Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Hi, I’m starting this story with a massive lump in my throat... Yesterday, my grandfather's blood work results finally came back. He had to get his blood drawn because of some pain in his right side, but of course, nobody thought anything serious was going on at first. He went in for the blood test and some kind of imaging on his abdomen, though I'm not entirely sure which specific scan it was... During the imaging, they mentioned his liver looked slightly enlarged, but even then, the doctors didn't suspect much. They just gave him some pills and told him to come back for more blood work if things didn't improve. Since he wasn't feeling any better, he went back for the tests, and that's when the shock hit... the second set of results was a hundred times worse than the first. I don't know all the technical details, and honestly, no one is telling me much since I'm not even fifteen yet... It’s just terrible living through this uncertainty. They are suspecting liver cancer. My grandfather has lost his appetite, he's starting to feel pain around his chest, he can't have regular bowel movements, and he's lost weight... he looks different now, almost wasted, and his abdomen is swelling, which makes us worry that it might have spread. He has an appointment with the doctor this Monday to go over everything, and while nothing is officially confirmed as cancer yet, everything seems to point in that direction. I hate this waiting game, and I hate the very thought of them looking for CANCER 😢 My grandfather is already 77, and I know he's lived a full life, but I just can't wrap my head around this situation... Please, if anyone has advice, or could just tell me that it's something else, something curable... my whole world feels like it's falling apart. I love my grandfather so much and I just don't want to lose him 😢

ruggedwolf12 said:Hi, I’m starting this story with a massive lump in my throat. My grandfather just got his blood work back yesterday. He had to get blood drawn because he was having pains in his right side. Of course, nobody suspected anything serious at first. He went in to have the blood taken and had some imaging done on that part of his abdomen (I'm not exactly sure which scan it was). During the imaging, they noted his liver was slightly enlarged, but again, the doctors didn't think much of it. They gave him some pills and told him to come back for more blood work if things didn't improve. Since things didn't improve, he went back for the tests. Then came the shock—the results were way worse; the second set of labs was a hundred times worse than the first. I don't know all the specific details and nobody is telling me anything (I'm not even fifteen yet). Living through this is horrific. They suspect liver cancer. Grandfather has lost his appetite, he's starting to have chest pains, he can't have bowel movements, he's lost weight, and his body looks distorted with a bloated stomach—which makes me think the cancer has spread. He goes to the doctor for an exam on Monday (it hasn't been officially confirmed as cancer yet, but everything points that way). I hate this waiting game, and I hate the thought of them looking for CANCER 😢 Grandfather is already 77 and I know he's lived a full life, but I just can't accept this situation. Please, give me some advice, tell me it's something else, something curable; my whole world is falling apart. I love my grandfather so much and I don't want to lose him 😢

Oh, honey... 😢
My guess is that if it is CA, then it's likely colon cancer, which is most common at that age, and it has metastasized to the liver.
Just wait for the official results. I know this waiting period is pure torture, but try to look at this situation as a sort of life lesson. You are going to face many, many situations like this in your lifetime. Mature people find a way to face them and carry on. Try to be that kind of person, too, and don't let yourself become negative in front of your grandfather or your parents.

Angela Wright said:Oh, honey... 😢
I know this waiting game is absolutely brutal, but maybe try to look at this whole ordeal as a sort of life lesson. You're going to face moments like this more than once in your lifetime, and mature people just find a way to face them and carry on...

I realize these moments are inevitable, and I know that sometimes, we just have to face death. Everything feels so heavy right now because I lost my grandfather when I was only seven years old. He passed away from Alzheimer's, and I’ve always carried this nagging feeling that I never truly got to say a proper goodbye to him. That's why I'm so terrified of history repeating itself now. Thank you, Angela, for your kind words... I'll try to stay positive. Honestly, I just pray that if it is cancer, my grandfather can get through it with as little pain as possible and won't have to suffer too much.😢

ruggedwolf12 said:I know these situations happen, and I know death is just part of life. It’s all hitting me so hard because I lost my grandfather when I was only seven. He passed away from Alzheimer's. I just have this lingering feeling that I never really got to say a proper goodbye to him. That’s why I’m terrified this is going to happen all over again. Thank you, Angela Wright, for your kind words. I’ll try to stay positive. Honestly, I’m just praying that if this is indeed cancer, my grandfather can get through it with minimal pain and won't have to suffer much. 😢

It’s always too soon for goodbyes, and we’re always left feeling like there were things left unsaid. That’s just how life works. If this is cancer, and if he truly is in the terminal stage, there is actually a lot you can do to ensure his remaining time is spent with as little suffering as possible. You can help your family immensely by researching palliative care for cancer patients online. There are plenty of us here with firsthand experience, so don't hesitate to ask—we'll answer whatever questions come up.

