"....There is always a 'tomorrow,' and life constantly presents us with opportunities to do something meaningful. But today? Today is all we truly possess. I want to tell you that I love you. No one is promised a tomorrow—not the young, and certainly not the old. You might be looking at the people you cherish for the very last time right now. So please, don't hesitate. Act today. Because if it turns out you don't make it to tomorrow, you will spend eternity regretting the day YOU RAN OUT OF TIME to offer a single smile, a single kiss, or to simply be present instead of being too busy to share your final thoughts with them."
I truly believe, my friends, that we have all performed many good deeds here and acted with great resolve. It is nothing but a struggle. There are just so many who have succeeded.
I want to extend my deepest gratitude to all of you for the empathy you have shown me. You stood by me through illness, through death, and even in the aftermath—that hollow period when a person feels at their most vulnerable and utterly helpless. I should let you know that today, I found myself revisiting your posts of support and encouragement multiple times; I have actually printed them all out to carry in my bag, so that when things feel unbearable, I can read them. They are with me. In engaging with this forum, I always knew I would find something to offer help or solace. While what I am experiencing now might seem misplaced given the timing, please believe that is certainly a part of this unfortunate sub-forum, "Support for Families of the Ill..." By sharing my own experience, I simply wanted to illustrate—or perhaps prepare—some of you for the reality that such struggles can arise both during and after life's most harrowing cycles. I owe a special debt of thanks to Angela Wright, who was the catalyst for this entire community, allowing me to have a place to turn IMMEDIATELY and share this heavy grief and anxiety with most of you. I also want to thank my fellow member NUSAZVRK, who quite literally pulled me back from the brink and encouraged me until the very last second when we were all facing the inevitable end. Ladies, I don't know you personally, and it doesn't matter what you look like; what matters is that when I was in despair, you were there. Thank you, everyone. More to follow...
Elizabeth Collins60 said:I truly admire the courage you all show; I feel as though I am losing my own... I cannot tell if today is simply one of those days, or if... my father’s condition has taken a drastic turn for the worse. He is enduring excruciating pain, his strength has vanished, he has become so frail, and it feels to me as if he has finally surrendered. Yesterday, he exerted every ounce of energy just to come visit me. He has been using a wheelchair since he lost his right leg eight years ago, yet despite that, nothing ever stopped him from living life to the fullest—he went everywhere and did everything, sometimes even more than those who walk without assistance. But yesterday, he was so utterly weak that he had to rely on a prosthesis just to navigate the few steps leading up to my apartment, an effort he made with everything he had left. Sadly, I fear that was his final visit. Today, he is on 50 mcg of Durogesic, along with several doses of Anacin and Lumidol, and yet the pain persists. He just stares blankly at a single point, barely speaking, and my heart is simply breaking. My mother and I pretend everything is fine, but the moment I leave the room, I break down in tears... because he was never a weak or sickly man. I want nothing more than to pull him close and tell him I love him, even though he already knows; I am just terrified that doing so would only devastate him, as he might sense I am saying goodbye. I find myself talking to all of you here more than anyone else, and THANK YOU for that. I think of you all, and you provide me with strength. Kisses.
It is profoundly difficult to witness a parent—a father—who served as an authority figure, suffering through such a debilitating illness. You remember him as a pillar of strength, a protector, a role model, and so much more, only to reach a stage in life where you must watch that parent and somehow act as the caregiver to someone who now seems as helpless as a child. The roles are reversed. You begin to see them through many different dimensions of life simultaneously. It is an immense burden. Some people are naturally mature enough to handle these moments and maintain their composure, some are simply carried by the momentum of the situation, and others find themselves forced to grow up entirely within these very moments. You are stepping into his role now; you must remain strong for his sake, and you must do so until the very end, as well as for your mother's sake. Whatever you can do, let it out. Fight until the very last moment, just as I have fought—literally until my final breath. Because as long as there is life, there is always something new to try. Hang in there.
