Resources and support for families dealing with cancer and serious illness

dustyranger11 said:Thanks so much for all the replies to my post. My dad is headed in for surgery tomorrow (or so they told him), and apparently, they might use a laser? I honestly don't know if that's better or worse. All I know is he's had this tumor for two years, and it hasn't really given him trouble until now. As for the throat issue, if they have to cut it out to stop it from spreading to his other organs, then let them. When he went to the hospital today (he was home over the weekend), he said he’s never felt pain this intense. It just breaks my heart. I don't have a mom, so I'm everything to him, which makes this a million times harder. No one else carries this weight for me. I have to do this alone. And it's his heart on the line. I don't even know who to turn to at Mayo Clinic. Nobody knows anything—only the doctors do, but they're never around. Once they finish rounds, they disappear into surgery. Maybe my dad would be better off at a specialized cancer center instead of Mayo Clinic. I haven't exactly had great experiences there. I don't know if I'm wrong, but that's just how it feels.

Chelsea, they gave my dad about a month to live nearly eight years ago. We dealt with a surgeon at Mercury and an oncologist at Mayo Clinic, plus the endless waiting games and praying to God.
Don't lose hope for a second. You've gotta stay strong for both of you right now!

Nancy Hernandez43 said:Dear slyseal28,
I won't be able to sit down and really talk things through with my mother until the end of the week. We're only about 48 hours away from her flight to Aviano, and frankly, I don't have the heart to start digging into anything right now; I wouldn't want to give her more to worry about at such a sensitive time. Regardless, once I finally claw my way out from under this mountain of work, I'll make sure my letter gets to you. Kisses.

Thanks, dear... I'm crossing everything that her results come back perfectly!

Maria Jones40 said:What exactly is it about Avastin that you're looking to find out?

I am primarily curious about the overall success rate of treatments involving Avastin, much like how one might weigh the efficacy of a new medication, and I would also appreciate learning more about what kind of side effects one might expect to encounter.

quietraven6 said:Hi everyone.
A family member is scheduled for an autologous bone marrow transplant very soon. If anyone here has gone through this, please reach out and share what you know. What does the process actually look like? What kind of risks are we talking about, and how effective is it really🤷? Thank you so much.

Hello. My mother is battling AML, and after her second round of chemo, she’s gearing up for a bone marrow transplant. I think the response provided by the lady above was pretty thorough. From what I've researched, an autologous transplant isn't quite as risky as an allogeneic one from a donor, but obviously, during the aplastic phase, the risks skyrocket because of potential infections. If you don't mind me asking, what specific condition is your family member facing?
Is there anyone on this forum with firsthand experience treating acute myeloid leukemia? I would be incredibly grateful to hear some real-world stories...

Betty Taylor51 said:I'm wondering how successful treatment with Avastin is, and what kind of side effects there are.

In the US, Avastin is typically used as a first-line treatment for metastatic colorectal cancer, usually paired with chemotherapy. It’s interesting because it doesn't actually work like standard chemo; instead, it works by inhibiting the growth of new blood vessels that feed the tumor, which helps slow down its progression and spread. The therapy is generally administered every two weeks until the disease starts to progress. From what I've seen, most people tolerate it quite well. Some common side effects to watch out for include increased blood pressure—so you really have to stay on top of monitoring those numbers—as well as potential kidney issues (doctors usually check urine for protein levels), along with risks of thrombosis, embolism, or heart muscle weakness. There are more serious complications to be aware of, like gastrointestinal bleeding or organ perforation, which can be life-threatening. However, in practical day-to-day application, it is generally well-tolerated. Regarding efficacy, while we've seen massive leaps in treatment thanks to newer drugs, metastatic disease isn't something we can cure entirely just yet. That said, the goal is often about improving quality of life and extending it, which, in my opinion, is incredibly important.

slyseal28 said:My dear friends,

A woman contacted me by phone today; she’s been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She doesn't have a computer at home, nor does she have internet access. She’s going to try her best to find someone with a computer who can show her our site. In the meantime, let's support her by sending her a letter of encouragement.

She told me briefly that it's Stage III ovarian cancer and that what she needs most is support—someone to talk to, specifically someone who has beaten this very disease.

To all of you fighting ovarian cancer, and to those who have already come out the other side: please, send me an email with your story. Tell us how you fight, what you eat, and everything else we struggle with here. Let’s compose a letter to let this woman know she isn't alone. Let's lift her spirits and bring her some joy. All it takes is a few minutes of your time and a postage stamp.

I know many of you have already shared your experiences, but rather than me digging through old threads, please just email me your stories directly so I can send them to her on behalf of all of us.

