Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Kimberly Wright said:Jesus, I just saw that young man Tom Vrban passed away...
It’s not like I was an expert on his life and work, but it always hits me like a ton of bricks when I hear someone died from cancer after they actually seemed to be making progress toward recovery. 😢

Tom had a brain tumor, not cancer. There is a massive biological difference in cell structure, which changes everything regarding how the disease behaves. Sadly, the specific type of tumor he was fighting offers virtually zero hope for survival right from the jump. My own mother lost her battle to that exact same kind of tumor.
That particular brain tumor is rare, but it seems like there’s been a sudden spike in cases lately across the country—at least, that’s what Dr. Shantek over at Mayo Clinic tells me. It probably has everything to do with cell phones. People, please, just use hands-free sets, and stick to the wired ones if you can.
I find it absolutely jarring how fast things spiraled for Tom in that final stage. He barely even finished his chemo. 😢

What’s even the point of surgery, chemo, and radiation if everyone just dies within five years anyway?

😢

Melissa Morgan67 said:What's even the point of surgery, chemo, or radiation if everyone just dies within five years anyway?

😢

Because five years is a significant amount of time. Many patients can still lead incredibly meaningful and high-quality lives while fighting aggressive diseases. For some, unfortunately, the outcome isn't as hopeful. But shouldn't they at least be given the chance to try?

I know
😢
I’m just feeling a little depressed right now... 😢 ...but one thing is certain: once you get cancer, you're going to die... sooner or later. I just can't wrap my head around that reality. I'm sorry... there's no way to make it feel better. It's been destroying me for a long time now. Not a single day goes by where I don't think about the end.
😢

I can't even describe the look on my mom's face when she walked into my room a moment ago and told me that Tom Vrban had passed away.

Melissa Morgan67 said:I know
😢
I’m just feeling a bit depressed right now... 😢 ... but one thing is certain once you get cancer: you’re going to die... sooner or later... I just can't come to terms with that fact... I'm sorry... there's no chance things will get better... it has been destroying me for a long time... there isn't a single day where I don't think about the end....
😢

I can't even describe the look on my mother's face when she walked into my room a moment ago and told me that Tom Vrban had passed away.

I believe this isn't easy for you, because living with those realizations, anxieties, and constant anticipations is truly restless... I speak from my own experience.
However, I cannot agree with one point—no, it doesn't automatically mean death is imminent... so many people have successfully navigated this and reclaimed their lives today. Neither they nor their loved ones gave up.
For even a single saved, smiling face, every therapy is worth attempting.

Thanks for the quick reply
I'm going to try to clear my head of these dark thoughts tonight

Honestly, I regret not studying medicine. I always hear stories about people who end up living an extra ten years or more

My mom is heading in for some abdominal scans this week... I'm just praying everything turns out okay...


Send angels to watch over her
for she is the soul of my soul
protect her from evil, Lord, when I cannot
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFPebe7Tgg0

Melissa Morgan67 said:what’s even the point of surgery, chemo, or radiation if everyone just dies within five years anyway???

😢

Not everyone dies within five years. Where on earth did you get that idea?
The difference between life and death comes down to the specific type of tumor, the diagnosis, the stage, how aggressive the disease is, and all that other stuff.

There is a massive gulf between some rare tumors that don't even have real treatments yet and more common cases like breast cancer.

You have to fight for every single extra day you can get. Life is a gift. If my mom had been granted just a few more years, she might have seen my wedding or met her first great-grandchild. That was her entire reason for living.
Remember, it isn't about the quantity of life, it's about the quality. I would sign up right now to die earlier if it meant being happy and fulfilled. To hell with living to 100 if you spend it alone, bitter, and unloved.
We're all just passing through anyway.

Melissa Morgan67 said:thanks for the quick reply
I'll try to clear these dark thoughts from my head tonight

Honestly, I regret not studying medicine. I always hear stories about people who live an extra ten years or more because of it

My mom is going in for some abdominal scans this week... please let everything be okay....

Do try to push those heavy thoughts aside, as difficult as that may be... especially when you're with your mother.
I spent five years acting like a local hero brimming with optimism in front of my father... even while I was falling apart inside.
And I don't regret a single second of it, because it was clear that I was providing him with the strength he was starting to lose. That was the whole point. To see him at peace. I mattered less than that.
Keeping my fingers crossed for both you and your wonderful mother!

thanks everyone

Melissa Morgan67 said:Thanks for the quick reply.
I'm going to try to clear my head of these dark thoughts tonight.

To be honest, I regret not studying medicine. I constantly hear stories about people living an extra ten years or more because of it.

My mother is going in for abdominal imaging this week... I'm praying everything comes back normal.


