Posts by Benjamin Grant6

Melissa Kim45 said:Yes, unfortunately, only the immediate family remains close... everyone else seems to drift away somewhere along the line.

I am trying my best to remain calm and remind myself that every single day brings at least one situation that breaks my heart, rather than just those that test my patience. My brother once said something quite similar to what you wrote above—essentially suggesting that Mom and I aren't on equal footing, that we don't share the same standing... It was quite a blow to my pride.😢

I felt as though I had somehow managed to overcome—or at least, I believed I had—that daily confrontation with mortality or the fear of death, because this pervasive grief and misery feels far more heavy... But I know that one day, likely much sooner than I care to admit, I will find myself desperately mourning the absence of dirty diapers and that foul-smelling carpet that needs cleaning.

Regrettably, there is no other way. The longer one prepares for the end, the less fear there is to face; besides, caring for a critically ill patient is an immense burden, and the mere thought of what is occurring inside their mind makes it even worse.

No one needs to tell me that I am not on equal terms with my mother. If something bothers me, I simply hold it in... A great deal of time passes before I finally reach my breaking point and let everything out. Initially, I felt terrible about how things were unfolding, but now we have all adjusted to our circumstances and are finding a sense of peace in a very short window of time.

My brother caused quite a scene this morning. Since he doesn't live with us, he couldn't understand why nobody was answering any of the phone calls. To be fair, whenever something sudden happens, a certain gloom descends, so his panic was somewhat justified. However, today it was merely a panic and, fortunately, nothing more.

Reflecting on all your previous posts, I know how incredibly strong and grounded you are, and how much heart you pour into this struggle. Of course, it is inhumane that someone who has contributed so much to the healthcare system for so many years cannot even access the basic necessities for life today. But, being there for your mother, your brother will also stand by you in these final days, providing whatever he can regardless of outside help. You are already providing support simply by being present, just as you noted yourself. Hang in there...

Lisa White54 said:Whenever I find myself consumed by fury, or perhaps just a deep sense of misery and bitterness, questioning why life seems determined to target us specifically... when my patience begins to fray at the edges, I stop and ask myself: how would I wish to be treated if I were actually suffering from an illness? Then, I simply weep, go kiss my husband and children, and everything feels a bit more manageable...

I tend to follow a similar pattern... whenever I find myself getting heated with my mother, I make a conscious effort to pause and compose myself before we even begin to speak. Quite frankly, I just cannot find the courage to be malicious, or rather, impolite toward someone who is significantly more vulnerable than I am and perceives the world through a different lens. People seem to forget that a simple embrace means everything, and that family is truly the only entity capable of offering real help...

I find myself wondering what exactly CEA refers to... and what it actually implies if the levels come back elevated? I would appreciate any insights you might have...

Melissa Kim45 said:Thank you, ladies. 🙂

Mom barely touched her food this morning. She simply refuses to open her mouth... she just won't. Perhaps it is her own decision at this stage. Or perhaps we are all mistaken in thinking we can still persuade her to eat after spending an hour trying... It’s just plain toast, which is about all she could manage.

Tomorrow (if tomorrow even comes) we will attempt to sponge her down in bed; washing her hair would be ideal, though I suspect that may be out of the question. We shall try. Having that rolling chair has certainly made things easier today...

She just shakes her head whenever I ask if she's in pain, and truthfully, I suspect there isn't much left for her to feel...

I am so sorry things have become this difficult... it's clear that the inevitable is approaching. It takes so much courage and strength to get through these days... hang in there...

Carol Ramirez said:Hello, ladies 🙂
I won't take up too much space here, in this corner where we all try to support those who still have hope as long as they draw breath, but I felt compelled to say hello... I've taken a bit of an extended hiatus, as I really needed to focus on myself for a while. To summarize: I'm getting married in a month, I've enrolled in a postgraduate program, and life simply carries on 🙂

I know this is how it has to be, because those we've lost would surely want me to find happiness. I am doing my best to ensure that maintaining a positive outlook and holding onto beautiful memories remains my primary defense against this illness. I couldn't prevent the inevitable, but at least I can try to prevent myself from breaking under the weight of it all...

Angela Wright 🙏

Love to everyone :*

Don't be so modest—this is wonderful news, truly so joyful that it was only right to share it with us! I sincerely hope everything unfolds exactly as you've envisioned... After all, we both know that a positive mindset is what keeps us moving forward and fuels the desire for a better tomorrow!

