Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Angela Wright, I can't thank you enough! I’m going to take everything you said to heart, do as much digging as I can, and sit down for a serious talk with my mom later tonight. I just hope God grants us all the strength we need to get through this; I truly hope that when the fight begins, I can provide my aunt with at least half the support you provided for your own mother.

It’s exactly like you said—you have to fight for every single day 🙂

Excerpt from the discharge summary😢
Mom was born in 1942

Diagnosis: Carcinoma (NSCLC) of the left lung lobe (C34.1)
Metastasis to the adrenal gland
Metastasis to the liver (C78.7)
Mediastinal lymph node metastasis (C77.1)
Bone metastasis (iliac and sacral bones) (C79.5)
Proximal femoral metaphysis fracture, left side
CT scan completed
Dislocation of the right sternoclavicular joint (S43.2)
Superficial femoral vein thrombosis (I80.1)

Can someone please "translate" this medical jargon for me? Is there any hope for a better tomorrow here?😢

Linda Morales66 said:here is what's in the discharge papers😢
mom was born in 1942

Diagnosis: Carcinoma (NSCLC) of the left lung lobe (C34.1)
Metastasis in the adrenal gland above the kidney
Metastasis in the liver (C78.7)
Mediastinal lymph node metastasis (C77.1)
Bone metastasis (iliac and sacral bones) (C79.5)
Proximal femoral metaphysis fracture, left side
CT scan performed
Sternoclavicular joint dislocation, right side (S43.2)
Superficial femoral vein thrombosis (I80.1)

Can someone please "translate" all this... is there any hope for a better tomorrow here??😢

Oh man, 😢
I already replied to your email, so I don't want to just repeat myself here
Hang in there

I’m honestly counting down the minutes until Dad gets home. Fingers crossed those lab results come back clear so they can discharge him this Wednesday after the doctors make their call. It’s been so rough on him—he’s spiraling into this deep depression, and he actually told Mom today that he feels like he's going to die in the hospital... he's just so worried about how we'll manage without him. Mom said he was crying, which is wild because he's never been the type to cry at all—not even once. We’re all heading over there now—Mom, my sister, and me—just to sit with him and try to talk things through, but he's barely eating or drinking anything. This whole leg situation has just crushed his spirit 😢. I just need these next three days to fly by; I think seeing his own house will finally give him that spark to start feeling better.....
We’re honestly at a loss for how to reach him. We keep telling him how much we love him and that we’re right by his side—reminding him that he’s more than just his physical limitations and that we need him home soon. He settles down for a second when we say that, but then it’s like he just stops listening or doesn't believe us
. Any advice on how to handle this? I’m terrified he won't pull through physically, even though he actually started showing signs of recovery
.

Chloe Gray5 said:I’m just counting down the minutes until Dad gets home. I'm praying those markers come back negative so he can be discharged this Wednesday after the medical board meeting. It's been so hard on him; he's spiraling into this deep depression. He told Mom today that he feels like he's going to die in the hospital and that he doesn't know how we'll manage without him. Mom said he actually cried—and Dad is the kind of man who has never shed a single tear in his entire life. We're all heading over there now—Mom, my sister, and me—just to sit with him and try to talk, but he’s barely eating or drinking anything. This whole thing with his legs has just crushed him 😢. I just need these next three days to fly by; I think he'll feel better once he's back home seeing that things are actually improving.....
We honestly have no clue how to reach him or make this easier. We keep telling him we love him, that we're right here, that a leg doesn't define who he is, and that we need him—that he'll be home soon. That calms him down for a second, but then it's like he isn't even listening or just doesn't believe us..
How do we even approach this? I'm terrified he won't recover physically, even though he was actually starting to show signs of progress...