I just wanted to check in and let you know that I’m still standing, even though it feels like things will never truly settle. The sheer ordeal and the crushing pressure I endured are things I can't possibly describe to anyone who hasn't walked that same dark path. But here I am, finding my footing and trying to push forward. Sadly, I’m navigating this without my mother; I feel as isolated as a single finger, though I have my husband and child by my side, thank God. Between managing my career, tending to my family, battling a devastating illness, enduring grueling treatments, and facing the heavy psychological toll of being around such patients hour after hour, day after day, the weight was immense. To make matters worse, I had the added stress of my sister-in-law, who made every agonizing moment—even those final precious hours with my mother—infinitely more difficult. It makes me wonder, God, do You see all of this? Then, just a day after the funeral, my other sister-in-law kicked me out of her house. We got into a heated argument over my "behavior" leading up to the funeral; essentially, I reached my breaking point and spoke my truth, which clearly didn't sit well with her. It turned into a complete disaster. Not a single thing I did or said should ever be questioned. My husband and I gave everything we had—more than we were capable of giving—for my mother. Her own sons certainly didn't step up, and her daughters-in-law were even further from it. So now, acting as both a sister and a sister-in-law, I find myself cast aside like trash after they all fail to face what's coming. They couldn't handle a fraction of this fight; they simply don't possess that kind of strength. Instead, I’m left grieving my mother and feeling alienated from both my brothers. I find myself asking: how much longer can this go on? Where am I supposed to find the strength to move forward? How am I expected to take my child to preschool tomorrow, show up for work, or even just manage to cook a meal? On top of it all, I’ve been dealing with gynecological issues these past few months and just started a course of antibiotics today. Honestly, I think I might end up in a psychiatric ward at this rate. This is the reality of it—this struggle, this sickness, this life. I’m sitting here alone, crying over my circumstances, writing to you because you are the only ones who truly understand. Sending love to you all.
Please accept my sincerest condolences. I can tell this comes from a place of genuine heartache. Hang in there, stay strong, and please, reach out if anyone here needs a bit of guidance, some practical advice, or just a listening ear. Unfortunately, I’ve navigated these dark waters more times than I care to admit.
She passed away tonight at 10:30 p.m. She fought with everything she had left in her. We spent the entire day by her side, showering her with affection, holding her hands, and kissing her face. She knew, beyond any doubt, that she wasn't alone. To anyone out there struggling: never give up. Just last night, the two of us finalized all the arrangements to begin her new treatment this morning; she was actually quite optimistic about it. I feel an extraordinary sense of peace right now because she has finally found hers. Personally, I can say with total clarity that I have no regrets; I fought alongside her until the very end and exhausted every possible avenue. I was at the hospital with her two or three times every single day. I made sure to cheer her up and lift her spirits—she easily had the finest pajamas in the entire facility and the most beautiful wig, which I personally sourced for her. She was an exceptional woman throughout her entire life, and that didn't change even in her final hours. Coincidentally, today is the feast day of Saint Mother Teresa, a woman who shared much of the same spirit. My thoughts are with you all. Please, do not be afraid.
After conducting extensive research here in San Diego, my mother (71 years old) has received a diagnosis: Klatskin tumor (bile duct cancer). Before joining this forum, I was scouring sites like cholangiocarcinoma.org and http://www.cancercompass.com. The doctor here in San Diego has scheduled her surgery at Mercury Hospital in Washington, D.C., but frankly, I have my doubts about that facility—I just drove back from Washington, D.C., five hours ago. I am wondering which hospital is truly considered the gold standard for this specific condition, and whether I have the legal right to demand she be treated elsewhere rather than at Mercury. Furthermore... can a procedure of this complexity not be performed in Miami? It would be significantly easier for us to travel there. I am desperate for guidance because time is of the essence; the surgery is slated for Monday. Thanks in advance.
AND ONE MORE THING. AFTER HER OWN SURGERY, MY NIECE TOOK MY MOTHER'S TEST RESULTS, SCANS, AND COMPLETE MEDICAL RECORDS TO A RENOWNED ONCOLOGIST IN VIENNA. THE SPECIALIST REMARKED THAT REGARDING THE SURGERY ITSELF, OUR LOCAL SURGEON (WHO COMES FROM A SMALL TOWN) PERFORMED EVERYTHING EXCEPTIONALLY WELL AND WITH GREAT PRECISION.
