Elizabeth Collins60 said:My dear friends, I am struggling to keep up... Unfortunately, yet another soul has lost their battle with this cruel disease. My father passed away this past Sunday, October 21st, at 1:30 PM. The tears just won't stop flowing, even though my mind still refuses to grasp the reality that he is gone and I will never see him again. I can't bear to picture him lying in bed, so helpless; instead, my mind constantly drifts back to seeing him in his wheelchair, our little dog wandering alongside us as we strolled through town or sat down for coffee. There are so many shared memories, so many beautiful moments, and it truly feels as if he still lives within me. Every passing day becomes increasingly difficult, yet I regret nothing. I gave everything I had; I stayed by his side until the very end. Now, I am staying by my mother's side day and night. He was special—we had a unique bond—and I was always there for him, his little snowflake...
Please accept my deepest condolences. What can one even say? How does one offer comfort in such a moment? Try to find solace in the fact that you were blessed with a wonderful father and a magnificent relationship with him. You know, not all children are granted that gift. We are among the lucky few who either have, or once had, extraordinary parents and a beautiful upbringing within our families. Let those memories, and the bond that ties you all together, be your anchor. I understand the pain is immense, and truthfully, it always will be; it simply takes time to learn how to carry it. May God bless you for enduring this trial—not everyone possesses the strength for it. Only the exceptionally brave can stand their ground; most people simply run when things get heavy. I believe that God accounts for every hardship and every heavy burden assigned to a soul. Please, do not suppress your emotions. Cry, grieve, but eventually, you must find a way to move forward—painfully, and without him. But please, take pride in the person he left behind: a deeply feeling individual, a true fighter, a hero, and his beautiful daughter. Be proud of him, be proud of yourself, and yes, even be proud of the monumental struggle that was ultimately lost, because you played the most vital role in his final fight. May he rest in peace.
Anonymous said:My mother-in-law is battling lung cancer and is scheduled for six rounds of chemotherapy (tuxol). After her first session, she suffered from intense bone pain, and by the second round, she was dealing with constant nausea and vomiting. It’s been a week since her third treatment, and now she’s experiencing agonizing headaches. She’s convinced the cancer has metastasized to her brain. I am pleading for anyone who has dealt with something similar to share their experience and offer advice on how we can support her.
When my late father’s lung cancer spread to his brain, he didn't actually experience much physical pain. Instead, it was a cognitive decline—he started becoming disoriented. He could still talk to us, but the logic was gone; he wouldn't know what he was talking about. He had no sense of place. He would interact with us as if we were just sitting in our living room rather than being in a hospital ward, giving nonsensical commands like, "Go do this now," or "Move those books over there." It was all quite aimless. Within a very short window, he slipped into a state of agony—essentially a coma—which is how we ultimately lost him.
Angela Wright said:😉 Tomorrow is a fresh start and a better day🙂. Who even cares about those people at work when you have more grit than all of them combined? I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't just finish this chapter, but opened your own Company and became incredibly successful. Anyone who has successfully navigated the American healthcare system—regardless of how the illness turned out—possesses the mental toughness to overcome any administrative hurdle or close any major business deal...👍
That’s for certain... Thank you for the strength you provide us, you powerhouse.
