Resources and support for families dealing with cancer and serious illness

I feel just terrible about everything, truly awful. Sometimes the future feels pretty daunting, though it isn't quite as frightening when I'm hearing news this heavy—like losing both parents within a few months, much like what happened to User123.😢
It hits me harder that way, so I suppose in those specific moments I’m not actually afraid, but rather when everything seems fine, wondering how much peace can actually last. I'll wake up in the morning feeling completely disconnected from myself while everything else looks perfectly normal. I find myself scrolling through psychology forums on support threads, reading about how people end up feeling so incredibly guilty.
I get that feeling sometimes too, just totally numb and out of it while the world carries on as if nothing is wrong. But nothing is okay. I don't know. My doctor says people tend to avoid these kinds of conversations because they're just too scared to face them.
Maybe she has a point.

My mom is doing alright for now. At one point, her weight dropped down to about 82 pounds, which apparently spooked her enough that she started eating more and looking for something to help her appetite. Chemotherapy is on hold for the moment; she just goes in for checkups every two weeks, gets her blood work done, and heads home. They can tell exactly what the situation is just by looking at the labs, and the last time she had a full workup—you know, the whole routine with the imaging and the swabs and all that—everything came back clear.
The way chemotherapy ravages a person is honestly terrifying; you wouldn't even recognize them. And I just don't understand these strange pains, nor do I understand how a single dose of Voltaren or a couple of Tylenols is supposed to touch intense pain in the "kidneys," or the "stomach," or "chest."
And yet, they can still smoke.🙄

On another note, it's become a major issue because she went through more daytime cream than nighttime cream, and she was dealing with such bad irritation that she calls me at work asking if it's okay to use some calendula ointment. Then, two hours later, she’s applying something else entirely, not the calendula, but some kind of aloe vera gel.
I really don't want to dwell on exactly where she's applying all this stuff.😲
The reason she was so irritated is that she was having such bad digestive issues—basically passing stones—which caught her off guard while she was at her pedicure appointment. Yes, the lady is being chauffeured to the nail salon.😁
People probably still laugh today because she "had to go," which resulted in those sounds... well, you know, just a long, low, rumbling noise.😁

This whole fight requires every ounce of strength we have, the kind of strength we didn't even realize lived inside us.
When one of our own passes away, we all just keep going, just using different tools and finding different ways to carry on. Take care of yourselves. 🙂

I don't talk about this stuff nearly as much with anyone in my real life as I do with all of you. Actually, looking back, I'm almost grateful for the people who never call or ask if I need anything. They're the ones who made me stronger. 👍
But I don't love them the way I love you guys. 🙂

cosmicsailor91 said:Greetings to all you fighters!

Hey Jessica Booth35, regarding Biobrand,
my little girl (she's 4 now) went through hell when she was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer that had already spread to her lungs. She endured 8 rounds of chemo, 2 surgeries, a stem cell transplant, MIBG therapy, and the usual radiation treatments.
She's been in remission for 1.4 years now, and I’ve got a good feeling she’s going to stay that way.
Right from the jump, I started her on Biobrand; just one packet a day was enough given how small she is. I’d mix the Biobrand into her bottle during the gaps between chemo sessions or whenever she could finally stop throwing up. Sometimes, the Biobrand would cause her temperature to spike briefly, even hitting 38°C. I always paired it with non-alcoholic propolis spray and some propolis ointment for the skin issues caused by treatment. Whether it actually "cured" her, I can't say, but I do know she never dealt with mouth sores, no skin irritation, and her fungal infections were way more manageable, plus we almost always made it to our chemo appointments on time.
I owe a lot of this to my dad, who survived throat cancer with metastases—doctors gave him maybe a month once they found out—but he's been in remission for eight years now. He insisted that regardless of what the doctors said about her body's state, we stick to not just anything, but specifically boiled goat milk, Aloe Vera Gel, Broccoli extract, and beet juice. I also threw in some echinacea drops and garlic mixed with fruit so she wouldn't taste the stuff. Looking at her now, you'd never guess she was ever sick.

