Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

We lost the battle this past Sunday. We were fighting pancreatic cancer, but things just spiraled out of control. The last two days were the absolute worst—she fell into a liver coma. It was agonizing. When modern medicine basically gave up on her, we tried some alternative routes. She was taking Myco San mushrooms. Honestly, I think they helped clear her liver because her bilirubin levels didn't spike nearly as crazily as they did when she stopped. She was also on 100% chokeberry juice, which I’m convinced helped with her iron levels. Just two weeks before the end, everything was actually within the normal range.
If there's any way I can help or offer advice, please reach out. 🙂

stormyfalcon6, I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. It’s honestly hard to find the right words because I know exactly what you’re going through. I recently lost my dad to bladder cancer, too. No matter how much it hurts, we just have to keep pushing forward.

So much sad news lately... My heart goes out to everyone here.
I don't post much, but I read everything, so I figured I’d share something a bit more hopeful. As I mentioned before, my dad has small cell lung cancer. He got the diagnosis a little over a year ago. The prognosis was terrifying. None of his doctors would give a definitive timeline, but reading stuff online... it was grim. Just a few months, they said. Through all of it, he’s been doing great. He’s gone through plenty of chemo and scans, and despite a few rough patches, he’s actually been doing really well. Even his doctors and everyone around him were shocked by how good he looks and how well he handles the mental side of things. There were those bad stretches, though. Once he dropped about 30 pounds, and once he lost his voice—the doctors told him it wouldn't come back, but to their surprise, it did. Through all that, he stayed mentally tough. He never gave up. He didn't talk about the cancer openly; I think he knew, but maybe subconsciously he just didn't want to dwell on it, let alone discuss it.
I wanted this to stay positive, but things have taken a turn. When he went in for his latest checkup, they ran some tests, adjusted his treatment, and sent him home. He felt fine then—really, he felt solid. But that night, he started coughing so hard he could barely catch his breath. That coughing fit made it impossible to breathe, so we ended up taking him to the ER at Mercy Hospital. The doctor ran some tests and basically sent him home with a comment like, "Look, sir, most people with your condition only get a few months, and you've been hanging in there for a year already. What more do you want?"
And that’s when everything changed for my dad. To make a long story short, he insisted on staying in the hospital, and it turns out the cancer had spread to his neck lymph nodes. They changed his therapy, but he’s just... different now. Mentally, he’s completely collapsed. He keeps saying he's a lost cause. He’s lost weight again, hardly eats, says nobody understands him, and feels like he's just wasting away. He spends his days staring at the ceiling. He's terrified of everything; he won't even go to the bathroom or shower by himself, not even with my mom helping him. It’s awful. It’s unbelievable how much someone can change in ten days. The doctor warned us that if he stays bedridden, his muscles will atrophy and he'll end up in diapers. He knows that, too, but he just shrugs. I don't know how to snap him out of it when he’s lost all will to fight. I still believe there’s some hope left, because he’s beaten the odds so far. It hasn't been easy, and he was such a fighter—he really stood up to this disease—but now, because of one rude doctor's comment, he’s fallen so hard. Some people in medicine are just jerks. Not all of them, obviously, but most.
How can I help him?
The point of this post was supposed to be that no matter how dark the diagnosis looks, there is still hope. Maybe not a huge amount, but there is. My dad was given a few months, and yet he's been here a year, and for the most part, he was doing great. I’m pretty sure he can still pull through; he just needs to find the strength to stand up and fight again.

Since I'm already here, I might as well ask about something from my recent discharge papers that makes zero sense to me:

Pathological radiopharmaceutical uptake is visible in the area of a large lesion on the left humerus.
The appearance of the clavicle and ribs is non-homogeneous, with focal pathological radiopharmaceutical uptake of lower intensity in the posterior aspect of the 9th left rib.
Increased radiopharmaceutical uptake is noted in both acromioclavicular joints, both scapular coracoid processes, and both knees, which is most likely degenerative in nature.

I don't understand any of this, and honestly, it sounds pretty terrifying. I could use some help making sense of it.

