Posts by Harold Richardson4

Does anyone here actually know the procedure for draining free fluid from the abdomen?

Angela Wright said:Stay strong, dear; nothing is set in stone just yet. The information you have now is merely a tool to facilitate better care. The reality remains much the same as it was yesterday or the day before; the only difference is that you finally understand the actual cause of her condition. Circumstances fluctuate. Even if the worst-case scenario manifests, there will be plenty of time later for despair and tears. Right now, it is vital that you remain composed and focused on the fight.
I sent you a PM detailing everything besides a recurrence that could cause fluid buildup in the abdomen.

Thank you so much for everything. I am deeply unsettled by the fact that the CT scan failed and why they didn't perform these tests sooner. It is infuriating that she reached such an alarmingly unstable state before anyone intervened—if they had simply ordered an MRI instead, perhaps we wouldn't be here. I don't even understand why the CT equipment malfunctioned, but it feels like a massive oversight. At this point, what can even be done? She manages only three sips of soup or tea all day before throwing it back up. Yesterday, she managed ten steps before retreating to bed. They had every opportunity to run these diagnostics earlier and react proactively, rather than letting her suffer through this ordeal.

brightgardener8 said:If it isn't unbearable, she should just power through those remaining nine sessions; after that, she can apply whatever she likes. Redness and stinging are perfectly standard side effects. We were told the same thing—that nothing should be applied during radiation treatment. If things get truly dire, doctors usually prescribe some sort of specialized purple solution. My mother experienced redness too, though she didn't suffer burns, just some peeling around the tops of her ears. Once the radiation was finished, she used some kind of green oil—I believe it was wheat-based—mixed with aloe vera cream. She’s doing fine now, with no lasting skin issues.

Linda Campbell, how is your mother doing?😳?

She is undergoing the infusion now. She hasn't eaten a single thing in fourteen days, and her overall condition is abysmal. They had to run an MRI because the CT scanner was out of order. There is an excessive amount of free fluid in her abdomen, leading us to suspect a recurrence; word is, she hasn't even responded to that damn chemo (at least according to the unofficial version). It feels as though we have reached the end of the road. I am currently on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown.

Anonymous said:Does anyone here have any insight into what these results actually signify? During the radiation treatment, the count reached 21.
The S-alk phosphatase levels are something we really need to pay attention to. It’s one of those clinical markers that people tend to overlook, much like ignoring a warning light on a dashboard until the entire engine starts smoking. In the context of understanding how certain metabolic processes are functioning, this specific enzyme plays a role that shouldn't be dismissed. It isn't just a random number on a lab report; it's a piece of a much larger, more complex puzzle regarding cellular health and enzymatic activity. We have to look at the data with a sense of scrutiny, rather than just checking a box and moving on.
The S-GGT levels—it’s one of those clinical markers that often feels like a cryptic riddle thrown at you by a physician. To the uninitiated, it looks like nothing more than a string of letters on a lab report, but to those of us staring at the data, it represents a significant window into liver function and biliary health. Think of it like a warning light on a dashboard. In a high-performance vehicle, a single blinking sensor doesn't necessarily mean the entire engine is seizing up, but it serves as a definitive signal that something under the hood requires immediate scrutiny. Similarly, an elevated GGT isn't a diagnosis in itself, but rather a prompt to investigate whether the liver is under stress or if there is an obstruction in the bile ducts. It is a sensitive indicator, often reacting to everything from dietary choices to certain medications, much like how a finely tuned instrument reacts to even the slightest change in humidity. One must look at the broader clinical picture—the full metabolic panel—before jumping to any dramatic conclusions.
An elevation in transaminase levels to 54 is certainly enough to warrant a closer look, though I wouldn't suggest jumping to the most catastrophic conclusions just yet. It is a subtle shift, much like seeing a slight tremor in a steady hand—it signals that something in the system is slightly out of alignment, even if the machine isn't broken. Think of transaminases as internal markers, similar to how a dashboard warning light might flicker in a car. A reading of 54 suggests there is some minor irritation or cellular stress occurring within the liver. It isn't an immediate engine failure, but it is a signal that the environment isn't quite as pristine as it should be. This can be triggered by anything from a recent bout of heavy medication to a period of excessive alcohol consumption or even a lingering viral shadow. In my view, one number in isolation tells us very little about the full picture. It is merely a single data point in a much larger, more complex narrative. To truly understand what this means for your health, you have to weigh this figure against your other lab results, your medical history, and your current lifestyle. One shouldn't ignore it, but one also shouldn't let it trigger unnecessary panic. You need to sit down with your physician to determine whether this is a momentary hiccup or a trend that requires a more strategic intervention.
The alkaline phosphatase levels are continuing their upward trend, moving from 159 to 165.
It follows the exact same pattern as the Gamma GT series, specifically the 128 through 139 range.

