Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Nathan Bailey said:Hey everyone!

Does anyone know where I can pick up a hospital bed at a decent price?
Thanks.

Private assisted living facilities often have extra beds sitting in storage that they’ll rent out for around $300$133 a month. That’s what they suggested to us over at the Hospice. We actually got lucky because the owner of one of those facilities is a neighbor who owed my old man a favor, so she paid us back by letting us borrow a bed for free.

Hey everyone,

Like I mentioned in an earlier post, my mom is battling breast cancer. She’s had surgery, finished six rounds of chemo (the last one was back on August 4th), and she just started Herceptin—she actually got her second dose today.

So, here's the thing. Her regular doctor wasn't in today, so she ended up seeing some other guy. When she casually asked about when she should have follow-up tests for the cancer, he just started scribbling a ton of referrals without even glancing at her medical history. But honestly, that's not even the main issue.
She went ahead and did all those tests today, and they found some lumps on her neck and a pretty scarred-up liver. The doctor who did the exam said it’s probably just side effects from the chemo, even though she wrapped up chemo less than a month and a half ago. Apparently, a lot of people deal with this after chemo...

It really worried me, though. I don't know, I didn't feel like the doctor sounded super confident about it, which was confirmed when she scheduled another follow-up for September to see what’s going on with the neck and the liver.

I'm wondering if anyone here knows anything about this... is it actually possible that this is just the chemo catching up to her... or maybe something else?

I also heard that the first major follow-up usually isn't for about a year... so doing all this today felt really early for her. Maybe it really is just the chemo and her body hasn't fully cleared everything out yet. I don't know, just guessing... I'm really hoping for the best.

If you have any experience with this, please let me know....🙂

Amy Jones20 said:Greetings to everyone...

As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, my mother is currently battling breast cancer. She has already undergone surgery and completed six rounds of chemotherapy—the most recent session was on August 4th—and she has now transitioned to Herceptin treatments, having just received her second dose today...

Well, here we go again. My mother didn't see her usual doctor today; instead, she was met by someone else entirely. During their conversation, she simply asked—purely for informational purposes, mind you—when she would need to undergo certain follow-up tests regarding her condition. Without even glancing at her medical history, the man immediately started scribbling out a mountain of referrals... But then again, that isn't really the issue...
She managed to get through all those examinations today, and among other findings, they discovered some nodules on her neck and a somewhat scarred, essentially damaged liver... The doctor who performed the exam suggested that this is most likely just a lingering consequence of the chemo, even though she actually finished her last treatment nearly a month and a half ago. Apparently, so many people experience this as a side effect of chemotherapy...

It left me feeling somewhat unsettled, as I couldn't help but sense that things weren't exactly on solid ground... a suspicion that was only reinforced by what she went and ordered again during her ninth month, just to see what was actually happening with that spot on her neck and the situation with her liver...

I find myself wondering if anyone here might possess some insight regarding this matter... specifically, whether it is truly possible that this is a direct consequence of chemotherapy... or, heaven forbid, something else entirely...

I’ve heard that the standard follow-up appointment usually doesn't happen until about a year later... which makes today feel incredibly premature for Mom, so perhaps this is actually the definitive answer... maybe her system just hasn't fully cleared itself out yet. I don't know, I'm merely speculating... and I can only hope for the best...

Any shared experiences would be most welcome...🙂

Greetings...
Unfortunately, I am in no position to comment on how chemotherapy might impact liver function or the detection of specific cell abnormalities... All I can share is that my mother had her first follow-up appointment within thirty days of completing treatment—which is standard procedure, as if any abnormal cells were detected, they would immediately initiate a new cycle without delay. Following that initial checkup, the doctors confirmed there were no remaining cancer cells, so her next scheduled monitoring won't be for another four months... During this first year, she is required to undergo evaluations every four months, after which the frequency should taper off to every six months for a duration of approximately two years...

I certainly hope someone provides you with a more thorough and meaningful response than this, though I suppose any level of screening is beneficial for the body... it ensures nothing is left entirely to chance and allows for the earliest possible detection of malignant cells, assuming there are even any left following the prescribed treatment...

I am hopeful, along with you, that everything will turn out alright... Hang in there...

