Look, being shy isn't always a bad thing—it definitely has its perks—but I just don't get why people feel the need to broadcast their feelings so publicly as if that’s the opposite of being vulnerable. Russ, man, just suck it up, find some courage, and send her a nice message in her DMs. When you're being genuine and speaking straight from the heart, you can't really go wrong.
I mean, it’s not like what happened is terrible, don't get me wrong, but wouldn't it be a lot better if that was just something shared between the two of you? Like, keeping it private so it stays intimate and special? 🙂
George Cook54 said:In less than a month, an online friend I met not too long ago is celebrating his birthday. I’ve got plenty of friends in the "real world," but this guy feels like exactly the kind of friend I’ve always wanted—we're incredibly close and totally open with each other. He lives over in Spain, and since I scored some free train tickets this summer, I decided to head over there with one of my other buddies to visit him. That was our first and only time meeting face-to-face. Honestly, he hosted us better than anyone I've ever known; showed us around his city and his whole country, truly proving what a great friend he is.
The guy literally opened up his home to you. What "virtual friendship" are you even talking about here? He invested real time, effort, and money to show you around Spain. I’d bet you didn't spend more than 50 bucks the whole trip because he kept treating you, and you even brought another friend along! 🤦
In what universe is it $133 hard to return the hospitality? I honestly don't get the logic behind that. 🙄
So, this famous sexologist is giving a big lecture to a packed house. "How many of you are making love every single day?" he asks the crowd. Only a handful of people raise their hands. "Alright, how about once or twice a week?" he asks next. Now, most of the room has their hands up. "And who here does it maybe once or twice a month?" "Me! Me! Me!" suddenly shouts some guy jumping up in the corner of the hall. "Whoa, take it easy, buddy," the speaker says. "That's not exactly a winning streak, so why are you so pumped?" "Because tonight's the night!"
So, I see people are actually debating this game. Look, if any of you manage to pull in a massive profit at the high-stakes tables one night only to lose $4.5 billion in Zynga Poker by morning, please, do let me know. 😁
Look, I get it, which is why I keep saying it’s just how we grew up doing things here in the States. It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong on purpose; you’re just repeating what was drilled into you from day one. 😉
bluebadger112 said:The absolute expert on everything, especially bee products and old-school home remedies 🥳 There’s such a thing as raw propolis. I just dump the contents of two capsules onto a spoonful of honey, let it sit in my mouth for a second, then spit it out—nothing left behind😳. Oh, and don't forget about Petrov's propolis cream—those little chunks you can actually sniff up if you feel like it.
If I'm reading this right, he's talking about propolis that you can absorb entirely. But what's even the point of popping open capsules and mixing them with honey? Usually, they use propylene glycol (the food-grade kind) or alcohol as a solvent because the stuff needs chemical processing before you can ingest it. If they've actually figured out a way to skip all that without using either—why make it so damn complicated?😁
hiddennomad60 said:Honestly, things like propolis and that specific angle have been doing wonders for me lately. But now I’m actually getting a bit worried after reading what @Hek mentioned... especially since I'm a smoker too. 🕺
If you don't have any sores in your mouth, then you really shouldn't be losing sleep over this. What Anthony Nguyen81 is bringing up here is just a textbook example of how people end up shooting themselves in the foot. Back home, everyone acts like a shot of whiskey can fix anything—it’s the ultimate "cure-all." But honestly? That logic is fundamentally broken. Alcohol is a carcinogen, plain and simple, and your mouth is already crawling with bacteria. You add cigarette tar into that mix, and you're basically asking for trouble. There's a reason dentists constantly nag their patients about staying away from smoking and drinking after an extraction. They aren't just being killjoys; they're trying to keep you out of the ER.
Look, if you happen to bite your tongue or deal with some kind of nasty mouth injury, do yourself a favor and stay away from smoking or drinking until that wound actually starts healing. Seriously. And ditch the alcohol-based mouthwashes or any propolis sprays for a bit, too. Under normal circumstances, you’ve got nothing to worry about—the mucous membranes in your mouth are pretty efficient at bouncing back on their own. But here’s the kicker: applying things like tobacco tar or rubbing pure alcohol directly onto an open sore is where things get sketchy. That's how you end up looking at oral cancer. It's basically when a physical injury just can't close up because you're constantly hitting it with those toxic substances. Just let it heal.
hiddenmarlin14 said:Make a strong sage tea and use it as a gargle—that should help too, just don't go drinking it too heavy 🧐
Sage, huh? Nice call. It’s actually better for mouth sores since it’s such a powerhouse antibacterial, but yeah, it definitely helps a sore throat. 🙂
I drink it myself. Honestly? Tastes pretty nasty, but hey, that’s basically the deal with most herbal teas. You can take it, just don't overdo it for more than two weeks straight. Think of it a bit like an antibiotic. 😁
Chris Cruz942 said:Spraying propolis directly into my mouth and throat—it’s been a total lifesaver for us at home.