Nancy Lee said:Since I am already here, I want to ask about something from my recent discharge papers that I don't quite understand:

Pathological accumulation of radiopharmaceuticals is visible in the area of a large lesion in the left humerus.
The appearance of the clavicle and ribs is non-homogeneous, with focal pathological radiopharmaceutical accumulation of lower intensity in the 9th left posterior rib.
Increased radiopharmaceutical uptake is visible in both acromioclavicular joints, both scapular coracoid processes, and both knees, which is most likely degenerative in nature.

I don't understand any of this, and it sounds quite terrifying, so I am asking for some clarification.

Respectfully, I will share something based on my own experience (I have written more detail about this in previous posts). Please do not blame your father for how he is behaving, and do not try to force him into anything. When a disease reaches this stage, a person simply begins to decline rapidly. My mother was given a prognosis of only a few months, yet she had no issues for two years before everything collapsed on her in just a month and a half. What you are describing sounds exactly like what we went through. Do not push him to do anything; instead, meet him where he is and make things easier for him. Even though I don't know you personally, I can see that he is struggling and simply cannot do more than he is doing right now—it feels like I am watching our own situation unfold. Most importantly, kiss him, hug him, and tell him you love him a million times, even if you feel like you are being repetitive. He certainly cannot do more than what he is currently managing; it isn't just a loss of willpower. Regarding the medical findings you asked about, it shows changes in several areas of the bones (not everything is necessarily malignant or metastatic), but given the number of changes listed, unfortunately, considering the type of cancer involved, there will likely be at least one bone metastasis. The findings in the shoulder bone and the rib are the most suspicious for metastasis. As for the doctor being rude—we dealt with someone like that too; he didn't treat my mother, but when we finally needed something from him, he turned out to be right. My mother was an incredible fighter, but as I mentioned, after a long struggle, the lymph nodes destroyed her quickly and cruelly, leading to a rapid decline. I am so sorry you are going through this. I do not wish to sound ominous, and I truly hope your father defies all predictions and becomes a medical miracle. I wish you all the best.

graniteorca42 said:Respect, I wanted to share something from my own experience (I’ve gone into more detail about this in earlier posts). Please don't hold it against your dad that he's acting this way, and try not to push him too hard. When you're facing this kind of illness, there comes a point where everything just starts crashing down fast. My mom was given only a few months, but she managed to hold on for two years before things took a turn for the worse in just a month and a half. What you're describing sounds exactly like what we went through. Don't force him to do anything; just be there for him and make things easier. Even though I don't know you personally, I can tell he's fighting as hard as he can, and it feels like watching my own family. Most importantly, kiss him, hug him, and tell him you love him a million times, even if he gets annoying. He's doing the best he can right now—it isn't just a loss of willpower. Regarding that lab result you asked about, it shows changes in several bone areas (not everything is necessarily malignant or a metastasis), but given how many changes are listed and the type of cancer involved, unfortunately, at least one is likely a bone metastasis. Those spots on the shoulder bone and rib look most suspicious. That doctor might seem rude, but we dealt with someone like that too; he didn't treat my mom, but when we actually needed him, he turned out to be right. My mom was an incredible fighter, but as I said, after a long battle, the lymph nodes just took her out quickly and brutally, and she faded fast. I'm so sorry you're going through this. I don't want to sound pessimistic—I really hope your dad beats all the odds and becomes a medical miracle. Wishing you nothing but the best.

I feel pretty much the same way.
There just comes a time... when the person who is sick simply can't go any further and knows what's coming.
Our job is to help and make it easier. Not by feeding them false hope, but exactly how you described it.
And with home care, if they are staying at home.
Once you accept that reality, I think you actually become better company for them... because deep down, they've known for a long time... they fought, they pushed past those initial "few months" they were promised, but they just can't go anymore...

graniteorca42 and Rachel Jones8,
thanks for the replies, though I guess I’d still love to hear what Dr. vividsailor7 or Angela Wright think if they happen to see this.
Now you guys actually have me worried. These were the results from his bone scan, and his doctor told him there's nothing wrong with his bones—no objective reason at all for him acting out like this. Based on the scans, it looks like it only spread to one side of the neck, and the doctor says that isn't much to worry about. He's had way worse test results than this and hasn't been nearly as mentally unstable.
I just don't get it...