It appears she is dealing with skin redness caused by radiation therapy. According to the medical team, applying any kind of heavy, greasy ointment is strictly off-limits right now. This leaves a significant gap in her care—what exactly is she supposed to use to find some relief?

It is supposedly claimed that beta-glucan performs wonders when it comes to managing skin reactions following radiation therapy.

I’ve had to cut my vacation short and rush back home because my mother’s condition took a turn after her third round of chemo at the hospital. It was brutal; she was vomiting incessantly and just couldn't stop spitting up excess saliva and mucus. The vomiting has finally subsided slightly, but she’s still dealing with this constant, heavy production of phlegm and saliva.
She hasn't been able to keep a single thing down for nine days now, so she's entirely dependent on an IV drip. Her lab results are actually within the normal range. However, since she’s had her entire stomach, gallbladder, and spleen removed, we are planning to move forward with either an MRI or a CT scan. She already had X-rays to check her surgical sutures and intestinal alignment following the operation, and everything looked fine on that front. I find myself wondering: is it possible that all of this is a direct side effect of the chemotherapy? This was only her third cycle, and this specific reaction didn't hit until about ten days in. Has anyone else dealt with this? Does anyone have experience with such a delayed, intense reaction? Please, if you have any advice, I am desperate for it!

GOD BLESS THOSE WITH GOODWILL!
Allow me to join this circle of support; I find myself equally despondent with my own burdens. Reading through your posts sends a chill down my spine.
Dear Ivanica cannot be truly understood by anyone who hasn't lived through the exhaustion of caring for a sick parent—especially one to whom you are deeply bonded. I am fortunate to have a wonderful husband; he works in medicine, and his professional background makes him incredibly attentive to our entire family, particularly my mother. He has been my rock since my father was battling lung cancer seven years ago. However, even he occasionally pushes my blood pressure to its limit by offering "common sense" advice that I simply cannot stomach; my heart breaks while he remains detached from my reality. His own parents are both healthy and mobile. Thank God he hasn't had to experience this firsthand; if he had, perhaps he would grasp the sheer agony and the sensation of watching someone fall apart. It is much the same with your boyfriend. There was a day recently when I was with my mother and she was weeping uncontrollably; my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Yet, I have to leave her at her house and return to my child, my husband, my career, and my life. My mind is haunted by the sound of her crying, from the moment I wake up until I close my eyes at night. My nerves are stretched as thin as violin strings. This entire ordeal is becoming unbearable, and believe me, I pray to God every single day for the strength to endure it. I am sitting here typing this, weeping like rain. It is profoundly difficult, but we must press on. We have no choice. I am heading to the coast this Saturday for two weeks with my husband and child, leaving my mother in the care of my brother and sister-in-law. Even now, my stomach is churning with anxiety. I cannot relax, nor can I find the will to enjoy anything. I am consumed by worry. I only pray to God that everyone recovers and that the suffering ends. Yesterday, my mother told me she doesn't want to undergo any more chemo. She has only one cycle left. I don't even know if she weighs 110 pounds anymore. She is as frail as a walking stick, pale and hairless. It is devastating.
Hang in there, everyone. Sending love to you all.

Hello everyone, God bless. I truly hope you and your loved ones are holding up as well as can be expected and that you're finding the strength to keep fighting.
My mother is doing significantly better, though we’re currently at a standstill with her third round of chemo because her white blood cell count has plummeted; we have to wait about a week before we can proceed. She has become so thin that, frankly, it’s harrowing to look at—she's down to just 121 pounds. She has only recently started to regain some of her appetite, which is a small mercy. Generally speaking, she seems to be handling the chemotherapy quite well. We also started her on mistletoe injections a couple of weeks ago. Once she finishes the second cycle, we'll be praying for God to guide us. After that, comes the daunting part: the scans, the CTs, and all those tests to determine exactly where we stand. To be honest, the anxiety is overwhelming. Once this entire ordeal is over, we plan to send her to a wellness retreat or a spa to recover. Does anyone have recommendations for a good one? Sending my best to all of you; I read every single one of your posts daily. I am rooting for you all and wishing you endless strength and energy.

Angela Wright, check your private messages.