Hey there, my fellow warriors!!!!
It’s been five whole weeks—five!—since I last checked in, so here I am, finally venting!!?? A little seasonal bug hit me hard and just wouldn't let up:-( I ended up with sepsis that they couldn't even pinpoint via lab tests, which basically kept me sidelined for over a month. But hey, I’m not just going to roll over, haha! After all that time, they finally found a nasty abscess near my psoas muscle (that abdominal muscle that makes me hunch over) which had to be surgically removed, though we were stuck debating the best way to go about it. So, yeah, I spent my time bouncing from one hospital to another whenever there was any good news :-) My surgeon actually ran some follow-up scans first (an abdominal CT), and it turns out the mass is shrinking—so they aren't going to cut me open just yet because there's a decent chance it might just resolve on its own. Naturally, I practically bolted out of there the second I could... finally back to my own bathroom.... my own bed... and don't even get me started on the food..:-).
I hope you guys are all doing okay and staying strong... I'm going to try and catch up on everything I missed tomorrow, I'm just a bit wiped out...
Warm wishes from Grace Fowler

Grace Fowler said:Greetings, my dear comrades!!!!
After an exhausting five weeks, I am finally back, though there isn't much to report... I was struck by a minor storm that refused to pass, resulting in a bout of sepsis that doctors simply couldn't identify bacteriologically, which kept me under their thumb for five weeks straight. But I am not one to surrender easily, ha, ha, ha... after quite some time, we finally discovered a purulent abscess near the psoas muscle (that abdominal muscle responsible for my constant cramping), which required surgical intervention, though there was significant indecision regarding the best approach. So, I found myself being shuttled from one hospital to another whenever good news arrived :-) My surgeon eventually opted for follow-up scans first (an abdominal CT), which suggests the collection is shrinking; he decided against immediate cutting because there is a strong possibility it might just resolve on its own. Naturally, I practically "flew" out of there the moment I could... finally, my own bathroom... my own bed... and don't even get me started on the food... :-).
I hope you all are doing well and staying brave... I will try to catch up on the pages I missed tomorrow, as I am feeling a bit weary...
Warm regards from Dina

It brought me immense joy to see your name among the last people to check in! And then, this post! Despite all the setbacks and the decidedly unpleasant stretches spent in various hospitals, you remain our fighter—the very reason we find strength, the one who stands ready for anything!

Now that you are home, now that you are in your own space, you can—and indeed, you must—rest!

Warmest regards; continue to be our light—a brave fighter with a bright spirit!👍

Grace Fowler said:Hello there, my dear comrades in arms!!!!
After a grueling five weeks, I’m finally resurfacing—though what is there even to say!? A little storm hit me and just wouldn't let up; I ended up with sepsis that doctors couldn't even pin down bacteriologically, leaving me stuck in limbo for five whole weeks. But I'm not about to just roll over, ha! After quite a while, we finally discovered a purulent abscess near the psoas muscle (that abdominal muscle that makes me hunch over), which required surgical intervention. However, deciding on the best approach was a bit of a saga. It felt like playing musical chairs, moving from one hospital to another every time someone had "good news." :-) My surgeon decided to run some follow-up tests first (an abdominal CT scan), which shows the collection is actually shrinking. He’s decided against cutting me open right this second because there's a solid chance it might just resolve itself. Naturally, I made my "great escape" home immediately... I finally have my own bathroom... my own bed... and don't even get me started on the food back there... :-).
I hope you all are doing well and staying strong... I'll try to catch up on all the pages I missed tomorrow; I'm still a bit wiped out...
Warmest regards, Dina

You are incredibly brave, I truly admire you.
Hang in there, we are all rooting for you.
Pusaaaaaaaaa

I just realized tonight that there really ought to be a dedicated forum for situations like this. I guess I should thank IT and all this modern technological progress. I’m asking for help because there are simply too many pages to read through, and frankly, I’ve been surrounded by nothing but sadness for months now. My mother has undergone surgery twice for bladder cancer. Right now, she’s dealing with those bags we have to stick to her abdomen, with a catheter running from one bag to another. What I need to know is if there is an actual surgical procedure available to create a direct connection—a catheter from the abdomen straight to the urine bag. I know this sounds incomprehensible to some, but those of you going through similar struggles will understand. At least, I hope so. To make matters worse, my mother has diabetes, which complicates everything. Her latest results are good, though; there are no more signs of tumor cells. Now that her life isn't immediately at risk, my entire focus has shifted to anything that might make her daily life easier. When that first part of the bag peels off, she ends up soaked because it constantly leaks internally. On top of that, her surgical wound is healing terribly; there’s a hole in it so large that even after two rounds of stitches, you could practically drop a kiwi in it. It’s inhumane. Thank you in advance for any guidance or help you can provide. I wish strength to everyone out there facing their own battles.

