562 posts shown.
Christian Wood63 said:HCT is hematocrit... the percentage of red blood cells in the blood
PLT refers to platelets
Republican Party alkaline phosphatase? serum levels
Lisa Harris59 said:My father passed away on July 15th from esophageal cancer.
Even though it wasn't actually metastatic disease; rather, his final round of chemotherapy was apparently a bit too "aggressive," according to his oncologist, which led to him being sent for a biopsy due to a suspicious node.
This caused some thinning of the lung parenchyma—essentially the lung tissue—and it’s much like poking a tiny hole in a balloon; once it starts leaking, it deflates so rapidly that there's nothing left. That was the case with my father; just ten days after receiving that specific treatment, he began experiencing chest pains.
The issue was lymphatic fluid accumulating because of that damaged tissue, and once fluid begins to fill the lungs... well, I really shouldn't go into all the grim details.
Everything seemed to be going so well; he didn't even lose his hair, and he was managing his checkups perfectly because he felt quite strong, even planning to start back at the school where he worked this coming semester.
And so it goes...
I find some small comfort in knowing he wasn't in pain, especially since he didn't have a single metastasis; we spoke on his very last day, and I could see the cold sweat breaking over him. I knew I was losing him, yet I kept telling myself everything would be fine.
By tomorrow morning, he will have moved on to the next world.
Even today, while lighting a candle at his graveside, I find myself struggling to believe he's truly gone. It happened all too fast.
My friends, please stay strong. Keep your faith in those who are recovering, and try to remain positive, regardless of how heavy things feel. Just keep fighting, no matter how difficult the path becomes.
If there is any way I can support anyone here, please reach out; I will gladly do whatever I can.
vividowl10 said:My father passed away on October 20th, after a grueling six-month battle.
The only solace I find is that he fell asleep like an angel, and that he remained upright and fighting until almost his very last day.
I feel completely hollow—one moment I am disoriented and angry, and the next I am composed, feeling a sense of peace knowing he didn't suffer and fought until the end. It just keeps cycling like that...
I want to extend my deepest gratitude to everyone who reached out with advice; I truly cannot thank you enough.
A special kiss to the "old guard" here...
I feel as though I could write a book on prostate cancer and bone metastasis, so if anyone ever needs guidance or just a little support, I will always be here.
Best regards,
Ines
Carol Sanchez2 said:Hello everyone!
I am still following along here—reading, weeping, reflecting, laughing... My mother has been handling her treatments quite well, and she just received her penultimate session today. This means there is one more round of chemo left, followed by radiation. I feel a profound sense of relief seeing how resilient she remains through it all. We did run into some hurdles regarding low white blood cell counts, specifically neutrophils, but ever since she started taking beta Glucan, her immune system has stabilized beautifully, preventing any delays in her chemotherapy schedule. Perhaps this little insight might prove useful to someone else out there...
Stay strong, everyone! 👍
Elizabeth Gonzalez55 said:Hello to all the brave souls gathered here on this forum.
The person I love is only 24, yet they have been living with melanoma for five years now. We truly believed the surgery had settled everything; we had such expansive plans for our future, only for a PET/CT scan two weeks ago to reveal metastases in the lymph nodes.
Even though I have spent these past years living in constant apprehension of such a result—fully aware that this scenario was always a possibility—I find myself unable to reconcile with this reality. My entire world has been upended in a single moment, and suddenly nothing feels the same... neither the colors nor the sounds... nothing.
There remains only one slender thread of hope that compels me to get out of bed each morning and press forward: the belief that he might just be the outlier who falls into those tiny, optimistic statistical categories. And I intend to do everything within my power to tip the scales in that direction. That is why I am here—searching for experiences, advice, and any useful information... anything at all that might offer assistance in any capacity, particularly regarding malignant melanoma.
Starting today, I shall begin reading through this thread from the very first post, as I suspect much has already been shared...
Grace Fowler said:Hello, my dear friends...
I am checking in briefly from Germany, where I have just begun a three-week course of immunotherapy (those last six rounds of chemo absolutely decimated me)... So far, everything seems fine... The standard of patient care here is worlds apart from what we experience back home... The doctor was quite pleased with my response, so I remain hopeful that my next update will be even more positive. Please know that I am with you all in spirit through your selfless battles to improve the lives of those you love most. To me, this forum feels like—well, like a "good morning, I'm heading out to meet my friends" kind of feeling... Thank you all for the support. Grace
Angela Wright said:To be honest, I am at a loss for words... It appears as though her tumor has reached a sort of plateau, neither advancing nor retreating, leaving her trapped in this state where she remains entirely immobile. She doesn’t speak, though she seems conscious enough; I can tell she understands me, because when I plead with her to just open her mouth, she complies immediately... She is able to manage some blended food, but the rest of it is a struggle. Her liver function is failing, her blood sugar is fluctuating wildly, and her digestive system has become quite unpredictable, leading to rather agonizing hemorrhoid issues...
