Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

mistyridge5 said:Well, here we go again.
My dear is finally back home; we have officially cleared the first round of chemo, though the side effects are certainly making their presence known...

I find myself once again reviewing all the logistics—what to eat, what to drink, and exactly how much of everything is permissible...

This time, I am stepping into the role of the caregiver. Some might argue it is better this way, that I shouldn't have to endure it all alone, but truthfully, for the second time, there is a part of me that wishes I were the one in "their" shoes instead...

Next on the agenda are the blood markers, the post-chemo CT scan, and the inevitable trips back for the next cycle...
I try to remain optimistic, yet there are moments when I simply break down, needing to be entirely alone...

I suppose I worry that I won't be able to provide one hundred percent support this time around, given that I have already navigated this entire path once before, leaving scars that I know will stay with me for the rest of my life...
And yet, whenever I look at him, a sense of strength surges within me, a certain courage grows, and I realize there is no obstacle powerful enough to stop us...

Sending positive vibes and hugs to everyone else out there fighting the good fight 👍

rapidbear8 said:Where exactly?

Nancy Hernandez43 said:No matter how exhausted you feel—even if you think you can't give your all because you're cycling through it all over again—you know deep down that as long as you're able, you'll keep giving that 100%. Just hang in there! I don't think you'll ever hit a wall that actually drains your capacity to love. You're a fighter!

mistyridge5 said:I appreciate you sharing this post 😉

It is simply that all-too-familiar moment where you feel completely drained and utterly helpless, just waiting for the medication to finally take hold and for the nausea to subside, while simultaneously wondering how anyone else manages to endure what you're going through... if you could somehow absorb all their discomfort onto yourself...
That classic, weary instant where the mind begins to spiral into thoughts of "what now?" and "how much longer?", leaving you feeling entirely spent and lost in the fog...

And then, eventually... as I have already mentioned... one rises like a phoenix from the ashes 👍

fajterica;15107863 said:I gotta say, I was actually shocked by how chill everyone in the studio was. Really bummed I didn't get a chance to dig into the whole mess with drugs that aren't covered on the formulary list.

The host felt way too soft for my liking...

At least we showed the Department of Health we’ve got some bite. I really hope they caught the vibe that we aren't pushovers and we won't let them treat us like idiots.

Honestly? I just hope something actually shifts at the Department for the sake of the patients. Like, I hope they find a shred of conscience in there somewhere.
My husband went through bronchus and trachea cancer about three and a half years ago. He did 4 cycles of chemo using the MIC protocol followed by 4 cycles of Taxotere. Getting his treatment sorted out at Mayo Clinic was smooth sailing—so thanks to them for that.

Nicole Edwards76 said:Regarding the beta-glucan—well, we’ve been giving her some—but a friend of mine who works as a pharmacist actually told me it might not be a great idea to mix it with Medrol. Her reasoning was basically that Medrol acts as an immunosuppressant (if that's even the right way to put it), while beta-glucan is an immune stimulant. So, combining the two might just cancel each other out or even be counterproductive.

Megan Rivera98 said:I’m new to this forum...
My dad had surgery for colon cancer about nine years ago. Two years back, things started spreading to his liver, and now it's hit his lungs too.
We got the latest scans today, and they confirmed the metastases in the lungs, along with the existing ones in the liver and colon...
I'm honestly just a shell of a person today. I felt the need to come here and share this with all of you...

velvetmason35 said:I just stumbled onto this thread, so if anyone here knows their stuff, let me know—I’m actually taking both of these right now...
I know I’m totally in the wrong spot for this, but since I'm already here, I figured I'd toss out one more question.
I’ve been dealing with some nerve inflammation, so my doctor put me on Medrol.
The thing is, I've also got these weird tingling sensations in my hands. According to my doctor, those should be going away, but I'm also taking Ketorol (dealing with some pain after a recent spinal puncture), and the label says tingling is a super common side effect. So, which one is it??

fajterica;15107863 said:I have to say, I was actually pretty shocked by how chill the guests were in the studio. I’m honestly bummed I didn't get a chance to bring up the whole issue with medications that aren't covered on the approved list.

It felt like the host was being a little too soft on them, if you ask me...