Hang in there!

Carol Ramirez said:Greetings to both the veteran fighters and the newcomers alike 🙂

Angela Wright, Nancy Hernandez43, Melissa Kim45... :*

Haji!

Is there any news to report? Hang in there...😉

Melissa Kim45 said:Hello to both the newcomers and the old guard. 🙂

Regarding our current situation, I have nothing positive to report. Mom is growing weaker by the day; she doesn't walk anymore, except for those rare moments when she attempts to stand up. My entire existence has narrowed down to ensuring she stays clean, making sure her diapers are dry...
And being on constant standby, because she simply lacks the strength or the will to manage the things she isn't supposed to be doing herself. 😁
She sleeps so much. She drifts. Every single meal has become an exhausting psychological battle. She won't open her mouth, won't chew, won't swallow. She wants to eat, yet she seems to expect food to simply manifest itself in her stomach. In truth, I fear she is slowly letting go of everything, slipping away, while we... we struggle, fight, and exhaust ourselves trying to coax some final spark of life out of her. She no longer looks like herself, but then again—given the circumstances, it’s as good as it can be. There are no open wounds, her hair has grown out, we've even dyed it for her; if we can provide these tiny remnants of human dignity, then it is enough.
We are going to get a wheelchair now—not a stroller—so we don't have to drag her along constantly. For now, we still make sure to bring her to the living room in the morning for her meals at the table, and then back to bed at night. When we reach the point where even that is no longer possible, then we will simply be waiting.
We aren't thinking about the cancer or the chemotherapy anymore; that is all behind us. Our focus is solely on her profound physical and, perhaps more importantly, mental decline. For instance, there was a day when she looked quite startled seeing the wedding ring on her hand (she hasn't taken it off in nearly fifty years) and said, "Oh my, I found this, Dad and I bought this when we were young." Often, she just stares blankly or keeps her eyes half-closed. More and more frequently, she won't speak at all, merely nodding or shaking her head.

I will endure this, or I won't. This suffering—both hers and ours—must have a purpose; it has to, even if there are moments when I feel like I am caring for a complete stranger. In reality, if I had loved my mother any less, God forgive me, I could never put in this much effort or work this hard. Perhaps this is what Love actually is, though through our own distorted lenses, we perceive it as something else; we are selfish, we get angry, we hold grudges, we remember. They say the hardest thing is to forgive one's parents. That is how I used to feel. Today, I am grateful to them; this hardship is a great, great mercy. It must be Love.

It is difficult to read a post like this because it immediately brings me back to my own family and leaves me asking the same questions: "Love? Why illness? What is the purpose of sickness?" Perhaps it had to happen this way to force us to face our own selfishness and correct it, so that later on, it might be easier for us.

You are showing so much strength for your mother, and you know you are doing everything within your power, no matter how grueling it feels. The hardest part is simply watching her. I cannot write much more than to say that you are in my thoughts, and I hope you find the strength to endure this, just as you have before. Kisses.

Megan Rivera98 said:It’s my first time posting here...
My father underwent surgery for colon cancer nine years ago, which unfortunately metastasized to his liver two years back, and now it has reached his lungs.
The latest test results came in today, confirming the presence of metastases in his lungs, liver, and the original site in the colon...
I am feeling completely numb today, just utterly hollow, and I find myself here simply to share this burden with all of you...

It is impossible not to be in shock, or to feel the crushing weight of sadness—if "numb" is even the right word for it. But such is the reality of life, and such is the brutal struggle against cancer. Regrettably, one must continue to fight with immense strength and steady resolve, for nothing else can alter the diagnosis 😢 Hang in there

mistyridge5 said:I appreciate you sharing this post 😉

It is simply that all-too-familiar moment where you feel completely drained and utterly helpless, just waiting for the medication to finally take hold and for the nausea to subside, while simultaneously wondering how anyone else manages to endure what you're going through... if you could somehow absorb all their discomfort onto yourself...
That classic, weary instant where the mind begins to spiral into thoughts of "what now?" and "how much longer?", leaving you feeling entirely spent and lost in the fog...