After conducting extensive research in San Diego, my mother (71 years old) has received a diagnosis: TM KLATSKIN (bile duct cancer—Klatskin tumor). Before discovering this forum, I had been scouring sites like cholangiocarcinoma.org and http://www.cancercompass.com. Her doctor here in San Diego has arranged for surgery at the Mercury hospital in Washington, D.C., but I have serious reservations about that facility (I just drove back from Washington, D.C., five hours ago). I am wondering which hospital is truly the best for this specific condition, and whether I have any legal standing to request she be treated elsewhere instead of at Mercury. Furthermore... isn't it possible to perform such an operation in Miami—where the care might be just as good or even superior—given that it is much more convenient for us to travel there? Please, I need guidance quickly... the surgery is scheduled for Monday. Thanks in advance
I HAVE HEARD NOTHING BUT PRAISE FOR THE ONCOLOGISTS AND THE HOSPITAL IN MIAMI. CONSIDER THE REALITY THAT YOU WILL BE ABLE TO BE BY HER SIDE FAR MORE FREQUENTLY AND WITH MUCH LESS STRESS THAN IF SHE WERE IN WASHINGTON, D.C. WITH AN ILLNESS OF THIS MAGNITUDE AND SURGERIES THIS INTENSE, PATIENTS ARETYPICALLY CONFINED TO THE HOSPITAL FOR SEVERAL WEEKS; THEY CONSTANTLY REQUIRE SUPPLIES, ASSISTANCE, AND MOST CRITICALLY, THE COMFORT OF FAMILY. WHEN MY MOTHER UNDERWENT SURGERY FOR STOMACH CANCER, I WAS ABLE TO SEE HER IN THE RECOVERY ROOM THAT VERY SAME AFTERNOON, WHICH PROVIDED immense relief to both her and our entire family. ULTIMATELY, THIS IS A PERSONAL CHOICE—A DECISION FOR YOUR FAMILY TO MAKE—AND I AM MERELY RELATING MY OWN EXPERIENCE. IT IS a fallacy to assume that the absolute best physicians and facilities are exclusively located in Washington, D.C. My mother was incredibly grateful that she didn't have to travel far away for her care.
My mother is facing a recurrence of stomach cancer, and she is fighting it with such incredible strength and PATIENCE, even though she is completely in the dark about what is actually happening. She believes her symptoms are just lingering side effects from the chemotherapy. She knows she underwent surgery to have her stomach, gallbladder, spleen, and lymph nodes removed. After that operation, she was so full of hope; she fought with a level of superhuman grit that you simply don't see in people anymore. You haven't met anyone quite like her. That battle was already more than enough. As for this relapse and the metastasis, she doesn't know—and frankly, I DON'T WANT HER TO KNOW. I have personally pleaded with every doctor and nurse on staff to keep it that way. If she realized the truth, she would lose all will to live. This way, we can cherish the little time we have left with her. In many ways, we should all be taking lessons from her, especially regarding PATIENCE, a virtue that seems to have vanished from the modern world. Thank God, she isn't in physical pain; it's just the constant vomiting and inability to eat. She spends most of her day sleeping. What are we supposed to say to her? It feels as if the doctors and the medical establishment have already written her off. Like they're just keeping her on an IV drip until the end. I am online twenty-four hours a day, glued to my phone, scouring the internet for any alternative, anything at all. I am reaching out to patients, specialists, and physicians across the entire US and abroad, desperate to find one last thing to try. We are all drowning in despair, knowing there is no cure, yet there is this relentless drive inside me that won't let me rest; I am fighting until my very last breath. Hang in there, everyone—whatever happens, there is NO SURRENDERING.
mistymoose57 said:Look, we don't have an actual diagnosis, his comorbidities, allergies, medical history, genetic factors, or any of the diagnostic procedures used... so we can't just trash the neurosurgery team when we know NOTHING except that the patient was in pain. Sorry, but "pain" isn't enough info to drag a ward of true professionals through the mud.