Remind him about that soldier we saw who came back from Afghanistan—the one a drunk driver picked up off the road and left without both legs. That guy fought like a lion and accepted his reality like a true soldier. Life is unpredictable; people lose parts of themselves, sure, it's a tragedy, but he's still here, he's alive, and there is absolutely no reason why he can't live a high-quality life. Whatever happened is in the past; now, he needs to lock in on the future and getting back home. Bring a laptop or a smartphone and show him this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__mo1JXmi7U

I just found out my dad is heading in for surgery this Friday. I'm really hoping everything goes smoothly, both during the procedure itself and through the recovery process. 🙂

🙂🙂🙂I honestly feel like screaming, throwing my phone across the room, and fleeing to some deserted island far away from civilization!
I get it—being in a care facility is hard for Mom. But now she’s started calling me constantly (first call at 6:00 AM sharp) and obsessively counting everything out loud because she insists on dying at home. I truly understand her desire, I really do... but the reality is she's immobile, incontinent, mentally unstable, in constant pain, and on 24/7 medication. My dad is already reaching his breaking point; he’s desperate to bring her home to live with him (they're alone), but even he is struggling with blood pressure and heart issues from all the stress. He can barely manage himself as it is, so how on earth could he handle her? (??) I’m just trying to balance everything, but I am right on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I'm pregnant, and I am completely losing my mind. She was always the "General" of our household, and it's obvious Dad is reeling because the "routine and discipline" he lived by has been totally shattered—but I don't even know how to cope anymore. I'm tapped out.
I know what most of you are going to say: it would be best if he brought her home and did everything possible to be there for her. But let me be clear—he can't even take care of himself right now, let alone someone else. And while I know there are home health aides, they aren't enough since they're only there for an hour or two a day. What happens at night? What then? Given her entire diagnosis (as mentioned in a few posts above), how would that even work? On top of everything, she’s been prescribed Haldol (10mg in the morning and evening), but instead of calming her down, she just keeps arguing about everything. Dad takes it incredibly hard—he just can't seem to grasp that she's actually sick and this isn't something she can just snap out of—and he ends up in tears. Meanwhile, I'm just hovering between trying to stay sane and feeling like I've mentally checked out of reality entirely.
I've just had it. Maybe it's a crisis or something? Please don't misunderstand me; I might just sound selfish... (or maybe I actually am being selfish??!!)
😢😢😢😢

Linda Morales66 said:🙂🙂🙂I honestly feel like screaming, throwing my phone across the room, and just disappearing to some deserted island!!!
I totally get why Mom wants to be at home—but now she’s started calling me too (first call at 6 AM!) and counting everything up to 16 because she's desperate to die at home... and I really do understand that feeling... but the reality is she's immobile, incontinent, her mental state is a mess, she's in constant pain, and she's on 24/7 medication... my dad is already losing his mind over all this; he’s dying to bring her back home to live with them (they live alone), but even he's struggling with blood pressure and heart issues from the stress... he can barely manage himself as it is, so how on earth could he handle her?? ...I'm just trying to balance everything, but I am seriously hitting my breaking point—especially being pregnant and feeling completely unraveled right now.... She was always the "general" of the house, and it's obvious Dad is spiraling because that old "routine and regime" he lived by is totally shattered—but I don't even know how to deal with it anymore.. I just can't...
I know what most of you will say—that it’s best if he brings her home and tries his absolute best to be there for her—but look, he can't even take care of himself right now, let alone someone else... and yeah, I know there are home health aides, but that isn't enough since they're only there for an hour or two... what about during the night? What then? Given her diagnosis (which I mentioned above), how is that even possible?? Plus, she’s been prescribed Haldol, 10mg in the morning and at night, and instead of calming her down, she just keeps complaining constantly, which Dad takes really hard (he just can't seem to grasp that she's actually sick and this isn't just a phase!)... so he ends up crying... and I'm just stuck in the middle, mentally checked out...
I'm just completely overwhelmed... maybe it's just a crisis, who knows? Please don't judge me, I might sound selfish... (or maybe I actually am??!!)
😢😢 😢 😢

Mom is best off where she is. In the hospital, she gets everything she needs. Your dad wouldn't be able to handle caring for her on his own. It's hot out, she'd need her linens and clothes changed every single day, and the nurses already know how to do that through their training, especially since she's immobile. They know how to turn her and make sure she doesn't develop pressure sores. If she starts feeling bad, they're right there; if she's in pain, they just put something in her IV. They monitor her 24/7.

