Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Honestly, reading through everyone's posts here just makes me want to break down and cry...
My mother has been battling illness for as long as I can remember.
Back in 1998, she had a tumor in her right breast and went through surgery; at first glance, everything seemed fine, almost perfect, you know? But then, almost immediately, the dominoes started falling—she developed diabetes, high blood pressure, osteoporosis, arthritis, atherosclerosis... it was just one thing after another.
Then came 2005, when she underwent surgery for cancer in her left breast, and it was a miracle she even made it out of that operating room alive.
She actually flatlined three separate times on the table; they had to resuscitate her over and over again.
But somehow, against all odds, she pulled through that too.
Just when we thought the worst was behind us, it turns out the real nightmare was only just beginning...
Following that, she was hit with soft tissue sarcoma, bone cancer, and cancer in her liver, gallbladder, lungs, and more.
She’s been fighting this uphill battle for four years now.
Her spinal vertebrae are practically eaten away! She doesn't even have two or three full vertebrae left.
The doctors are completely baffled by how her body functions, yet they won't even provide her with a wheelchair to help conserve what little energy she has left in this life...
Every single physician tells us she is a phenomenon—that nobody should have survived a condition this severe—but they still have no solutions for her state.
And she isn't even an elderly woman; she was born in '58.
What else am I even supposed to say?
For instance, she was scheduled for chemotherapy today, but her platelet count is sitting at 62, when it really needs to be at least 100; last week was the same story—she was set for chemo, but her platelets were only at 80.
It feels like there is no improvement, only a steady, downward slide.
Am I losing my mother?
Do I just have to accept that the end is near? 🤷 🙂🙂🙂
Please forgive the rambling, long-winded post, but I simply don't know how to help her...
I sit there watching her die in agony; she would scream if she could, but she refuses to because she doesn't want us children to suffer.
Even now, she's trying to act tough, can you believe that? 😲
It's enough to drive a person insane, truly. 🙂🙂

Ana, I am so incredibly sorry. Your mom is a total warrior. It’s devastating that her condition is terminal, but please don't assume that means she's leaving you tomorrow. The way she's handling this—and the support you all are giving her—is everything. There might be more battles ahead to extend her time, but if she eventually gets tired and decides to let go, try to respect that. No matter how much grit we have, we aren't made of stone. I lost a dear friend from an online community about five years ago after she fought cancer for thirteen years. She was just like your mother—a straight-up phenomenon. She lived her life fully, walking and breathing deep, even though half her intestines were gone and her lungs were riddled with metastases. Her only real fear was making sure her affairs were settled before she passed. To me, and to everyone who knew her, she was a massive source of inspiration. That was truly her purpose in this life.

Dana Thomas6 said:She took one whole box of Ondantor (10 pills) and felt like a brand new person, but once she switched over to Zofran—which isn't hard to find since we all know they're basically the same thing—it just wasn't cutting it. She’s still feeling pretty nauseous, so we figured Ondantor really was the winner for her and started hunting around to see if we could track more down.
Thanks for getting back to me, we'll definitely look into it some more.

I should probably mention that it happens quite a bit where someone goes through these treatments and suddenly the exact same med doesn't hit the mark like it did the first time.
Even though, on paper, they're identical drugs, people genuinely "feel" a difference when they're switching between two different brands of the same generic medication produced by different companies.
It might also be worth playing around with the timing between when the Ondantor is administered and when the chemo actually hits, especially considering she’s a bit older now 🤷
At the end of the day, if the nausea is "manageable" and she isn't actually throwing up, it probably makes sense to just stick with whatever version of Ondantor is on hand if that "better" one isn't easily available right now.

Does anyone here have any firsthand experience dealing with Triple Negative Breast Cancer, specifically Grade 3? 😢 It’s been staged at 2A, but looking at those histology results... man, I honestly feel like they couldn't have picked a worse description if they tried 😢

My mother has finally been discharged to recover at home after her surgery... she’s describing this bizarre sensation of an internal chill—almost like a deep, creeping coldness—accompanied by tingling all over her body. It comes in waves, lasting anywhere from five to ten minutes at a time; she says it feels as if her very veins are freezing up. Now, she's left wondering what on earth could be causing this. Is it the underlying illness? Could it be some lingering effect of the procedure itself? She did require a blood transfusion during the process, and the surgery lasted about three hours—could we be looking at some sort of delayed shock?
Aside from that, she’s still running a slight fever (around 103°F), though she’s scheduled to finish another week of antibiotics. She’s also dealing with intense night sweats, though I suppose that was something she struggled with even before the operation took place.
Has anyone here experienced anything remotely similar to this?

