Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Susan Ruiz76 said:I honestly wish nothing but the best for everyone I've met on this forum. I don't post much—hardly at all, really—mostly because I’m intimidated by how established you all are, just this tight-knit group of women sharing their struggles.
I’m a grandmother, and just like Angela Wright, I’m heading to the coast tomorrow morning. That’s pretty much our only thing in common. I’m traveling with my 7-year-old granddaughter and my husband, who was diagnosed with lung cancer a year ago. I don't need to spell out how that feels to any of you; I'm sure you get it. He’s doing "okay" for now. In fact, he’s driving us from the Midwest down to the central Atlantic coast, trying his hardest to act like everything is fine even when it isn't—but it isn't.
But look, we made a choice: we live for today. When we wake up in the morning, we take that day.
Stay strong. It's not like the healthcare system is a total nightmare all the time, and not every single person working there is a jerk. Things move at the pace they move. Just know that what your loved ones need most is LOVE and ATTENTION—and you can't put a price tag on that.
Sending a special shout-out to the fajterica (wherever she is, I hope her husband is doing alright)!

Ever since my husband got sick, we've just been taking it one day at a time. Every single morning, we just thank God that we woke up together. We fight through today just to make it to tomorrow. That’s been our life for three and a half years now.
When this first started, I was absolutely livid at every doctor and nurse in sight... But eventually, you realize they aren't magicians. They did the best they could with what they knew. It’s been a massive rollercoaster of emotions. We’ve crashed, we’ve bounced back, and we’ve leaned on each other. Once the hospital treatment is over, having your family behind you is the only thing that actually matters.

Lisa White54 said:Since my husband’s illness first began, we have simply been taking life one single day at a time. Every morning, we offer our thanks to God just for the fact that we woke up together. We live entirely in the present, fighting solely to secure a tomorrow. This has been our reality for three and a half years now...
In those early days of the diagnosis, I found myself consumed by fury toward every doctor and nurse we encountered... Eventually, one realizes they aren't miracle workers; they were merely doing what they believed was best within their capacity. Throughout this entire ordeal, our emotions have fluctuated wildly. There were moments where we collapsed, and moments where we rose, lifting one another up... Once the hospital treatment concludes, the only thing that truly matters is the unwavering support of one's family...

It seems many people find it strange that I sleep so little, or that even in the height of summer, I am awake by 6:30 or 7:00 in the morning. Perhaps it is a mere habit, or perhaps a subconscious fear... Last summer, when the diagnoses weren't pointing toward any brighter horizon, we all used to wake up at the exact same time, sit down at the table, and collectively decide how we would face the day ahead. In the evenings, after a deep breath, we could retire to rest feeling a sense of peace, simply grateful to have shared yet another day with my mother...

Now, I find myself waking up once my father leaves for work, but always before my mother stirs, repeating this cycle every single day...

Regrettably, doctors and medical staff are not magicians; rather, it is ourselves—through the sheer strength of love and the profound satisfaction found in the presence of our loved ones—that allows us to remain resilient and push forward in this struggle. Last night, I found myself spontaneously telling my parents that I love them, not for any specific reason, but out of pure gratitude for their existence and for making my life more bearable... Family remains the only and most vital pillar of support...

Stay strong, and may your own struggles endure for a long time, accompanied by the small happiness of waking up next to one another each day...

Thanks for the kind words.
We’re sending all that love and patience right back to every single family out there fighting the good fight against illness.
When you're battling cancer, you've gotta go at it with total positivity and grit. It’s all about mindset—everything starts in the head!

Thanks for the kind words.
Honestly, I just want to send all the love and patience in the world to every family out there currently fighting a battle against illness.
When you're going up against cancer, you've gotta fight it with a positive attitude and pure optimism. It’s all about mindset—it starts right there in the head!

