Resources and support for families dealing with cancer and serious illness

I’m reaching out to share this with Donna Fox48.

I’ve been quite concerned about my grandfather, who is dealing with inoperable lung cancer. Back in November 2006, his doctors were actually unsure if he could even handle chemotherapy, given his age, the complications from a secondary pneumonia he was fighting, and just his general frailty at the time.

Fast forward to today, and he is currently undergoing his sixth cycle of chemo. To be honest, his blood work looks better than mine! He has such a healthy, vibrant color in his face now. Since starting this treatment, he’s actually gained about 18 pounds, which is incredible because he used to be extremely thin. Physically, he’s quite active—he goes for walks covering several miles and can easily walk up to a fifth-floor walk-up without needing an elevator. Most importantly, the cancer has stabilized and is actually showing signs of regression.

To support his immune system alongside his main treatments, he has been taking:

- Propolis and royal jelly
- Ecomer capsules
- Green tea and ginseng capsules
- A homemade tonic made from fresh aloe, propolis, wine, and chicory

It really goes to show that hope is never truly lost. 🙂

Angela Wright, thank you a million times for the info. You are truly incredible.
I feel I should add something regarding the doctors. Reading what Jessica Taylor62 and slyseal28 have been posting, it’s clear there are positive experiences out there. It honestly warms my heart to see someone satisfied because they felt the approach was more humane. I am completely in agreement with you, Charles Edwards8 and restlessmarlin6, that offering a prognosis can be an ungrateful and even useless gesture. I'm not suggesting that doctors are incompetent or unskilled—though we all know there are all kinds out there—but it is perfectly clear to me that they are working under grueling, sometimes impossible conditions. However, what a doctor needs to understand, and surely he does, is that a patient isn't just a collection of muscle and bone. That is why we expect a more human connection toward those suffering. It’s simple. When you find yourself looking into the eyes of someone battling a severe malignancy, or their son, or their daughter, or their mother... what is so difficult about placing a hand on someone's shoulder and just staying there for ten seconds? What is the cost of that? And yet, think of how much it is actually worth!

Carol Ramirez said:I’m checking in for Donna Fox48.

I'm worried about my grandfather, who is dealing with inoperable lung cancer. Back in November 2006, the doctors were genuinely unsure if he could even handle chemotherapy, considering his age, an additional bout of pneumonia he had, and just his overall frailty.

Fast forward to today: he’s on his 6th cycle of chemo. Honestly, his blood work looks better than mine does. He’s got this healthy, vibrant color in his face again. Since starting treatment, he’s actually gained 8kg (and let me tell you, he was incredibly thin before this). Physically, he’s staying active—walking several miles, even taking the stairs up to the 5th floor without an elevator... The cancer has stabilized and is even showing signs of regression.

To boost his immune system, he’s using these as supplemental support:

- Propolis and royal jelly
- Ecomer capsules
- Green tea + ginseng capsules
- A homemade tonic made from fresh aloe, propolis, wine, and chicory

There really is hope. 🙂

Man, that is absolutely incredible news!👍
It hadn't been long since we last spoke, so I was honestly bracing for the worst. Who knows—if that tumor shrinks enough, maybe they'll be able to go in and surgically remove it after all. God willing!

As for me, I’ve got bad news today. My mom’s MRI shows slight tumor progression. Four months ago, there was nothing there, but now things are starting to move. I know this is incurable and that this outcome was inevitable, but I feel completely broken. What can I even say? There's still this tiny flicker of hope inside me that God might choose my mom specifically to perform a miracle.😢

Angela Wright said:Oh man, that’s actually great news!👍
Since you were gone for a bit, I was honestly bracing for the worst. Who knows—if that tumor isn't pressing too hard against anything vital, maybe they can actually go in and surgically remove it. God willing!

As for me, I have some bad news today. My mom's MRI results show a slight progression in the tumor. Four months ago, there was nothing there, but now things are starting to move. I know this is incurable and that we were always heading toward this inevitable reality, but I just feel so wretched, if I'm being honest. There's still this tiny, stubborn ember of hope inside me that maybe God will choose my mother specifically to perform a miracle.😢

I'm at a loss for words... we just have to hold onto hope, even when the facts aren't exactly on our side. While we hope, we fight.