I'm probably going to get dragged for saying this, but as far as those "energy healers" go, I’ve yet to hear a single success story, even though I saw plenty of parents reaching for them. Usually, kids would have a tiny burst of energy and then a crash so hard they wouldn't make it.
We just kept our hearts set on God and left everything in His hands.
🙂

Thanks for checking in and sharing what you went through... my mom has decided to try some Tianshi products as extra support... they're natural supplements... she talked it over with her doctor along with all her test results (she's been on epilepsy meds for 30 years now) and the doctor cleared her to use about four specific things... honestly, I'm a bit of a skeptic, but then again, if she believes in them, that's probably what matters most... she's starting her first cycle of therapy now... txt + xeloda... she's handling it okay... she found some lozenges that help with the dry mouth and that nasty aftertaste...
Anyway, I really hope everything turns out OK...
Wishing you and your family nothing but the best.
Greetings,
Jessica Booth35

shadowheron4 said:Hi there and welcome. I had stage 3 breast cancer with lymph node metastases. Thank God, after 4 years I have no recurrence, and I'm praying it stays that way. I went through Taxotere and 25 rounds of radiation. It was a rough ride, but I made it through.
When it comes to those survival and mortality statistics, honestly, just skip them; we’re all unique cases here, and even two people with the exact same diagnosis can end up with completely different outcomes. Let me give you an example of a woman I know who became a dear friend through this whole mess—I think I've mentioned her on the forum before.
She had breast cancer that wasn't caught until it had already spread to her bones and liver, so yeah, it was late by the time they found it. Most doctors wouldn't have given her much of a chance, but they decided not to throw in the towel. After 12 rounds of chemo (Taxotere), everything actually receded, but then it hit her brain. They managed to kill that off with radiation. Then came more recurrences in the liver, then the breast, then the lymph nodes in her neck, and it just kept going like that for four years. She went through endless rounds of chemotherapy, but she literally powered through it all on her feet without ever needing to crawl into bed. And look at her now—she's still alive and just as tough as the day it started. All she has is one little scar on her liver and nothing else, even though according to all the stats and percentages, she should've been long gone. So, don't bother looking at the numbers; just focus on helping Mom get through the treatments and keeping her spirits from bottoming out. Just stay by her side and you'll beat this thing together, for sure. Hang in there!👍

Thanks for the support! One of the best things about all this is that Mom has a hell of a spirit and is truly ready to fight. We are too.
Thanks again and fingers crossed,
Best,
Jessica Booth35

Misty, I am so incredibly sorry. 😲 I know it’s almost impossible to process everything right now, but please try to keep an eye on your own health too. Especially considering your family history. You know how things can be—sometimes environmental factors in a home can play a role, so if you were living under the same roof, please think about what you can do for your own well-being. My heart just breaks for you. Losing one person is devastating enough, but losing two in such a short span to such a brutal disease... I honestly don't even have the words.

Bob, if things have reached this point, and I know how much it hurts to face this reality, it’s better for him to be at home, surrounded by care and love, rather than in a hospital. In a clinical setting, he’d just be alone, no matter how many doctors or nurses are hovering nearby. I know how heavy this is for you, but please stay strong. Just give him all the pure love you can; you don't even need to say anything, he will feel it. Hang in there. I’m thinking of you and sending you so much strength! Your strength is what will help him keep fighting!

coastalrider29 said:Hi everyone!

My mom had surgery for stomach cancer a few weeks ago. Her recovery went really smoothly, and she was supposed to start chemo in February. However, we just had a CT scan done a couple of days ago, and they found a hypodense area. I’m going to post the results here—if anyone could help me make sense of this, I'd be so grateful because I'm totally lost!

Results:

The abdomen was scanned using 5 mm transverse slices, both without and with IV contrast.