Grace Fowler said:The pain has eased up a bit today, and I can actually face food without it feeling like an enemy. It truly warms my heart to see you all here for me; even if my posts tend to be a bit grim at times, this forum has become my daily therapy...
Best wishes to everyone, Grace from the edge of the abyss🙄

HANG IN THERE, dear. No matter how weak you feel or how much pain you're enduring, please, try to get outside for a walk. My mother is down to 55 kg after her II cycle and she’s quite frail, but being out in nature really lifts her spirits. It takes her a moment to gather the strength to even head for the door, but she always feels better once she's out. So, get some fresh air, dear. Best regards.

slyseal28 said:A small glimmer of light in the dark: Ladies, my husband finished his final radiation session at the Medical Center today! Now comes the gauntlet of testing—everything from blood work and ultrasounds to CT scans and scintigraphy. Over the next few weeks, we’ll finally learn if we’ve actually won this fight against SS-gad.
The professor told him that from now on, he should report to the green building for follow-ups, where the oncology outpatient clinic is located, because that's where the professor sees patients who have successfully recovered and are considered healthy.
Does that mean...? I am almost too afraid to say it out loud. I fear that if I speak it into existence, it might boomerang back and knock us right back to square one. And yet, the optimism, strength, and hope we have maintained since day one is simply too powerful to keep to ourselves. Just a little longer...

WONDERFUL NEWS. I am celebrating and rejoicing alongside you, holding onto the hope that we will all experience this moment one day. I actually have goosebumps! Stay strong, fighters!!!!!

Carol Sanchez2 said:My mom had her first round of chemo yesterday, and everything was perfectly fine until evening. Then the nausea hit, and today she’s been vomiting. She received some kind of AC therapy, and they gave her an Aloxyl injection for the nausea which is supposedly supposed to last 7 days!! Clearly, that wasn't a miracle cure. Is it normal to still be vomiting even after getting an anti-nausea shot? And how long does this misery actually last—3 days, 10 days??? She can't handle any food, just sipping water. What can I possibly give her to eat when everything makes her sick? Thanks!

Let me offer a bit of solace; my mother just finished her II cycle yesterday.
After the first cycle (each of hers lasts three days), she couldn't even walk out of the hospital on her own by the final day; I had to physically support her. That afternoon, the vomiting started, and she was up all night, which led to brutal cramps and such extreme weakness that I honestly thought she wouldn't make it. Her hair started thinning immediately, too. For the nausea, she was given Zofran and took Reglan, but frankly, none of it seemed to touch the pain. Interestingly enough, popcorn was the only thing that helped settle her stomach.
It wasn't until the 12th day after chemo that her appetite finally began to return. Right now, the priority is keeping her incredibly hydrated—think green tea or various red juices that support blood health, like beet or red/black currant juice. Try preparing light things like rice or vegetable broths that might sit well; most things will be repulsive to her. Let her nibble on small amounts of salty snacks so she can keep drinking fluids. It would also be wise to consult with an oncologist (which is what we did); right after the first cycle, my mother started taking Selenium and certain enzymes, along with a powder called BASENPULVER that our doctor recommended (it's meant to help flush acids from the system). Thank God, she finished the II cycle yesterday without much of a reaction at all. In fact, she's eating much better these days. We even started mistletoe injections today, which I strongly suggest you look into or research online; they go by names like ISCADOR or HELIXOR. Check some German medical sites; there is a wealth of information available there. Hang in there. Best regards.

Angela Wright said:Dad just took Mom to see Dr. Paladin in a small town in the US for her MRI results to figure out our next move. We were hoping he could drain that built-up fluid again, thinking it might give her some relief. But the doctor said that isn't even the primary issue anymore; the tumor has progressed aggressively, spreading into the brainstem and the other hemisphere. Deep down, I had a gut feeling this was coming, but seeing it laid out plainly hits like a physical blow. I feel utterly helpless and broken, just wanting to do something—anything—to help her. It feels like my hope is slowly flickering out, and she’s the last one left. My sweet mother... we had so much more life to share together.🙂 proklet sudbina