And then, eventually... as I have already mentioned... one rises like a phoenix from the ashes 👍

I wasn't even questioning it! You have to keep your chin up, because we all know there are times when you must remain strong for the sake of others, offering them everything you have left... I truly hope the nausea passes soon... it simply must...

mistyridge5 said:Well, here we go again.
My dear is finally back home; we have officially cleared the first round of chemo, though the side effects are certainly making their presence known...

I find myself once again reviewing all the logistics—what to eat, what to drink, and exactly how much of everything is permissible...

This time, I am stepping into the role of the caregiver. Some might argue it is better this way, that I shouldn't have to endure it all alone, but truthfully, for the second time, there is a part of me that wishes I were the one in "their" shoes instead...

Next on the agenda are the blood markers, the post-chemo CT scan, and the inevitable trips back for the next cycle...
I try to remain optimistic, yet there are moments when I simply break down, needing to be entirely alone...

I suppose I worry that I won't be able to provide one hundred percent support this time around, given that I have already navigated this entire path once before, leaving scars that I know will stay with me for the rest of my life...
And yet, whenever I look at him, a sense of strength surges within me, a certain courage grows, and I realize there is no obstacle powerful enough to stop us...

Sending positive vibes and hugs to everyone else out there fighting the good fight 👍

No matter how exhausted you feel or how much you doubt your ability to give your all while reliving this entire process, you will find that as long as you are able, you will continue to give that 100%... hang in there! You won't encounter an obstacle so great that it drains your strength to fight for your love... You are a warrior!

David Jackson79 said:Hello. I have two questions:
Since the most severe issues rarely hurt right at the beginning, could the initial symptoms of a malignant tumor be suspected if a person experiences rapid weight loss?
Is sudden weight loss exclusive to tuberculosis or malignant cancer?
Thank you

Yesterday, while discussing my mother's diet with my father, he recalled a specific warning his doctor gave him following surgery: "If she ever starts losing weight abruptly, it's a sign that something is wrong internally, and you need to contact a physician immediately."

It doesn't necessarily have to be cancer, as there is an entire spectrum of factors that can influence body weight... ranging from hormonal imbalances to, unfortunately, malignancy. I truly hope a medical evaluation puts all these anxieties to rest... Sending strength and courage.

dustyranger11 said:Unfortunately, I missed the program because I rarely watch television, and I turned in early since I have to be up at 4:00 AM for work. Tomorrow, the doctors are calling me in for a meeting regarding my father. I am ninety-nine percent certain I already know what they will say... Van from the hospital...
I actually sought out a second oncologist to get a different perspective; he informed me that there isn't much that can be done. Chemotherapy is the only option left, though even that seems unlikely to succeed given that radiation has constricted the veins in his neck; then again, one never knows how an individual body might react, so it remains our sole, slim glimmer of hope. But he is quite frail for chemo...
The most difficult part of all is that my father believes he will pass away tomorrow; he simply lacks the will to live, despite my constant attempts to convince him not to give up—to show that bastard of a doctor that he can hold on for at least another year. I suspect the doctor is on vacation, as I was scheduled to see someone else entirely, a stranger to me, and I find myself hoping that particular doctor gets eaten by a shark while he's out swimming...

😢 I am truly sorry that things aren't different and that your father is struggling to find his strength... I sincerely hope that tomorrow brings a different outcome.

Try to support him and provide him with strength, perhaps using those very words you just shared. You have a difficult day ahead of you, so please try to endure it with composure... Stay strong.

fajterica The user states:
I must admit, I was somewhat taken aback by how remarkably composed the guests remained throughout the studio session... It is truly a pity that I didn't manage to press the issue regarding those medications that aren't covered by the approved formulary...

It strikes me that the host was perhaps a bit too lenient...

We certainly gave the Department of Health a run for their money... I can only hope they finally realized we aren't easily intimidated, nor will we sit idly by while they attempt to treat us like amateurs...

Unfortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to catch the broadcast myself, though my parents made sure to tune in... Kudos to everyone involved for all the hard work put into this. I happened to catch a preview featuring you earlier this afternoon, and honestly, I am quite speechless at the sheer amount of strength you possess... Thank you for everything...

Kate Watson53 said:I recently lost my father to pancreatic cancer. It was a grueling, exhausting nine-month battle. We all know that specific, helpless feeling when you would give your own life just to spare someone else... so to everyone currently walking this path, I wish you an abundance of strength to endure it all and pull your loved ones back from the brink, because miracles truly do happen. They told my dad he wouldn't even make it out of the hospital, yet we fought for eight more months after that. Every single day felt like a small miracle. Even though he's gone, I know he's still right here with me, watching over me.