She has been taking silymarin for about a month and a half now—supposedly some highly effective natural remedy—so we should hopefully see the results in her bloodwork within the next week or two... For this liver of hers, which seems to possess a rather perverse sense of humor, I suppose it's best to expect the unexpected. It sounds morbid to say that death is merely on vacation, but that is precisely how it feels right now; yet, despite everything, there is still this unmistakable, stubborn spark of life flickering in her eyes...
Elizabeth Collins60 said:My dear friends, I find myself somewhat out of the loop... unfortunately, yet another soul has lost their battle with this cruel disease, and my father passed away on Sunday, October 21st, at 1:30 PM. The tears simply won't stop flowing, even though I still haven't quite grasped the reality that he is gone and I will never see him again. My mind doesn't dwell on the image of him lying helpless in bed; instead, I keep seeing him as he was, in his stroller, wandering through the city with our little dog while we enjoyed coffee together. There are so many shared memories, so many beautiful moments, and it feels as though he continues to live within me... though every passing day makes it increasingly difficult, I regret nothing. I gave everything I had, staying by his side until the very end, and now I am constantly by my mother's side... he was truly special, we shared such a unique bond, and I was always there for him, his little snowflake...
Anonymous said:My mother-in-law had her CT scan yesterday, and thank God, everything looks fine with her head. I appreciate all the support...
slyseal28 said:@Angela Wright, @The One: thank you both 🙂
We were incredibly fortunate with our medical team from the very beginning; we never once encountered a closed door. From the initial stages before surgery at Mount Sinai, all the way through to our specialist at Mayo Clinic...
What truly fails within our healthcare system is the sheer lack of available beds and necessary equipment. We certainly felt the impact of waiting periods for chemotherapy, and for radiation as well... In my estimation, that is a failure of the system itself, rather than the physicians...
Amy Lopez45 said:Every single cancer diagnosis tells its own unique story.
I speak from direct experience when I say that...
My mother passed away from cancer... To be perfectly honest, she had reached such a state by then that they couldn't even pinpoint where it all began...
I only allowed myself to cry on that first day... Once everyone finally realized that things were truly not okay. For the remaining six months, I stayed by her side as much as humanly possible, including those final ten days... She passed away right in my arms... Quietly, just as she lived her life... You know, in a strange way, I felt a sense of relief that she was gone... The struggle was over for her... Watching it happen was devastating... I still miss her deeply today. But at least the suffering has ceased...
Anonymous said:I am truly grateful to everyone for their responses. If I may, I would ask for one more piece of advice... She refuses to communicate with anyone at all, with the exception of her sister and my husband. She won't even permit me to see her or hear her voice. My fear is that once this ordeal concludes—and I pray with everything I have that she pulls through—she might someday claim that I wasn't actually involved in her care at all...
Angela Wright said:😉 Tomorrow is a fresh start and a better day🙂. Honestly, who even cares about those people at work when you possess more strength than all of them combined? I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't even finish this chapter, just decided to launch your own firm and become incredibly successful... Anyone who has successfully navigated the American healthcare system—regardless of the medical outcome—is more than capable of handling any administrative hurdle or closing a major business deal...👍
Linda Campbell said:regarding the selfless support I always seek and find on these pages.
Yes, it has made me realize what I have gained through this fight against these heavy, vicious illnesses—a blunt realization that life is essentially so incredibly stupid and simple, that we spend so much of our time on trivialities; things like arguments, insults, envy, or obsessing over material possessions...
One day, while visiting my mother's pantry, I found bags full of onions, potatoes, ham, pickles... and in the oven, I found an unwashed tray she had used for roasting meat, which the poor woman hadn't had the chance to clean because she was suddenly rushed to the hospital, from which she never returned. She had even called a contractor to redo her garden grooves. She was planning a wellness retreat in Santa Barbara this September...
Hug your loved ones close, tell them how much they mean to you, call those old friends, and spend a beautiful afternoon with those dearest to your heart. Don't shout or vent your rage at your children; make the most of the time you have. As for money, when you truly need it, it somehow finds its way to you. All problems eventually resolve themselves. 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 sunny day.