Whether it’s a full story, a letter, or just a few sentences of support, please, send it to my email.

slyseal28, I was just wondering if you received the email I sent last night to that lady? I had a bit of trouble getting it to send properly.

cosmicsailor91 said:Here’s my little girl. She’s not even three yet, though it feels like she hit that milestone ages ago. I’m pretty wiped out lately, so I probably won't be around to chat until later tonight.🙂
I was wondering if anyone could help me out—does anyone know how old the patient is, or what kind of illness we're actually dealing with here?

So, we’re looking at someone in their late fifties dealing with multiple myeloma. Honestly, I’ve got a gut feeling that everything is going to turn out okay. Thanks to everyone for all the input and advice.😉

Linda Campbell said:slyseal28, I was just wondering if you happened to catch that email I sent last night to the lady in question? I ran into a few technical hiccups while trying to hit send.

I never saw it... 🤷

Go ahead and try sending it again...

The membership cards have officially been sent out, so you should see them landing in your mailbox within the next two or three days... 🙂

Maria Jones40 said:Avastin is utilized as a frontline treatment for metastatic colorectal cancer here in the States, typically paired alongside chemotherapy. It’s important to note that it doesn't function like a traditional chemo agent; instead, it works much like a gardener pruning a plant by inhibiting the formation of new blood vessels that feed the tumor, effectively slowing its growth and spread. The regimen usually involves administration every two weeks until any signs of disease progression appear. Most patients find it relatively well-tolerated, though one should keep an eye out for side effects like elevated blood pressure—which requires regular monitoring and adjustments—as well as potential kidney issues, where checking urine for protein is key, or risks like thrombosis, embolism, and heart muscle weakening. More severe complications can include gastrointestinal bleeding or organ perforation, which are understandably serious. However, in clinical practice, it is generally quite manageable. While the advent of newer medications has certainly revolutionized how we approach this, metastatic disease remains incurable; our primary goal shifts toward enhancing quality of life and extending longevity, which is truly what matters most.

If I am understanding you correctly, it sounds like a complete cure isn't an option. You aren't being overly optimistic, and based on the way you explain things, I get the impression you are quite highly trained in this field.

Hey everyone,
I was hoping someone could help me make sense of some things. My aunt has breast cancer, and I’ve offered all the help I can, but I really don't want to push her too hard or ask questions she isn't ready to answer—you know, out of respect for her privacy. But honestly, I just need a little clarity. My aunt kind of ignored all the warning signs until an open wound actually appeared on her breast. Once she finally went in for an ultrasound, they knew immediately what was going on. She had a biopsy right away which confirmed it was cancer, and shortly after, they had to perform a mastectomy and remove her lymph nodes. Based on the pathology report, she’s been prescribed six rounds of chemo and radiation. Right now, she’s doing some kind of therapy every third day. Even though she looks almost like her old self physically, I can't shake the feeling that this is incredibly serious. How can I be there for her without being overbearing? Also, how long do these chemo cycles usually last, and when they do radiation, is it targeting the original site or the metastases? It just feels like things are much more dire than they look on the surface... I guess I'm just looking for some reassurance if anyone has it.

briskskipper71 said:Hey everyone,
I’m looking for some clarity on a few things. My aunt has breast cancer. I’ve offered her every bit of support I can, but I don't want to pry or ask questions she isn't ready to answer—I respect her privacy and her own way of handling this. But for my own peace of mind, I need someone to help me make sense of the situation. My aunt ignored all the warning signs until an open wound actually appeared on her breast. She went straight for an ultrasound, where they immediately identified the problem. A biopsy confirmed it was cancer, and shortly after, they performed a mastectomy and removed her lymph nodes. Based on the detailed pathology report, she’s been prescribed six rounds of chemo and radiation. Right now, she’s on some kind of therapy every third day. Even though she looks almost like she did before the surgery, I feel like this is incredibly serious. How can I be there for her without being overbearing? How long do these chemo cycles usually last, and what exactly is the radiation targeting—is it for potential metastases or just the area where the breast used to be as a precaution? To me, it feels much more dire than it looks... someone please tell me I'm overthinking this.

Take a look at these sites:
http://www.cancer.org/survival-resources...017bc91a9fe525 to get a general idea of how this works, and also:
http://www.mayoclinic.org/breast-cancer/ for more specific details.