I think it’s perfectly normal; you were essentially redlining the engine, so you need some downtime to recover.

Quick question... does anyone know the incidence rate for breast cancer in older women—specifically around 80?
I’m asking because my mother—she's 80 now—has found some lumps, so she needs to go in for a screening...
(Honestly, I feel like I'm about to lose my mind—forgive the bluntness—but between my sister, her father—whose situation is currently a complete unknown—and now my mother, not to mention my own kidney issues... it's all hitting at once within a two-month window 🙂 I’m half tempted to just send everything via private message and disappear into the woods so no one can find me...)

I am really hoping someone can help me make sense of all this, because I feel like I’m about to lose my mind. Earlier this year, I went in for a gynecological exam—honestly, it was mostly because I’d been dealing with a bladder infection for two months straight—but I figured I might as well get a Pap smear and a general checkup just in case that persistent irritation was actually linked to something gynecological.
In those 15 or 20 minutes I spent in the doctor's office, my entire life flipped upside down. I found out I had a "tenant" living inside me: a cyst about 4 inches in diameter. As it turned out, it wasn't just a simple cyst; it was a malignant ovarian tumor.
I was admitted to the hospital, where they ran a battery of tests, though they didn't do an ultrasound or the tumor marker bloodwork since I’d already had those done right before admission.
My CA-125 was at 550, though my other tumor markers looked okay.
The ultrasound showed a multilocular cystic mass, a retroverted uterus, an endometrial thickness of about 3mm, and a blood flow through the tumor stalk of 0.70.
Along with those results, I had a colonoscopy (which showed some inflammation but was otherwise fine), a cystoscopy (clear, no signs of tumor in the bladder), and a CT scan. The CT showed expansive masses on the right ovary exceeding 4 inches, but everything else—lungs, kidneys, liver, etc.—looked normal. My blood work was fine too, aside from some anemia; my liver enzymes were slightly low, but the doctor mentioned that should normalize once I get my nutrition back on track.
Once the testing was wrapped up, I went into surgery.

Right after the operation, while I was still in the recovery room, I was getting very vague information. They told me they had removed everything: both ovaries, the uterus, the fallopian tubes, and the cervix. They didn't tell me the initial rapid pathology report was malignant; I only realized it was ovarian carcinoma (on the right side) later when I read the surgical protocol. Regarding the left side, they didn't specify anything other than it was enlarged and cystic, so they removed that along with the uterus, which apparently had a 1.5-inch fibroid. I didn't realize my cervix had been removed until I was discharged, eight days after getting my stitches out and having a follow-up. Interestingly, none of the ultrasounds—not the regular one nor the color Doppler—ever picked up that fibroid. My Pap smear came back clear later on.

To get to the point: how is it possible that a tumor the size of a tennis ball (according to the CT, ultrasound, and cystoscopy) suddenly turns into something the size of a handball or even a soccer ball by the time the surgeon actually opens me up? How could the CT or the ultrasound have missed the true scale of this mass?

Two weeks after being discharged, I received this official diagnosis, and I am completely lost.

Specifically:

Dx: Ovarian cancer, Stage II
Pathology: Cystadenocarcinoma, papillary mucinous, GI type

Post-op findings: The right ovary was roughly the size of a handball (my gynecologist actually described it as a soccer ball), with irregular walls and adhesion to the pelvic peritoneum. However, the cytological wash of the abdomen showed no malignant cells.
According to the pathology, both ovaries were enlarged, measuring about 6 inches in diameter, with a cystic appearance.
The cervix, uterus, and omentum showed no presence of tumors.
The oncology board has recommended adjuvant chemotherapy using Carboplatin and Paclitaxel. I need to redo my blood work and CA-125 levels.

My question is: why was I assigned Stage II if the cancer was limited to the ovaries (or both, though it's unclear about the left one since they only noted it was enlarged and cystic)? The bladder, uterus, cervix, intestines, omentum, liver, stomach, lungs, and the abdominal wash were all negative for malignant cells.
My regular gynecologist, who reviewed these results with me, mentioned that there seems to be a discrepancy in the pathology report they sent over—that it doesn't seem complete and the diagnosis doesn't quite align with the clinical findings. She suggested I demand an explanation from the surgeon, as he likely has the full, finalized report.
I’m trying to wrap my head around what "Stage II" actually implies. From what I’ve been digging up online, it seems to have something to do with how the cancer affects the organs within the small pelvis and whether it's spreading there. Honestly, I feel completely lost, so if anyone could walk me through this in plain English, I would truly appreciate the help.