For example, my dad was discharged from the hospital way too early. He was only home for a week before he had to be rushed back because he was doing so poorly. Why? Because my mom and sister didn't have the knowledge or experience to look after him. He almost slipped into a coma and died; within seven days, the paramedics had to come five times to give him an IV because he was so dehydrated. We couldn't even get blood drawn at home until the seventh day when a home health nurse finally did it—his blood sugar was low and his labs were a disaster. It's a miracle he's alive. In the hospital, they watch all of that. My mom and sister didn't sleep a wink those seven days—constantly turning him, watching him, trying everything to make him better, but he just kept getting worse. Then the abdominal pains started because he hadn't eaten for so long, and once he finally started eating a little, the hospital could just give him meds via IV immediately. At home, they were totally helpless.

So, just do Mom a favor and make sure she gets the absolute best care possible right now. And honestly—now that my Dad is more conscious—he’s just over it; he wants to go home and has had enough of everything. It breaks our hearts seeing him so depressed and down, but we've accepted that being back home is what's actually best for him—it's easier for us to know she's okay there too. And listen, that isn't being selfish—this whole situation is just incredibly heavy, so please don't go thinking you're being selfish or whatever. Just hang in there and do your best; be there for Dad, but you've gotta look out for yourself and the baby, too. If things get overwhelming one day, just take a breather—I'm sure Mom would want you to prioritize yourself and the little one.

Linda Morales66, listen, I cared for my mom at home for two full years and four months. I had a visiting nurse helping out for maybe 45 minutes a day max, plus my dad stepping in during the afternoons, and my boyfriend literally sprinting home from work whenever she’d collapse because there was no way I could lift her by myself.

Sure, it sounds beautiful—the idea that someone facing a terminal diagnosis should spend their final days surrounded by familiar faces in the comfort of their own home. But that only works if you actually have the resources to pull it off. I was only 30, running on pure adrenaline, using every ounce of knowledge and strength I had just to scrape by. I barely managed to make it through, and I'm still paying the price physically and mentally for that sacrifice.

Under these specific circumstances, you simply cannot provide your mother with everything she needs. I am telling you this as an absolute fact.

Stop letting the "sentimental" crowd get in your head. This is an incredibly intimate decision, and nobody has the right to judge you. Everyone knows what’s best for themselves. There are people out there who technically have the means to care for a loved one at home, but they just don't have the stomach for it. And those people have every right to make that choice. Desires and capabilities are two very different things. Unfortunately, we want so many things in life—above all else, we want health—but life doesn't always follow our script.

Hang in there and keep a clear conscience, because you truly couldn't do any better than this. Just tell Mom you'll bring her home once she's recovered, since she can't exactly whip up dinner for Dad right now. Tell her stories; it’ll soothe her and help the time pass. Because of the treatment, her sense of time is warped anyway; she won't even realize how long she's been there. The priority is that she isn't in pain, that she's clean, fed, hydrated, and visited. You’re doing this more for your own sake than hers, honestly, depending on how much she can actually process reality right now.