The contrast medium is evacuating from the stomach in the form of a narrow, tubular track surrounded by a hypodense area, with a clear increase in absorption values in that specific section following the IV administration of the contrast agent.

Thank you so much!!

This post was stuck in the queue! It finally went live, but it shows the old date.
If anyone could please help me out with an answer, I'd appreciate it!

Misty, I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.

First off, my deepest condolences to everyone who has lost their loved ones.
I haven't been able to find anything regarding DCVax-Brain in Europe, but on this site: http://www.clinicaltrials.gov/ct2/sh...forme&rank=33; you can see the specific criteria for entering the clinical trials for this glioblastoma drug here in the US. It’s clear they are looking at patients who have already undergone surgery and Temozolomide treatment. I assume if this ever reaches Europe, the requirements will be just as strict.
To be honest, I find it completely baffling how DCVax-Brain could supposedly be in use in Europe while it's still only in Phase II clinical trials here in the US. No matter how much I dig online, I cannot find a single reputable source to back that up. There was some news from September 7, 2007, claiming the drug was approved in Switzerland—which the pharmaceutical company reported on its own site—and several media outlets picked it up. But after that? Total silence. In fact, that same pharma company seemed to significantly tone down their messaging in later press releases, right after their stock prices spiked following that initial announcement.
I've checked Swiss sites and German sites too; nothing.
Is it actually possible that such a promising glioblastoma treatment is being shrouded in this much mystery? If this were real, it should be headline news, not some whispered secret.
I haven't found any mention of this on clinical trial registries in England either. Maybe I'm just missing something?
Don't take this the wrong way, but it strikes me as incredibly suspicious when some unnamed oncologist offers an anonymous injection for $1,000 a week. Nobody even knows what it actually is. From what I know, oncology clinics in Washington, D.C. don't run rogue experiments; they stick to proven therapies covered by Medicare. Or am I misinformed?
If a legitimate new therapy for glioblastoma were added to the standard list of drugs, every major newspaper in the country would be shouting it from the rooftops.
Furthermore, if anyone is participating in a clinical trial, there should be strict regulations and signed consent forms involved, not just a total lack of information.
Anyway, I am hoping this therapy becomes available to us soon, but for now, I have to ask myself: am I just being overly optimistic?
Best regards, and let's not lose hope.

Hey everyone,
I can’t thank you enough for all the support and condolences. Honestly, I’m still in total shock. I haven't even fully processed what happened yet, and I haven't even finished crying... It’s like there’s just this massive mental block in my head right now. Please, stay close to your loved ones and take care of yourselves. I know I need to be there for my brother, my sister, and myself. At the end of the day, our parents left us to look after one another.
Bibo, my dad and I decided to bring him home. He just couldn't handle any more chemo; the cancer had spread too far. You know, I used to think it might have been less painful if he had stayed in the hospital where they could do more for him, but now I’m certain that isn't true. He fell asleep forever in his own house, surrounded by endless love, care, cleanliness, and every ounce of attention possible. It brings us some peace knowing we did everything we could, and I was right there holding his hand when he drifted off... He just went to sleep.
Love you guys!

Hi everyone.
I’m new here; I’ve spent the last two days reading through everything, and honestly, I feel like I know you all better than some people in my actual life. Every time I read about someone passing away, I get this knot in my stomach. My heart goes out to all of you, and I just hope you find the strength to keep moving forward.