I'm sending you so much strength to get through this, because you really have to. Consider this a hand reaching out to support you.

Similarly, some people want to know absolutely everything about the illness they’re facing—every possible treatment option (because that's what we want)—while others prefer to remain in the dark, just like the example you mentioned. Ultimately, that choice belongs to the patient and their family. It isn't up to the doctor. That’s one thing I find frustrating about the system.

My mother was diagnosed just 10 months ago, and everything the doctors have done so far is yielding results. If it weren't, believe me, I would be doing exactly what everyone else does: searching for alternative treatments and asking questions. My mother talks to her doctor directly; she gets all the answers she needs. I was simply trying to explain how I, as her caregiver, handle things. I had to create some distance to avoid getting too deeply overwhelmed. If I didn't, the dark thoughts would have crushed me much sooner.
And when you see those doctors and nurses who deal with critically ill patients every single day, treating them as just another routine task, don't mistake their silence for indifference.
I truly believe it is incredibly difficult for them to watch patients *pass away* day after day while feeling completely helpless. It might even be worse when they know there are options that could help, but they remain inaccessible due to the mess within the healthcare system. Everyone is aware of how long the wait times for radiation can be, and there's nothing they can do. It's an extremely heavy burden to carry.
At the same time, I won't claim there aren't "hardened" doctors out there—people who have Googled other people's suffering and pain and simply refuse to bother with the patients or their families.
Those types of doctors fail to build trust or offer any sense of hope for recovery, which, in my opinion, is their biggest failure. Instead of providing support, the patient and their family are met with ignorance, which only worsens an already dire situation.
And honestly, I don't see any way to force the government to finally provide equal and adequate care for all the sick and vulnerable.

Jessica Taylor62 said:Similarly, some people want to know every single detail about the disease they’re facing and explore every possible treatment avenue (which is what we want), while others prefer to stay in the dark—you made a great point with your example. At the end of the day, that’s a decision for the patient and their family, not the doctor. That’s actually one thing I find myself resenting about the whole system.

My mother was diagnosed just 10 months ago, and everything the doctors have done so far has actually been showing results. If it wasn't, believe me, I would be right there with everyone else, digging for alternative options and seeking help elsewhere. My mom handles her own discussions with the doctor; she asks all the questions she needs to ask. I was simply trying to explain how I, as her caregiver, manage the mental load. I had to create some distance just to keep from getting too deeply entangled in the despair. If I didn't, the dark thoughts would have crushed me long ago.
And when you see those doctors and nurses who deal with critically ill patients every single day, treating them with such routine efficiency, don't mistake that for coldness.
I truly believe it’s incredibly difficult for them, watching patients *slip away* day after day while they stand by feeling powerless. It might even be worse when they realize there are treatments out there that could actually help, but because of the sheer dysfunction in our healthcare system, they remain inaccessible. Everyone is painfully aware of how long the wait times for radiation can be, and there's nothing they can do about it. It is an immensely heavy burden to carry.
That isn't to say there aren't "hardened" doctors—if I can call them that—who essentially feed off the suffering of others and refuse to put in the effort for the patients or their families.
Those types of physicians fail to build trust or offer any semblance of hope for recovery, which, in my opinion, is their greatest failure. Instead of receiving support, the patient and their loved ones are met with indifference, which only makes an already devastating situation much worse.
And honestly, I don't see any easy way to force the government to finally step up and ensure equal, adequate care for all the sick and vulnerable.

The only way forward is to make ourselves heard. If we have to raise our voices repeatedly, reaching out to multiple different offices... eventually, they'll have to listen!

Plus, that site Charles Edwards8 suggested—the one where we can all contribute—is going to be a massive help. If you have any good articles (in English), please email them to me.

Angela Wright:

Oh my goodness, that is wonderful news!
It had been a little while since I last heard from you, so I must admit I was bracing for the worst. Who knows—if the tumor settles enough, perhaps they might even be able to surgically remove it. God willing!