I know how unbearable this weight is. Honestly, there probably isn't a word in the English language that can offer you real comfort right now. My heart aches for you, and it strikes a nerve because any one of us could find ourselves standing exactly where you are tomorrow; we rarely realize how close we are to the edge until we've fallen. Every single day, I wake up and go to bed with a knot in my stomach. I live in constant fear for my own mother, constantly searching for ways to make her comfortable, to ease her burden. The mere thought of losing her is paralyzing. How would I even function without her? She was there for every milestone, every triumph, and every heartbreak. She was my absolute best friend. Even so, I try to mentally prepare for the inevitable, knowing that this void in my life will eventually be permanent. But I have done everything within my power, and I continue to do so. It was the same with my father. He lost his battle, and we all lost him along with him. Believe me when I say that when the end finally came, I felt a strange sense of relief. It wasn't truly living anymore; it was just endurance. I cried myself sick for a few days, just letting it all out, but ultimately, I felt grateful that I had a father whose memory and love stay with me so vividly. Seven years have passed, and my eyes still well up at the thought of him. For us children who are fighting to keep our parents here, it is an incredibly complex stage of life. You view your parents through multiple dimensions. I remember my father as the man from my youth—good, but firm, a pillar of strength and authority who loved me deeply even if he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve. And then, I saw him through the lens of illness: a vulnerable soul looking to his child for help and attention. You find yourself wondering, "Is this really the same person? Is this truly my father?" It is an agonizing transition.
Hang in there, keep your chin up, and do not lose heart! Speaking of which, I am going to track down a contact for you from a guy in Washington, D.C. He has had incredible success with this. Once I get the number, I'll send it to you via PM. STAY STRONG, both for her and for all of us! You have always been the one providing strength to everyone else. Sending love,

It seems only you folks on this forum truly know how to provide the kind of "resuscitation" one needs when things get grim!
My thanks to everyone for the support and the shared insights. People really step up for one another; just hang in there. May God watch over you and your loved ones!

GREETINGS TO ALL THE FIGHTERS OUT THERE!

Does anyone here possess any deeper insight regarding tumor markers?
To be precise, my mother just received her latest lab results. Her blood count looks fine, but one specific marker has me deeply unsettled. The numbers are as follows: CEA is at 1.9 (within range), CA 19-9 is 3.73 (also fine), but the PSA test is sitting at 96.4—which is significantly elevated, considering the normal threshold is 35. This was taken following her first round of chemotherapy, and she is scheduled for her second cycle next week. She is currently being treated for stomach cancer following an extensive surgical procedure. If anyone here actually understands the nuances of these readings, please, lend me your expertise.

steelbadger83 said:The injections are called Iscador; if I recall correctly, there are series 0, 1, and 2. I am currently on series 2.
It functions as an immunostimulator, and its anti-carcinogenic properties have been established.
I started with two injections per week just under a year ago, though one must avoid them if dealing with bleeding or a fever. After finishing a box, you take a one-week break—though with series 2, the gap extends to two weeks. As a precaution, you shouldn't administer them within at least 48 hours of chemotherapy. Each box contains seven injections, which are administered in numerical order. A typical reaction involves redness and swelling, which is expected, provided the reaction isn't excessive. If the reaction is too intense, you simply halve the dose: put half the contents into one syringe for administration, then fill a second syringe with the remaining half, store it in the refrigerator, and use it two days later. Aside from that, I haven't experienced any other side effects.
Currently, I am taking one injection weekly, with a two-week hiatus between boxes. I order them through a pharmaceutical marketing rep, and two boxes cost roughly $250, which lasts for three months.

PLEASE TELL ME, WHO ON EARTH RECOMMENDED THESE INJECTIONS TO YOU? AND DO YOU HAVE ANY CLUE WHAT OUR AMERICAN ONCOLOGISTS ACTUALLY THINK ABOUT THEM?

Amanda Williams64 said:Can anyone shed some light on mistletoe—specifically the injections? Where do people actually get them, how are they administered, and what exactly is their role in the broader cancer treatment landscape?
Thanks!

From what little I understand—and I’m hoping to have more clarity by tomorrow—this is widely utilized throughout Europe (though apparently not here). In places like Austria, for instance, oncologists and homeopathic practitioners almost universally recommend them. However, in Austria, you typically need an oncologist's prescription; I’ve read similar accounts regarding the process in the USA as well. This likely falls under the umbrella of immunotherapy. The theory is that it significantly bolsters the immune system, and from what I gather, the treatment regimen is quite extensive. As soon as I can dig up more concrete information, I will update this thread. I believe steelbadger83 mentioned using them herself.
steelbadger83, PLEASE SHARE YOUR EXPERIENCE WITH THESE MISTLETOE INJECTIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

George Palmer7 said:steelbadger83, you're a fighter, thanks.
My sister-in-law is currently on her second round of chemo—it’s been a month since the first one—and she’s receiving the white cell treatment. Her hair has already started falling out, and the nausea is hitting her hard. The first round went off without a hitch, but this second cycle, which started Monday and wraps up tomorrow, Friday, hasn't been easy at all. Seeing her hair fall out was terrifying for her. She’ll manage through this current round, but for the next one, she’s definitely going to need some anti-nausea medication. She’s been taking natural propolis constantly.

