Support for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses (Part II)

cosmiclynx14 said:Yeah, the first report showed that, but it said everything looked benign. Now this latest one uses such heavy language—"osteoplastic metastatic changes"—and it’s really freaked me out..
And Dad keeps saying the doctor told him it’s nothing... I just don't get it..

Anyway, thanks.. we'll see what happens, we're sending the results over to Germany..

Did the radiologist actually have access to that previous report when they performed this new scan?
In my opinion, the smartest move is to present both reports for a second opinion, which is exactly what you're doing anyway, right?
Fingers crossed it's nothing serious.

Angela Wright said:So, did the radiologist actually get to see that previous report when they were doing this new scan?
I honestly think the smartest move is to hand over both reports for a second opinion—which is exactly what you're doing anyway, right?
Fingers crossed everything stays steady.

That’s the thing. The doctor we’re seeing for the follow-up supposedly said it was nothing to worry about. But I say "supposedly," because whenever my dad goes to his appointments alone, I can never be 100% sure if he's telling me the truth just to keep me from worrying...

Thanks, and fingers crossed on my end too.🙂

Hey everyone,

I’ve been hanging around this thread a lot lately, though I haven't really posted. I just sat back and read all your stories, finding so much strength and empathy in what you guys share. It feels like we have so much in common—so many of us walking the exact same path, dealing with the same heartache and pain. Sadly, my dad passed away forever on September 28, 2014, after only 100 days following his liver cancer diagnosis.
We tried everything, did absolutely everything we could. Honestly, a lot of that was thanks to you guys—following your experiences and taking your advice during such a brutal fight... I'm just grateful to God that Dad's final moments were peaceful and dignified. He slipped away in his sleep without any pain, surrounded by his favorite people.
We've gotta keep moving forward, one step at a time, day by day. We do it for ourselves and for our families. Who knows what else life has in store for us? I just want to wish peace, strength, and all the love in the world to everyone here looking for help. To those caring for loved ones fighting this nasty disease: you're doing great, and that love is the only thing that truly matters in those final moments...

Henry Morris2 said:My dear friends,

I’ve spent quite a lot of time lurking on this thread without actually posting. I’ve just been reading through your messages, finding a sense of strength and empathy in your words. It’s striking how much we have in common—how many of us have walked the exact same path, sharing the same profound pain and loss. Sadly, my father passed away forever on September 28, 2014, just 100 days after his liver cancer diagnosis.
We tried everything, did absolutely everything we could. So much of what we managed was thanks to all of you; following your experiences and your advice helped us navigate this brutal fight. I thank God that my father's final moments were peaceful and dignified; he slipped away in his sleep, free from pain, surrounded by those who loved him most.
We have to keep moving forward—one step at a time, one day at a time—for our own sake and for our families. Who knows what other trials life has in store for us? To everyone here searching for help, I wish you peace, strength, and all the love in the world for your loved ones battling this cruel disease. In those final moments, it is truly the only thing you can offer them...

Please accept my deepest condolences.😢.
He is finally free from the pain and suffering, and he passed in the best way possible—just falling asleep. That is how my mother went, too. Even though she was fighting ovarian cancer, her liver eventually gave out, and she simply fell asleep...

My father-in-law is doing quite well for the moment, if I dare say so myself; he’s up and walking around, eating properly, and sticking to the regimen we laid out for him... He had a brief spell where he felt a bit lightheaded one day, which gave me a momentary fright, but the dizziness hasn't returned since. Let's just hope this streak of good health holds.

Amanda Miller69 said:My father-in-law is doing okay right now, if I dare say so; he's walking around, eating, and staying on top of everything we've laid out for him... He had a dizzy spell the other day which definitely spooked me, but since then, the dizziness hasn't come back. Let's just hope this stability sticks.

Have you guys followed up on those shadows on the lungs yet?

Hey everyone.

I’m looking for some solid recommendations for a great oncologist in the Washington, D.C. area.

Thanks!

Emily Hayes said:Hi everyone.

I'm looking for a recommendation for a solid oncologist in the Washington, D.C. area.

Thanks.

Private practice or hospital-based? And what specific diagnosis are we talking about?

Angela Wright said:Have you followed up regarding those shadows on the lungs yet?

Not yet; I'm still waiting on the gentlemen from Jordan to send over the results (I actually sent them an email earlier today just to see where things stand).

Angela Wright said:Are you thinking about private clinics or a major hospital system? And what exactly is the diagnosis we're looking at?

Well, honestly, I’m looking at both because I really want to hear different perspectives. They’ve already removed a colon tumor, specifically Dukes B. The recovery from the surgery itself is going pretty smoothly, but we don't want to be in a position where we feel like we missed a step and end up regretting it down the road. That’s why I’m being so selective—I want to ensure the patient's ongoing oncological care is handled by a truly top-tier oncologist.

Emily Hayes said:Actually, I’m asking both because I want to hear more perspectives. We had a colon tumor removed, Dukes B. Recovery from the surgery is going smoothly, but we don't want to miss any steps and end up regretting it later. That’s why I’d love to take the patient to a high-quality oncologist for further follow-up care.