Just be her rock and don't push her to talk if she isn't feeling it. Just let her know that whenever she's ready to vent, you're sitting right there listening. You have to treat her like the same person she's always been; having cancer doesn't change her identity. She has this disease, and she's doing everything possible to beat it. The whole family needs to help her maintain a sense of normalcy—no whispering behind her back, no excessive pitying, and no fear or tears when you're standing in front of her.
From what you've described, it's hard to pinpoint the exact prognosis, but the fact that they are actively treating her and have already completed surgery means the doctors are working toward a cure and recovery. Is it serious? Yes. If there's metastasis, it certainly complicates things, but that doesn't mean it's a lost cause by any stretch. Keep that perspective in mind so you can show up for her the right way.

briskskipper71 said:hey everyone,
I’m hoping someone can help clear some things up for me. My aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer—I've offered all the help I can, but I don't want to push her too hard or ask questions she isn't ready to answer, you know? I want to respect her space. But man, I just need to understand what we're looking at here... She basically ignored every single warning sign until an open wound actually appeared on her breast. She went straight for an ultrasound and they caught it immediately. A biopsy confirmed it was cancer, and shortly after, they did a mastectomy and removed her lymph nodes. Based on the pathology report, she's been prescribed six rounds of chemo plus radiation. Right now, she's on some kind of therapy every third day. Even though she looks almost like she did before the surgery, I feel like this is incredibly serious. How do I support her without being overbearing? And how long do these chemo cycles usually last? Also, regarding the radiation—do they target the original site or the metastases? It feels way more dire than it looks on the surface... please tell me I'm overthinking this...

It doesn't necessarily mean the situation is a lost cause. A friend's mother was in a way worse spot than your aunt. Honestly, she let things get so bad that when we were near her, the smell was just... unbearable. Like, the tissue was literally decomposing. They had to remove the breast and everything down to the bone. Doctors could only say "God help us." She finished six rounds of chemo, going once every 21 days. The outcome? That was five years ago, and she’s alive and well today. Usually, they radiate the surgical area—as for metastases, if they were just in the lymph nodes that got removed, then you're probably looking at a much better prognosis.

Sending strength to everyone out there fighting their own battles against these brutal diseases.

So, my husband was diagnosed with colon cancer. He had surgery two weeks ago, and at first, everything seemed to be going well. After he moved out of the ICU, things took a devastating turn on the regular ward. There was a leak where they had joined his bowel back together. I don't know if the doctor on duty just missed it or if it was pure negligence, but he didn't catch the leakage. My husband was in agony, waiting over ten hours for his primary doctor to show up for rounds while he suffered. By the time they realized what happened and rushed him back into surgery, the damage was already done—he went into sepsis. He’s still on a ventilator now. Some of his numbers are looking better, but he’s developed pneumonia, likely because his body is just completely exhausted from fighting everything else. At this point, we honestly don't know how this ends or if he can pull through all of this. It goes without saying how much this is tearing him and our whole family apart. To make matters worse, not a single person at the hospital has even bothered to apologize for the chaos one of their own doctors caused. We're just leaning on God and praying my husband's body is strong enough to fight off these infections. It's a sad reality that in American hospitals, you can have world-class surgeons, but if the post-op care falls through the cracks and nobody takes responsibility for mistakes, patients are basically left to luck, and families are left in this desperate limbo waiting for any sign of progress. If anyone here has dealt with sepsis before, please, reach out. I could really use some insight.

Thanks for anything you can share.

Amanda Collins80 said:Sending strength to all the brave souls fighting their own battles against terrible illnesses.

My husband was recently diagnosed with colon cancer. Two weeks ago, he underwent surgery, which initially went well. However, after recovering in the ICU and being moved to a regular ward, his intestinal anastomosis failed. The doctor on duty either missed the signs or was simply negligent; he didn't realize there was a bowel perforation, leaving my husband to suffer through excruciating pain for over ten hours while waiting for his primary physician to arrive for rounds. By the time they performed a second surgery, the damage was already done, and he spiraled into sepsis. He’s still on a ventilator now. While some of his vitals are stabilizing, he’s developed pneumonia—likely because his body is just too exhausted to fight back—so we are in a terrifying limbo, praying he can pull through this. I don't even need to say how devastating this is for him and our entire family, especially since not a single soul at the hospital has had the decency to apologize for the catastrophe one of their own doctors caused. Right now, we are putting everything in God's hands and praying my husband's resilience carries him through these infections. Unfortunately, in the American healthcare system, you can have world-class surgeons, but if the post-op care is lacking and there's zero accountability for medical errors, patients are basically left to chance. Their families are left in total despair, clinging to every tiny sign of progress. If anyone here has experience dealing with sepsis, please reach out.

Thank you for any help you can provide.

Look, here is a girl who posted about an identical situation involving her father, so maybe try reaching out to her.
Sadly, these things happen when intestinal tissue is damaged; surgeons always try to save as much as possible to aid recovery, but sometimes those sutures just rip. As for the post-op care, I am 100% with you—and I'll go a step further and say the state of palliative care in this country is practically criminal.
Stay strong and keep your head up. We're rooting for you!