Hey everyone. My mom is battling liver cancer. She was discharged from the hospital about two months ago,
and the doctors basically told us to just give her something for the pain because it’s too late for any real treatment.
Please, if you have any advice or suggestions on how we can help her fight this...
Any kind of guidance would mean the world to me. Thanks!

mistyfox7 said:It only just occurred to me this evening that there ought to be a dedicated forum for cases such as this... I suppose I should thank IT and the relentless march of technological progress. I am reaching out for assistance because there are simply too many pages to sift through, and I have been surrounded by nothing but sorrow for these past few months... My mother underwent two separate surgeries for bladder cancer. She is currently using those bags we attach to the abdomen, where a catheter leads from one pouch to another, but I find myself wondering if there is some surgical procedure available to create a direct connection from the abdomen to the urinary bag... I realize how incomprehensible this may sound to most, but I trust that those navigating similar circumstances will understand me... Or at least, I hope they do, especially since my mother’s diabetes only serves to complicate the entire situation. Her recent test results are positive, and there are no longer any signs of tumor cells; now that her life is no longer in immediate peril, I find myself contemplating everything that might ease her daily existence... When that first part detaches, she ends up completely soaked because it constantly leaks internally, and the surgical wound is healing so poorly that there is a gap large enough that a kiwi could practically fit inside after two stitches... It is quite inhumane. I thank you in advance for any guidance or help you can provide... I wish everyone the strength required to endure whatever trials have come their way.

You find yourself in a rather unenviable position, caught between being the patient—a mother enduring all of this—and the caregiver watching it unfold... It seems to me that in my own mother's case involving an ovarian tumor, they removed the bladder as well and created a sort of bypass with an "artificial bladder" within the abdominal cavity... Unfortunately, I cannot say for certain, as the surgeon wouldn't allow me to listen to the specifics of what was being operated on or where... At this moment, I am too far away to ask her directly, but I certainly intend to when I return home.

Of course you are considering every possible way to make her life easier and searching for solutions... I truly hope you find them... Hang in there.

To all my fellow patients and those of you standing strong as pillars of support for your loved ones:

Today at 6 PM in Central Park, we are holding a public presentation for our Association and launching the brochure we wrote and printed specifically for you. A year ago, we were sitting here just venting about how things are in a coma, how the entire healthcare system is collapsing, and how we’ve been stripped of our dignity and left drowning in misinformation. We all agreed that something had to be done. So, six of us—a mix of enthusiasts, altruists, and maybe a few crazies—stepped up to take on these massive windmills with razor blades attached. We started this fight for all of you, hoping to make things better, ensuring that every human being gets the care they actually deserve when facing a devastating diagnosis.
However, I have to say, I am deeply disappointed because most of you have stuck to nothing more than verbal support and that famous, empty "BRAVO." Kudos to the individuals who actually stepped up and sacrificed their time, but the majority of you are still just talking about "how things should be done" without asking, "well, who is going to do it?" Is it me, slyseal28? Who else? You don't win any fights by just standing on the sidelines, especially not against cancer or a rotting system whose stench arrives bundled with a heavy diagnosis.
You think you have rights? Then show up to Central Park. If you can, come in person; if you can't, send your support so we can publicly demand those rights. Step forward and shout at the top of your lungs that YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO LIFE, the right to health, and the right to fight for your recovery using the best possible methods available right now. We live in the 21st century, where much of what used to be science fiction is now reality. Many severe illnesses are being successfully treated today. As human beings, as dignified creatures, you have a right to everything the human mind has achieved and invented, especially regarding health. Don't strip those rights away from yourselves. If you don't step up and raise your voice, you are forfeiting the battle before it even begins. If you stay silent, you lose the right to complain that "something needs to be done." Now that you realize cancer and other brutal diseases aren't happening to "someone else," but to US, you need to realize that nobody is coming to fix your problems for you—YOU have to do it.

Do you think this won't lead to anything, or that it's just not worth the effort?