Thanks so much for the understanding, the support, and everything else... if you were all here right now, I’d give you a huge hug😍
My dad has basically turned into a little kid; he’s become so insecure that he needs constant reassurance for every tiny thing and keeps calling me... I get it, I really do. His whole world has been flipped upside down and the routine he relied on is gone. It doesn't bother me that he calls me for every little thing, but I have to admit, it’s getting frustrating because I feel like a broken record, repeating the exact same things day after day. He goes through these phases where he finally seems to grasp Mom's illness, and then other times where he acts like he doesn't understand her condition at all, which leads to these incredibly draining situations (like what happened this morning)... In the end, we just have to talk and talk until things settle, but as soon as the drama starts again, it's just more empty repetition. Maybe I'm just being hypersensitive right now, but today I simply snapped. I am trying—I really am. I fully empathize with Mom, but I also understand Dad, and I'm acutely aware of the whole mess we're in.
I told Dad to tell Mom that once she recovers and can at least walk with the help of crutches or a walker, then we can talk about bringing her home. Because as she is now—immobile with that deep vein thrombosis in her leg (on top of everything else)—what's the point of even thinking about home? Not to mention she had a coronary bypass, and her labs are a mess—coma-level readings, high white blood cell count, and she's dehydrated because she won't drink properly, so she's on an IV... and don't even get me started on the food. Honestly, I highly doubt they'll even consider her for that first round of radiation.
The epilogue to today's drama: he actually went to visit her this afternoon (even though he was terrified to go—I mean, how did we get to this point?) and she was doing okay. Everything seemed fine; there wasn't even a hint of the morning meltdown when he was insisting on going back to his own house... You just have to weather these phases!!
And she got a "roommate" in her hospital room.
I'm too mentally exhausted to write much more, but I wanted to thank you all again and say that I finally caught my breath once things calmed down a bit... I'm just... I'm scared that this is unfortunately just the beginning of the long, painful road ahead...
Mom's mental state is 🙄and that's just one more complicating factor we have to deal with.
Damn this disease!!!😠

Honestly, it’s becoming emotionally draining to read through all these heavy, battle-worn posts every single time. Our own fight started just over a year ago, and my father-in-law has already undergone 11 rounds of chemotherapy. For those first nine sessions, he had to be hospitalized for five days straight to receive daily treatment, but now he only needs to go in for one day each month. Following his most recent CT scan, the news was nothing short of incredible—the sarcoma has shrunk again, and there are absolutely no metastases. He feels fantastic and is living a completely normal life, just like before. Since I work in animal rescue, I decided to bring home some little pups to care for until they find their forever homes, giving him a companion alongside his usual dog. He is genuinely thrilled to have something to look after again; there is something about those tiny, energetic creatures that just lifts the spirit. All in all, things are more than just good right now; it’s almost hard to believe how far we've come from those early days when he was nothing but skin and bones and was actually questioning whether he had the strength to keep fighting. Now, he’s reclaimed his old weight, his mobility, and most importantly, his smile. We are holding onto the hope that this positive trend continues for a very long time.
Sending strength and patience to everyone here; you all need it.

Kate Brooks2 said:Honestly, reading these heavy, battle-worn posts gets so hard sometimes. We started our own fight just over a year ago. My father-in-law has gone through 11 rounds of chemo so far. For those first nine sessions, he had to stay at the hospital for five days straight every single time to get his treatment, but now he only needs to go in for one day a month. After his last CT scan, the news was incredible—the sarcoma shrank again and there are no metastases. He feels amazing and is living life just like he always has. Since I work in animal rescue, I brought home some little pups that need care before they can be adopted, alongside his own dog. He’s absolutely thrilled to have that responsibility again; those tiny, happy creatures are just what he needed. Honestly, things are going better than we ever dared to hope. It’s hard to believe how far he's come from the beginning, when he was nothing but skin and bones and actually considering giving up the fight. Now, he’s got his weight back, his mobility, and most importantly, his smile. We’re just praying this trend continues for a long time.
Sending strength and patience to everyone here.

😍Man, this is such an inspiring read. It’s the perfect example of how you handle a diagnosis—you don't let it run your life; you take control of it. He kept moving forward, found a new purpose that fills him up, and is truly living life to the fullest.
With that kind of mindset, he has the best possible foundation for a long, healthy future!