Betty Taylor51 said:If I’m understanding this correctly, you’re saying a total cure just isn't on the table. You don't seem overly optimistic about it, and based on how you write, I get the feeling you really know your stuff.

That happens to be my area of expertise. While every single person is an individual regardless of what the numbers say, we definitely shouldn't ignore the hard statistics.

Maria Jones40 said:That’s my lane. At the end of the day, every single person is an individual, far more than just some data point sitting in a spreadsheet. At the end of the day, you really have to stick to the hard data.

Those doctors are clinging to their positions like they’re gripping a lifeline in a storm.🙄
I’ve always been a firm believer in the individual—the person who fights tooth and nail and looks inward to find their own shot at survival. When you look at someone facing a terminal diagnosis, most people just buckle under the weight of the statistics, even the toughest, most stoic types you'll ever meet. Sure, you run into those rare outliers who are fueled by pure, unadulterated spite, but that's the exception, not the rule. Nobody is immune to the crushing weight of numbers. That’s why I can’t stand relying on statistics; more often than not, they just serve as a reason to give up before the fight even starts.
A positive mindset and a solid support system are just as vital to recovery as the medicine itself. If someone is mentally spiraling, even the most advanced pharmaceutical on the market won't be able to pull them through easily. It’s basic logic. Every single person who has been hailed as a medical miracle had one thing in common: they were surrounded by a positive atmosphere and a community that actually backed them up during the fight. In my view, that’s the absolute single most important factor when you're fighting any kind of illness, a brutal life crisis, or even something as devastating as cancer.

Angela Wright said:Doctors should probably stick to their data, just like they cling to it so desperately.🙄
I’ve always been a believer in the individual—someone who fights hard and finds that inner strength to take their shot. When someone is facing cancer, those cold statistics can be crushing; even the toughest, most stoic people tend to buckle under them. Of course, you meet some folks who get a surge of pure defiance, but at the end of the day, nobody is immune to the weight of those numbers. That’s why I’m wary of relying too much on statistics; I find they can actually be counterproductive to a person's spirit.
For a successful recovery, having a positive mindset and a solid support system is just as vital as the actual medication. If someone is struggling internally, even if they're taking the best medicine available in the US, the road to healing becomes incredibly steep. Looking back, almost everyone we consider a "medical miracle" had an incredible environment of support surrounding them during their fight. In my opinion, that sense of positivity is the single most important factor when battling any serious illness, or honestly, any major life crisis, including cancer.

Well, that’s exactly what I was getting at. I meant that every single person is an individual case, but at the end of the day, statistics are still statistics... I think you might have missed my point.

Maria Jones40 said:Look, I said exactly that—that every single person is their own unique case—but statistics are statistics... you just didn't quite catch my drift.

Oh, I understood what you were saying, but then you immediately followed it up by claiming "but we should definitely stick to the hard statistics," which completely contradicts your first point. It’s that classic "expert" way of talking. Honestly, I couldn't care less about those numbers, and frankly, no one who is actually sick should have to deal with them either. Leave the math to the nerds who want to kill themselves over spreadsheets.🙄 I don't know why God allows doctors to constantly shove these numbers in the faces of patients. What, do they think they need to convince someone they're seriously ill? The second you hear the word "cancer," you already know how heavy the situation is; there's no need to dig a hole under a patient just to prove a point.
I hate statistics from the bottom of my heart😠. They are utterly useless to people who are actually suffering.

Angela Wright said:Those doctors are clinging to their old ways like they're holding onto dear life. It’s honestly wild to watch.🙄
I’ve always been a huge believer in the underdog—that person who refuses to back down and goes looking for their own shot at life. When someone is facing cancer, most people just look at the statistics and give up, even the toughest, most stoic guys you know. It's heartbreaking. Of course, you get those rare cases where pure spite kicks in and they fight against all odds, but honestly, nobody stays indifferent when things get that heavy. That’s why I can't stand those survival stats; they’re usually more discouraging than helpful.
Look, if you want to actually get better, having a positive mindset and a solid support system matters just as much as the meds you're taking. It’s simple: if you’re feeling totally crushed inside, even the best prescription on the planet isn't going to do much for you. It's hard to heal when you're stuck in a dark place. Honestly, every single person I know who's been called a "medical miracle" had that same thing in common—they had good vibes around them and people in their corner cheering them on while they fought. In my book, that’s hands down the most important factor when you're fighting any kind of illness—even something as heavy as cancer—or just dealing with those brutal life situations that hit you out of nowhere.

I couldn't agree more with everything said above!
Just wanted to jump on here and share some amazing news—my girl just got her Goldman Sachs scan results back, and she’s totally clear! Thank God!