I am truly overjoyed myself. 🙂 The doctors haven't brought up surgery yet; apparently, it isn't an option right now, not because of the size of the tumor, but because of its specific location. Still, this feels like a massive victory because Grandpa gets to enjoy such a high quality of life when he isn't stuck in the hospital for treatments.

I’ve been a bit quiet lately because life has just been pulling me in every direction at once. Angela, I am so incredibly sorry about your mother. I almost feel a sense of hesitation sharing my own good news knowing how much you're hurting right now. But I believe that alongside all the support we offer one another, it’s important to occasionally share a win, too—something to pour hope back into everyone else and remind us all that healing is possible.

Sending love to you all, you are true warriors 😘

Donna Fox48 said:Thank God my father is doing better today—he can finally eat and move around again. I realized after yesterday's post that I forgot to mention: please reach out if you know of any similar lung cancer cases where chemotherapy actually yielded positive results.

First, you have to realize that every single person is an individual—there are no two identical cases. I’m not quite sure what you meant by "a malignant tumor that metastasizes quickly"—does that mean metastases have already been found, or is it just a suspicion?
In our case, doctors wrote my dad off as a lost cause on Monday, sent him for a chest CT on Tuesday (just for appearances, really), and were scheduling surgery by Wednesday. After the operation, they announced they had removed both upper lobes of the right lung, and the tumor was completely gone.
Basically—anything is possible if you fight for it with everything you've got!

Unfortunately, after that, those three tragic metastases in the brain were discovered... but there is still hope, even if everyone keeps saying radiation only works temporarily (those prognosticators, right?).
We did manage to find one soul—again, through a connection—a radiologist who insists things aren't entirely bleak (our first dose of actual optimism).

Even though it didn't happen in that specific order for us, in many instances, chemotherapy shrinks the tumor, which then makes surgical removal possible.
My dad's doctor even told me that in some cases, they remove the metastases first, then the primary tumor, and people go on to live...

Hang in there; right now, he needs nothing more than courage and the faith of those closest to him... 😘

Yes, and let me share that story again—about my cousin’s aunt—who fought two cancers: bladder and lung, not to mention the metastases in her brain. About seven years ago, her doctor basically handed her a death sentence. Fast forward to just three months ago, and that same doctor told her she was—cured!!! Even though she was in Germany, the approach was the standard stuff: radiation and chemo. When things get incredibly dark and holding onto optimism or faith feels impossible, we talk about her!
Hang in there, everyone—feed your soul with stories like this. Miracles really do happen, and maybe... if you just believe hard enough... who knows?

So, I’ve been spending some time reading through everything you all have been posting today.
I actually found myself just staring blankly at the screen for a moment because I wanted to say something to you, Angela Wright, but the right words just wouldn't come. Others were much sharper than me and managed to tell you exactly what needed saying...... we just have to stay hopeful. That hope is where the strength comes from, both for ourselves and for those who are battling illness. And you, since you're moving forward at a hundred miles an hour, you've certainly got that strength in spades.
By the way, you're absolutely right—once a person starts cooking and getting things done, they really do start feeling a bit better.
It truly is wonderful to read about those people who can just laugh in the face of every prognosis.

Hey everyone, thanks so much for all the support!
I’ve been sitting here trying to wrap my head around it—if things aren't actually any different today than they were yesterday or the day before, then why am I feeling so low?
My mom actually managed to laugh yesterday! I honestly can't remember the last time she did that. I told her straight up: "Tell that Lucifer who attacked your brain to get back to where he came from—straight to hell—because we have plans to go to Split for St. Duje to see the opening of the Riva!" She laughed and said, "Let's go to Split for St. Duje."
My sunshine😘

Angela Wright said:Everyone, thank you all so much for the support!
I had this thought creeping in—that things aren't any different today than they were yesterday or the day before... so why let ourselves fall?
My mom actually managed to laugh yesterday! I honestly can't remember the last time she did that. I told her, "Tell that Lucifer who attacked your brain to go back exactly where he came from—straight to hell—because we have to head down to San Diego for the St. Anthony festival on the waterfront!" She laughed and said, "Let's go to San Diego for St. Anthony."
My sunshine😘

You are just wonderful!!!!!! 😘

Angela Wright said:Everyone, thank you all so much for the support!
I had this nagging thought that things today aren't any different than they were yesterday or the day before... so why bother fighting the fall?
My mom actually managed to laugh yesterday! I honestly can't remember the last time she did that. I told her, "Tell that Lucifer who attacked your brain to go right back to where he came from—straight to hell—because we have plans to go to Split for St. Duje to see the opening of the Riva!" She laughed and said, "Let's go to Split for St. Duje."
My sunshine😘

🙂 , you are wonderful!