Please accept my deepest condolences for the loss of your father; please remain forever mindful of your own courage, the depth of your love, and everything that sustained you during such a difficult fight. Have faith that you are not alone and that support will always be there... stay strong.

rapidbear8 As stated by...
Thanks...
My father wasn't able to overcome that relentless illness, but... I truly wish you all nothing but the best and am sending plenty of healing vibes your way...

If I recall correctly, he was using that micro... what was the term again? Apparently, they say that specific design is the absolute worst...😢
His situation was even more dire because surgery on his lungs wasn't even an option; the spirometry results showed he was far too weak, leaving everyone terrified that he simply wouldn't wake up from the anesthesia...
The brain surgery was successfully performed here in Chicago using Gamma Knife technology, but as for the lungs... well, we simply weren't able to proceed with that...
They said he was just a minor nuisance, but in reality, he was incredibly dangerous and truly malicious...😢
My mother and brother were informed right away; the doctor told them straight out that Dad only had about six months left... yet they saw fit to spare me from such a devastating truth, leaving me to find out only now...
My father was a true fighter. He never complained, never made a scene about his suffering... nothing could break his spirit. Until he started chemotherapy, he was doing remarkably well. I mean, just two months ago, we were out riding our motorcycles together, enjoying the open road, and then... everything changed. It became a daily cycle of new setbacks. It was a massive shock to me, and even more so to him, when he woke up one morning in the hospital and simply said, "I can't feel my legs." It was devastating... that kind of numbness... the neurologist explained it was because the condition had spread to the bone...
Yesterday he just collapsed into a coma... I tried everything to get a reaction out of him, but nothing works... He’s breathing, yet there isn't any sensation left, not even that agonizing pain he was in before... which is a small mercy, I suppose... People tell me he can still hear me, so I just sat there talking to him, holding him... I even left the radio playing softly so he'd have some music...
I was just asking my mother how much longer her heart can possibly endure this kind of strain... around 8:00 PM that evening, his heart simply stopped... and then he fell asleep... now, there isn't even any more pain left for him...

😢😢

Unfortunately, there was simply no other way for things to unfold... 😢 Realizing the actual diagnosis from the very beginning might have crushed you entirely, making this loss even harder to bear than it already is...

I didn't learn about my grandfather's lung cancer until four or five months into his diagnosis, when my father finally called me aside to say he wanted us to have a private conversation... I couldn't quite grasp what they were trying to shield me from until they led me into the room, sat me down, and left the two of us alone to say our goodbyes. It was devastating to realize just a month later that there was nothing more we could do after he passed away... If I had known from the very beginning, I suspect the weight of it would have been even harder to bear. In my mother's case, they protected me as well, and I truly hold no resentment toward them for it... I only wish I could have played a larger role in her treatment process, if only so I might share the ways she fought so successfully, and continues to fight, with others...

No matter how heavy the weight of this loss feels right now, every single word you write radiates such profound love and pride... please, just hold onto that image of the fighter he was, and carry forward everything he left behind in his legacy. As you so beautifully put it, he isn't in pain anymore. I truly believe you'll find one another again, somewhere in another world entirely—a place far removed from all this suffering, filled only with peace and joy...

Hang in there...

dustyranger11 said:Hello. My father ended up in the ER today—which was actually quite surprising given how they handled his admission—because he started choking. It was either some kind of tumor wrapped around his neck or just an unbearable amount of mucus blocking his airway. They had to perform an emergency tracheotomy immediately, and the doctor mentioned that a significant amount of phlegm was cleared out, though they suspect pneumonia might be developing because of it. I’ve been waiting on the chest X-rays, but the doctor explained that the current images aren't fully conclusive since they were taken before the procedure; they'll have to scan him again tomorrow. There is definitely an infection present, which we caught from his bloodwork... we actually went to the ER yesterday because he was having stomach pains, and while I was scrolling through his lab results, I realized there was an underlying inflammation all along. They've started him on antibiotics, inserted a catheter, and instructed him to remain strictly bedridden for a few days. That part is what worries me most, as he has always been such an active man, and I fear if he stays down this long, he won't bounce back as quickly as he used to. I am also anxious about all those wires and tubes connected to him... They told me my visits should be brief because he needs total rest, noting that if he hadn't made it to the hospital when he did, he certainly would have suffocated. I am dreading what my favorite doctor, 😠 who has been treating him, will say during rounds tomorrow...
I can already picture him grumbling about why my father was admitted to this ward instead of being sent to Morocco. Honestly, though, the doctors on duty today and yesterday were surprisingly competent and actually quite pleasant...