Rebro- Dr. Santek
Private- Dr. Cepulic

Angela Wright said:Rebro - Dr. Santek
Private - Dr. Cepulic

Angela Wright, thank you so much. I’m going to try to get appointments scheduled with both of them first thing tomorrow morning.

Henry Morris2 said:My dear friends,

I’ve spent quite a bit of time lurking on this thread without actually posting, just following along with all of you and finding so much strength and empathy in your words. We have so much in common—so many of the same experiences, the same shared struggles, and the same deep pain. Sadly, my dad passed away forever on September 28, 2014, just 100 days after his liver cancer diagnosis.
We tried everything we possibly could, and I am so grateful to all of you because following your stories and advice helped us through such a difficult fight... I thank God that my dad's final moments were peaceful and dignified, as he passed away in his sleep without any pain, surrounded by those who loved him most.
We just have to keep moving forward, one step at a time, one day at a time, for our own sake and for our families. Who knows what other challenges life has in store for us? I truly wish peace, strength, and all the love in the world to everyone here seeking help for their loved ones battling this cruel disease, because that is the greatest gift you can offer them in their final moments...

Honey, please accept my deepest condolences. I am so incredibly sorry. My mom passed away forever on September 26th, and despite trying absolutely everything, there was nothing more we could do. I know exactly how you feel, and while I wish I could help, I can't even find the way to help myself right now. I keep telling myself I did everything I could, but honestly, that doesn't bring much comfort at the moment. Hang in there. There isn't much else to say. I just hope things get easier for us over time, though for me, it seems to get harder as the days go by.

hollowridge88 said:Honey, please accept my sincerest condolences. I am just so incredibly sorry. My own mom passed away on September 26th—we tried everything, truly everything, but nothing worked. I know exactly what you're going through... though I can't really offer much help since I'm still struggling to find my own footing. I keep telling myself I did everything I could, but honestly, right now, that doesn't feel like enough. Just hang in there. There isn't much else to say, really. I just hope things get a little easier for us as time passes, though for me, it actually feels harder as the days go by.

Ladies, I’m certain you gave it your absolute all, so please don't let yourself dwell on that part.
They always say time heals all wounds, but if I'm being honest, time moves painfully slow when you're grieving a loss like this. It’s been almost a year since I lost my dad, and I miss him more now than ever. It feels like the emptiness just keeps growing—it’s just that my relationship with that void changes over time. I'm still sad, of course. But after nearly a year, I think I'm starting to accept the reality of the loss a bit better. Those final images—they'll never fade, but I suppose I just end up loving them more as precious memories. If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that time doesn't really heal the wounds; it just gives us the space to accept them, to learn how to live with them. Dearest ladies, I truly feel for you both and I just want you to find some peace soon. I'm thinking of you, and of everyone out there fighting their own battles,

Taylor Jackson14 said:Ladies, I am certain you have given this everything you have; please, don't let anyone make you doubt that.
They say time heals all wounds, but honestly, time moves agonizingly slow when you're grieving a loss like this. It’s been nearly a year, and I miss my father more than ever. It feels like the void just keeps growing; even if the way I deal with it changes, the emptiness remains. I am still sad. After almost a year, I am starting to accept the reality of the loss a bit better. Those final images will never fade, but I find myself cherishing them more as precious memories. If there is one thing I can say for sure, it’s that time doesn't actually heal the wounds—it just allows us to live with them, to get used to carrying them. To all of you, ladies, I truly empathize with what you're going through. I hope you find a way to adapt soon. My thoughts are with you and everyone else currently fighting their own battles for life.

Ladies, it has been 9 years since my father passed and 6 since my mother did. Over time, things do get easier, but there are still moments where the memory hits you and it hurts all over again—especially as birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays approach. Things will never be the same, but you eventually learn how to live alongside that reality. You'll hold onto those beautiful memories; they start to outweigh the painful ones, though the hard moments still surface, especially when reading threads like this (my father-in-law is currently battling cancer).
Hang in there. Let it out. Cry if you need to, and don't hold that pain and grief inside.

Hi everyone. Unfortunately, here I am on this forum too. I’ve been lurking for a long time, but it took me five months to finally find the strength and the time to actually join the conversation. My husband is 42, and he was diagnosed with glioblastoma. Our nightmare started back on May 13th, 2014, when the diagnosis hit. Before that, he didn't have a single physical issue. Since that moment, he basically turned into a vegetable—stuck in diapers and facing zero hope for survival. His condition did improve slightly after stereotactic surgery, and we’re incredibly grateful to Professor Chudy at the New Hospital for that. The tumor was already too far gone for surgery to even be an option (about 12 cm in the frontal lobe). He was rushed straight into radiation and Temodal therapy. Around mid-July, things started looking up. He began communicating much better, stopped needing diapers, and is doing significantly better both physically and mentally. That’s a huge relief considering they initially gave us maybe a month to live. We are currently in the first cycle of Temodal monotherapy, and I have to say, he’s handling it well. But now, new struggles are cropping up: vision loss and massive, sudden personality shifts. My husband is naturally a quiet guy, but now he talks incessantly. He’s extremely nervous and, frankly, just mentally exhausting me. I know it’s all a byproduct of the disease, but I really need to hear about your experiences and draw some strength from you all. I’m hoping Angela Wright might reach out, because I literally devour her posts. Wishing you all the best. P.S. I’m new here and still figuring out how this forum works, so please bear with me if I mess something up.