electricgardener14 said:Hello everyone, I haven’t posted for a while because I honestly thought I was just counting down the final days with my husband. His condition is dire; he barely eats and remains bedridden. That metastasis on his shoulder has swollen into this massive, painful lump. He endures excruciating pain, and when they administer Dolantin, he simply drifts into a stupor, mumbling nonsense whenever he manages to open his eyes. On Sunday, his doctor administered Zomet, and today he undergoes his fourth round of chemotherapy. My strength and my faith are both eroding, much like his. It all feels like we are merely prolonging the agony, and I find myself struggling to fight for each new day when those days consist either of intense suffering or him sleeping fitfully in a cramped hospital room. I’ve even stopped bringing the children to see him because he can't bear the thought of them witnessing his pain. I pleaded with his oncologist to consider radiation for that shoulder, but he responded with total indifference, suggesting we simply increase the dosage of his Durogesic patch instead, claiming radiation isn't indicated. Is there a doctor here who can explain from a clinical perspective why radiation wouldn't be indicated for a tumor that looks like it might burst through the skin? And what does "palliative radiation" actually entail in this context? Have they simply given up on him? This is a waking nightmare—one I don't even dare wish to reach its conclusion, because the end means only one thing: I will be left without the man I love. Electricgardener14
I am at a loss for how to comfort you; it seems you are navigating the absolute worst phase of this ordeal. You are exhausted—mentally, physically, and financially. You're weary of the constant pretense and the lies. When I used to visit my mother, my own stomach would knot up from the stress. What hurt most was the charade—pretending everything was fine. But perhaps it was easier for her to see me acting as if things were okay. This will pass somehow; you just have to keep moving forward. I can only hope that God grants you enough strength to endure what you must. Do not be afraid, is truly all I can say. I also lost a woman I loved dearly. It is incredibly difficult, believe me, but life has a way of finding its equilibrium eventually. You have your little ones, and they need you right now as they watch over you. Stay strong; you have to be the anchor for everyone right now. Hang in there.
I am deeply grateful for the selfless support I constantly seek and find within these pages. Yes, it finally hit me—what I’ve actually gained while battling these heavy, vicious illnesses. It is a blunt realization that this damn life is actually quite absurdly simple; we spend far too much time wasting our lives on trivialities, like petty arguments, insults, envy, or obsessing over material possessions. One day, while looking through my mother's pantry, I found bags filled with onions, potatoes, ham, and pickles... In the oven, I found an unwashed baking pan she had used for meat, which the poor woman hadn't even had the chance to clean because she was suddenly rushed to the hospital—a hospital from which she never returned. She had even hired a contractor to fix some grooves in the house. She was planning a getaway to a wellness retreat in Palm Springs that September... Hug your loved ones tight. Tell them how much they mean to you. Call those old friends; spend a beautiful afternoon with the people you cherish. Don't scream or vent your frustrations at your children; make the most of the time you have. As for money, if you desperately need it, it somehow finds its way to you. Every problem eventually finds a resolution. Protect your nerves and your health. Go to a dance, a movie, or the theater. Find joy in the small things, like the first snowfall or a perfectly sunny day. Do you see it, everyone? Do you see those carrying these cursed, heavy burdens? Do you see that even after my mother passed, I still read every single one of these posts every day? I am trying to help, trying to comfort myself, trying to draw strength from all of you, and still trying to offer empathy to others... I know many other forum members whose loved ones recovered do the exact same thing; they simply continue to read and follow along, checking in occasionally (sending my best to feralwolf24 and her husband—I am so glad you both are doing okay). I truly don't know what I would do without you and these sites; they are genuinely essential. Given everything we have endured and continue to face, I believe we could all benefit from some professional medical guidance. (In the USA, you have a legal right to treatment for every damn thing, including PTSD). Yet, I don't even have the right to five days of bereavement leave for the death of a parent. Anyway, I have better days than this.
Nancy Hernandez43 said:But what I can say is this—this life situation we’ve been forced into, this struggle, it will leave a lasting positive mark. It taught me to value myself and my own capabilities more deeply, to truly listen to the needs of my loved ones, and to turn back toward family to help however possible. It added a significant grain of maturity to my soul.