Send angels to guard her own
for she is the soul of my soul
protect her from evil, God, when I cannot.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFPebe7Tgg0

Be glad you didn't study medicine. If you had, you'd see the grim reality instead of being optimistic. Sometimes ignorance is a mercy. While the statistics are bleak, recoveries do happen for certain conditions. Unfortunately, for most illnesses, the goal of therapy is simply to turn them into chronic conditions—but even that is progress. My father gained two years of high-quality life through a transplant, living almost as well as anyone else. That was a significant victory.

Everyone is an individual; there are always outliers who defy the Gaussian curve. I believe mental fortitude and the sheer will to live play a massive role here. It is remarkable what the human mind can achieve.🙂 I still believe my father lasted as long as he did because he was crazy enough—in the best sense—to actually want to live, embracing life despite the illness and the uncertainty.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed for your mother.👍 I know it's difficult, but optimism is a choice you make, and it carries much more weight than people realize.👍

Angela Wright said:Tom was battling a brain tumor, not carcinoma. There is a massive distinction in cellular structure, which dictates both the nature and the progression of the disease. Unfortunately, the specific type of tumor he faced from the very beginning offers absolutely no hope for survival. My own mother passed away from that exact same type of tumor.
Incidentally, that unfortunate brain tumor is quite rare, though it seems to have seen a recent surge in prevalence across the country—or so Dr. Shante at Mayo Clinic tells me. It likely has absolutely nothing to do with cell phones. People, please, just use hands-free sets, preferably the wired ones.
I find it truly shocking how rapidly that final stage unfolded for Tom. He barely even finished his chemo treatments. 😢

I don't recall that young man. 😢
I assume he had GBM. It always saddens me to read that someone has lost their battle with a brain tumor, regardless of the specific type. 😢
I catch myself wondering when my turn will come. I know it isn't healthy to dwell on such things, but whenever I see, hear, or read that most people simply don't survive, I feel an overwhelming sense of despair. 😢
As for cell phones, I used to spend an hour on calls back in the day, but now I avoid them and use my phone as minimally as possible.
I've actually taught most of the people I associate with to just call my landline instead.

feralridge3 said:I don't remember that guy. 😢
I assume he had a GBM. It always hits me hard whenever I read about someone losing their fight against a brain tumor, regardless of the specific type. 😢
It makes me wonder when my own turn comes. I know dwelling on it isn't healthy, but seeing or hearing stories where most people just don't make it—it honestly just pulls me under. 😢
As for my phone, I used to be able to talk for an hour straight, but now I dodge it and barely use it at all.
Most of the people I hang out with have learned they need to call my landline instead.

From what I heard, he did have GBM. 😢
Still, the way he passed away within a month seems incredibly sudden. It feels to me like there might have been some complications during his treatment. A GBM usually follows a predictable, progressive path—it’s like a slow erosion where one center after another fails, part by part, until you lose control and eventually a vital organ shuts down. People who reach the stage of immobility, much like my mother did, frequently succumb to things like pulmonary embolisms or infections from bedsores. It’s a drawn-out process.
That doesn't seem to be what happened here, since he was doing fine just a month ago.

Honey, don't beat yourself up over "when" it will be your turn. First off, nobody alive can know that, and it could happen at any moment whether you're sick or not; second, you aren't facing that kind of diagnosis.

Given everything you've been through, you have every reason to stay positive and optimistic right now.

feralridge3 said:I don't really recall that guy. 😢
I assume he was dealing with a GBM. It always leaves me feeling a bit heavy in the chest when I read about someone losing their fight against a brain tumor, regardless of the specific diagnosis. 😢
I can't help but wonder when my own turn comes, if that makes sense? I know dwelling on it isn't exactly the healthiest way to live, but whenever I see or hear news that most people just don't make it through, I find myself sinking a little deeper into that quiet, heavy sort of melancholy. 😢

🙂

Angela Wright said:If my mom could have just had a few more years, maybe she would have seen my wedding or met my first grandchild. That was really all she lived for.

I’ve been wanting to add something to this for a while now...

When I first found out Mom was sick, my very first thought—if I were to ever have children—was that they wouldn't get the chance to know her.🙂 🙂

If someone had told me back then that she might hang on for another five years, I wouldn't have hesitated for a second; honestly, even if they promised three, I would have taken it. Anything is better than nothing at all, right?