Angela Wright said:Everyone, thank you so much for all the support!
I’ve been stuck in this loop of thinking things haven't changed one bit from yesterday or the day before... so why bother feeling down?
My mom actually managed to laugh yesterday! I honestly can't remember the last time she did that. I just told her, "Tell that Lucifer who attacked your brain to go right back to where he came from—straight to hell—because we have plans to head down to San Diego for the festival on the waterfront!" She laughed and said, "Let's go to San Diego."
My dear😘

Hang in there, lady.😘

I really want to acknowledge the courage and optimism you’ve shown in your previous posts. It truly means a lot. For us, the last three weeks have been nothing short of tragic. My mom was recently diagnosed with a brain tumor—Glioblastoma. We are still sitting here in a state of total disbelief, just trying to wrap our heads around the harsh reality that this is actually happening to our family. If anyone has any advice on how to navigate the fight against this brutal disease, we would be so incredibly grateful to hear it.

Amanda Williams64 said:I truly admire the courage and optimism you've shown in your previous posts. However, life took a devastating turn for us three weeks ago. Our mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor—Glioblastoma. We’re still sitting here in total disbelief, trying to wrap our heads around the harsh reality that this is actually happening to our family. Any advice on how to fight this brutal disease would be deeply appreciated.

Take a look at some of the posts from @Angela Wright/">@@Angela Wright

Hang in there.

Amanda Williams64 said:I really admire the courage and optimism you’ve shown in your previous posts. But three weeks ago, tragedy struck our family. My mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor—glioblastoma. We're still in total shock, trying to wrap our heads around the brutal reality that this is actually happening to us. Any advice on fighting this vicious disease is more than welcome!

I am so sorry😢
It honestly feels like there's a glioblastoma epidemic lately; I feel like I'm hearing about new cases every single day.

When it comes to glioblastoma, the most detailed discussions happen over on the "New Cure Found for Glioblastoma Brain Tumor" forum.
Here’s the link so you don't have to waste time searching:

Everything that me and others have gathered regarding the disease and treatment options can be found right there.

Sending you all the strength in the world to get through what lies ahead.😳

I just wanted to let you know that our radiation treatment plan is finally set. Our professor (😘) managed to get everything scheduled for Monday, April 16th, despite all the doubts we had.
Words can’t quite capture how relieved we are. Honestly, I think we picked the right doctor.

That said, I haven't forgotten the reality of the situation—that people actually do wait over a month for radiation, and that doctors are forced to triage patients because of equipment shortages. In my view, they aren't the ones to blame for that.
I still maintain that we have to push back against the poor decisions being made by certain bigwigs in the healthcare system. We have every right to demand transparency regarding how the money we deduct from our paychecks is actually being spent.

I'm currently working on that webpage Charles Edwards8 suggested. Over the next few days, I’ll be sending him a few design proposals for the site. What I really need now are some high-quality, reliable articles about malignant diseases (the data sources must be accurate and trustworthy). If you have anything substantial—preferably in a text file—please email it to me.

My dear father has closed his eyes forever... he is gone...
For now, this is all I can manage to write. The pain tearing through me is simply too overwhelming to put anything else into words... such an intense, indescribable agony...🙂 😢 😳

Brenda Richardson33 said:My dear father has closed his eyes forever... he is gone...
For now, this is all I can manage to write because the pain tearing through me is just too overwhelming to put anything else into words... such an intense, indescribable agony...🙂 😢 😳

I am so incredibly sorry; please accept my deepest condolences.

I honestly don't know what to say to you, but I'm sending a massive hug your way... stay strong...