I'm looking for some help if anyone knows anything about this. I'd love to learn more about liver tumors—how they're treated, what types there are, just about everything... thanks so much for any info you can share

Susan Ruiz76 said:I honestly just want to wish everyone I’ve met on this forum nothing but the absolute best—I don't post much, if at all, mostly because I’m a bit intimidated by how close-knit this group of young women is, since you all share such deep, personal struggles together.
I’m a grandmother, and much like Angela Wright, I’m heading out toward the coast this morning, though that’s really the only thing we have in common. I’m traveling with my seven-year-old granddaughter and my husband, who was diagnosed with lung cancer about a year ago. I don't think I even need to explain to any of you what that feels like; I trust you all get it. He’s doing "okay" for now—actually, he’s the one driving us from the Midwest down to the central Gulf Coast, trying his hardest to hide any discomfort he might be feeling, even though we know he is.
But we’ve made a decision: we live for today, for the moment we wake up in the morning. We choose to live that day.
Stay brave, because things in the healthcare system aren't always as bleak as they can seem, and not everyone is out to do harm; the pace of it all is just what it is. What your loved ones truly need is LOVE and your ATTENTION—things you simply can't put a price tag on.
A special hello to the fajterica (I'm not sure where she is, but I hope everything is going okay with her and her husband)!

There’s no distinction here between the young and the old; we are all young at heart. 👍

I hope you all have an unforgettable vacation. 🙂

Nancy Vaughn70 said:Could anyone please help me out if you happen to know anything about this? I'm really looking for information regarding liver tumors—how they are treated, what the different types are, pretty much anything anyone can share. Thank you so much for your help.

I'll try to share a little bit of what I've gathered so far... from what I understand, chemotherapy unfortunately doesn't tend to be effective against liver cancer (much like it isn't for kidney cancer), and surgical removal often doesn't make much sense if we're talking about a large, primary liver carcinoma, since the surrounding area is usually already affected. If the situation involves metastases in the liver and kidneys—which mostly stem from colon or small intestine cancer—and if it's an adenocarcinoma, while it might not be curable, patients can still live for several years. Please don't take any of this as absolute medical fact, though, as I've just been researching this through various American health websites and online resources...
Wishing you the best of luck.

It’s been a little while since my last update. My dad is currently on his second round of chemo, and so far, things seem to be holding steady. I wanted to jump back in and add a few thoughts to what rustyscout31 mentioned earlier. I’ve actually met some people who have successfully dealt with liver metastases—in some cases, the spots actually calcified. I also feel like there are so many stories online from people who have beaten this incredibly tough disease, and I think we really need to lean into those kinds of stories for strength. Surgical removal definitely makes sense as an option, too. It’s possible that if a tumor shrinks, doctors might be able to save just enough liver tissue for it to naturally regenerate itself. Honestly, since Dad has been in the hospital, I’ve heard so many beautiful stories about different ways people fight back. Everyone chooses their own path, I suppose. I also think it’s important to leave room for miracles; they really do happen, and having faith seems necessary. Maybe I’m being a bit overly optimistic because things are okay right now, but who knows what tomorrow brings? I’m going to try to stay hopeful for as long as I can.

Betty Sanchez82 said:It has been quite some time since my last update. My father is currently undergoing his second round of chemotherapy, and for the moment, things seem stable. I wanted to expand upon what Bebikin mentioned earlier. In my recent interactions, I have met individuals who successfully managed liver metastases; in certain instances, those metastases actually calcified... Furthermore, I believe the internet is filled with stories of people who triumphed over this aggressive illness, and we ought to sustain ourselves with that kind of information. Surgical removal remains a viable option. There are cases where a tumor shrinks enough that doctors can preserve just a small portion of the liver, allowing it to regenerate naturally. Since my father was admitted to the hospital, I have encountered many beautiful insights regarding different ways to fight this. Each of us chooses our own path. Ultimately, I feel one must maintain a belief in miracles, because they do happen, and faith is essential. Perhaps I am viewing things through rose-colored glasses simply because everything is fine right now, but one never knows what tomorrow holds... I will continue to cling to hope for as long as I am able.

There is certainly no harm in wearing rose-colored glasses, maintaining faith, and believing in miracles. One must simply press forward with courage.