Also, I have these pathology results regarding the tumor, but I’m struggling to interpret them. Does anyone know what kind of tumor this indicates? Specifically, what does "GI" mean here—is it possible it’s meant to be G1?

Thanks so much for any insight you can share.

nimblepanther14 said:Quick question... what’s the actual incidence rate for breast cancer in older women, say around 80 years old?
My mom has some lumps (she's 80), so she’s gotta go in for testing..
(Honestly, I'm about to lose my mind—forgive the language—between my sister, my girlfriend's dad, and now my mother, plus my own kidney issues... it's all hitting at once within a two-month window. 🙂 Part of me just wants to send everything via DM and disappear so nobody can find me.)

Unfortunately, it isn't rare, but keep in mind that not every lump turns out to be malignant. Try not to spiral; stressing out like this won't change the outcome, it just makes everything feel heavier. I know exactly how that sinking feeling washes over you—I've been living through it non-stop since 2005. Life just happens, but you have to dig your heels in and stay strong!

Rebecca Phillips25,
Go see Dr. Miller and ask for a referral for a repeat pathology review to get a second opinion. The pathology department at the hospital where you had your surgery will give you the glass slides containing the tissue samples on the flip side. Take those to a different hospital for the repeat pathology—you could even send them to a major research clinic out of state. Whatever you do, don't include your old lab reports with them. Try to get this done ASAP, ideally before you start any treatment.

Honestly, the whole situation feels off to me too. Usually, if a tumor gets as big as a handball, it’s actually benign because the ovaries typically fail before anything can grow that large. In your case, the stage is so early that they're already moving you straight to adjuvant therapy.

Thanks so much for getting back to me.

My mother is currently about two weeks out from an incredibly intensive surgery—we're talking removal of the ovaries, uterus, a section of the bowel, glands, the peritoneum... the whole works. She’s already started diving into all sorts of supplements to try and bolster her system—flaxseed oil, beet juice, blueberries, aronia berries, then some blended mushrooms and apricot kernels... plus green tea and Vitamin C. It’s all been thoroughly researched, of course, but I can't help but wonder—is it actually too soon to be introducing all this after such a massive, grueling procedure?

ruggedmarlin2 said:Thanks a ton for the reply.

Look, my mom is about two weeks out from a massive surgery—we're talking total hysterectomy, removal of ovaries, part of her bowel, lymph nodes, the peritoneum, the whole works. Now she’s started diving headfirst into all these supplements to "boost her system." We've got flaxseed oil, beet juice, blueberries, aronia berries, some kind of ground mushroom powder, apricot kernels, green tea, Vitamin C... you name it. I've double-checked everything, but honestly, I'm staring at this list wondering: is it actually too soon to be throwing all this at her body after a trauma that heavy?

I don’t know what kind of mushrooms you’re talking about, but I can tell you one thing for certain: if you’ve been looking into crushed apricot kernels, you’re asking the wrong people in all the wrong places. Those things are incredibly toxic. They contain cyanide, which is basically a death sentence for your liver. You need your liver to be in peak condition just to survive the chemo, and messing around with that stuff is a recipe for disaster.
Watch your back and be incredibly careful about what you buy and who you’re buying it from. These scammers are absolute pros at spinning elaborate fairy tales wrapped in fancy medical jargon—they'll throw fake "patient testimonials" and bogus "studies" at you just to close the deal. Don't fall for it. Use Google, run independent checks, and verify everything. Don't let a desperate hope for some kind of miracle cure cloud your judgment and lead you straight into a trap. As for those encapsulated supplements, don't go mixing five different things at once. Stick to two or three max, and stay consistent with them from day one.

Angela Wright said:Unfortunately, it’s not exactly a rare occurrence—though, mind you, not every lump turns out to be malignant. Try not to let the anxiety get the best of you; spiraling just makes everything feel heavier. I know that weight all too well—I've been living with that constant underlying dread since 2005, without much of a break—but it happens, and you just have to dig your heels in and stay strong!

Thanks... and believe me, I'm trying to hold my own, but there are moments when it all just feels like too much to carry..