Do you see, everyone, those who carry these cursed, heavy diseases? Do you see that even after my mother's passing, I read all these posts every single day, trying to help, trying to comfort myself, seeking strength through you, still attempting to assist others, and empathizing with you... And I know many other forum members whose loved ones have recovered do the same; they simply continue to read and follow along, occasionally checking in (sending love to feralwolf24 and her husband—I am so glad you both are okay). I truly don't know what I would do without you and these pages; they are genuinely necessary. Given everything we have endured and are enduring, I believe we could all benefit from some professional psychological assistance...
(In the United States, you have the right to treatment for every single thing, including PTSD). Yet, I don't even have the right to five days of leave for the death of a parent.
Otherwise, I am having better days.
Angela Wright said:But what is it you actually want? Answer honestly.
It is entirely logical, even natural, that they want to protect you; however, by providing this protection—which is little more than an illusion—they are simultaneously preventing you from being by her side. Perhaps you need that proximity, but she surely does too, though she likely feels selfish about it, fearing she is robbing you of a future if you happen to miss a lecture or, heaven forbid, lose a year of college... mothers are all like that, by their very nature. Do you have 186 miles fewer negative thoughts lingering within you?
Personally, speaking from my own deep convictions and experience, I maintain that college can be made up, but time spent with one's mother cannot.
I sense a certain fragmentation and constant internal conflict in your posts. You are an adult, a mature and responsible individual, so make the decision for yourself.
Regrettably, we are all vulnerable, no matter how much we strive to shield ourselves or our loved ones. My parents, grandparents, and my entire extended family carried me like a drop of water on a palm my whole life. I lived as if inside a glass bell, in an ideal little world that had become my false constant, until the day my mother ended up in the hospital with such a horrific diagnosis, and that eggshell shattered. For six months, I was completely mentally unraveled; I don't truly know at which specific moment I finally sobered up and accepted the fact that this happens to everyone, not just us, and that everything before was merely a manufactured reality, nor when I truly "took the bull by the horns."
Never allow anyone to deny you your freedom for any reason whatsoever, even if those reasons are noble, because it is only through freedom that we can truly realize ourselves and build our lives to completion.
Melissa Kim45 said:It doesn't sound strange at all. It’s just that specific time of year...🙂
When I first found out my mother had cancer, I made two immediate decisions: no plans—except for the absolute essentials—and absolutely no questioning the prognosis. In essence, I was handed a brutal opportunity to actually experience and learn things about life that I had previously only read about in books...
Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about doing this or that, and then I scare myself, letting the emotions just wash over me. But there really isn't the time or the strength to waste on useless distractions. The situation is heavy. Despite everything, and perhaps because of it, I have learned so very much about myself and others. Among other things, I've learned that if you let uncertainty and instability run wild, they will simply consume you. Through her illness, my mother has become one of my greatest teachers in life...
Not to mention she is still the person who knows exactly how to get on my last nerve. 😁
Angela Wright said:Well, my dear friends, it seems we have become the hottest topic in health circles...👍
I can only hope that we might continue to serve as a small flicker of light, perhaps even a tiny matchstick in a dark tunnel, guiding those still struggling toward the switch that turns on the lights.
Today is a heavy day for us😢. We lost my cousin last night. He succumbed to cancer after a six-month battle that doctors couldn't even properly define... He suffered quite a bit with the pain. Just the night before last, he was conscious, able to sit up in bed and hold a conversation, yet by morning, there was no waking him again. They took him to the ER, only for the hospital to promptly discharge him with an explanation that later proved accurate—that there was nothing more to be done and it was merely a matter of hours. He spent less than a full day in a coma before he stopped breathing. He wasn't even fifty-one years old... and he leaves behind a fourteen-year-old son.
I find myself missing my mother deeply today, though I am also endlessly grateful she was by my side when I was fourteen, allowing me to navigate those typical teenage struggles with her support...
Mom is having a slightly better period, in the sense that she is eating well. She was even watching TV for a while...
Grace Fowler said:Hello
My dear friends, I honestly don't know what to tell you... I just finished my fifth round of chemo in this cycle... and I am absolutely exhausted, truly bone-tired, yet some stubborn part of me keeps forcing me to push forward... Every single bone in my body aches—just one of those lovely side effects from the treatment—and even typing feels like a monumental task... but this forum remains my small window to the outside world. I wish you all immense strength, and I hope that no one ever wavers in their fight until they reach victory—until healing arrives...
Dina from the outskirts....