It’s honestly so refreshing to see some positive energy in here—it can be quite difficult to face all the pain and sadness sometimes.

How are we all holding up?!
The days just seem to blur together; it’s getting hot out, and we’re trying our best to maintain a steady rhythm and stick to our routines.
The chemo is definitely taking its toll—hair loss, thinning hair, the whole thing. We try to find the silver lining by joking that he'll eventually look like g. I. Joe, so he can finally start using those ultra-mega razors... I guess finding humor in everything is really the only way we can manage.

My moods have been all over the place lately, so I’m just trying to go with the flow. My birthday is coming up next week, but he actually has to head into the hospital the day before—so, I suppose cycle number two is officially starting.

Please don't take this the wrong way, but I am a little bummed about the timing. It’s not that I’m celebrating getting older, but in recent years, it’s just been the two of us—sharing a nice bottle of wine, listening to old songs, and just laughing together. This year is going to feel different. I hope it stays that way for just this one...

As for me, I feel like I’m on edge sometimes—my nerves are a bit frayed, and I find myself being surprised by people's negativity on a daily basis. I’ve started shrinking my social circle again, narrowing down who I stay close to—both for myself and for him. It seems like true empathy, family, and real friendship are becoming increasingly rare these days...

mistyridge5 said:It’s nice seeing some positivity here; it’s hard enough dealing with all the pain and sadness already.

But what about us?!
Days are just dragging by, it’s boiling hot, and we’re out here trying to keep up a routine and stay on track.
The chemo is doing its thing; hair’s falling out, body hair too. We just joke that he’s turning into his future g. I. Joe self, like finally being able to use those ultra-mega razors... we find humor in everything because honestly, that’s the only way we make it through.

Moods swing wildly, and I’m just riding the wave. My birthday is coming up next week, but he’s headed back into the hospital the day before, so yeah, round two of this cycle begins.

Don't get me wrong, it stings, having my birthday hit like this. It’s not that I’m obsessed with getting older, but lately, it’s just been him and me, sharing a good bottle of wine, listening to old songs, laughing, just being us. This year is going to be different. And hopefully, it stays that way for just this one...

As for me, I’m on edge sometimes. My nerves are frayed. People surprise me every single day, and usually not in a good way. So, I’m shrinking my circle—the people I’m close to, the people *we* are both close to. It’s rare to find anyone who actually understands empathy, family, or what real friendship even looks like...

I’ve been through hell and back fighting for my husband. In the end, it all felt like it fell squarely on my shoulders. Friends? They vanished. At first, there were plenty of them, but they only showed up to visit. Now, it feels like they were just popping in for the gossip, looking for something to talk about. Family? Nobody. It’s just the kids and me. I’ve gotten used to carrying every single problem by myself. The hardest part is having no one to vent to when things hit the fan. So many times people have taken my weakest moments and turned them into coffee-talk chatter. It’s exhausting holding it all in. Sometimes I just snap, cry my eyes out where nobody can see me, and then I just keep moving.

mistyridge5 said:It’s nice to see some positivity in here; it gets pretty heavy hearing nothing but pain and sadness all the time.

But what about us?!
The days just blur together, the heat is brutal, and we're out here just trying to keep up a rhythm and stick to our routines.
My man is looking a bit rough; hair's thinning out everywhere. We just joke that he's turning into his future g. I. Joe self, like he can finally justify using those ultra-mega razors... we find humor in everything, honestly, it's the only way to make it work.

Moods swing wildly, and I'm just riding the wave. My birthday is coming up next week, but he’s heading into the hospital the day before, so yeah, Round 2 of this cycle is officially starting.

Don't get me wrong, it sucks that my birthday is hitting like this. It's not like I'm throwing a party for getting older, but lately, it's just been the two of us, a good bottle of wine, some old songs, and plenty of laughs. This year is gonna look totally different. And hey, maybe let's just keep it that way for this one...