Well, damn it, it will be worth it, or at least we will leave this world with a clear conscience. When someone eventually asks, "What did you do?", we will actually have an answer. If things remain broken, that weight will fall on someone else's soul instead of ours. Personally, I couldn't live with that burden.

For those of you whose loved ones lost their battles—as I have—you have a moral obligation to speak out in honor of their suffering, so that it doesn't happen again!

In that spirit, I am appealing to everyone to join us today at Central Park and lend your voice to a better tomorrow for us all!

Angela Wright said:To my dear patients and to those of you acting as pillars of support for your loved ones...

Today at 6 PM in Central Park, we are holding the public presentation of our Association and the official launch of the brochure we’ve written and printed specifically for you. A year ago, we were sitting here merely discussing how things have gone completely sideways, how the system is in total collapse, how we’ve been stripped of our dignity and left drowning in misinformation regarding illnesses; back then, we all agreed that something had to be done. And so, a group of six enthusiasts—altruists, and perhaps a few lunatics—set out to fight against massive windmills equipped with razors, all on your behalf, so that things might improve and so that you receive exactly what any human being deserves when facing such a grueling illness...
Still, I find myself compelled to express a profound sense of disappointment, because most of you have remained strictly within the realm of verbal support and that ubiquitous, hollow "BRAVO." My respect goes to the individuals who actually stepped up and dedicated their precious time, but the majority seem content to simply debate *how* things should be done without ever asking *who* will actually do them. Me? slyseal28? Who else? That isn't how one fights anything, least of all cancer or a decaying system whose stench arrives bundled with a heavy diagnosis...
Do you truly believe you possess certain rights? If so, then please, make your way to Central Park—whether you are physically capable or if you need to send your support through others—to publicly demonstrate those rights. Step forward and declare, loudly and clearly, THAT YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO LIFE, TO HEALTH, AND TO FIGHT FOR YOUR WELL-being UNTIL RECOVERY, and to do so in the best possible manner available today. We live in the 21st century, where many scenarios once relegated to science fiction have become reality; similarly, many devastating diseases are now successfully treated. As human beings, as dignified creatures, you have a right to everything the human mind has achieved and invented, particularly regarding health. Do not strip yourselves of these rights. If you fail to step forward and raise your voices, you are essentially forfeiting a battle you should have stood your ground to win. If you refuse to act, you no longer hold the right to say "something needs to be done." Now that you realize cancer and other severe illnesses aren't happening to "someone else," but to US, you must realize that these problems won't be solved by outsiders, but by YOU...

Do you honestly think this will amount to nothing and that effort is futile?

Well, I assure you, it will lead to something, or at the very least, we shall depart this world with clear consciences, knowing that when someone asks us, "What did you actually do?", we will have an answer. Otherwise, the fact that things are not as they should be will weigh heavily on someone else's soul. Personally, I could not live with that burden...

For those of you whose loved ones lost their battles, much like I have, you carry a moral obligation to speak up in honor of their suffering, so that it might not be repeated...

In that spirit, I appeal to everyone to join us today at Central Park and lend your voice to a better tomorrow for us all...

You wrote that with such beauty and sincerity. I am checking in as one of "those" people who has provided only verbal support, though truthfully, I haven't had the capacity to engage more deeply until now. I am losing sleep due to current obligations—which are increasing by the day—even though it would be more humane and correct to do otherwise...

I stayed in New York City, but I am coming to Central Park to support you. I'll take the opportunity to grab a few copies of the petition for my parents, and then we will send them to you via mail...

As I always write, kudos to the ladies for all the effort, willpower, and energy you pour into this, selflessly dedicating your time for the good of everyone...

See you at Central Park...
Best regards. kisses

When you’re going through something this heavy, you need an incredible amount of strength, nerves of steel, and actual faith in God. About five years ago, we found out my little brother had a tumor. He was only five at the time. When I first heard the news, I honestly felt this massive surge of anger toward God because I just couldn't wrap my head around how He could let a tiny five-year-old boy deal with something like that. I was furious, disappointed, heartbroken... seriously the darkest chapter of my life. I wasn't even allowed to see him while he was in the hospital, and I was losing my mind, just crying every single day for what felt like forever. The absolute lowest point for me was seeing him on TV, lying there in a hospital bed during some ABC reportage. He was talking about how there was this little mass near his spine and how they had to go in and get it out. That was the first time I actually saw him after a whole month. He looked so thin, so pale, just so sad, and the worst part was that I couldn't be right there by his side, couldn't just hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay.
My brother is doing great now, though; we head out once a year for his checkups... he's such a happy kid, does awesome in school, plays basketball, and is actually heading off to a basketball camp in a few days. The only thing that really reminds him of those awful days is the huge scar on his back..
During that whole time, the church and the Bible were what kept me going.. for my parents, it was an association over on Klaić's street that supports parents of sick children.. it makes things so much easier when you realize you aren't alone, that there are people who have walked this path before and managed to keep moving forward with their lives...