Unfortunately, my dad's condition is just getting worse. He finished his ten radiation sessions, but instead of improving, things took a sudden turn for the worst. His right arm has completely failed him, and his right leg is likely next. Since he got home, his forehead and the area around his ears have been severely burned—he looks like he spent hours under an intense American summer sun. I wonder, could that be a side effect from the radiation?

Over the last few days, everything has been declining. He's having more frequent outbursts and barely sleeps at all. Last night, my mom actually had to call 911 just to get him calmed down.
(He has lung cancer with brain metastases).
Does anyone here have experience with this? How does it progress from here? What should we be looking out for?
We were really hoping he’d recover from the radiation soon so he could move on to chemotherapy for the lungs, but will they even consider chemo if he's in this state? He’s even reached the point where he needs diapers now.
My mom is handling this alone most of the time. I make it over every other day, but it's getting harder and harder on her because she’s just so sleep-deprived.
I honestly don't know what lies ahead for us.
Up until now, I managed to hold onto some hope, but now... it's just pure fear and dread.
If he's even up for it tomorrow, he has an appointment with the oncologist.
I'm not sure if they'll decide to keep him in the hospital or let him come home.
As far as the lungs go, he coughs occasionally and sweats quite a bit, but it doesn't seem as severe as the other issues.
The hardest part is how little he can speak. He can't control the right side of his body, and sometimes he just loses himself entirely, shouting and lashing out. It is heartbreaking to witness. 😢

My heart goes out to everyone else who lost their fight against this brutal disease 😢. To be honest, it still hasn't quite sunk in that my dad has been gone for ten days. He passed away while we were right there, holding him and showing him love, almost as if he weren't even himself anymore. I don't even feel the weight of sadness yet, mostly because death just doesn't make sense to me—it’s one of those concepts that refuses to click in my brain. Nancy Lee—it's actually well-documented that lung cancer can trigger deep depression; doctors can't quite pin down why... and my dad kept asking us to just "leave him be." Even until the very last day, he tried to do everything himself. He refused help despite being so weak his legs would shake with every step 😢. ...I'm talking about a window of just ten days where everything fell apart so fast. Alex Hayes2—the same goes for you. What hurts the most isn't just the loss, it's the helplessness. It's calling 911, calling hospice, calling anyone you can think of, and realizing no one can actually fix this. That realization is what really kills you 😢. Be there for your mom every single day, every hour, for as long as you possibly can. She won't be able to hold it together forever, watching him struggle through something so debilitating... those moments are gut-wrenching. I want to repeat what the doctors told us and how we handled things: stay by their side, show them affection, kiss them, pet them, and "don't hover." Or rather, "let them be." At least, that's how it was for my dad; we were driving him crazy with constant questions—are you hungry? Do you need water? Do you need the bathroom?—all in our desperate attempt to help. In a way, we might have been overwhelming him 😢. Alex Hayes2—as for what to expect, I don't know. It's different for everyone. My father and our family were "lucky" in the sense that he only felt truly terrible during that final afternoon. He passed peacefully; he spent the last hour and a half basically sleeping (though I suspect it was more of an unconscious state since his oxygen levels were bottoming out and his blood pressure was incredibly low), but his breathing remained steady (unlike earlier in the afternoon when he was gasping and wheezing). He settled himself comfortably on the couch, even reached up to scratch his nose 🙂. ...His breathing just slowed down, and then it stopped. There was no agony, no desperate gasping for air—which was exactly what I had been terrified of. He went quietly. We stayed calm beside him, just stroking his hair and loving him in the silence... I truly hope that when the time comes for your loved ones, they find that same peace 😢