As for me, I'm definitely on edge sometimes. My nerves are shot. People surprise me every single day, and usually in the worst way. I'm shrinking my inner circle even more—just keeping it to the people we both actually trust. It's rare to find anyone these days who actually understands empathy, family, or what real friendship looks like...

I've been through hell and back fighting for my husband. In the end, it feels like it all falls on my shoulders. Friends just... vanished. At first, there were tons of them popping in to visit, but now it feels like they were just coming by for the gossip, just to have something to talk about. Family? Forget it. It's just me and the kids. I've gotten used to carrying the weight of everything alone. The hardest part is having nobody to vent to when things hit the fan. So many people have taken my weakest moments and turned them into coffee-talk chatter. I can't keep it all bottled up forever. Sometimes I just snap, have a good cry where nobody can see me, and then I just keep moving.

Lisa White54, I completely understand where you're coming from. Back when my mom was ill—it was just a small group of us, but honestly, it was enough—we really stuck together through the thick and thin. But now? I get this feeling that the "group" has split into two distinct camps: those who seem totally lost on what to say or even how to ask a question, and then there are the ones who act like everything is perfectly normal—you know, the "it is what it is, anyway, are we still going to the beach?" types... I’m not looking for martyrs here, and I certainly don't need anyone stepping in to play the hero or clean up after everyone else... but sometimes—like last night, for instance—it just pushes me right over the edge into tears.

All these crises? They come and go. It’s just me, my husband, and the kids—we’re each other's rock. We get it. People on the outside? Honestly, they couldn't begin to wrap their heads around what we're actually dealing with. So, I don't even bother looking for sympathy from anyone else anymore. There are moments when I just want to vent and let it all out, but...
My husband has his CT scan for his chest and abdomen coming up on August 8th. The last time he had one was exactly two years ago, and everything looked fine back then. No metastases, just that button-sized tumor sitting there, totally unchanged..
I'm terrified right now. And my husband? He’s a nervous wreck. I just need this to turn out okay..

Lisa White54, I am keeping my fingers crossed that the CT scan results come back clear. I know how much anxiety this causes—it’s completely understandable. I get a bit of a nervous flutter in my stomach myself whenever I think about her heading to the hospital in mid-May for those marker tests... I truly believe everything will turn out fine, but I guess those little doubts still creep in from time to time...

Please do let us know when you have some good news, because I really do believe that’s what’s coming 👍

Everything is going to be okay. You've all navigated so many ups and downs to get here. I'm really hoping for amazing results—fingers crossed and keeping you all in my prayers!

Lisa White54 said:All these crises, they just sort of roll in and then they roll out, you know? My husband, our kids, and I—we’re each other's rock. We just get it. People on the outside, they don't really have a clue what we're actually going through, so I've stopped trying to make them understand. There are moments when I feel like just venting to someone, but...
My husband is heading in for a CT scan of his chest and abdomen on August 8th. The last time he had one, which was exactly two years ago, everything looked fine. No metastases, and that button-sized tumor hasn't changed at all..
I'm terrified right now. And my husband is a nervous wreck too. We just need this to be okay..

I'm crossing my fingers for you. All four of them. I have a real feeling everything is going to be just fine. 👍
Don't let the fear get to you. People like us, we're seasoned veterans in this kind of thing, and we know how to handle whatever comes our way.
You're being incredibly brave. 🙂

Hey everyone, sending my best vibes to all of you from San Francisco🙂
Hang in there; I'm thinking about you all.

Given how my husband looks physically, I’m really hoping the CT scan results come back clean. We’re also scheduled for a bone scan afterward because his shoulders and arms are killing him, even though the X-rays didn't show anything out of the ordinary.
I honestly think all this pain is just from the sudden temperature swings we've been having lately—one minute it's boiling, the next it's freezing.
It's a catch-22, really. The more tests we push for, the more terrified we get. Like, what if the results actually show things have gone south?

Angela Wright said:Hey everyone, sending much love to you all from San Francisco🙂
Hang in there, I'm thinking of you guys.

👋
Must be nice!