Unfortunately, illness doesn't care about timing; it only cares about receiving adequate medical attention and support. While the pleasant surprises are welcome, I must admit that the priority remains the same: ensuring he receives the help he needs.

Let the doctor vent his frustrations about the admission process if he must, but you should strive to remain steady and composed, making it clear that the immediate care he is receiving is far more important than where he was originally supposed to go...

It is perfectly natural to be afraid, but you will navigate through this, and you will help your father find his strength again so he can fight his way back... I am wishing him a smooth recovery, so please, stay strong...

Kisses

rapidbear8 said:I once reached out here to share the heavy burden of my father's illness—lung and brain cancer... he lost his final battle on July 15th 😢😢😢 just six months after we first learned how devastating this disease truly was...

As much as you are grieving this loss, try to believe that he is in a far more peaceful place now. I am so sorry things couldn't have turned out differently, and please accept my sincerest condolences.

My grandfather also passed away just six months after being diagnosed with lung cancer, and I know all too well how surreal it feels when a disease can strip someone away from their loved ones so incredibly fast...

Perhaps letting the thought that he fought hard, and that you stood by him with such courage, guide you through life might help... continue to stay strong... Kisses

Linda Wright5 said:My dear friends,
it is with heavy but steady hearts that I share the news that my sister passed away peacefully in her sleep last night.
She was a true fighter, and I am deeply proud of her.

I will continue to read your posts, and I will offer help whenever I can...

Please stay strong, everyone, and just keep moving forward with courage.

You should be proud of her, and of yourselves, for all that bravery and resolve. Please accept my condolences, and stay just as resilient as you have always been...

steelhawk9 said:Well said... it really hit home for my family, and honestly, it hits me all over again every single year when I accompany him to his check-ups. In a way, perhaps I need that reminder—to realize that right now, I possess everything that actually matters, my family and my health, rather than chasing after those trivial material pursuits...

I was simply writing from my own perspective. My family used to be quite arrogant and hypocritical toward one another regarding our health and how we treated each other. But the day my mother fell ill, through the sheer shock of it and the realization that we couldn't sustain such a reckless lifestyle, we finally turned toward one another. Now, we find happiness every morning just by waking up and hearing her voice. Nothing stands in our way anymore; we have become the family we once were...😍

Anyway, I am currently rushing toward Central Park!!!!!! I'm running late, but I'll make it!

steelhawk9 said:When you are walking through something this heavy, you need an incredible amount of strength, nerves of steel, and faith in God. Five years ago, we found out my brother had a tumor. He was only five at the time. When I first learned, I felt this overwhelming anger toward God because I just couldn't wrap my head around how He could allow a little five-year-old boy to suffer from such a disease. I was angry, disillusioned, heartbroken... truly the darkest chapter of my life... I wasn't even allowed to see him while he was in the hospital, and I was losing my mind, crying all day, every single day... the absolute lowest point for me was seeing him on TV, lying there in a hospital bed (ABC was filming some Thanx reportage). He was talking about having a mass near his spine and how they had to remove it. That was the first time I saw him after a month apart. He looked so thin, so pale, so terribly sad, and I couldn't be by his side, I couldn't hold him or tell him everything would turn out fine.
My brother is doing well now; we go for his annual check-up together... he’s a happy kid, does great in school, plays basketball, and is actually heading to a basketball camp in a few days. The only thing that reminds him of those horrific days is the large scar on his back...
During that time, the church and the Bible were my anchors... for my parents, help came from an association on Klaić's street that serves parents of sick children... it makes things a bit easier when you know you aren't alone, that there are people who have walked this path and moved forward with their lives...

Unfortunately, no one chooses their own path through life; something has to happen to shake us to our core and grant us both faith and strength. It is profoundly tragic when this happens to an adult, let alone a child...😢

I am so glad to hear your brother is doing well today, growing up, and finding joy in basketball! He truly deserves it. As you wrote yourself—life goes on! It certainly becomes more manageable when you have a place to turn for support...