At least we gave the Department of Health a real wake-up call. I really hope they got the message that we aren't backing down and we won't let them treat us like we're clueless.[/Q

NEW YORK CITY IS STUNNED! WAY TO GO!🙂

Megan Rivera98 said:It’s my first time posting here...
My father underwent surgery for colon cancer nine years ago, which unfortunately metastasized to his liver two years back, and now it has reached his lungs.
The latest test results came in today, confirming the presence of metastases in his lungs, liver, and the original site in the colon...
I am feeling completely numb today, just utterly hollow, and I find myself here simply to share this burden with all of you...

Megan Rivera98 said:I just wanted to say thank you all for the support..
My dad is such a fighter... he’s always been the jokester of the family and a longtime truck driver...
And honestly, even after finding out about the metastasis just the other day, he climbed right back into his rig the very next morning. It seems like being behind the wheel is exactly what keeps him going.
Sending love to everyone..
And my heart goes out to those of you who have already lost someone dear to you.

Megan Rivera98 said:Thanks for all the love, everyone..
My dad is such a fighter... always cracking jokes and working hard behind the wheel of his semi...
And get this—he found out about the metastasis just yesterday, and by this morning he was already back in the truck driving... I guess that's what keeps him going.
Sending love to you all..
And my heart goes out to anyone else here who’s lost someone they love

Melissa Kim45 said:Hello to both the newcomers and the old guard. 🙂

Regarding our current situation, I have nothing positive to report. Mom is growing weaker by the day; she doesn't walk anymore, except for those rare moments when she attempts to stand up. My entire existence has narrowed down to ensuring she stays clean, making sure her diapers are dry...
And being on constant standby, because she simply lacks the strength or the will to manage the things she isn't supposed to be doing herself. 😁
She sleeps so much. She drifts. Every single meal has become an exhausting psychological battle. She won't open her mouth, won't chew, won't swallow. She wants to eat, yet she seems to expect food to simply manifest itself in her stomach. In truth, I fear she is slowly letting go of everything, slipping away, while we... we struggle, fight, and exhaust ourselves trying to coax some final spark of life out of her. She no longer looks like herself, but then again—given the circumstances, it’s as good as it can be. There are no open wounds, her hair has grown out, we've even dyed it for her; if we can provide these tiny remnants of human dignity, then it is enough.
We are going to get a wheelchair now—not a stroller—so we don't have to drag her along constantly. For now, we still make sure to bring her to the living room in the morning for her meals at the table, and then back to bed at night. When we reach the point where even that is no longer possible, then we will simply be waiting.
We aren't thinking about the cancer or the chemotherapy anymore; that is all behind us. Our focus is solely on her profound physical and, perhaps more importantly, mental decline. For instance, there was a day when she looked quite startled seeing the wedding ring on her hand (she hasn't taken it off in nearly fifty years) and said, "Oh my, I found this, Dad and I bought this when we were young." Often, she just stares blankly or keeps her eyes half-closed. More and more frequently, she won't speak at all, merely nodding or shaking her head.

I will endure this, or I won't. This suffering—both hers and ours—must have a purpose; it has to, even if there are moments when I feel like I am caring for a complete stranger. In reality, if I had loved my mother any less, God forgive me, I could never put in this much effort or work this hard. Perhaps this is what Love actually is, though through our own distorted lenses, we perceive it as something else; we are selfish, we get angry, we hold grudges, we remember. They say the hardest thing is to forgive one's parents. That is how I used to feel. Today, I am grateful to them; this hardship is a great, great mercy. It must be Love.

Melissa Kim45 said:I’m either going to pull through this or I’m just done. This suffering—both hers and ours—has to mean something. It has to. Even if there are moments where I feel like I’m pouring everything into someone who's basically a complete stranger. Honestly, God forgive me, if I had actually loved my own mother more, I never would have been able to push myself this hard or work this much. Maybe that’s what Love actually is? Maybe we just see it differently because our own perspectives are all warped. We get selfish, we get angry, we hold grudges, and we never forget. They say the hardest thing in life is forgiving your parents. I used to feel that way. But today? I’m actually grateful for them. All this heartache... it feels like one massive, overwhelming blessing. That’s gotta be what Love looks like.