My dad had a total turnaround too—honestly, he’s such an inspiration. He pulled through even when everyone said there was zero chance; he was pretty down for a few days, but since yesterday, it's like a whole new man! He’s actually talking to us, looking at us... he just accepted how things are and realized the only way forward is focusing on recovery.
The only thing bugging me is that they had a medical board meeting on Wednesday. They wouldn't give us the actual results (especially with those tumor markers worrying us), they just told my mom they were done with their part. They said he's still weak, so it's best to move him over to pulmonary so he can keep recovering before heading home. My folks actually pushed for him to go to a different ward instead, because after all that treatment in pulmonary, he basically lost his footing. They were supposed to move him today, but then the nurses told my mom they're still waiting on the vascular surgeon for the wound, plus the cardiologist and the oncologist 😕.
We’re totally lost. Mom thinks maybe it's because the hospital knows Dad is in this state because they dropped the ball, so now they're doing everything under the sun—necessary or not—just to cover their tracks. Like, they even tested him for hepatitis, for instance
. But hey, we don't know for sure; we really need to sit down and talk to the doctor.

I honestly don't know what to think anymore—it's just one worry after another.

Hello everyone.
I never imagined I would be posting on this thread one day, but unfortunately, here we are. I have been reading your posts for some time now, and every single time, I break down in tears and pain. I tell myself I won't do this anymore, but the time has come for me to speak up...
To be honest, I am not even sure why I feel this urge to share this with you. Perhaps it is because you are the only ones who can truly understand. You are going through similar things. You feel exactly how I feel.
My mother is gravely ill. Cancer, metastases... she is 65 years old and has never been sick before. Now, it is just constant shock, horror, and disbelief. We have tried chemotherapy, radiation, handfuls of painkillers, and plenty of alternative methods, faith, and love...
After the initial shock wore off, I gathered my strength and told her—and myself—that we have to fight. People overcome everything, even the most vicious diseases. I have spent countless hours and nights scouring the internet, reading piles of books, and talking to both doctors and alternative practitioners. All of this occupied my mind and gave me hope that she might actually recover. In truth, that hope is the only thing keeping me together. It is the only reason I can function at work and live a relatively normal life despite the terrifying stress I have endured for months since her diagnosis.
My father has become unstable. He cannot cope. He leans on me entirely, which leads to him picking fights with me, and I... I have no one to lean on.
She is feeling worse now. Everything is getting worse, and I cannot handle it. Even as I write this, trying to shape my thoughts, I am falling apart inside. My chest feels tight and I cry until I am exhausted. The thought of losing her is unbearable...
People around me try to console me, saying it is "normal" for parents to pass away, but to me, my whole world is collapsing.
I don't have a family. She is my family. She is my everything. She is my only support, the only person who always understood me and the only one I ever wanted to share everything with.
I cannot do this alone. I need help, but I live in a city where there is nowhere to turn for professional support.
I am not ready for this loss. How are you even supposed to prepare for the loss of the most important person in your life?! How do you survive? How do you help yourself? I am not suicidal, but there are truly days when I believe everything will only end when I am gone too...