stormytinker4 said:My heart goes out to everyone currently losing their battle against this cruel disease 😢 ... To be honest, it still hasn't sunk in that my father has been gone for less than ten days. He was a man who passed away while we were right there, holding him and showing him love, almost as if he weren't even himself. I can't even describe it as sadness, because I simply cannot wrap my head around the concept of death anymore—it feels entirely disconnected from my reality. Nancy Lee, it is well documented that lung cancer often triggers deep depression, though the exact cause remains a mystery... And my father specifically requested that we "leave him be." Until his very last day, he insisted on doing everything himself. He refused help even when he could barely walk, his legs trembling from sheer weakness 😢 ... I am talking about a brutal ten-day window of rapid decline. Alex Hayes, the same applies to you... What hurts most is the helplessness of the illness itself—the realization that you cannot help, that calling 911, or palliative care, or anyone else, changes nothing. That powerlessness is what truly kills you 😢 .... You must stay by your mother's side every single day, every hour, for as long as possible. She won't be able to endure watching him fade away while being too ill herself to intervene. These moments are harrowing. Let me reiterate what the doctors told us and how we handled things: stay present, show your love, hold them, and "do not interfere." Or rather, "let them be"—at least, that was the case for my father. We were incredibly intrusive, constantly badgering him with questions: Are you hungry? Do you need to eat something? Do you need the restroom? In our desperate attempt to help, we might have actually hastened his end 😢 ... Alex Hayes, as for what to expect—I honestly don't know; it varies for everyone. My father and our family were fortunate in one sense: he only felt poorly during that final afternoon. He passed peacefully; he spent his last ninety minutes essentially sleeping (though I suspect it was more of an unconscious state given his lack of oxygen and dangerously low blood pressure). However, his breathing was steady (unlike the entire afternoon prior, where he was gasping and struggling for air). He settled himself comfortably on the sofa, even scratched his own nose 🙂 .... His breathing just slowed and slowed until it stopped completely. There was no agony, no desperate gasping for that final breath, which was my greatest fear. He passed quietly, and we remained peaceful beside him, stroking his hair and loving him in the silence... I truly hope that when the moment comes, your loved ones find that same peace... 😢

Regards, I have just said what I needed to say. My mother stopped eating two weeks before she passed; she told me quite simply that she had no appetite left and that she understood her situation, so I stopped offering her food. She only drank plenty of fluids up until two days before the end. Our doctor was incredibly fair—she didn't dismiss the idea that someone facing metastatic cancer would feel depressed, and she advised us to simply support my mother and make things easier for her, which is exactly what we did. Looking back, I feel much more at peace knowing we didn't spend those final moments dragging her from one specialist to another; both she and I knew exactly what was coming. She died peacefully in my arms. I wish I could see that doctor face-to-face and ask if she would remain depressed if she were facing such a diagnosis herself. My mother conquered everything else, but the metastases in her lymph nodes were simply too much. It is heartbreaking that so many people are forced to confront this evil while remaining utterly powerless.

Just wanted to lighten the mood here for a second... my heart goes out to anyone who has lost someone close to them.....
My mom dealt with ovarian cancer just over 20 years ago (she was 34 at the time)... stage three, everything gynecological removed, 12 rounds of chemo... back then, things were different—we had to source meds from abroad because we didn't have all these supplements they push today. But she did everything she could to gear up for those chemo cycles; goat milk, quail eggs, artichoke, kombucha, aloe vera... she can't even remember half the stuff she forced herself to take. After finishing two years of chemo, a routine checkup revealed kidney cancer... she had that removed too. Everything was fine until about ten years ago when she started bleeding. They found a tumor on her bladder... basically scraped it out. The cause? Years of daily cytostatics destroying her healthy cells along with the bad ones. Once she stopped the chemo drugs, she’s been living life to the fullest. Her mindset was huge, and her faith in God really carried her through. Now, my dad just finished his second round of chemo for colon cancer. He’s dealing with some brutal nausea right now, so he went for a walk to clear his head. It's rough... he's fighting, even if he isn't as optimistic as she was. He’s taking aronia and beta-glucan... and three days ago, he even had a bit of bacon and sausage. Look, I'm not going to stop him from eating. I just want him to eat. No matter how much this illness hits us, or how quietly and sneakily cancer crept into our lives, the whole family has stepped up to fight this with everything we've got. And we aren't backing down. People ask me about the prognosis... I tell them I don't care. To me, the prognosis is simply getting up every day, surviving it, and being able to lie down in bed at night. Don't think I haven't read the stats for Model X... I know exactly what they say. But we fight, and every single day survived is a win. That’s my message to everyone else who might be at the beginning of this, feeling lost or helpless... just listen to your loved one who is fighting cancer and stand by them. Because when it comes to fighting cancer, we're all in this together.