Angela Wright said:I have no idea what fungi you're referring to, but I can tell you this—with absolute certainty—that if you're looking into crushed apricot kernels, you've likely asked the wrong people in all the wrong places. They are incredibly toxic; they contain cyanide, which specifically targets the liver. And let's be real, your liver needs to be in peak condition just to survive the chemotherapy.
Be extremely careful about where you get your information and who you trust. There are plenty of charlatans out there—absolute masters at wrapping up fairy tales in fancy medical jargon, fake letters from "recovered" patients, or pseudo-scientific studies. Please, Google everything. Fact-check every single claim. Don't let the desperate hope for some kind of miracle cloud your judgment. As for those encapsulated supplements? Don't take more than two or three at once, and try to stick to a consistent routine from the very start.

I appreciate the response... truly. But keep in mind, all of this advice comes from a woman who has been fighting cancer for four years and has essentially experimented with every possible avenue herself. Still, I couldn't help but wonder—was it perhaps too soon to consider those bowel surgeries?

Rebecca Phillips25 said:Listen, I am seriously about to lose my mind here. I need someone—anyone—to help me make sense of this because I am on the verge of a total meltdown. Back in February, I went in for a gynecological exam. To be honest, it wasn't even primarily for gyno issues; I had been dealing with this absolutely relentless bladder infection that had been dragging me through the wringer for two straight months. But I thought to myself, "Hey, why not just get a Pap smear and a full checkup while I'm at it?" I figured maybe there was some connection between this nagging bladder issue and my reproductive health that I was missing. I wanted to rule out the possibility that they were linked.
So, here we go.
Diagnosis: Stage II ovarian cancer.
I just got the pathology results back on that PhD CIS adenocarcinoma papillare mucinosum GI, and honestly, I am absolutely livid at how complicated this all feels. It’s one thing to deal with the uncertainty, but seeing these technical terms thrown around like confetti is enough to make anyone lose their mind. It’s a mess. A complete, clinical mess. You spend days staring at the ceiling waiting for news, and then they hand you a string of medical jargon that sounds more like an incantation than a diagnosis. How are we supposed to process this? One minute you're fine, and the next, you're wading through a sea of "mucinosum" and "papillare" nonsense. It’s exhausting. It’s infuriating. It feels like they’re speaking a different language just to keep us in the dark.
I have a question. Why on earth was I given a Stage II diagnosis if the cancer was only located in my ovaries—or even both of them? It makes zero sense to me. They didn't provide any specific details regarding the second part of that classification either; they just noted that there was some enlargement and a cystic appearance. Everything else—my bladder, uterus, cervix, intestines, omentum, liver, stomach, lungs, and even the abdominal cytology—came back completely clear with no malignant cells found. So, what gives?
Thanks for the reply.

There is just so much ambiguity here, and frankly, it’s infuriating. You can try to hide behind all the complicated formulas and technical jargon you want, but let's be real: none of it actually clears things up. It's all just noise.
I’m telling you right now: get a second opinion at a major medical center like Mayo Clinic or Johns Hopkins. Don't just take one doctor's word for it.

ruggedmarlin2 said:Thanks a million for the response!

My mom is almost two weeks out from her surgery—they had to remove her ovaries, uterus, part of her bowel, glands, the peritoneum, the whole works—and now she’s suddenly decided she’s a wellness guru. She’s started diving headfirst into all these "superfood" supplements to "strengthen her system." We’re talking flaxseed oil, beet juice, blueberries, aronia berries... you name it, she's trying it. Then you’ve got some moldy mushrooms and apricot pits tossed into the mix. Just great.Green tea, Vitamin C... yeah, we’ve all heard the drill. It’s all "proven" and "scientifically backed," but honestly? I’m sitting here wondering if it’s actually too soon to be loading up on all that stuff right after such a brutal surgery. Is it even worth it this early in the recovery process?

It’s just too damn early—from birth all the way to death. It's premature.

ruggedmarlin2 said:Thanks for the input... but honestly, all this advice comes from a woman who's been fighting cancer for four years and thinks she's seen it all. I'm just worried that maybe it's not too early to look into those bowel surgeries...

Look, just because someone has been in the ring for a few years doesn't make them a medical expert, nor does it mean they have the final word on everything. My advice? Use your own head and stick to information you've personally vetted and verified.

Just wanted to give an update for anyone following our journey: Mom is heading into surgery tomorrow. It all started this past Sunday when she had a nasty fall in the bathroom—hit her head against the tub and ended up breaking her arm. Thank God the head injury wasn't anything serious, but the break itself is pretty gruesome. To make matters worse, it’s her left arm, which is where she's been dealing with that lymph node issue, and that arm has been incredibly swollen for about eight years now.
I’d be so grateful if anyone reading this could keep her in your thoughts and pray that she pulls through safely...
Honestly, I’m terrified that we might be facing the moment where we have to say goodbye to her...
Her name is Ana
Please, if you can, just send some prayers her way 😢😢😢😢😢🙂🙂

Angela Wright said:Rebecca Phillips25,
go see your OB/GYN and ask for a referral to have the pathology re-evaluated for a second opinion. The pathology lab at the hospital where you had your surgery should give you the tissue slides on loan. You can take those to another hospital for a re-evaluation of the pathology, or even send them to a specialist clinic out of state. Just make sure you don't include any of the old reports with the new request. Try to get this done as soon as possible—ideally before you start treatment.