Please, do me a favor and read the post above from forum member NUSAZVRK dated 08/24 before you head into work tomorrow morning. Read it carefully once, then read it again tomorrow before your shift starts, and keep turning it over in your mind during your commute.
mistymoose57 said:Oncology and neurosurgery are two completely different things. Honestly, you're talking a big game for someone claiming to be a "medical professional." Once you actually learn the basics and stop bashing colleagues without having any real insight into the situation, feel free to reach out. ☕
Your little "apples and oranges" comparison is laughable. It reminds me of my mother's surgeon and her oncologist—two specialists who are constantly at odds. In fact, they barely even communicate, let alone collaborate; they disagree on almost everything and spend more time undermining one another than focusing on the patient. And thank God there are still professionals in medicine who possess enough expertise to offer us some actual guidance, even if it's just whispered in passing. Do us all a favor and leave the forum.
mistymoose57 said:I don't know the full story, so I won't get involved. What I do know is that working in neurosurgery at Mayo Clinic was a department I truly loved... as for treating patients as "just" patients, that's a whole different conversation. A job is a job; just like a lawyer has clients, we have ours. Of course, you should act like a human being—empathy and compassion matter—but it’s a double-edged sword. Getting too emotionally attached can completely throw you off balance. I know from experience... after losing a patient, I ended up lighting a candle at her graveside because I couldn't sleep for nights on end... If there was a way to ease the pain and someone intentionally "avoided" using it, then that's unforgivable. But every story has two sides, and this one is no different. We simply don't know the reasons behind it.
Please, dear, that comparison is fundamentally flawed. You cannot equate an attorney and their client with doctors and their patients. In my view, the most critical factor is maintaining professionalism in every single action you take. If an attorney commits a procedural error and a client suffers damages, the consequences are manageable. You cannot compare that to the profound suffering endured by a critically ill patient and their desperate, grieving family. At the end of the day, a legal client can file a lawsuit or seek damages; but for a terminal patient, that kind of pain can trigger a catastrophic chain reaction—from deteriorating health to a total loss of will to live, which is the ultimate tragedy. I am not suggesting that staff should become emotionally enmeshed with everyone they treat, but they must give their absolute best. They must BE PROFESSIONALS, especially in medicine, because you are dealing with people who are at their most vulnerable stage, regardless of whether it is a major procedure or the most minor, harmless examination.
My dear mother is currently lying in one of our local hospitals battling a recurrence of stomach cancer. She’s been dealing with massive ascites for two weeks now, and she spends her entire day vomiting. To make matters worse, there isn't even a full-time oncologist at this facility; they only show up on Saturdays. Two Saturdays ago, the specialist simply decided to pack up and leave without even bothering to step into my mother's room to check on her. We were forced to wait until last Saturday, when my husband had to personally push my mother in her wheelchair from her room all the way to the outpatient clinic just to see the oncologist. Once she finally saw her, the doctor reviewed the MRI scans and suggested a paracentesis to drain that fluid—hopefully to provide some semblance of relief. So far... Not a single soul stepped up to take action.My mother is being kept on nothing but IV fluids, Reglan, Voltaren injections, and occasional Apaurin. Honestly, I feel like I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown myself. It’s as if they assume she’ll just fade away quietly every single day without anyone noticing or caring. That’s how this feels—she’s suffering through this nightmare alone, and even for us, visiting her twice a day is a level of emotional exhaustion that even an animal wouldn't be expected to endure. I am at my wit's end. Where am I supposed to turn to actually get her some relief? To the doctors on duty: please, I am begging you, help her.
electricgardener14 said:Hi everyone, I was wondering if anyone here has heard of Dr. Stakić from Mexico and his cancer treatment involving stem milk. I’d appreciate any insight so I don't waste my time if this is just another scam. Diana
I recall hearing he appeared on various Mexican news networks multiple times alongside patients who were supposedly cured. He maintains his own website at www.cytomedica, which you might want to look over. According to his claims, he prepares herbal remedies using plants harvested from remote mountain regions—places supposedly untouched by chemicals or pollution. His protocols allegedly rely on stem milk and some sort of proprietary anti-tumor enzyme he developed himself. Beyond those herbal mixtures, his site even mentions he produces his own versions of cytostatics. Curiously, it seems very few people in Mexico have actually made much of him. I'm genuinely curious if anyone has any intel. Please, let's do a bit of digging and see what we can find out.
Anonymous said:This post is incredibly unfair and totally inaccurate... I actually work in a neighboring department, and I have to say, the staff at the Mayo Clinic are absolutely appalled by what’s being claimed here... It was actually quite eye-opening to look over the medication logs from the timeframe the patient mentioned; seeing everything they were given completely contradicts her claims that nobody tried to help manage her pain. She's flat-out wrong about that... Furthermore, there are always two doctors on call in that unit, and I can assure you both were present and accounted for. The records clearly show that multiple anesthesiologists were brought in for consultations on several different occasions...