First and foremost, my deepest condolences go out to everyone here who has lost someone they love.

stormytinker4 said:But let's be honest—there hasn't been any improvement whatsoever. Not a single bit. 😢 He’s stopped taking it entirely, and honestly, I'm getting worried. His feet and ankles are still swollen, and that right leg is just hanging there, heavy and bloated. What do you all suggest? Is there another diuretic out there that actually works?

stormytinker4 said:Thanks for the input, William... but you've got it all wrong. My father doesn't have high blood pressure; if anything, it’s dangerously low. We're talking 110/65. And on top of those intense coughing fits? This morning was an absolute disaster—his pressure plummeted to 65/50 while his heart rate shot up to 145! It's terrifying.

I know I’m late to the party here, but I owe you all an answer. Honestly, given that I was on Pfizer Product, there was no way I was going anywhere under my own steam—it would have had to be under hospital supervision.
Once again, I want to offer my deepest condolences.

Angela Wright said:@stormytinker4/">@@stormytinker4, my dad is taking a diuretic right now because we need to flush out all that fluid buildup caused by the cancer. His blood pressure took a dive and his heart rate spiked—likely because he’s losing electrolytes. He needs to stay consistent with the Californium, and honestly, a dose of Moduretic would probably do him some good right about now.
I honestly have no clue what the actual difference is between Moduretic and Lasix, but I do know one thing for certain: Lasix is incredibly effective.

Potassium is absolutely, categorically NOT compatible with Moduretic—or any other potassium-sparing diuretic, for that matter! I cannot stress this enough. You simply do not mix them. It’s dangerous, period.
And let’s not forget—if he was on Lasix, there’s a damn good chance he was already dealing with renal insufficiency. Which means, once again, potassium is absolutely contraindicated!

Nancy Lee said:Since I'm already here, I might as well ask about something from my recent discharge papers that just isn't adding up:
The scan clearly shows a pathological buildup of radiopharmaceuticals right in the area of that massive lesion on the left humerus.
The imaging shows an uneven distribution across the spine and ribs. There is a focal area of pathological radiopharmaceutical uptake—meaning a suspicious concentration—located at the posterior aspect of the 9th left rib.
The scans clearly show increased radiopharmaceutical uptake in both acromioclavicular joints, the coracoid processes of both scapulae, and both knees. Honestly, looking at the extent of it, we're almost certainly dealing with degenerative changes here.
I honestly don't follow any of this, and frankly, it sounds pretty terrifying. Could someone please walk me through this? I need a clear explanation.

There's no way he was just discharged without a full list of diagnoses and all those other medical details you didn't mention here.

Austin Stewart2 said:Just a quick thought to break up this heavy mood... my heart goes out to anyone who has lost someone close to them...
My mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer just over 20 years ago—she was only 34 at the time. It was stage three, she had everything removed surgically, and went through 12 rounds of chemo. Back then, we were basically sourcing medicine from overseas because nothing like the supplements they push today existed yet. Still, she fought tooth and nail to be ready for every single cycle; she was drinking goat milk, quail eggs, artichoke, kombucha, aloe vera... she can't even remember the half of what she forced herself to swallow. After finishing two years of chemotherapy, during a routine follow-up, they found cancer in her kidney. She had that removed too. Everything was fine until about ten years ago when she started bleeding; they found a tumor on her bladder. It was essentially "scraped" away, caused by the daily toll of cytostatics destroying her healthy cells along with the bad ones. Since she stopped those drugs, she’s been breathing easy and living fully. Her mindset was her biggest asset, and her faith carried her through it all. Now, my father has just finished his second round of chemo for colon cancer. He’s dealing with terrible nausea, but he just headed out for a walk. He isn't winning the mental battle quite like she did, but he's fighting his own way. He's taking aronia and beta-glucan... though three days ago, he had some bacon and sausage. Look, I'm not going to forbid him from eating. I just want him to eat. No matter how much this illness has hit us, or how quietly and sneakily cancer crept into our lives, our whole family has stood up and started fighting with everything we've got. We aren't backing down. People ask me about the prognosis, and I tell them I don't care. To me, the prognosis is simply getting up every day, surviving it, and being able to lie down in bed peacefully. Don't think for a second that I haven't read the statistics for Model X... I know exactly what they say. But we fight, and every single day survived is a victory. That's what I want to tell everyone who might be at the beginning, feeling lost or helpless... just listen to your loved one who is battling this, and fight alongside them. Because when it comes to the war against cancer, we all go into the trenches together.

