Back at work as of this morning. My dad passed away on August 22nd after an eight-month, grueling battle against a much more powerful opponent 😢 — though it turns out he was way more formidable than we realized, despite everything he fought through with our constant support by his side.
Work feels absolutely miserable right now... it’s just hard. 😢 Honestly, the worst part is dealing with certain colleagues who—without a shred of shame—are now wandering the hallways offering me their "condolences." It’s been nearly three weeks since this whole tragedy happened, and these people didn't even show up to the funeral or stop by the house to pay their respects, which is the standard thing to do here. Now, they act like they care. 😢 I really don't get it—am I expecting too much from people, or is this just how things are?
To those of you still fighting your own battles with illness—I truly hope you're winning—please forgive me for weighing you down with my own stuff. It’s just one of those things that unfortunately lands on some of our plates too.
Wishing everyone the best... and I really hope things don't end the way they did for my dad.
My dad passed away... 🙂 🙂 🙂 On Friday, August 22nd, at around 3:30 in the morning, he just stopped breathing. It happened after four days without any food or water—after an eight-month battle with stomach cancer that had unfortunately spread to his liver. 😢 He’d been bedridden for three months now.
May he rest in peace. As a family, we're going to need a lot of time just to wrap our heads around the fact that he's gone—to process all those heavy, difficult days—but we were there, right by his side through it all, and I guess that's the one small comfort I can hold onto. We tried everything, really, but it just wasn't meant to be... 😢 😢 😢
We'll choose to remember the good times—which, thankfully, there were plenty of—and hold onto the memory of him when he was healthy and full of life.
Thanks, Angela Wright. We're going to try using an ice cube—fingers crossed that at least that does the trick, just to get him a little bit of hydration...😢
My dad hasn't eaten anything that even resembles food for three days now—not even water. He spends most of his time sleeping, or maybe it’s some kind of semi-conscious state, I honestly don't know what to call it; his eyes are mostly closed, or just half-open at most. He tries to say things here and there, but we can barely make out what he’s saying. And the moment we try to give him even a tiny spoonful of water, he just presses his lips tight shut. His breathing is very shallow, and he coughs occasionally—well, more like he *tries* to cough, but he just doesn't have the strength left for it. A few days ago, his doctor told us that an IV wouldn't be the answer because the swelling around his liver is already so significant, and she’s worried all that fluid will just end up right there and essentially suffocate him. 😢 😢 😢
It's just so heartbreaking, such a terrible thing for him to go through, but at least he's home and we're all here with him. I feel like I'm just operating on autopilot, constantly checking to make sure I haven't missed anything important... when really, we're feeling completely helpless. 😢
Linda Patel21 said:Sofi, I am so incredibly sorry that you guys are going through this right now. I completely agree with you—that feeling of being totally helpless... it’s just heartbreaking. It really tears at your soul. But honestly, despite how hard it all is, I truly believe your dad is so proud of you both for stepping up like this and showing him just how much he is loved. These diseases are absolute curses, taking our loved ones away from us when we aren't ready. Please, stay strong. I'm rooting for you in this fight, and I'm praying your dad finds some relief from the pain and suffering.
What hurts me the most is this overwhelming sense of helplessness—dealing with situations like my dad’s, where even the briefest little chat feels like an exhausting struggle for him. 😢 And unfortunately, everything just boils down to waiting... which is incredibly, incredibly hard. 😢
He’s looking so thin now (I think he’s lost close to 65 pounds since he got sick around New Year's, and we can't even weigh him anymore because he’s strictly bedridden), and the swelling around his liver has become visible. 😢 A few times a day, we sit him up for just a few minutes so he can have some soup—that’s really all he’s eating—along with a bit of fruit. Today, the second he took the first spoonful of soup, he started coughing and could barely manage a tiny bite. I'm really worried about that fluid buildup around his liver; it's tough knowing what to do when a patient is at home and completely immobile. Our family doctor basically just confirmed there's swelling and fluid around the liver, then stopped the IV fluids he had been receiving for a few days about two weeks ago. I’m terrified that the fluid is suffocating him, or that it might have migrated to his lungs, which might be why he's coughing. When he's lying flat, he doesn't cough, but his breathing is shallow until he falls asleep, and then it seems to normalize. The hiccups have been his "constant companion" ever since his surgery back in July when they removed his stomach. He’s hiccuping almost constantly, even while he sleeps. 😢
For now, we’re managing to prevent any skin issues on his back; as soon as we see even a hint of redness, we apply some Sudokrem (we have it here in the Midwest, though I'm not sure if you can find it easily elsewhere) and it usually clears up within a few hours. We massage him very gently whenever we can, because he gets upset if the contact feels too uncomfortable. 😢
We are all going through different stages of this fight—whether it's for ourselves or for our loved ones facing these heavy illnesses—and all I can really do is wish everyone strength and patience.