I still remember when my grandfather passed. He was the main figure in my life, the one who truly shaped my character. He was an incredible man. I lived with him and my grandmother during my first six years, and they were essentially my first parents. I was about three years older than you, and the situation felt very similar, though my grandfather struggled with several other health issues over a long period before everything finally caught up with him. It was devastating, but looking back, losing him was a lesson—a way of preparing me for the loss of my own parents. When I eventually lost my mother, everything I went through with my grandparents helped me carry that much heavier burden. Life has a way of training us for the harder hits.

ironsailor22 said:Azzura, please accept my deepest condolences. A death this sudden adds an entirely different layer of shock to all the existing pain, grief, and sorrow.
My mother fought this for three years, spending months dying in intense pain, so I was braced every single day for the inevitable reality of her passing. But even now, four months later, I still can't wrap my head around the fact that she’s gone. I catch myself still waiting for her to walk through the door.

Thank you, ironsailor22.
I honestly don't know what to say... when someone has three years, they have time to prepare for the end, but they also have to witness the entire agony of it. In contrast, the incredibly short window in which my mother left us was actually a mercy for her. They warned us the pain would be horrific, but it wasn't. She actually told me she wasn't in pain just moments before she stopped breathing. I brought her home, and she passed away right there in her own bed.
It’s surreal. Life is just bizarre like that. One moment you’re here, making plans, fighting battles, getting angry, stressing over work, people, or whatever situation comes your way... and then tomorrow, you're sick, and suddenly you're just gone.

ruggedwolf12 dear, give him as much love as you feel you need to give. At the end of the day, regardless of when the end comes, the only thing that truly matters is showing sincere love and being there for your loved ones with an open heart.

I didn't get to say nearly enough to my mom. We weren't particularly close during those final years. I always held onto this idea that eventually—I used to calculate it, thinking that in her advanced age—there would come a specific moment where we’d finally say everything we needed to say. But that moment never arrived. However, I realized something else: the words and the stories were ultimately unnecessary. I was right there by her side, and I know that the silence, a simple touch, and a look said everything that needed to be said.

Angela Wright said:It’s always too early for goodbyes, isn't it? It feels like we never quite manage to say everything we intended to say to one another... that's just the way life works sometimes. If this really is cancer, and if he truly has reached the terminal stage, there is still so much that can be done to ensure grandfather spends his remaining time with as little suffering as possible. You can actually do a lot to support your family just by looking into palliative care options online... there are plenty of us here who have walked this path before, so please feel free to ask anything at all whenever you need to...

Thank you, Angela. I just felt like I had to share this with someone, to talk through it out loud... I'll let you all know more about what's happening on Monday. I'm desperately trying to convince myself it isn't cancer, but given the test results and the symptoms, everything seems to point in that direction 😢

Betty Alvarez47 said:ruggedwolf12 dear, just give him all the love you feel is necessary... at the end of the day, regardless of when that end might come, the only thing that truly matters is showing that you love him sincerely and being there for your loved ones with an open heart.

Thank you, Betty Alvarez47. I intend to be right there by his side, and it won't just be me, but my entire family too... we are all going to do our best together to make sure he can experience these final moments in peace, knowing that we are with him every step of the way and that he is deeply loved.🙂

I am uncertain whether this is the appropriate forum for such an inquiry. A few weeks ago, my grandmother passed away. While a definitive diagnosis was never officially reached, she had been battling stomach cancer three years prior, leading her physician to suspect intestinal metastases, though no specific tests could confirm the theory.
In any case, she had been consuming a nutritional supplement called Ensure (if I recall correctly), and we have a few containers left over. I would like to donate them to someone who might actually make use of them, though I must admit I am quite unsure if this is strictly intended for stomach cancer patients or if it serves as a general supplement for anyone facing illness.

Given that it is a liquid supplement, I wouldn't dream of attempting to send it through the mail.

slymaker16 said:I'm not entirely sure if this is the right forum for this question. My grandmother passed away a few weeks ago. They never reached a definitive diagnosis, but since she dealt with stomach cancer three years ago, her doctor suspects it was intestinal metastasis, though they couldn't confirm it through any specific testing.
Basically, she was drinking this supplement called Ensure (I can't be 100% certain of the name), and we have a few containers left over. I’d love to give them to someone who actually needs them, assuming it isn't strictly reserved for stomach cancer patients and is more for general illness.