We move forward... taking giant strides! Everyone... kisses
To be honest, I don't know. Day and night, I find myself spiraling through thoughts of it all. I went through this exact battle twice before—eight years ago with my father, and now with my mother. Both times, I lost. Back then, I still had my mother around, so I managed to cope. Now, I have a husband and a child, but my mother is gone, and the weight is unbearable. I honestly can't tell you what lessons I was supposed to learn or what I gained from these struggles. I didn't gain anything. Instead, I became an entirely different person. I used to be incredibly cheerful, bright, happy, and driven; now, I am profoundly sad, anxious, withdrawn, and disillusioned by friends, relatives, and people in general. I walk with my head down, which was never my way. And yes, I gained a nervous breakdown, gastritis, CIN 1, E. coli, insomnia, a dependency on tranquilizers, and a constant, gnawing fear for the health of my children and my husband. In just two months, my mother will be gone. Not a single hour passes where I don't dwell on everything—on the sheer intensity of her suffering. And there is one thought I simply cannot shake: wondering what her final thoughts were, knowing she remained conscious until her very last morning. All of this is going to consume me. Truly, I gained nothing....
mistyranger4 said:My dear friends! First and foremost, I wanted to extend my deepest gratitude to all of you for the advice that helped both me and my husband navigate our lives. Sadly, he passed away on October 17th. Once again, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart, and I pray that God grants you immense strength, and provides your ailing loved ones with much relief from their pain!
Anonymous said:She has a tumor or a cyst obstructing her esophagus, which is why she hasn't been able to eat normally. The doctor mentioned it might be benign, though the odds aren't exactly in our favor. 😢 She’s been stuck in the hospital for three days now, and at this point, I don't even know if she’ll make it back home. I'm terrified of what comes next. I just want everything to turn out fine—I'd give anything for her to be back home by Christmas so we could celebrate the New Year properly, but I'm not holding my breath...👎
It feels like everyone around me is just dying this year. Honestly, life can be a cruel, senseless joke. 🙂
You can't afford to spiral like that just yet. You have to maintain some semblance of hope and refuse to let total darkness take over. Fear isn't an option right now. You need to find the strength to remain steady through this chaos, regardless of how grim it looks. Your job is to be her cheerleader, to help her fight for whatever comes next, and to act as the pillar she can lean on when everything else fails. I am wishing you both the very best. Don't start mourning before the battle is over. Have patience. Regards.
Grace Fowler said:Hello, everyone. My deepest condolences to all those who have lost their loved ones... at times, though only occasionally, I feel a wave of anxiety reading through these posts... but somehow, I manage to push past that feeling and keep moving forward. This coming Wednesday marks the penultimate session in my current cycle. Naturally, my entire focus right now is simply ensuring my white blood cell and platelet counts stay high enough to proceed... If God wills it, I am traveling to a clinic in Germany this coming Monday for intensive immunotherapy—holding onto a strong hope that this might finally offer some relief... Best wishes to you all, and please, lend me your strength... Grace
Dear, I have certain enzymes and injections left over from the treatment we received from our oncologist in Austria, along with some things my mother used to take. If you are interested, I would be more than happy to give them to you. Please, keep fighting, and if you want them, send me a private message.
Joshua Jones10 said:I've been dealing with some issues with my left kidney—back when I had an ultrasound about six months ago, they found what looked like a few small cysts, though my blood work and urine tests all came back totally normal at the time. But during today's scan, the image showed these dark circles or pockets of fluid, apparently because a duct is blocked. Basically, the kidney isn't processing things correctly, so fluid is just building up inside. Every time I drink a bit more liquid—like last night, when I had 2L of beer—I get this lingering pain in that kidney. They're saying it might be blocked due to a kidney stone, but nothing is set in stone yet. I'm heading in for X-rays and a few more tests soon, but in the meantime, I was wondering if anyone knows of any alternative remedies, maybe something like a specific tea?
I've heard people mention ginger and cranberry.
Does anyone have any other advice? Maybe some kind of compress?
Start immediately on Breussov’s kidney tea. If you need the recipe, I have the book; just send me a private message. Alternatively, you should simply purchase the book itself. It is an incredibly valuable resource to have in your home for all sorts of different ailments.