Your mother is truly a miracle😲.🙂 Most likely, those other tumors were a direct consequence of the radiation from the ovarian cancer, especially the one on the bladder. She clearly possesses an incredibly strong will and a powerful immune system.

Quote:Listen,

Alex Hayes2 says: unfortunately my dad's condition is just getting worse. he went through 10 radiation sessions but things just took a sudden turn for the worst—his right arm has basically quit on him, and his right leg is next. after he got back, his forehead and the area around his ears were super burnt, looks like he spent a few hours under a brutal California sun—not sure if that's from the radiation? over the last few days, everything has been sliding downhill. he’s having more and more outbursts and barely sleeps at all. my mom actually had to call 911 last night just to get him settled. (he has lung cancer with brain metastases). does anyone have experience with this—how does it go from here? what should we be expecting? we were really hoping he’d recover from the radiation soon so he could move on to chemo for the lungs, but will they even bother with chemo when he's in this state (he's even on diapers now). mom is handling this alone; I make it over every other day, and it's getting harder and harder on her because she's completely sleep-deprived. I don't know what's ahead of us. up until now, I've held onto some hope, but now... it's just pure fear and dread.. tomorrow, if he's even up for it, he's seeing the oncologist. I'm not sure if they're going to keep him in the hospital or let him come home. as far as the lungs go, he coughs here and there and sweats a lot, but it isn't usually that bad. the hardest part is how little he can speak; he can't control the right side of his body and sometimes he just totally loses it, yelling and shouting. it's gut-wrenching to watch 😢

Hear-son, everything you're describing fits exactly with how this disease progresses. It was the same deal with my mom (bronchial cancer) that spread to her brain—that's why they start losing their grip, one minute they're fine, the next they're screaming. You have to try to understand them—they're in pain, they just can't tell us. If he's on morphine, that should help ease the physical pain. For those radiation burns, ask his doctor about using some aloe vera ointment—maybe something homemade or a local calendula oil (just don't put him in the sun after applying it!) but definitely check with the doc first. You guys need a ton of patience, both you and your mom. Someone needs to step in and relieve her so she can catch some sleep; she must be absolutely exhausted—this isn't easy... This doesn't necessarily mean a bad prognosis, it's just the ups and downs. Everyone fights their own battle—hang in there as long as you can... hang tough.

You absolutely cannot put anything on radiation burns, especially not powder. You shouldn't be applying any kind of makeup or lotions to them. Instead, they use this specific purple liquid—I can't recall the exact brand name off the top of my head—but the radiology technicians at places like Mayo Clinic know exactly what it is.

Angela Wright said:They apply this little bit of purple liquid—I can't quite recall the specific name right now—but the radiology techs will know exactly what I'm talking about.

gentian violet

vividsailor7 said:He was definitely discharged with diagnoses and therapies you didn't mention here.

My dad was sent home after being diagnosed with malignant lymphoma in his neck. He’s already had Taxol and is scheduled for radiation on his neck in three weeks.
The doctor mentioned the scintigraphy results looked fine, and we were discharged right after that. We got the paperwork at our house, and it basically just says what I wrote above. We can't get a hold of his doctor right now since she's traveling, so I'm asking you—or anyone who actually knows their stuff—to help me make sense of these scintigraphy findings.