It’s a universal shock when the hair starts coming out. When they warned my Mom about it, she was absolutely stunned. We all have that same sense of invincibility, don't we? That "it won't happen to me" mentality. It's the same way we assume we'll somehow bypass the heavy hitters of serious illness. In my experience, chemo is an incredibly individual ordeal. My advice to her would be to just bite the bullet, get a short haircut now, and pick out a beautiful wig. Being prepared is everything because once the shedding starts, it moves with startling speed. My Mom actually has a bald patch forming in one spot right now, so I'm heading out this Saturday to buy her a wig. I want her to have that ready so she doesn't have to stress about whether she can face the world or go outside. Let's make sure she has everything she needs to feel ready.

Carol Sanchez2 said:Can anyone suggest a decent shop or wig salon that specializes in real human hair? My Mom is going to need one soon, and she’s adamant about looking natural. She tried some synthetic ones, and frankly, they were an absolute disaster.
Thanks!

Supposedly there is a boutique called "Queens" near the Capitol Center. My cousin scouted every single shop in Washington, D.C., and that was the only place that hit the mark—incredible selection and great prices, so she picked hers out on the spot. I'm heading over there this Saturday to pick one up for Mom.

steelbadger83
What is the deal with those immunotherapy injections? I'm currently waiting on mine. On top of that, my Mom is taking those liver enzymes and selenium supplements. I should be receiving the immunotherapy shots shortly. How exactly is the timing supposed to work? Do you take them before, after, or during chemo?

CHEMOTHERAPY

My mother completed her first round of chemo about 12 days ago—I’m actually not even sure if it was the red or white regimen—consisting of Leucovorin, 5 FLU, and Etoposide, along with Zofran and Normabel. It has taken a full 12 days for the hammer to finally drop. She has plummeted by at least 10 to 13 pounds. The weakness has been profound, accompanied by agonizing cramps. While she hasn't been vomiting, she spent a couple of days passing this strange orange-yellow fluid. Her appetite has completely vanished.
Following the treatment, she drank plenty of juices from brands like Bragg, specifically beet and black/red currant blends. Now, she has started taking selenium, various enzymes, and supplements for hair, skin, and nails (sourced through alternative medicine). This entire regimen comes from the recommendation of an oncologist who also practices homeopathy; we are currently waiting on the second cycle. That same specialist suggested mistletoe injections, though she needs to review the lab results first. To make matters worse, her hair already started falling out yesterday. I am feeling utterly hopeless. I urgently need to find a high-quality wig. Will the side effects eventually taper off? I can't help but wonder how she will possibly endure the second cycle when the first one nearly broke her. Perhaps her physical foundation wasn't strong enough, and now I'm overwhelming her system with all these supplements. Or perhaps everything is simply more volatile because she doesn't have a stomach. It is pure desperation.

steelbadger83 said:Have you ever looked into alternative medicine? They claim that by using brain scans, they can detect the body's internal state and identify all sorts of ailments, even pinpointing exactly when they originated. This timeline is crucial because it allows them to link the illness directly to a specific moment of psychological stress. Their whole premise is that every disease is merely a reaction to a sudden shock in one's life; therefore, if you resolve the underlying conflict, you resolve the sickness itself.
To me, this logic actually holds some weight—especially their assertion that "metastasis" doesn't truly exist, but rather represents new biological states triggered by ongoing conflicts.
I’ve been studying a manual that goes into great detail about this, and it’s quite fascinating. I even consulted a specialist who practices this approach, and frankly, I was left stunned by what I learned.

My intensive treatments are finished, though I am still managing hormones and taking certain medications just to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

Grace Fowler, hang in there.

Please, could you send me some information via private message? My mother is in a complete mental fog after just her first round of chemo.

Steven Murphy!

I see you have quite a bit of experience dealing with tumors, so I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on a situation for me. My mother underwent a major surgery about a month ago where they removed her entire stomach, gallbladder, spleen, and several lymph nodes. Her pathology report came back clear—well, except for the stomach, obviously. The surgery itself went smoothly; she was discharged after 14 days and seemed to be doing fine. However, after two weeks of recovery, she was hit with severe diarrhea and ended up dehydrated. We had to rush her back to the hospital for a three-day stay. The doctors are stumped; they can't tell us if she picked up some random virus going around or if this is just some lingering post-operative complication. She has also been taking Megestrol to help stimulate her appetite, but the side effects—cramping and diarrhea—have been brutal. After her first IV drip, she felt like she was flying on a plane, but now we are right back at square one. She’s incredibly weak, experiencing occasional quick cramps, and she is scheduled to start her first cycle of chemo this Tuesday. Her CRP was at 14 during the recent hospital visit. What is your take on all of this? Do you have any suggestions for managing her weakness and lack of appetite?