vividcanyon13 said:Hey everyone!
I never imagined I’d be the one posting on this thread, but life has a way of forcing your hand. I’ve been lurking here for a while now, reading through everyone's stories, and honestly, every single post just breaks me. I find myself sitting there, completely falling apart, overwhelmed by the tears and the sheer pain of it all. I always tell myself, "No, I can't do this, I won't read anymore," but then reality hits, and I realize it's finally my turn to step up and add my own voice to this conversation.
Honestly, I don't even know why I feel this sudden urge to share this with you all. Maybe it’s just because you're the only ones who actually get it—you’re right there in the trenches with me, feeling exactly what I’m feeling.
My mother is fighting a brutal battle right now—cancer with metastases. She’s 65, and honestly, she’s always been the picture of health, so this whole thing hit us like a freight train. It’s just pure shock, terror, and total disbelief. We’re currently cycling through everything: chemotherapy, radiation, a massive cocktail of pain meds, and a heavy dose of alternative therapies, faith, and just plain old love.
Once the initial shock wore off, I finally pulled myself together and made a pact with both her and myself: we’re going to fight this. People overcome everything, even the most brutal diseases imaginable. I've spent endless hours scouring the internet, devouring stacks of books, and bouncing ideas between doctors and alternative practitioners. All of it has kept my mind occupied and fueled this hope that my mother will actually pull through. Honestly, that hope is the only thing keeping me from falling apart; it's the only reason I can still show up to work and try to live a semi-normal life despite the crushing stress I've been carrying for months since her cancer diagnosis.
My dad’s lost his footing, he’s completely overwhelmed, and now he’s leaning on me for everything—which just leads to us clashing constantly. And the worst part? I don't have anyone else to lean on myself.
She’s feeling worse, and honestly, it’s getting progressively harder for me to keep my head above water. Even now, just trying to put these thoughts into words, I feel like I'm falling apart. There's this crushing weight in my chest that won't let up, and I can't stop crying. The mere thought of losing her is just unbearable.
People around me keep trying to offer these hollow comforts, telling me it’s just the natural order of things—that parents passing away is a normal part of life. But honestly? It feels like my entire world is collapsing.
I don't have a family. She is my family—she is my everything, my only rock, and the one person who truly understood me and with whom I loved sharing absolutely everything.
I can't handle all of this on my own. I need help, and I'm stuck in a city where there isn't any professional support to be found.
I am just not ready for this loss. How are you even supposed to prepare for losing the most important person in your life?! How do you survive it? How do you actually help yourself through the wreckage? I’m not suicidal, but there are days when I truly feel like everything will only pass once I’m gone too.

There’s no magic recipe for this, and there isn't some savior coming to pull you out—you are the only one who can help yourself. Look, reality is what it is. You have to sit down, get quiet, and start organizing the chaos in your own head. You are exactly where you are right now, so you might as well make the absolute most of it. Your primary focus needs to be her. Make sure she isn't in pain, that she isn't hungry or thirsty, that she’s clean, and that she feels loved. That is quite literally everything you can do for her at this moment. As for yourself, find at least thirty minutes a day to just go for a walk. Force yourself to shift your focus elsewhere. It is absolutely vital that you don't hit a breaking point. When I had a dog, he was my forced motivation; I had to take him out, which meant I had to actually step outside and talk to people in the park.
When it comes to losing a parent, it’s a reality we all face. It’s part of life, plain and simple. Even though it hurts like hell and you can't even wrap your head around a world where they aren't there—mostly because you don't know any other way to live—the truth is that life keeps moving. You have to find a way to make that next chapter meaningful and actually worth living. But look, don't go spiraling about this right now. Don't dwell on it today. When that moment eventually arrives, you'll deal with it then. For now, just focus on breathing. And you really have to make sure your mother gets to live out whatever time she has left in peace, surrounded by nothing but love. Believe me, you have this strength inside you, and that’s what makes all the difference in the end. Once this is all over, having that strength will bring you an incredible sense of peace, which is honestly everything.
Hang in there

Angela Wright said:😍Man, this is honestly such a beautiful thing to read. It’s the perfect example of how you're supposed to handle a diagnosis—don't let it run your life; you run it. This person just kept moving forward, found a new passion that actually fulfills them, and is out there living life to the fullest.
With that kind of mindset, they've got a massive head start on staying this way for a long time to come.

I couldn't agree more.