Angela Wright said:To all my fellow patients and those of you standing strong as caregivers:>

Today at 6:00 PM in Central Park, we are holding a public presentation for our Association and officially launching the brochure we’ve written and printed specifically for you. A year ago, we were all just sitting here venting about how everything was falling apart—how the healthcare system is in total collapse, how we're being stripped of our dignity, and how we're constantly misinformed about illnesses. We all agreed that something had to be done. So, six of us—a mix of enthusiasts, altruists, and perhaps a few lunatics—decided to pick up our swords and go to war against the giants. We're doing this for all of you, so that things might actually improve, and so that you receive the level of care any human being deserves when facing such a devastating diagnosis.
That said, I have to admit I feel a profound sense of disappointment because most of you have stuck to offering verbal support and that ubiquitous, hollow "Bravo." My respect goes to the individuals who actually stepped up and dedicated their time, but the majority seem content to simply discuss *how* things should be fixed without ever asking *who* is going to do the fixing. Is it just me, slyseal28? Who else? You can't fight anything—least of all cancer and a decaying system that delivers a rotting stench along with a heavy diagnosis—by just sitting on the sidelines.
Do you truly believe you have rights? If so, then show up at Central Park. Whether you are physically able to attend or need to send your support to make a public stand, please demonstrate those rights. Speak up loudly and clearly: state that YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO LIFE, TO HEALTH, AND TO FIGHT FOR YOUR WELL-BEING using the best possible methods available right now. We live in the 21st century, where things once relegated to science fiction are now medical reality. Many severe illnesses are successfully treated today. As human beings, as dignified creatures, you have a right to everything human ingenuity has achieved, especially regarding health. Don't strip those rights away from yourselves. If you fail to step forward and raise your voice, you are essentially forfeiting a battle you should have fought tooth and nail to win. If you don't speak up, you lose the right to say "something needs to be done." Now that you realize cancer and other serious diseases aren't happening to "someone else," but to US, you have to realize that these problems won't be solved by some third party. They will be solved by YOU.

Are you thinking that this won't lead to anything anyway, making the effort feel futile?

Well, I promise you, it will matter. At the very least, we will leave this world with a clear conscience. When someone eventually asks, "What did you do?", we will actually have an answer. If things remain broken, that burden will fall on someone else's soul. Personally, I couldn't live with that weight on my shoulders.

For those of you whose loved ones lost their battles—as happened in my own life—you have a moral obligation to stand up in honor of their suffering, to ensure it isn't repeated.

With that in mind, I am appealing to everyone to join us today at Central Park and lend your voice to a better tomorrow for us all!

I will certainly be there, just as I was last week.🙂

steelhawk9 said:When you are walking through something this heavy, you need an incredible amount of strength, nerves of steel, and faith in God. Five years ago, we found out my brother had a tumor. He was only five at the time. When I first learned, I felt this overwhelming anger toward God because I just couldn't wrap my head around how He could allow a little five-year-old boy to suffer from such a disease. I was angry, disillusioned, heartbroken... truly the darkest chapter of my life... I wasn't even allowed to see him while he was in the hospital, and I was losing my mind, crying all day, every single day... the absolute lowest point for me was seeing him on TV, lying there in a hospital bed (ABC was filming some Thanx reportage). He was talking about having a mass near his spine and how they had to remove it. That was the first time I saw him after a month apart. He looked so thin, so pale, so terribly sad, and I couldn't be by his side, I couldn't hold him or tell him everything would turn out fine.
My brother is doing well now; we go for his annual check-up together... he’s a happy kid, does great in school, plays basketball, and is actually heading to a basketball camp in a few days. The only thing that reminds him of those horrific days is the large scar on his back...
During that time, the church and the Bible were my anchors... for my parents, help came from an association on Klaić's street that serves parents of sick children... it makes things a bit easier when you know you aren't alone, that there are people who have walked this path and moved forward with their lives...

