it's a positive kind of shock. Everything is okay now. He removed everything—the tumor, the metastases—he had to shorten part of her large intestine and stomach, but hey, at least she’ll be "fit" now since she can eat less, haha. All in all, she is cured. They say no one lives more than five years with GIST, yet here she is. We have doctors and we have God. Alternative medicine helped a little too, so feel free to ask me for advice or anything regarding malignant diseases.

Angela Wright said:Beyond just legal rights, plenty of doctors are religious people, and according to their faith, this is a massive sin.

Robin Stewart44 said:I’m telling you again: every type of cancer is a nightmare, but bone cancer? It is hands down the absolute worst. Tomorrow marks ten years since my father passed away, and I can still see it all so clearly—it feels like it happened just yesterday. I remember how he would scream at everything. Every single sip of water, every movement, every little thing... even when there was nothing happening at all. He was just constantly screaming. Twenty-four hours a day. At that stage, morphine doesn't do much of anything. Sure, it might dull the edge slightly, but the pain? It’s still absolutely maddening.

Robin Stewart44 said:...I honestly don't even know if things are still like that today!

Robin Stewart44 said:I ended up getting into a massive shouting match at the local pharmacies. Honestly, I shouldn't be surprised. They had the nerve to look me right in the eye and imply I’m some kind of junkie just looking to score a fix of morphine for myself. The audacity! 😠 )

ironsailor22 said:We’re living in the 21st century, surrounded by all these scientific and technological miracles, yet people are still dying in agony and suffering just like they did in the Middle Ages.

Amanda Anderson87;30976125Yes said:

I know, dear, I really do... I felt like half of me left with him. I literally couldn't handle being alone with myself. I cried every single day for months, constantly waiting to wake up and find everything back to the way it used to be.
I'm doing better now. Not great, but better. I hope you feel that same shift soon too.

Honestly, I don't think time heals all wounds... you just learn how to live with the ache. Hang in there! 👍

Grace Campbell88 said:Mine passed away about two or three weeks after the diagnosis. And get this—he didn't have a single symptom even a month before.

Angela Wright said:First off, you need to get your head straight regarding the guilt. This disease is hitting him, not you. You are caught in the crossfire of this situation. He’s the one carrying the heavy end of this burden until the very end, and you—along with the rest of the family—have to give him nothing but total, unconditional support. That includes laughing, too, because he needs that more than anything. Don't you dare let him feel guilty just because he's sick and it's causing pain for everyone else. Nobody deserves that, especially not the person who actually caught the illness.

There's no deep philosophy or complex math here. Reality is blunt and simple: people are fragile. People get hit by devastating diseases. Humans are mortal and temporary. Goodbyes are brutal.
BUT: humans possess an incredible reservoir of strength they don't even realize is there. We have built-in mechanisms to adapt to almost any fundamental crisis life throws at us. Things get easier when people start trusting their own raw, natural instincts.
That’s just what I’ve realized. Maybe it helps you.

Angela Wright said:My bad, I mixed up the diagnoses.

Look, I don't get why some pulmonologists refuse to help when it's blindingly obvious that a patient needs it.
We've seen this happen way too often. Pulmonologists from the Jordanovac clinic would call the doctor we work with over at Rib just to beg us to step in. They had patients who didn't technically meet the "official" criteria for an oxygen concentrator, even though they had tumors on their lungs, were in the terminal phase, and were literally suffocating—yet they were being sent home to die.
I guess, just like anything else, it comes down to the individual doctor. That's exactly why you have to seek a second opinion on everything that feels wrong or suspicious.

Angela Wright said:They just recently added other indications to the CHIF list—like having lung metastases besides just lung cancer or COPD—so you can get an oxygen concentrator for home use upon a pulmonologist's recommendation.

Grace Campbell88 said:Someone explained roughly how to use the machine, so I wasn't exactly flying blind. It made things so much easier for him; honestly, I don't know what we would have done without it.
Okay, I admit she was right—but the point is, nobody wanted to help me, and in the end, nobody gave a damn that he needed oxygen. IF things had gone her way, he wouldn't have even received that concentrator because the doctors at Jordanovac decided he didn't need it.
You don't need a medical degree to realize a person can't function without it. Not to mention how much he begged me to get it and how terrified he was.
Maybe I wasn't thinking with my clearest head back then—but when someone you love is practically dying right in front of you, you do whatever feels necessary in that moment. I'm sorry we didn't have more time, but we managed as best we could.
Anyway, all I'm saying is that the concentrator helped us immensely. Dad passed away seven days after being discharged from the hospital, but at least he had his own oxygen.

Amanda Anderson87 said:Even though this is my first time posting here, I’ve been following this group for a year and a half now, and you all have been such a massive comfort to me. @Angela Wright, I don't know who you are, but I know you've walked through hell, and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here for everyone who has lost someone they love due to some cosmic mistake, and for those fighting their own Nemesis.
My fighter lost his battle with Grade 4 Glioblastoma today at age 43. He was the man I grew up with—the man I called "my brother" my entire life. What bound us together went far beyond just friendship or blood. We had a happy childhood and a wild youth where we spent our time pulling each other out of trouble with our parents, or getting ourselves into it together. My parents consider him their own son, and my husband considers him his brother. And today, he finally went home to his father, to a place where he can sleep peacefully and where the pain can't reach him anymore. Where he will walk, run, talk, and watch over us.
And me? I don't know how to lift this crushing weight off my chest. I don't know how to stop the tears, how to handle this overwhelming grief and irrational anger, and I just cannot wrap my head around what the hell happened!
Anyway, I just needed to get that out. 😢