I have a story of my own. A few weeks ago, right around Christmas, 😢 my dad was diagnosed with throat cancer at the base of his tongue. At first, they thought it was just localized since he was having trouble swallowing, but they were wrong. His neck is already full of metastases on the right side... 😢 This coming Monday, January 21st, he’s headed into surgery in Seattle over at Tacoma, though we have no idea what to expect. Apparently, he has those old metal fillings in his mouth, and they say the metal interferes with the CT scans, so the doctors can't get a clear look at the outlines or determine if the cancer has already spread toward his pharynx. I can't even begin to tell you how terrified I am, especially after seeing how many people pass away just months after their diagnosis. Still, I keep reading, trying to stay informed, hoping the surgery goes well so that when Dad comes home in a month, we'll be ready—fully geared up and prepared for whatever comes next.
He’s always been a strong man, but he’s terrified of illness; he’s a total hypochondriac, and I worry that kind of anxiety might hinder his recovery. He’ll be 54 in a month and is in pretty good shape; he’s eating like crazy because he knows there will be a period where he won't be able to, so he's putting on weight, which I'm taking as a good sign...
If anyone here has dealt with cancer in that specific area, please share any advice you might have—especially MOREMAL, who mentioned her father recovered.

Beti

casualpanther1 said:First off, my heart goes out to everyone who has lost someone close to them.
I haven't been able to dig up anything regarding DCVax-L in Europe yet, but if you check this site: http://www.clinicaltrials.gov/ct2/sh...forme&rank=33; you can see the specific criteria for getting into the clinical trials for that glioblastoma drug here in the US. It looks like they're targeting patients who have already had surgery and finished Temozolomide. I'm assuming they'll follow the same playbook in Europe if it ever makes its way there...

Bendamustine, how did the surgery go? Is everything okay?

Regarding that vaccine, I asked my mom's doctor about it, but he just mumbled something vague and wouldn't give me a straight answer.
The truth is, he won't tell me anything until we get back with the new scans. We had the MRI done today, so once I have the images in hand next time, maybe I'll be able to squeeze some actual information out of him.

brightgardener8 said:Bendamustine, how did the surgery go??? Is everything okay?

Regarding this vaccine, I asked my mom's doctor, but he just mumbled something under his breath—nothing concrete at all.
The truth is, he won't tell me anything until we get back with the new head scans. We had the MRI done today, so once I have the images next time, I'll see if I can squeeze some actual information out of him.

Everything feels completely off to me too.😕I asked my aunt to double-check with her specialist over at Mount Sinai who brought up DCVax back in the summer.
My theory is that even though it's technically a Phase II clinical trial, anyone paying for it is essentially participating in that trial, effectively funding the research with their own money. I read on the DCVax website that it's open to all patients🤷, but now I'm hearing it isn't available in Switzerland. It makes me wonder what they are actually offering here in the States—is it really DCVax, or is it something else entirely?😕

Bendamustine, how are you doing? Did everything go alright?

Hi everyone,

We just got back from Germany and we're currently getting everything ready while the vaccine is being cultured—if God willing, the first injection should happen around January 30th.

Regarding the procedure itself, there are actually two types of DCVax: the specific version and the non-specific one. Like I’ve mentioned before, the whole idea is to "educate" monocytes so they can trigger the body's natural defense mechanisms—basically, the immune system—and prompt macrophages to hunt down and destroy tumor cells. This education happens by injecting tumor information directly into those monocytes. This method works best when using the patient's own specific tumor material, which has to be harvested during surgery and then specially processed and stored. On the other hand, the non-specific approach uses proteins that are characteristic of that particular type of tumor. You don't need a prior surgery or a biopsy for this route, but it tends to be less effective.

I can't speak for brain tumors, but with melanoma, you can go either way, so we are opting for the non-specific vaccine since his doctors believe there isn't any residual tumor left following his surgery back in November.
The plan is to switch over to the specific vaccine if the PET/CT scan we have scheduled in ten days shows any new clusters of tumor tissue. As much as we would love to use the specific vaccine, it wouldn't be good news if the cancer was actually progressing, so we are really hoping the PET/CT comes back completely clear and that his body can keep the disease in check using the non-specific vaccine.