Unfortunately, no one chooses their own path through life; something has to happen to shake us to our core and grant us both faith and strength. It is profoundly tragic when this happens to an adult, let alone a child...😢

I am so glad to hear your brother is doing well today, growing up, and finding joy in basketball! He truly deserves it. As you wrote yourself—life goes on! It certainly becomes more manageable when you have a place to turn for support...

Nancy Hernandez43 said:Sadly, none of us really gets to pick our own path in life; something has to happen to shake us up, giving us both faith and the strength to keep going.

That’s so beautifully put, honestly... my family situation really shook me to the core, and I feel like I get hit with that same realization every single year whenever I have to go with him to his check-ups. In a way, I think I actually need that wake-up call, you know? It just forces me to stop and realize that right now, I have everything that actually matters—my family and my health—instead of constantly chasing after all those pointless material things that don't mean anything in the end.

Hey everyone!

I really need some advice and a bit of help here;

It’s about a colleague’s daughter—I think I’ve mentioned her before, she was diagnosed with osteosarcoma of the right femur...

To give you the quick rundown of what’s happened so far:

Back in March of last year (2007), they diagnosed her with that sarcoma in her right knee. According to the pathology report, it was a high-grade malignant mesenchymal tumor with aggressive growth. She started out with chemo (two different types; 6 rounds of ADM/CDDP and 1 round of VP-16/CARBOPLATIN), then in the summer of 2007, she had surgery to remove the affected tissue and bone, and they fitted her with a prosthesis... Recovery was actually going pretty well, and she went through three more rounds of chemo.

But then, in December 2007, a PET scan picked up a new tumor area right around the operated knee. Just there—nowhere else in her body. Everything else looked fine, including her lungs, which is where osteosarcoma usually loves to spread metastases. They kept pushing forward with chemo, but since that wasn't cutting it, they had to amputate her entire leg just to stop the disease from spreading further... The post-op recovery was successful and everything seemed okay until we got this radiology report on July 7, 2008.

I’m going to transcribe it from the discharge papers and I honestly really hope someone can explain exactly what this means:

Chest CT scan performed without contrast on 07/07/2008 at General Hospital 15, referred by Dr. Duke. This is a follow-up exam to compare with the previous CT scan from 09/2007.
During today's exam, fatty thymic residuals remain visible, along with small bilateral axial lymph nodes that don't exceed 1cm in size. There is a persistent nodular lesion in the left lower lobe which remains unchanged in size and morphology. However, during today's examination, two new solid nodules measuring 0.5cm and 1.5cm were found subpleurally in the left upper lobe and left base. Additionally, in the left upper lobe near the pleura, there is a gas-filled cystic formation with clearly defined edges measuring 1.5cm, and in the right upper lobe, there are similar characteristics measuring 2cm that weren't visible on the previous scan. The etiology is unclear (differential diagnosis: inflammatory changes?), and there are no associated bronchial changes near them.
No signs of pleural effusion.
The mediastinal vascular structures, trachea, and main bronchi appear morphologically normal.

So, can anyone make sense of this radiology report? One doctor is telling us this is extremely serious, while two others aren't interpreting it as quite as alarming...

I wonder if she having a nasty cold might be playing a role in why the lung scan looks like this.

But, if it turns out these are lung metastases, does anyone know what the most successful treatment methods are now, and is there still a chance for recovery? If anyone knows of any medication that has been successful in treating this, please, let me know. We're talking about a person who is only 25 years old!!!!

I'm debating whether I should repost all of this on the "Zanovidan" forums. I read them all the time, but I don't have an account...

Thanks in advance for any advice or help you can give.

jadetinker42 said:Hey everyone!

I could use some advice and a hand with something.

I’m talking about my colleague's daughter again—the one I mentioned before who was diagnosed with osteosarcoma of the right femur...

Let me give you a quick rundown of how this illness has played out:

Back in March of 2007, she was diagnosed with a sarcoma in her right knee. According to the pathology report, we were looking at a high-grade malignant mesenchymal tumor characterized by aggressive, destructive growth. The treatment plan kicked off with chemotherapy—specifically two different regimens: six rounds of ADM/CDDP followed by one round of VP-16/Carboplatin. By the summer of 2007, she underwent surgery to excise the affected tissue and bone, which required an orthopedic prosthesis. Recovery actually started moving in the right direction after that, especially since she went through three additional rounds of chemo to wrap things up.