Nancy Lee said:My father was discharged with a diagnosis of malignant lymphoma in his neck. He’s been prescribed Taxol and is scheduled to start radiation on his neck in three weeks.
The doctor mentioned that the scintigraphy results looked fine, and we were discharged shortly after. We received the paperwork at our home address, which contained what I’ve written to you all. Since we can't reach his doctor right now because he is traveling, I am asking you—or anyone with expertise—to please clarify these scintigraphy findings once more.

Greetings again. Since my mother underwent a scintigraphy some time ago due to suspected bone metastases, I will answer you directly. Perhaps this response will offer some hope and alleviate some of your anxiety. First, let me be clear: scintigraphy is not nearly as reliable as some people claim, and you will likely require additional imaging. Years ago, my mother was in a major car accident that resulted in numerous fractures, particularly in her pelvic region (twelve fractures in total). Now, over thirty years later, following a diagnosis of liver cancer, doctors suspected bone metastases due to high phosphatase levels. They initially performed X-rays of both shoulders because she was experiencing pain there, along with scans of her pelvis, hips, and knees. When those X-rays were reviewed, the physician insisted there were no metastases, attributing the issues instead to osteoporosis and old fractures. However, they sent her for a bone scintigraphy to check for radiopharmaceutical accumulation in the pelvis, thoracic spine, and ankle. For the ankle, they claimed it was degenerative, but for the other areas, they suggested metastases. She was referred for radiation (following a tumor board review), but she caught a stroke of luck when, right before the marking procedure, a doctor who wasn't part of the initial board asked if we had the X-rays. Upon reviewing the X-rays, she immediately stated my mother did not have metastases and ordered an MRI to confirm. The MRI proved her right. If she hadn't intervened, my mother would have undergone unnecessary radiation; the radiopharmaceutical was simply accumulating at the sites of her old injuries, and the spinal findings were merely degenerative. It is true that bone metastases typically appear in the shoulders, hips, pelvis, rebro, or spine, but there must be accompanying symptoms, and one must be extremely careful to rule out similar conditions. In your father's case, the radiopharmaceutical accumulated in the left shoulder, one rebro, the upper back (clavicle and scapula), and the knees. As previously noted, one area is certainly degenerative—essentially "wear and tear"—while the shoulder and rebro findings require further investigation. You should consider getting an MRI, which is quite reliable, or perhaps an X-ray combined with blood work. Where the tracer accumulates indicates that a process is occurring, but it is not necessarily malignant. This finding must be carefully verified and supplemented by other tests; as I mentioned, an MRI would be highly dependable. I apologize for being long-winded, but this is the only way to convey the experience. The only error made here was by the medical team, though in my mother's case, it was genuinely difficult to determine given her history of numerous old injuries and a deformed pelvis that left her disabled; anyone would have struggled. It should be much easier to determine the situation with your father. Best regards.

Adding my two cents here... My dad had colon cancer surgery three years ago and was clear at every checkup until about two and a half months ago. Things took a turn fast—he started getting these massive dizzy spells, collapsed, and ended up in the ER. That’s when they found out it had spread; he's got three tumors in his cerebellum, one in the cerebrum, and some in his lungs. Everything just went downhill from there.
He spent five weeks in the hospital, and for two of those, he couldn't even stand up. His motor skills tanked so hard he ended up in diapers. He managed a tiny recovery just long enough to get through five radiation sessions, and we were waiting about three weeks to see if he'd be mobile enough for chemo. But after the radiation, he crashed again, and he’s just getting worse by the day.
Now he’s on oral chemo. On top of a handful of pills, he was prescribed Medrol, which he absolutely cannot handle—it just makes him vomit. For the last two days, he hasn't eaten a thing, and now he's developed sores in his mouth.
I'm constantly checking in with his oncologist, who is actually decent enough to let me call him whenever things get rough. Honestly, you have to respect doctors like that, even if they're rare. 😢
What I really need is advice. I know he doesn't have much time left, but I want to know how to make him more comfortable. He hasn't eaten in two days, won't touch the chemo pills, and refuses everything except the dexamethasone and morphine for the pain.