To be honest, some of this feels strange to me too. Usually, if a tumor gets to the size of a handball, it’s considered benign because ovarian issues tend to become life-threatening before a mass can grow that large. In your case, the stage is almost early enough that they are moving straight to adjuvant therapy.

Thanks for the reply.
The thing is, I have no idea how to pull this off. How am I supposed to get them to hand over my tissue slides for a second opinion and give me a referral for a re-test when they wouldn't even let me look at half my medical records or let me make copies? When my father asked the doctor and the head nurse for the paperwork the day before we were discharged, they told us, "No problem, you'll get everything." But once discharge day actually rolled around, suddenly they were refusing to give it to us.
I barely managed to get the urology and colonoscopy results, and even then, it was only because they told me to check back with them after surgery for follow-ups. When I asked why I couldn't just get copies of the CT scans and other reports, they basically told me they don't release that information to anyone.🤷 All the documents I actually have were mailed to my house—just the discharge summary from gynecology and the radiology and oncology reports containing the pathology.
Everything on these papers is so vague; I honestly don't even know how I would summarize it "in short strokes." Everything I know and everything I wrote down, I read while I was still in the hospital waiting for doctors to make their rounds. They used to leave the files on the bed, so I’d sneakily read what they wrote, and I even managed to read one part while walking to different departments for tests—I actually hid in a waiting room for a bit just so I could flip through a stack of papers. And whenever I tried to ask questions, or when my family members did, we were just told that nothing is known yet and we have to wait for the pathology report. Well, now the pathology report is finally here, and I'm still completely in the dark.
If I had known they wouldn't give me my documentation after surgery, I would have taken photos of everything with my phone, but I didn't think to do that.
So how am I supposed to go back there and demand my tissue slides for a second opinion when they won't even give me my own full medical file?🤷
Who would I even go to? The hospital administrator?

Could someone explain what Stage II ovarian carcinoma actually means? Specifically, the spread to the small pelvis? What does that imply regarding which organs are involved? From what I understand and what I read in the surgical protocol, the tumor was adhered to the parietal peritoneum (I hope I got that term right). I assume that refers to the lining of the abdomen, which was removed, and the abdominal washings showed no malignant cells. Is it possible it was labeled Stage II simply because the tumor was stuck to that peritoneum? I mention this because no other spread was found elsewhere (uterus, omentum, cervix, lungs, liver, stomach, intestines, etc.).

Everything I've written here, I also shared with my brother-in-law. He's an internist and a GP practicing in Germany (my husband's sister translated everything since he doesn't speak German, and she's been living and working there as a nurse for years), and both of them are totally baffled. They can't make sense of any of it.

Boeing, send them a cease and desist letter. Honestly, it’s better if you have an attorney handle it—have them include a brief note about the legal penalties they face if they refuse to hand over your documentation. You’ll get those papers the very same day; I know people who have dealt with this exact situation.
Regardless, go there and demand those glass vials, no matter what happens. Make a scene. Threaten them with a lawsuit, call the local news, contact the police. You have rights, so make them look up the regulations in the legal codes—they are legally obligated to comply. Don't you dare leave that building until you get exactly what you came for; nobody can stop you.
Which hospital were you at, please?

Those samples are your top priority because your entire treatment plan depends on them.

Benjamin Diaz50 said:Just wanted to give an update for anyone wondering—my mom is going in for surgery tomorrow. She had a nasty fall in the bathroom this past Sunday, hit her head on the tub, and broke her arm. Thank God she’s okay regarding the head injury, but the break in her arm is pretty bad. To make matters worse, it happened on her left arm, which has been dealing with a swollen lymph node for about eight years now.
I’m asking anyone reading this to please keep her in your prayers... I just want her to pull through this safely...
I am honestly terrified that we might lose her...
Her name is Anne
Please, I'm begging you, pray for her 😢😢😢😢😢🙂🙂

The most important thing right now is for you to stay calm. Mom is in great hands with the doctors and Alice is going to be just fine, you'll see. Stay strong, honey—be the daughter she's proud of.