By December 2007, the PET scan turned up a new tumor area right around my operated knee. It was isolated strictly to that spot—nowhere else in my body. Everything else looked clean, including my lungs, which is where osteosarcoma usually loves to stage its metastatic takeover. We pushed forward with chemotherapy, but since those treatments failed to move the needle, we had to go through a full leg amputation to stop the disease from spreading further. The recovery after surgery went smoothly, and everything seemed fine until that radiology report hit on July 7, 2008.

I'm going to transcribe it straight from the discharge papers and... I really wish...I'm ready. Send over the content you need me to rework. Can someone please explain exactly what this is all about?

The patient underwent a non-contrast chest CT on July 7, 2008, at General Hospital 15, following a referral from Dr. Duke. This is a follow-up exam intended specifically to compare current imaging against the previous MSCT results from September 2007.
Looking at today’s scan results, the residual thymic fat is still there, along with some small axial lymph nodes on both sides, though none of them are creeping past the 1cm mark. That nodular lesion in the lower left lobe is still hanging around, but thankfully its size and shape haven't budged since the last check. However, we’ve got some new developments. Today’s imaging shows two new solid nodules on the left side—one about 0.5cm and another at 1.5cm—located subpleurally in the upper lobe and at the base. On top of that, there are two gas-filled cystic formations that weren't visible on the previous scan: one measuring 1.5cm near the pleura in the upper left lobe, and another about 2cm with similar characteristics in the upper right lobe. We don't know the exact cause yet—could be post-inflammatory changes—especially since there's no sign of associated bronchial changes around them.
There’s no sign of any pleural effusion.
The vascular structures within the mediastinum, along with the trachea and the main bronchi, all look morphologically normal.

Alright, can someone please make sense of these lab results for me? I've got one doctor telling me this is extremely serious, while two others aren't reading into it nearly as much. It's driving me crazy.

I can't tell if it's just that the patient's severe cold is playing up, which might be why her lung scans came back looking like this.

If it turns out there are lung metastases, does anyone actually know what the most effective treatment paths are right now? I’m looking for real answers—what are the best methods to tackle this, and is there a genuine chance for full recovery? If anyone has insight into specific medications that have shown actual success in these cases, please speak up. We are talking about someone who is only 25 years old!

I'm debating whether I should cross-post all of this over to the "Zanovidan" pages. I head over there to read regularly, but I haven't actually gone through the trouble of registering an account yet...

Thanks in advance for any advice or help you can throw my way.

Get in touch with Vedran at the association. association vedran@zanovidan.hr on
They’re fighting osteosarcoma head-on, and they’re actually winning.
Logirajte se i na stranicu udruge i samo ubacite copy paste teksta na PDFu o osteosarkomima.

steelhawk9 said:Well said... it really hit home for my family, and honestly, it hits me all over again every single year when I accompany him to his check-ups. In a way, perhaps I need that reminder—to realize that right now, I possess everything that actually matters, my family and my health, rather than chasing after those trivial material pursuits...

I was simply writing from my own perspective. My family used to be quite arrogant and hypocritical toward one another regarding our health and how we treated each other. But the day my mother fell ill, through the sheer shock of it and the realization that we couldn't sustain such a reckless lifestyle, we finally turned toward one another. Now, we find happiness every morning just by waking up and hearing her voice. Nothing stands in our way anymore; we have become the family we once were...😍

Anyway, I am currently rushing toward Central Park!!!!!! I'm running late, but I'll make it!

Charles Scott said:Hello everyone. My mother is battling liver cancer. She was discharged from the hospital about two months ago,
and the doctors basically told us that at this stage, we should just focus on pain management since curative options aren't really on the table anymore.
I’m reaching out to see if anyone can offer advice or suggestions on how we can help her manage this illness and fight through it...
Any guidance whatsoever would be truly appreciated. Thank you!

Where exactly is the primary tumor located—is it originating in the liver, or is the liver site actually a metastasis?
And did the doctors prescribe any specific pain medication to help her out?

Angela Wright, slyseal28,
Do you know if they’re going to post that reportage from Central Park from yesterday?
You all were fantastic🙂.