I remember leaving the hospital just before she went in for surgery, and I found myself praying to God, asking Him to just let her live long enough to see her grandkids...

because, well... she’d actually have to live quite a long time to see those grandchildren grow up, wouldn't she?😁

Oh God, this news about that boy is just devastating... I feel for him more than words can say.
Today, I’ve been stuck in this heavy headspace all day long. I just feel so sad and hollow, and I can't seem to shake it with any kind of positive thought. All these fears are just haunting me today—they're getting under my skin. I want to cry, I want to scream... It's just hard. I wanted to write more, but I can't. My head is a total mess right now.

you know how it is, Maria Lee54...
it’s perfectly normal to have days where everything just feels off, after all, we aren't robots, right? 🙂

the real trick is remembering that the good days far outnumber these occasional rough patches 😉
besides, they’ve already got the Sun calling for a comeback starting Wednesday 🙂

Maria Lee54 said:Oh my God, this news about that boy is just devastating... I feel for him beyond words.
I've been stuck in this dark headspace all day. Just feeling miserable and pathetic, and honestly, I can't shake it with any kind of positive thought. It’s constant anxiety today—everything is getting under my skin. I want to scream, I want to cry... it's heavy. I tried to write more, but I can't. My brain is just a total mess right now.

Honestly, it helps a little knowing I'm not the only one spiraling like this today. I've done nothing but cry all day, and I don't even know why.
And after reading about that poor kid? I nearly burst into tears right there at my desk at work. 😢

Maria Lee54, thank you so much for the reply and all your support! We just got back from New York City last week, and honestly, things turned out better than we ever could have hoped... He had an angiography done, and it turns out it's a congenital anomaly involving the veins rather than the arteries—which would have been the real danger for a rupture—and there’s no direct connection to the brain. So, there’s nothing to surgically fix; they told us the chance of a vein rupture is incredibly low. He just has to learn how to live with it—avoiding high altitudes, skipping flights, keeping activity levels steady, and... well, we were all just in such shock and suspense waiting for these results! Thank God it’s finally over!

And I still can't believe your surgery was postponed... I know this waiting game is absolutely soul-crushing... please, just stay persistent and hang in there :-) You have to let me know how it goes, okay? I'll be thinking of you... health really is everything, isn't it? It's funny how you don't truly realize that until you're actually facing a crisis.

Sending love to everyone—don't give up! p u s a

Angela Wright said:From what I’ve heard, he had GB 😢
Still, his passing within a single month feels far too sudden to me. It seems to me there might have been some complications during his treatment. GB follows a specific progression where things deteriorate gradually—one center at a time, part by part—until you eventually lose function, often culminating in the failure of a vital organ. People who reach the stage of immobility, much like my mother did, frequently pass away from pulmonary embolisms, gangrene caused by pressure sores, or other infections. It’s a long process.
This doesn't seem to be the case here, given that he was doing fine just a month ago.

Honey, please don't break your head over these questions when it's your turn to face the music. Firstly, no living soul can know for sure, and it could happen at any time regardless of whether one is ill. Secondly, you don't even carry that specific diagnosis.

Given everything you've been through, you have every reason right now to stay positive and optimistic.

When you look at that typical downward spiral toward the end, a sudden departure almost feels like winning the lottery. 🤷
Personally, I would much rather be taken out suddenly than endure a slow struggle for a year or two.
I know my PhD isn't quite like that, but there's this little worm in my brain that occasionally crawls around and stirs up fear.

I have my own methods for diverting my attention from dark thoughts. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. When the gloom starts to take hold, I grab a rag and start scrubbing corners of my apartment that I don't normally touch every week. I crank up the radio, sing along (my neighbors haven't complained yet 😍), and clean. Not only do I forget about the darkness, but the place ends up cleaner—I'd go so far as to say obsessively clean 🙂
and people actually invite me over because they see I'm in high spirits. 😍

I consider myself an optimist, though I can't maintain that peak level all the time.
Whenever I feel that lethargy setting in, I remember what my oncologist told me. When I asked him how many patients with my specific pathological diagnosis had passed away, he said that some survived and some didn't, but that I would survive because I'm a fighter. 🙂

Kimberly Wright said:It’s actually quite comforting to realize that the good days significantly outnumber the bad ones. 😉
And they’ve already announced that we can expect some sunshine starting this Wednesday. 🙂

That’s true enough, but I can’t help but feel like those bad days tend to leave a much deeper scar. 🤷
I don't know how it works for everyone else, but for me, those dark days can hit at any time—they might just last for a few hours, or they could swallow up the entire day. That said, I’ve found that if I actually manage to get a decent night's sleep, everything feels a little more manageable.
There was this one time where I just completely lost my will to live—not in a dramatic, suicidal way, but more like a total, crushing apathy that lasted nearly a month. I was utterly numb. Honestly, if someone had told me I needed to move just an inch to the left to avoid certain death, I wouldn't have even bothered to budge. Everything just felt entirely meaningless. If I recall correctly, it happened right around the third or fourth cycle of my Temodal treatment.