Since it's a liquid supplement, I'm a bit hesitant about mailing it.

Think of Ensure as a meal replacement designed for people who, for whatever reason, just can't sit down to a regular meal. One serving acts as a full meal replacement, hitting all the necessary marks for proteins, minerals, vitamins, and carbs.
And don't worry about the shipping; you can mail it without any issues. Nothing is going to happen to the drink during transit.

It’s been quite a while since I last posted, but I wanted to share something about my son's father. It has been such an agonizing journey for him, especially since he still hasn't received a definitive diagnosis (he had his first surgery when he was just eleven months old).
From what I can gather, the doctors believe it's bile duct cancer that has spread to his liver, stomach, and duodenum. He underwent a second surgery back in mid-May to create a bypass from his stomach to his intestines because the metastasis was pressing against his stomach, making it impossible for him to eat. Even now, following the procedure, he can't keep anything down—not even water or Ensure. At this stage, he's only receiving IV fluids.
I know there isn't much more they can do, given how rare and aggressive this specific type of cancer is, but it breaks my heart to see him suffering like this. I truly hate this disease. 😢

Sarah Wells23 said:I know there isn't much more we can do since that specific type of cancer is so rare and aggressive, but it just breaks my heart to see him suffering like this. I truly hate this disease. 😢

I hate this horrible sickness too, 🙂
I miss my mom so incredibly much. I find myself dreaming about her almost every single night, and I'm constantly haunted by the thought of how much she had to endure 🙂 🙂 it really eats away at me, seeing how much she actually wanted to live, and how deeply heartbroken she was when she realized there just wasn't any way to help her or save her 🙂

Just wanted to send some warmth to everyone here—and I’m joining the ranks alongside my dad. He just found out about his metastases, and we’ve been in the thick of it for three months now, fighting both the mental toll and the constant battles with his doctors. Wishing us all a massive amount of strength as we navigate these journeys.

Kimberly Wright Asks:
I can’t stand this sickness either—it's absolutely miserable. 🙂
I miss my mother terribly. She’s in my dreams almost every night—it's becoming a routine. I can't shake this constant, nagging thought about everything she had to endure. How much more could one person possibly take? 🙂 🙂 It’s devastating. You have to wonder—how much did she truly want to hold on? It’s just crushing to think about that level of despair—that realization that there was simply no way out and no one could reach her. 🙂

This will haunt me for as long as I live. All those lofty stories about how "no one should die hungry, thirsty, or in pain" are nothing more than empty rhetoric—our healthcare system does absolutely nothing to actually help people. If we have reached a point where individuals are effectively cut off from any meaningful medical care or support, why not just legalize euthanasia? But then again, perhaps that’s asking too much from a system this decayed and hypocritical.

Back again with more bad news... It’s been a year since we found out Mom has colon cancer, and after surviving four different surgeries and two types of chemo, the latest CT scan just hit us hard: there are metastases in her liver, lungs, and kidneys (she’s actually been on radiation patches for the last two weeks). Even through those four cycles of Folfiri, the cancer kept spreading

ironsailor22 said:I suppose that’s something that will just follow me around for the rest of my life, won't it? All those grand, sweeping narratives about how no one should ever have to face hunger, thirst, or unbearable pain... honestly, they feel like little more than empty rhetoric, don't they? It’s easy to talk about such ideals when you aren't the one actually living through them, but when you look at the reality of things, you start to wonder if these promises are anything more than just hollow words floating in the air. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Our healthcare system seems to be doing absolutely nothing to actually step up and help them.

Unfortunately, I suppose it’s a yes. 😢
I don't think I'll ever be able to look back and regret the fact that my mother had to endure such an absolute hell.
It’s a strange thing, isn't it? How you can be right in the thick of it, living through something truly horrific, and yet you don't even realize the sheer scale of the ugliness unfolding around you. When you're submerged in that kind of darkness, suffering just becomes part of the scenery—it becomes your baseline, your everyday reality. You stop questioning it because how could you? It’s only when life finally settles back into some semblance of "normal" that you look back and realize that what you were enduring wasn't normal at all. It was an aberration. Honestly, it’s the kind of weight no person should ever have to carry.