Just a heads-up though, you really have to be careful with propolis. Stick to the kid-friendly versions; stay far away from anything containing alcohol.
Alcohol can absolutely wreck up your mouth, especially if you’re a smoker. Don't ask how I know. 😉
rapidtrucker78 said:I whipped up a vitamin smoothie, and honestly, it worked last time—but my throat wasn't nearly this much of a disaster back then. 🕺
If you want to fight the pain, just gargle some salt water. Seriously, you don't need more than a teaspoon of salt. Just do it a few times a day.
Another option is squeezing some lemon into water; it does pretty much the same thing. If you happen to have some turmeric on hand, mix half a teaspoon of sea salt and a teaspoon of turmeric into a glass of warm water. It works as both a remedy and a way to dull the pain.
So, those are three different recipes for gargling or rinsing. As for eating, stick to honey, garlic, lemon, or some good old chicken soup. 🙂
Wick is king. I absolutely love the world they've built, even if some parts feel totally over-the-top. It’s just pure action, killer choreography, and just enough dry humor to keep things interesting—honestly, that's exactly why I'm counting down the days until the fourth installment. 😍
Sophia Williams34 said:Any hospitals, surgeries, or recommendations?
Personally, I’d recommend MD Anderson Cancer Center (197 Main Street) to anyone; they really are a top-tier institution. Even if an operation can't be done right there, those doctors know everyone at the other hospitals—they'll find a way to make it happen.
When we talk about palliative care here, we mean it's temporary—it doesn't necessarily mean we're just talking about managing symptoms and making someone more comfortable regardless of how bad things look. Palliative care isn't about curing the underlying disease, and in this specific context, they are explicitly talking about chemotherapy.
If you're looking to get a scintigraphy done, your best bet is probably just scheduling it through your primary care physician. They can pull up the whole e-referral system and see which hospitals actually have open slots available right now.
Look, nobody can give you a straight answer on this without seeing your actual lab results. Just hang tight for a bit. There’s really no reason to spiral—you're going to get the full rundown when the time comes.
brightotter67 said:I’m looking for some insight regarding those patches, and also where’s the best or fastest place to get scheduled for a scintigraphy? We’re coming from Washington, D.C. Regarding that prescribed Zaldiar—which is basically just a mix of paracetamol and tramadol—we’re in a bit of a bind because her oncologist strictly forbade paracetamol due to liver concerns. Out of all the options, what would be the "lesser of two evils" to help manage her pain?
Buprenorphine (which is what you usually find in those patches) isn't quite as hard on the kidneys as it is on the liver. It’s one of the heavy hitters among opioid analgesics; in fact, unlike tramadol, it can actually be used to help people through opioid withdrawal. Buprenorphine and methadone (like heptanone) are both used for that purpose. If paracetamol is off the table because of the liver, there’s a real chance buprenorphine could run into similar issues. Though, honestly, I don't quite get the panic over paracetamol—it’s a very safe drug if you stay within the dosage limits. You shouldn't take more than 1,000 milligrams (one gram) at once, and she probably shouldn't exceed three grams in a day. Hospitals sometimes push it up to four grams, but I tend to follow the American guidelines, which set the max daily dose at 2.6 grams.
In principle, I don't know which specific med won't impact the liver or kidneys—they're all potentially harmful if you're on them long-term. Unfortunately, it really just comes down to picking the lesser of two evils.
quietpilot87 said:We’re fragile creatures, I guess. But then there are those moments where we turn out to be terrifyingly strong—the kind of strength nobody sees coming.
You’re smart, girl. My late grandfather used to say, "Whatever a man can endure, nobody else can—not even a horse!" And he wasn't just talking; he had the scars to prove it, dealing with constant illnesses and disability his whole life. But he never, ever gave up.
Regarding that whole situation, I’ll keep it brief since it belongs in a different thread anyway—don't want to start cluttering this one up again.
Eric Newman75 said:Honestly, I just draw my inspiration from the people I meet. 🙂
Mr. S.—I don't even know his first name, all he told me was that he’s from California—is my absolute hero. He doesn't smoke, but man, does he love to drink. "Wine is my sin," he used to say, "wine is going to be the death of me." Honestly, it probably will be. I doubt he’s ever going to change his ways, but when he finally does, it'll be after one hell of a titanic struggle. That's just who he is: a fighter through and through. He swears like a sailor and speaks his mind with this raw, blunt honesty, no sugar-coating whatsoever. Nothing seems to phase him—not the endless surgeries, the radiation, or the chemo. Every time some bad news hit, he’d just bark, "To hell with them!" He’d say it about every single setback, and god knows there were more of those than any normal person could ever stomach. I wasn't exactly sure who he was aiming that at—I figured he meant the cancer cells and the metastases—but who cares? If that catchphrase helped him get through it, he could have shouted it from the top of a cathedral for all I care.