I know this is turning into a bit of a long post, but I wanted to share a little more about how the vaccine is actually made. First, he has to undergo leukapheresis—that's a process where blood is drawn from the left vein into a machine that isolates the monocytes, and then the remaining blood is returned through the right vein. The whole thing takes about three to four hours and does come with side effects. Because the patient is given an anti-coagulant that binds to calcium, it can cause a calcium deficiency. I have to tell you, it wasn't a pretty sight watching my darling start to cramp and shake right in front of me, but thankfully the staff reacted immediately and everything turned out fine.

After that, the tumor information is introduced to the monocytes, they are left to mature for about a week, and then they are injected back into the body. The injections start every three weeks, followed by a follow-up PET/CT. If everything looks good, the vaccinations continue at four-week intervals, then every month and a half, and eventually, it moves to just one dose a year for the rest of his life.

Our very next step is the follow-up PET/CT, and that's the big hurdle we're facing now. Because of my own health situation, I won't be able to stay by his side, and honestly, I don't know how I'm going to survive waiting for that call. I am so terrified of these results; we had just finally started living normally again—he looks wonderful and feels great, he's hiking, skiing, and even drove us to Germany and back all by himself. We are looking forward to our wedding and the baby, and I just don't want this one scan to ruin everything or show that things are worse than they were. On the flip side, if it is good news, it will be such a massive relief, because this paranoia I'm living in is killing me too—every time he coughs, I think, "That's it, it's spread to his lungs," or if his head hurts, I'm convinced it's brain metastases...

Well, I've basically written a novel here—if I happened to miss any questions you might have, please let me know.

Elizabeth Gonzalez55 said:Well, I’ve basically written you guys an entire novel at this point—if there happens to be any question left hanging that I haven't tackled, just let me know..

Honey, everything is going to be fine. Don't let the negativity take root. I get it, fear is completely irrational, but you really have to try and neutralize those thoughts as much as possible.

To wrap this up:
Are we specifically talking about DCVax immunotherapy here? More specifically, this. It only mentions melanoma. What really trips me up is that according to their own graph, they're still stuck in pre-clinical stages.
The only logical takeaway for me is that their website isn't being updated. It's the same story with DCVax-L, where it claims to be in Phase 2 clinical trials, because it makes zero sense to them giving therapy to patients while they're still in the pre-clinical phase.😕

mellowcanyon36 said:Hello, everyone.
I am new here, and in just two days, I have read through every single post... I feel as though I know you all better than some people I actually socialize with in real life, and every time I read that one of you has passed away, I feel this tightening in my stomach. My deepest condolences to everyone, and I truly hope you find the strength to keep moving forward...

I have a story of my own. Just a few weeks ago, right around 😢 Christmas, my father was diagnosed with throat cancer at the base of his tongue. Initially, they suggested it might be in its earliest stages because he was struggling to swallow, but they were mistaken. His neck on the right side is already full of metastases... 😢 This coming Monday, January 21st, he is undergoing surgery at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, but we have no idea what to expect. Apparently, he has those old metal fillings in his mouth, and they say the metal interferes with the CT scans, so they can't get clear outlines or determine if the cancer has already spread toward his pharynx. I cannot even begin to tell you how terrified I am, especially after seeing how many people pass away just months after their diagnosis. Still, I keep reading, trying to stay informed... I just hope the surgery goes well, and when Dad comes home in a month, I want us to be ready, fully geared up for the fight ahead...
He is a strong man normally, but he is deathly afraid of illness—a total germaphobe—so I worry about how that might impact his recovery. He’ll be 54 in a month and is in good physical shape; he’s eating like crazy because he knows there will be a period where he won't be able to, and he's gaining weight, which feels like a good sign...
If anyone here has dealt with cancer in that specific area, please, give me some advice... I am especially looking for input from MOREMAL, who mentioned her father recovered...