A close friend of mine was treated at the Mayo Clinic, and I can honestly say she had nothing but wonderful things to say about the doctors and nurses there. Those people are working themselves to death—the workload in that unit is absolutely relentless... In my opinion, this entire post is dishonest and simply doesn't hold up under scrutiny. Regardless of what you choose to believe.
Best regards,
You hit the nail on the head, my friend. I agree that everyone is doing their job AND THAT EVERYONE IS STRIVING TO HELP. The nurses and doctors at our local hospital, where my mother is currently staying, are professional and decent—especially the nursing staff. My mother says she’s well cared for, that she isn't in pain, and that they help her with everything. BUT OUR AMERICAN HEALTHCARE SYSTEM IS IN SUCH A DIRE AND PATHETIC STATE THAT THERE IS NO MONEY, SO THEY CUT CORNERS ON EXPENSIVE, HIGH-QUALITY MEDICATIONS. Honestly, they should just be upfront with families: "Look, we don't have the budget; this specific drug would be better, so please purchase it yourselves if you possibly can..." My mother was undergoing chemo and had to share a single bed with another woman for six hours while the infusion dripped. She worked hard her entire life and paid into Medicare, just like my late father did, yet when he fell ill, we had to pay out-of-pocket for expensive chemotherapy ourselves. It is a disgrace! And one more thing, dear friend: those of us fighting alongside our loved ones through these devastating illnesses are particularly sensitive to all of this—not to mention being driven to the brink of panic and madness. I suggest you medical professionals try to find some empathy for us. Oh, and another thing—our doctor actually told us, "Don't give her false hope." What am I supposed to say to her then? "Mom, you're dying"? Please, tell me, what would you say to your own mother in such a situation?
LISTEN, IF YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY MEMBERS IN WASHINGTON, D.C., please, for heaven's sake, have one of them pick up those pain relief patches for me. Good grief, I don't know how much longer I can take this. I’ll personally ensure I extract the source of this discomfort myself if I have to. I spent the entire day arguing with my sisters just to get them to give Mom her back medication; she is in absolute agony from being bedridden.
ANYONE CURRENTLY IN THE D.C. AREA, PLEASE—IF YOU ARE BRINGING HER ANYTHING, FIND A WAY TO SMUGGLE THOSE PATCHES IN. Surely someone must have access to them somewhere.
I’ve noticed a few inquiries popping up here regarding DR. STAKIĆA at CYTOMEDICA. If anyone happens to have firsthand information or data regarding his success rates with cancer treatments, please send me a private message immediately. Word on the street is that his results in treating malignant diseases are nothing short of enviable.
Just a brief update for everyone: the results are back, and they confirm a recurrence of the carcinoma right where the stomach was removed. In just four months since the surgery, the mass has grown to 15 cm, and the bile ducts are severely thickened. It’s over. My only hope is that my dearest mother won't have to endure unbearable agony—though, in truth, she is already suffering. I find myself praying that God will take her home to Himself soon, just as He has for all those who suffer. God, are You listening? And now, I have to go visit her and pretend everything is perfectly fine. PLEASE, dear friends, I am asking for what will likely be my final pieces of advice regarding my own survival—what should I take to stay calm? I need something that provides energy without causing jitters, because quite frankly, I HAVE TO KEEP WORKING. I work for a private employer who possesses zero empathy or understanding, and I have a little boy who is incredibly energetic and tireless; he needs me more than ever. Furthermore, if my mother experiences intense pain (which the hospital might not adequately manage), should I try to sneak medication to her or insist the hospital provide it? I fear she might pass away in terrible pain, or perhaps slip into a coma, much like my late father did when he passed from lung cancer seven years ago.
They administer a bit of local anesthesia, insert the needle, and just let that fluid drain out. Depending on how much liquid is sitting in the peritoneum, the whole process can drag on for up to an hour.
I believe my mother had to undergo that procedure about 30 times.
What was the underlying cause of your mother's free fluid buildup? And more importantly, what was her general clinical status during those drainage sessions?