I posted a few months back about my dad—his stomach cancer diagnosis, the surgery in February where they had to remove his entire stomach, and the biopsy results confirming metastases in his liver. After a couple of months, he went through one round of chemo. Up until then, he was actually doing okay; he could even walk around the hospital building with Mom. But that chemo just completely wiped him out—knocked him straight to bed. Since then, he hasn't been strong enough to handle any more treatment. We’ve taken him to see the oncologist a few times, but he just isn't fit enough for another round.
Everything has just spiraled downhill since then. He’s basically bedridden now; he doesn't have the strength for anything. He can't even lift a glass to take a sip of water. 😢 The pain isn't too bad, aside from some backaches from lying down so much. There aren't any skin issues on his back yet either, so we massage him and try to turn him whenever he can tolerate it, just to make sure he doesn't develop any sores. 😢 For the last two weeks, he’s lived on soups—we blend in whatever we can get away with, though everything makes him feel nauseous. He manages a bit of fruit during the day and maybe a little milk. At night, he’s wide awake, eyes open, while during the day he mostly sleeps because he's just exhausted from the sleepless nights. For a while, following his primary doctor's advice, he was taking 3mg of Lexapro and 5mg of Ativan, but it just seemed to sedate him without actually helping him sleep, so now he refuses to take them. He is fully aware of everything—of his condition and what's happening around him—but he's just lost all will. Even though we are almost always there with him—Mom, my aunt who lives with my parents, myself, my husband, the kids... he’s 78 years old and was so full of optimism when he started treatment last winter, but now... 😢
We had his blood work done last week, and it looks pretty bad; his tumor markers are nearly at 7000.
In the middle of these two months of fighting this cancer—which, because of the widespread metastases, we couldn't even pinpoint where it started—I lost my uncle. And he was the one who was crying for my father last winter, promising he would help us however he could. Then, only 58 days after the diagnosis, he was gone. He didn't have any children of his own; he was like a second father to me. 😢
Thank you so much for the kind words and for passing along that hospital contact info. We’re actually living over in the States right now.
Dad has been doing a little bit better since Friday afternoon—he’s finally managed to move around a tiny bit on his own, though he’s still strictly confined to the house. It’s just once or twice a day, really, and even then he’s leaning heavily on his walker and needs someone right there by his side to grab onto if he loses his balance.
We are still sitting around waiting on the pH results from the liver biopsy. This coming Wednesday marks one month since the surgery, which was the "preliminary" timeframe the doctors set for him to check back in with the oncologist. But, honestly, from what I can gather, he’s just nowhere near ready for chemotherapy in the condition he’s in right now. 😢
Does anyone know how risky it is to wait too long when the liver is involved? They removed his stomach, and the diagnosis was adenocarcinoma based on a biopsy taken before the surgery, but they found metastases on the liver via ultrasound and then confirmed it with a CT scan. During the actual surgery, they took another sample from the liver, and that’s the specific result we’re currently waiting on.
I think I’ve mentioned this before, but maybe some of my posts got lost in the old thread.
My dad is 78, and he was diagnosed with gastric adenocarcinoma with liver metastases—the surgeon described them as an apple-sized mass. He had surgery, a total gastrectomy, back on February 26th. He spent just under three weeks in the hospital and is finally back home now. He spent those first five days in the ICU, though, and honestly, those days were such a traumatic experience for him that he can't stop talking about it.
He cries quite a bit—it’s almost like his eyes just well up automatically whenever anyone speaks to him. He spends so much time reminiscing about himself and how things used to be, way back in the day. He barely leaves the house; we practically had to carry him to his follow-up appointment with the surgeon a couple of days ago. If I were to guess—just speaking off the top of my head, of course—I’d say his mental state, this deep depression, is really driving most of these physical symptoms of weakness. At the check-up the day before yesterday, the surgeon seemed happy with his physical progress, but he strongly urged Dad to move around more at least within the house, since he isn't going out yet. He even suggested getting outside for a bit, saying that physically, you should eventually be well enough to go grab a coffee somewhere nearby. To be honest, the doctor seemed genuinely shocked by Dad’s psychological state. Right now, my dad is using a cane, and with my mom's help, he manages to make it to the bathroom.