Jane, please accept my sincerest condolences. I know how much you're struggling right now; it feels like just one more blow in an endless series of setbacks. However, if we are being honest, what happened to your brother's family is a far greater tragedy than anything I have endured or that you are currently facing personally. I find myself dreading these kinds of catastrophes, because in my own experience, at least there was some semblance of order to the chaos. Let us hope it stays that way for everyone else. My best to the family—stay strong, all of you.
I know exactly what you're going through; I've walked that same path myself, and let me tell you, the pressure is suffocating. And then there’s that added layer of bitterness—that moment when you finally see people for who they truly are, when you feel their true colors through your own skin. Realizing how much some people around you can be complete jerks just makes the whole burden feel twice as heavy and twice as impossible to bear. But you will endure. You have to. I trust that God will grant you whatever strength is necessary to weather this storm. Do not let fear take hold. Stay resilient, stay stubborn, and above all, keep fighting and believing in recovery. That belief is the anchor that will hold you steady, and it's what will sustain all of you. You simply have to. Sending love.
Grace Fowler said:Hi My dear friends, I honestly don't know what to tell you... I just finished my fifth round of chemo in this cycle. To be blunt, I am absolutely exhausted, worn down to the very marrow. Yet, there is this stubborn, inexplicable spite within me that forces me to keep pushing forward. Every single bone in my body aches—it's the inevitable fallout from the treatment—and even typing feels like a monumental task. But this forum? This is my window to the outside world. I want to wish you all immense strength. May no one ever falter in their fight until they reach victory—until they reach healing... Dina from the edge....
You aren't "Dina from the edge"... you are Dina from the summit. I wish you nothing but the best in this grueling battle. Hang in there, and please... check in more often. We don't hear from you nearly enough.
Listen, ladies, my dear friends—allow me to weigh in on this topic, as I unfortunately possess far too much experience navigating the complexities of human relationships during such devastating illnesses. You know how it goes; when my mother passed, not a single soul reached out to ask how I was holding up or if I could keep going, save for my two cousins, with whom I share an incredibly deep bond. Thank God there are medications available these days, otherwise, I’d be wandering the streets in a state of total mental collapse. Initially, people approach this out of pure curiosity, treating it like some scandalous social gathering, but eventually, it shifts into this heavy, awkward tension—fear, perhaps, or some other inexplicable human instinct. It’s as if we were living through a plague. I visit the cemetery regularly, only to find my own candles burning there. And my brothers and their wives seemed to take the blow even harder than I did... as if they were the ones by her side, providing the care and attending to her every need. The one thing that TRULY sustains me is the quiet certainty held within my soul and heart; I know exactly what I did and the depth of the support I provided. I pushed myself far beyond my limits—mentally, physically, and financially. And then, of course, there are those beautiful memories (the ones you wrote about the other day, Angela Wright). In truth, I feel profoundly lucky to have had such a mother and such a magnificent, intimate connection; a being like that comes along only once in a lifetime. I take pride in that, and it is something no one can ever strip away from me. It will be nearly a month since she left us, and the "what now" of it all feels hollow. My friends seem to think they don't need to check in because I am "strong enough" to handle it alone. Please, give me a break. It is incredibly difficult. But that's the reality. One shouldn't exhaust themselves worrying over these superficial social dynamics. It costs too much in terms of your sanity. You simply have to LEARN to surrender everything to God; God will handle the rest.