He never complained. Not once. Even the doctors and nurses kept saying the same thing—so you know it’s the truth. When we first met, he just blurted out, "Had an erection this morning. That's how I know I'm getting better. My wife will pay for everything when I get home." He had me laughing. Honestly, he had everyone laughing—me, the other patients, even the staff. He was a total legend in the ENT department at KZT. The procedure I went through—tumor removal and tissue grafting—he had to go back under the knife for it several times. There were issues with graft rejection, so he was practically a permanent fixture on that operating table. Let me lay it out for you so you understand exactly what kind of balls this guy has. We’re talking about the worst ten days of your life, regardless of what you've dealt with before. First off, your tongue is killing you. Out of the twelve cranial nerves, three end up right there. It’s moved by eight different muscles. It is an incredibly delicate, complex, and sensitive tool. Without it, you can’t talk and you can’t eat. Any surgery on that organ is basically suffering squared. Second, you've got your esophagus and trachea—the very tubes you need for breathing and swallowing. Your throat gets so irritated that taking air or swallowing becomes a nightmare. You find yourself counting the seconds between breaths or swallows just to stretch them out. And you *have* to breathe and you *have* to swallow because saliva pools in the wounds, choking you, forcing you to cough it up constantly. You mess up a dozen times, instinctively reaching for your mouth, only to realize everything ends up on your forearm or elbow because of the cannula in your neck. That’s actually the funny part of the story. The rest is grim. Third, your back absolutely destroys you because you have to lie perfectly still. You can't shift an inch. You can't relieve the pressure for even a second. If they ever invented a torture method based on that, it would be terrifyingly effective. And fourth, you try to deal with all that frustration by making these tiny, millimeter movements—lifting your head slightly, shifting your upper body, repositioning against the pillow—which just ends up giving you sores and blisters on your heels. I used to think it was impossible to bleed from sheer exhaustion, but it is. Absolutely. To wrap up this litany of misery—I don't know what could ever drive me to go through that again, God help me. But S. did it. One graft, then another, then pieces from his left side, then his right... I honestly don't know where they were scavenging parts from to do all that reconstruction. "Go ahead, screw you guys," he’d sort of mutter to the surgeons whenever they came around asking for permission. They didn't give up on him, but he sure as hell didn't give up on them either.
I pulled a disappearing act from the hospital after three weeks. It was early, sure, but I just couldn't take it anymore—I needed a total change of scenery. He’d been stuck in there for three months at that point. And he’s still there, which means it’s been nearly half a year now. "Screw them," he gave me a little wink when we crossed paths. "You're a legend, man. You don't see that every day—nobody gets out of a clinic that fast," he said, giving me props. "Man, I just hit a wall. I was too embarrassed to stay. The nurses were basically stripping me down to wash me, and I'm peeing like a damn puppy every five minutes," I shot back, matching his vibe. He just smirked, gave my shoulder a solid pat, and kept walking down the hall. When I was finally heading out after my check-up, he waved from a distance. Well, more like made some suggestive gestures instead of a normal wave. Yeah, Mr. S., we’re gonna screw them. I promise.
Paul Campbell3, I wouldn't go against faith if I were you. At the Mayo Clinic, they basically tell you that treating the mind is just as vital as treating the body. It’s not that they’re against alternative medicine—not by a long shot—as long as it doesn't interfere with the standard treatment plan. If a patient feels like honey, lemon, turmeric, or cinnamon might help, let them have it. These are healthy herbs that won't do any harm, and psychologically, they can act as a powerful placebo. They kickstart internal mechanisms we don't even fully understand yet. I've seen it happen—people given less than a five percent chance of survival just getting right back up out of bed.
Traditional medicine still has a massive uphill battle ahead when it comes to beating cancer. Now that I've looked into this a bit more deeply, I'm feeling pretty skeptical. It's like trying to fight a hundred different wars all at once; every disease is unique, and every single one has a million different subtypes and variations. It feels like an impossible mission. Those cells actually seem to have a sort of intelligence of their own. Researchers in Germany recently discovered that glioblastomas in the brain essentially create a backup system, which is why they keep coming back. What's the point of operating on or radiating one section if there's a whole reserve waiting on the other side of the brain? They haven't quite figured out why oral cancers recur at such high rates—it's almost a rule—but they know it's linked to saliva, where the body's own chemistry turns against itself. There have even been cases where the cancer vanishes while radiation and chemo are ongoing, only to resurface the second the treatment stops. The damn thing hides, camouflages itself, and plays dead. I'm oversimplifying here, obviously, just to illustrate the massive wall that doctors are hitting. There really are no rules. Surgery helps some people and fails others. Radiation works for some and does nothing for others, especially since it's so hard to get precise readings afterward, meaning new growths often go unnoticed. It all depends on the type of tumor, the individual's body, and sometimes, even their mindset. The psyche healing the body itself... nobody truly knows how. That's why, as a rule, doctors won't give you a definitive prognosis. They've seen it all—the miracles and the tragedies alike. 🙂