Beti

Welcome to this virtual community that will help you find your footing, as it has helped all of us... I know exactly the weight you are carrying, because I experienced it myself, just like so many others on this forum. Shock, disbelief, panic, and grief all bleeding together inside you... isn't that right? I try so hard not to show that grief to my father, lest I lose my own strength and my faith that everything will turn out okay. When I first learned of my mother's diagnosis, I could barely control my emotions; most of the time, I just wept... I knew that was the only way I could comfort her, but I couldn't help myself. Quite quickly, however, I managed to overcome the sorrow by promising both her and myself that everything would be fine as long as we stood together. I tried to laugh, to joke, to project courage and resolve... searching for any reason to believe she would get better. Today, nine months later, she is doing well, even though they had essentially written her off at the time of diagnosis. We are still fighting, with the same intensity as before. The surgeons who operated on my mother often ask why we didn't go to see Dr. Haller, who is highly regarded at the Mayo Clinic...

Hang in there and have faith... the 21st will be here before you know it, and then you will finally have the answers to all your questions. Kisses.

Hey everyone!!
Just checking in before I head out—I’ve actually got my surgical residency interview tomorrow...
I'll be sure to post some updates once I know more..
Grace Fowler, hang in there!

Grace Fowler said:My dear friends...
I wanted to check in before I head out, as I have a surgical consultation scheduled for tomorrow...
I will be sure to update everyone once I know more...
Grace, stay strong...

Dear Grace,
I was actually thinking of reaching out today just to send some strength your way... hang in there, everything will turn out fine. We are all waiting for your update...

Kisses

Grace Fowler said:Hey everyone!
I’m checking in one last time before I head out, since tomorrow is the big day—I've got my surgical residency interview scheduled...
Just checking in with a few updates...
Grace Fowler, hang in there!

Hang in there, Grace Fowler! 🙂

mellowcanyon36 said:Hey everyone!
I’m brand new here, and honestly, after spending the last two days scrolling through every single post on this board, I feel like I know all of you better than some people I actually hang out with in real life. It’s a strange feeling, but whenever I hit one of those posts where someone has passed away, I get this heavy, sinking sensation right in the pit of my stomach. My heart goes out to everyone here, and I truly hope you all find the strength to keep moving forward.

I’ve got a story of my own to share. It all started with my dad just a few weeks ago, right around the time we were getting ready for Christmas. 😢 So, he was diagnosed with throat cancer, specifically right at the base of the tongue. At first, they were all telling us it was just some minor issue, maybe just the very beginning of something, mostly because he’s been having such a hard time swallowing, but they were dead wrong about that. It turns out the situation is much more serious than they initially let on, especially since his neck is already full of metastases on the right side. 😢 He’s heading in for surgery this Monday, January 21st, at the hospital over in Cleveland, and honestly, we’re all just sitting here trying to figure out what to expect. There's this complication with some old metal fillings in his mouth, and apparently, that hardware messes with the CT scans so much that the doctors can't get a clear enough look at the outlines to tell if the cancer has already started creeping toward his throat. I won't even try to hide it—I am absolutely terrified, especially after seeing how many people lose their battle just a few short months after getting diagnosed. But I’m still doing the reading and trying to stay informed because I want everything to go smoothly, and once Dad is finally back home in a month, I want us to be ready to hit the ground running with everything we've got.
He’s a remarkably strong person, really, but when it comes to illness, he’s terrified—absolutely petrified, actually. He’s got this deep-seated fear of sickness that honestly worries me, mostly because I’m concerned it might mess with his headspace during the recovery process. He’ll be turning 54 in about a month, and physically, he’s in great shape; he’s been eating like there’s no tomorrow since he knows there will be a period where he won't be able to, and seeing him put on a little weight is actually a pretty reassuring sign to me.
I’m looking for some guidance from anyone here who has dealt with cancer in that specific area, and I’d especially love to hear from MOREMAL, since she mentioned her father actually made a full recovery.