Robert Grant84 said:So, here I am again, back with more bad news. It’s been exactly a year since we first found out Mom was dealing with colon cancer, and honestly, looking back at everything we've endured, it feels like we've lived a lifetime in those twelve months. We've navigated four different surgeries and cycled through two separate types of chemotherapy, hoping we were finally gaining some ground. But the latest CT scan just hit us like a ton of bricks: the cancer has spread to her liver, lungs, and kidneys. She’s actually been under radiation treatment for the last two weeks, too. It’s just one of those heavy realizations when you see that despite going through four full cycles of Folfiri, the metastases have continued to move forward. Is there ever a moment where you feel like you're actually winning, or does it just feel like you're constantly rearranging deck chairs on a sinking ship?

I'm truly sorry to hear things are going that way. It’s heavy, isn't it? I can't help but wonder, though—is there any actual room to explore a third combination of chemo, or have they pretty much exhausted the options on the table?

Does anyone have advice on how I can help my dad mentally? He’s spiraling right now—even though he hasn't actually sat down with an oncologist yet, nor have we. We’re trying our best to get him in front of a doctor, but they just keep bouncing us from one hospital to another, making things difficult at every turn. Honestly, I’m terrified we won't even make it to treatment, and he’s already so emotionally fragile. It feels like everyone else visiting him is just speeding up his decline—it’s like these visits are just a way for people to say their goodbyes prematurely. And we haven't even had a real conversation with a specialist yet. Maybe this is the end, but I refuse to give up without a fight—I just don't know how to motivate him to fight, too. How do I make him realize we're in this together and he isn't alone?
Has anyone here used native propolis before? Is it okay to take it before consulting with the oncologist, and if so, what's the dosage?
P.S. We don't even have the full picture of where the metastases are yet. There's some in his shoulder and in the lining near his lungs. He had the primary tumor removed about nine years ago.
Thanks for any advice you can offer.

Karen Torres42 said:Does anyone have any advice—any real advice—on how to lift my father's spirits? He’s fallen into a deep hole, even though none of the oncologists have actually sat down to talk with him or us yet. We’re trying to reach a doctor, but we just get bounced from one hospital to another; there's always some bureaucratic hurdle. I'm terrified we won't even make it to treatment, and he's already so mentally fragile. I get this feeling that others around him are just contributing to his exhaustion—as if all these visits are merely a way to say goodbye before the end. And we haven't even had a real conversation with a specialist. Maybe this is the end, but I refuse to give up without a fight—I just don't know how to force him to fight. How do I make him realize he isn't alone in this struggle?
Has anyone used native propolis? Can he take it before he gets official advice from the oncologist, and if so, for how long?
P.S. We don't even know the full extent of the metastases yet. There is some in his shoulder and near the lung lining. He had the primary tumor removed nine years ago.
Thanks for any advice.

Regarding native propolis—you don't need an oncologist's permission for that. It's something anyone can take, healthy or not, since it supports the entire system. My mother used it for a while to help her cope with chemo, though she eventually stopped when things took a turn for the worse and it felt futile.
As for his mental state—don't expect much help from the doctors there. You'll have to be the one to motivate him through sheer willpower and positive energy. I know it's an uphill battle, but you have to try.

Karen Torres42, honestly, you might want to consider reaching out to a professional counselor. At the very least, they could point you toward some resources that might actually help both you and your family navigate these incredibly difficult moments.
I went through something remarkably similar when my mother was passing away. I was just as terrified for her, if not more, for my younger sister—constantly worrying about how she would cope with losing our mom.
In the end, everything moved so incredibly fast. She passed away just four days after being discharged from the hospital. It all happened so abruptly that I didn't even have time to get her paperwork sorted at the oncology ward, let alone seek out psychological support. 😢

That said, please try talking to your family doctor. They might be able to provide some guidance or refer you to someone who can. I am truly wishing you a great deal of strength right now. 🙂

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Is there any chance they could try a third chemo combination?"

Yeah, he'll be starting something else in about ten days—assuming he makes it that far... He couldn't quite remember the name of the drug. It's basically one day of chemo via IV, then ten days at home taking some kind of liquid medication, followed by a week-long break, repeating that for six cycles total...

Robert Grant84 said:Yeah, she’ll be getting some kind of treatment, but maybe not for another ten days—if she makes it that far—and honestly, my dad couldn't even recall the specific name of the medication. It seems like one day she's at the clinic for an infusion, then she spends about ten days at home sipping on some liquid formula, followed by a week-long break, and they just keep cycling through those six rounds like that.

It really makes you wonder, doesn't it, just how much the human body can endure before it reaches its limit? I'm keeping everything crossed that your mom pulls through this successfully and makes it through all six of those upcoming cycles. 🙂