Please accept my sincerest condolences; frankly, there aren't enough words to truly touch the depth of this. I know exactly how much this hurts, and I know you’re all likely still drifting through that fog of disbelief and pure agony—I have walked that exact path myself. Hang in there. It feels as though this was simply an inevitable outcome, especially since you did absolutely everything within your power. Both of my parents were taken by cancer, leaving me with a million unanswered questions. My mother passed away less than a month ago. Going through this and trying to live with the aftermath is grueling, but please, don't obsess over the "whys" and "what-ifs," or they will consume you. Please stay active here on the forum and check in with us; having this community was a vital lifeline for me after my mother died.
northernfox9 said:Greetings, everyone. I read your posts daily, even if I don't participate much. The situation here is difficult to define, if I can put it that way. Today marks the 18th day of my father's Breuss therapy. He has lost about 20 pounds so far. He is incredibly weak—his legs won't obey him, he spends most of his time lying down, occasionally sits up for a moment, and barely manages to make it to the restroom. He claims he has no strength, which is understandable given his lack of food intake, especially since his latest scans show the cancer has become quite aggressive. He suffers from intense pain periodically, though it tends to strike suddenly and then vanish just as quickly. The pain migrates constantly; one moment it’s his leg, then his hand, then his shoulder... Similarly, he experiences bouts of numbness in various parts of his body that last a few minutes before receding. When the pain isn't overwhelming, despite his exhaustion, he still tries to do exercises in bed (he's a fighter!). Interestingly, he has significant bowel movements every other day, which seems odd considering he isn't eating anything. Throughout all these days, he hasn't felt hungry once (?!). He also struggles heavily with insomnia. Additionally, there is a very strong odor coming from his skin—literally. I asked people who have undergone similar fasts for other reasons, and they all confirmed this is common, so we aren't overly worried; we just bathe him more frequently than usual. Despite all of this, some positive developments have emerged: he says his vision is much clearer, and that the "brain fog" has lifted. Before starting the therapy, his knees were agonizing; now, that pain has subsided. The swelling in his legs (knees and ankles) has almost entirely disappeared. His complexion is regaining a healthy flush; the jaundice and grayish tint are fading day by day (his face was quite literally gray-yellow). Even his eyes look brighter. We pray every single day for his success and find joy in every small improvement. I will update you with the results. Stay strong, and don't give up, just as you haven't done until now... sending love to you all!
It will be okay; everyone just needs to hold on and keep fighting. You have no idea how happy I am to see him making progress. I actually have that Breuss book at home; it seems like a wonderful resource. My mother wanted to try it as well...
goldenharbor6;10359138 said:Can anyone help me make sense of this CT scan result:
CEO note: Major depressive disorder Brain CT performed
There is nothing alarming here. "Atrophic changes" is just medical jargon for what is essentially the aging process or the gradual loss of brain cells. It’s much like how other organs and tissues in the body show signs of wear and tear over time; it isn't necessarily indicative of a specific disease, but rather the biological reality of getting older, which manifests differently for everyone. For instance, one person might see these changes as early as age 35, while someone else at 65 might show none at all. It is entirely individual. There is no "cure" because you can't cure the passage of time. Just take it easy and don't let it stress you out—it functions normally, and it certainly isn't going to be the thing that kills you.
neoncyclist42 said:Could you please tell me where I can pick that up?
My mother was actually recommended that specific formula by her oncologist. I went down to the local pharmacy to place an order, and a few days later, two cases arrived at our door. I believe we overpaid by about $15. If you’re having trouble sourcing it, please send me a private message—I am more than willing to give both cases away for free.
neoncyclist42 said:My uncle has throat cancer, and he isn't scheduled for chemotherapy until October 31st!? He’s having a hard time swallowing, feeling weak, and losing weight. I want to know how to boost his appetite, make swallowing easier, and strengthen his immune system. Please, I need advice. Thank you!
The oncologist should prescribe some liquid nutritional supplements; there are plenty of varieties and flavors out there—things like Ensure, Procter & Gamble products, or even newer brands like Nestlé which worked best for my mother because she couldn't stomach the others mentioned above. These are extremely calorie-dense liquid meals that contain everything: carbohydrates, proteins, fats, fiber, vitamins, iron, soybean oil, and more. They are incredibly high in calories. I actually have two cases at home if anyone needs them. They come in 500 ml packs, and a single 500 ml serving provides 500 calories. If someone is struggling to swallow, this is an ideal solution because it is highly caloric.