Beatrix

Beatrix, just keep fighting. You’re facing one of those massive life trials right now, a real heavy lesson, but you've got this. When things finally settle down—and I mean when you actually let yourself accept that—just come back here, because there will always be someone waiting for you. Honestly, you’re already carrying a full set of combat gear inside you; you already possess the most important tools for the fight. 🙂

My mom has been living with this diagnosis for about seven or eight months now, though the real trouble actually started around fifteen months ago, back when we were all just wandering around in the dark thinking it was some kind of neurological issue. Things didn't get any better, and by the time she was hospitalized the second time, they found a tumor in her bronchus that simply wasn't operable. It was pretty grim; there were moments where we honestly weren't sure if she’d even make it to her next round of chemotherapy because things were just that bad. She's already seventeen years older than your dad, too. And yet, despite everything, she's still here. 🙂
She polished off a whole bowl of thick soup for dinner—lots of mixed veggies, buckwheat, and millet—and now she’s just settling in to watch some game show. It’s one of those new ones featuring Tarik.😁
She’s asking for makeup, heading off to get her toes done, and her hair is starting to grow back again. It’s not quite full coverage yet, though—it's giving me more of a Mavrović vibe.😁

Sometimes I honestly can't pin down what I'm feeling; it’s hard to make sense of how everything is unfolding when the ground keeps shifting under your feet. There are moments where I don't think about the future at all and I feel totally chill, but then other times I'm just wound up tight, incredibly on edge, and bordering on a full-blown panic.

I had a bit of breathing room to process things too, if I understood you correctly, since she ended up staying in the hospital for a few weeks after the diagnosis. Once she finally made it home, we managed to get organized, and some pieces of the puzzle just seemed to fall into place. It’s exhausting, obviously, but we're making it work somehow.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the surgery goes smoothly and that she handles the follow-up treatment well. Wishing you the best. 🙂

And to everyone else here, I just hope you stay strong and hang in there. None of us really know when we’ll be the ones walking through the door with bad news. The main thing is that we aren't doing this alone. And we aren't. 🙂

Grace Fowler said:Hey everyone!!
Just checking in before I head out—I've got my surgery appointment tomorrow....
I'll be back with updates soon..
Grace, hang in there!

Our dear Grace,

You know, I really joined this forum mostly because of you. We're fighting the same battle, and we've beaten it so many times before. You're going to crush this too, and we'll be chatting here for a long, long time!
I hope your surgeon absolutely knocks it out of the park tomorrow!

First off, I wanted to apologize for just jumping right in like this. I see so many people here fighting through all sorts of health battles, and I truly wish everyone strength and victory in their fight.
I’ve also noticed that some of you share such helpful advice, which would be wonderful for me to hear...
So, um...

I have a little relative who is only two months old. He was born with a lump on his neck about the size of a sake bottle. At first, the doctors told us it was just fatty tissue or fluid and suggested surgery, but after specialists reviewed the tests, they determined it’s actually part of the baby's brain along with a tumor that has been growing since conception. They told us he might only have two months to live. We're all living in this state of suspense, but we're staying optimistic because the little guy is so strong and really fighting. However, the lump on his neck has grown a bit larger. Some days, the doctors tell us it’s possible he started as a twin and one passed away early on, becoming fused with the other, so even the medical team isn't entirely sure what to tell us anymore. I was wondering if anyone here has dealt with a similar situation in their family and would be willing to share their experience?
Thanks so much in advance, and again, sorry for barging in—I wasn't quite sure if my post belonged in this specific thread.

Forgive me for dropping into this thread like a skydiver, but I’m hoping someone here might be able to point me in the right direction.
I just started a new thread titled ''Urgent, urgent!!! Treatment in China!!'', so please take a look at what I’ve posted there to avoid any unnecessary repetition. I’d be incredibly grateful if you could let me know if you have heard of any specific cases where people were actually cured over there.
The reason I'm asking is that a group of patients with multiple sclerosis is currently preparing for a trip to China, and my brother-in-law is planning to go with them—he isn't suffering from MS himself, but he is battling another serious illness.
Word on the street is that they’ve successfully treated quite a few people dealing with sclerosis.

If anyone has even a shred of information, please help.