Thank you for the response, dear Angela Wright, and thank you for always finding the time and a kind word for those who truly need it.
My primary struggle is precisely what you mentioned: I cannot shift my focus. I work with people, and far too often, clients arrive in tears with swollen eyes, and I find myself unable to concentrate on my duties. My boss has begun to take issue with this; he views me as unstable and overly sensitive, which is an undesirable trait in this profession right now.
In truth, I am reaching a breaking point. I suffer from bouts of choking sensations, I wake up sobbing in the middle of the night, and the nightmares are constant. I simply cannot relax or find time for myself when I feel perpetually suffocated and crushed by these waves...
I realize I need to find strength, but it isn't coming. In difficult times, motivation is vital, yet I have none.
Your words offer no false hope; they are grounded in reality. They sound like the words of someone who truly understands what I am going through, and for that, I thank you.

vividcanyon13 said:Thanks for responding, Angela Wright, and thank you for always making time to offer a kind word to those who really need it.
My biggest struggle is exactly what you pointed out—I just can't shift my focus. I work directly with people, and far too often, clients walk in with tear-streaked faces and swollen eyes, and I just lose all ability to concentrate on my job. My boss has started getting irritated by it; they think I'm unstable and overly sensitive, which is the last thing you want to be perceived as in this profession right now.
Honestly, I’m hitting a breaking point. I get these suffocating sensations, I wake up sobbing in the middle of the night, and the nightmares are constant. I can't relax, and I can't find any time for myself because I feel like I'm constantly being crushed by this overwhelming weight.
I know I need to dig deep and find some strength, but I just can't find it. When life gets this heavy, motivation is everything, and right now, I have zero.
Your words don't feel like empty platitudes; they feel incredibly grounded. It sounds like they come from someone who actually understands the hell I'm walking through, and for that, I am truly grateful.

Look, I’m no psychologist or psychiatrist, so I can’t claim to know exactly how things work 100%, and I can only speak from my own perspective. But in my experience, in 99% of those situations where everything looks hopeless and you're just trying to survive—even if there isn't necessarily an easy way out—it all comes down to a personal decision.
So, tell me: what would you actually want right now? What is something realistic that could actually take some of the pressure off?

Angela Wright said:What would you actually want right now? What could realistically make things easier for you at this moment?[/B]

I didn't come to this thread looking for some magic word to fix everything. I am just here to share my thoughts with people who are walking this path, or those like you who have already survived similar traumas.
I am fully aware of the reality here. I am doing everything within my power; I support her, I talk to her, I shower her with attention and love, and I spend almost all my free time by her side.
But I cannot take away that horrific pain. I cannot give her the quality of life she deserves for the time she has left.
And yes, I know that sounds selfish. But I cannot defeat the fear of the inevitable. Watching her suffer... that damn demon eats away at me more and more every day.
If I could, I would wake up from this nightmare. But that doesn't answer your question.😢

We aren't backing down anymore; we’re speaking candidly about a subject that had us all in tears just nine months ago, but now we finally understand the reality of it. Both my father-in-law and I realize that if he simply surrenders to the diagnosis like he did at the very beginning, nothing will improve—but if he fights to move forward, progress is actually possible. When his lung sarcoma was first discovered, it was roughly the size of a handball. It remains a complete mystery to everyone how it managed to grow to such an enormous size without him feeling any symptoms at all. After the initial surgery, where they were only able to remove a tiny fraction of the mass, my father-in-law completely broke down. He was convinced the diagnosis was a death sentence and that there was nothing left to do but wait for the end. I refused to accept that, pulled myself together, and started researching relentlessly. After undergoing two rounds of therapy, he has finally returned to life. I sourced everything I could find that might strengthen his system and help him endure the incredibly aggressive treatment cycles. We moved from one therapy to the next, and steadily, my father-in-law stopped struggling with his blood counts, his weight, or his appetite, and he didn't suffer those nasty side effects anymore. Now, after every three cycles, he goes in for a CT scan, and every single time, the sarcoma has shrunk. In total, it is 9.5 cm smaller, and there are no metastases. This gives all of us the strength to keep pushing and proves beyond a doubt that we are doing the right things.