He’s eating small meals eight to ten times a day, sipping liquids in between. Unfortunately, the list of things he refuses to eat seems to grow a little longer every single day.
I’m really worried about this depression he’s clearly spiraling into. It’s tough, I know—going from being such an active person in his younger years to facing a serious illness like this is a lot to handle. But I also see signs of this stubbornness, this misplaced spite, if that makes sense. I see him pushing my mom quite hard—sorry if that sounds blunt—like "do this" or "don't do that"... or "hand me my cane," when the cane is literally sitting just twenty centimeters away from him. We bought him one of those battery-operated call bells—where the button stays with him and the chime is in the living room—so he can call for help. He rings it for absolutely everything, even just to have someone open a window, and I truly believe he could get up and do that himself if he tried. It would be for his own good, too, because the doctor told him straight up at the appointment, "Sir, if you just stay lying in bed, you're finished!"😢
I'm feeling a bit lost on how to help. We live in a small town, and I'm not sure where to find the kind of psychological support he clearly needs. It feels like we—the family, the grandkids—just aren't enough of an emotional safety net to pull him out of this slump.
And besides, if he’s this physically weak, how are we ever going to get him to a point where he’s fit enough for the chemotherapy that's coming next? 😢
Angela Wright said:Just one more little thing that hits home for me—this second part of the thread actually started yesterday, which would have been my mom's 63rd birthday if she were still with us.
🙂 I’m so sorry—that sounds like such a heavy day for you.
Thanks so much for getting back to me. My dad is the one who’ll ultimately make the call once the surgeon lays everything out for him this Tuesday.
From what we can tell by the test results, his heart seems to be doing okay. That drop in his overall strength is mostly coming from anemia—it looks like the tumor is bleeding, either intermittently or just constantly. 😢
It’s tough, really... but we're just taking it one day at a time. There isn't much else we can do.
Look, the way you’re acting right now—and how you're feeling about it—is more than just a momentary lapse. It’s actually a pretty big indicator for both of you regarding what kind of partner you really are. I think deep down you know that by pushing her so hard to say that specific number, and then reacting the way you did afterward, you really shook the foundation of what was otherwise a great relationship.
Don't try to force yourself into being someone you aren't—honestly, if you find yourself doing things that feel totally out of character, just stop. Because if this behavior *is* actually who you are at your core, then we’ve got a much bigger issue on our hands.
John Hill said:If nobody had said anything, you’d be accusing us of ignoring you. Now that we actually showed up, suddenly everything is wrong again. Look, I get it—for some people, no explanation is ever going to be good enough, but that doesn't make it a valid point.
1. All three of these are chat threads. You can claim otherwise if you really don't know what the definition of a chat is.
2. This wasn't about being lazy. It was about the constant back-and-forth, where the arguments kept jumping from one thread to another between the mistresses and the betrayed.
3. I don't get this idea that we were just sitting around hoping these threads would die out. Why would I, or any moderator, actually care whether a thread lives or dies? 🤷 Whether it's a three-page thread or a 300-page one, it makes no difference to us. Besides, the plan is to reopen a single thread about infidelity—not three separate ones where everyone keeps dragging the fight from one place to another, which was becoming impossible to follow.
4. > isn't some graveyard; it's just a section of the forum where the rules are a bit more relaxed, so the issues from these three specific Topics don't stand out as much.
Isn't starting a new thread usually just a spontaneous thing rather than something forced? 😕 🤷
You guys are lost—just come clean and admit it already. 🙂
Three different moderators stepped up to explain why they made this call. And honestly? Every single one of those explanations was weaker than the last.
It turns out the reasoning is that this thread is supposed to be a chat, which—let’s be real—it isn't. Then we hear that moderating three hundred-plus pages felt like too much work, so instead of actually stepping in, you just let things spiral. It feels like you were all just sitting back, crossing your fingers, and hoping the whole thread would just die out on its own—and when it didn't, you hit a snag. So, the "solution" was to move the thread over to the "graveyard" section, even though it’s still very much alive, just in the hopes it might finally expire there.
And now you have the nerve to tell us we're "welcome" here. I mean, seriously... who ever felt truly welcome at a cemetery? 😕