hollowridge88 said:Hey honey, I am so incredibly sorry. Truly. My mom passed away on September 26th, and even though we tried everything, nothing worked. I know exactly what you're going through. I wish I could do more to help, but honestly, I can barely help myself right now. I keep telling myself I did everything I could, but it doesn't really matter at this moment. Hang in there. I don't even know what else to say. I just hope things get easier for us eventually—for me, it actually feels harder as the days go by.

Dear hollowridge88,

Sending you so much love and my deepest condolences too. Sadly, cancer took both your mom and my dad. You're right, we gave it our all, but unfortunately, that’s cold comfort when you're hurting. We have to keep moving, sweetie. Life just keeps rolling along, whether it feels empty or sad, but we've gotta find the strength to push through.
Try to focus on your mom and those beautiful memories you shared—all the good times you had together. Don't let the bad moments take over. Thinking about my dad that way helps me feel a little better. I know nothing brings them back, but it helps knowing they're always with me, right here in my heart... stay strong, sending you big hugs...

Amanda Miller69 said:Hey ladies, it’s been 9 years since I lost my dad and 6 since my mom passed. It gets easier eventually, but there are still days when it hits you all over again—especially with birthdays, anniversaries, or holidays coming up. Things just won't be the same, but you gotta learn to live with it. The good memories stay with you, and even if the bad ones pop up, they fade. Especially being on this thread right now (my father-in-law is battling cancer).
Hang in there. Let it out, cry if you need to, just don't bottle that pain up.

My dear Fiza,

Been following you for a long time and I know what you're going through. Mad respect, seriously. You're a total hero and an inspiration to us all. Losing both parents and then stepping up for your father-in-law makes you someone truly GREAT. Hats off to you!!!
Also, thanks for always finding the words to comfort us sad souls. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Hang tough while you fight for your father-in-law—wishing him a super fast recovery and many, many more years ahead!!!

Henry Morris2 said:My dear Fiz,

I’ve been following your journey for quite some time now, so I truly understand the weight of everything you're carrying. Honestly, I take my hat off to you; you are a genuine hero and an inspiration to us all. Navigating the loss of both parents while simultaneously fighting this battle for your father-in-law is what makes you a truly GREAT person. Kudos to you!!!
Beyond that, you always seem to find the strength to reach out and comfort us, you poor souls. I thank you from the bottom of my heart and truly hope you find the endurance needed to support your father-in-law. Wishing him a swift recovery and many, many more years ahead!!!

🙂

steelpilot62 said:Hi everyone, unfortunately, here I am on this forum too. I’ve been lurking for quite a while, but it took me about five months to finally find the strength and the time to actually join in. My husband, 42 years old, was diagnosed with glioblastoma. Our nightly nightmare began five months ago, specifically on May 13th, 2014, when his glio was diagnosed. He absolutely had zero physical issues before that. From that moment on, my husband instantly became like a vegetable—in diapers and without any hope for survival. His condition actually improved slightly after stereotactic surgery, and for that, we are grateful to Professor Chudy at the New Hospital. The tumor had already become so "neglected" that surgery isn't even an option (it's about 12 cm, in the frontal lobe). He was rushed into radiation and Temodal therapy. Around mid-July, his condition started improving. He began communicating much better, stopped needing diapers, and is doing way better both physically and mentally, which is wonderful since they initially gave us a prognosis of maybe a month to live! We are currently in the first cycle of Temodal monotherapy, and I have to say he's tolerating everything well. However, new difficulties have surfaced; loss of vision and sudden, massive personality shifts. My husband is naturally a pretty quiet guy, but now he talks incessantly. He’s incredibly nervous and, honestly, it's mentally exhausting for me. I know it's all a consequence of the illness, but I really need your experiences and your strength through all of this. I’m hoping Angela Wright might reach out, because I literally devour her posts. Wishing you all the best! P.S. Since I'm new and still haven't quite figured out the forum tools, please don't mind me if I mess something up.

The worst period for our family was when my mother-in-law was diagnosed with the exact same tumor as your husband. She had surgery in February of this year, followed by radiation and chemo. She's about to start her third cycle of Temodal in a few days. Her condition is... well, it's okay. Not so terrible, thank God, but not exactly wonderful either. Physically, she might be holding up, but mentally she has totally "collapsed"—she's scattered, tearful, and self-pitying; that phobia of fear just won't let go. She's afraid when she's driving, afraid when she's alone, afraid of blood tests, afraid of therapy, afraid for us... It's destroying us. She takes Xanax regularly and has our full support; we try not to let anything negative get to her. I understand her completely; GBM is a brutal tumor, and she doesn't even know the true prognosis. When she collapses mentally, it affects all of us. We haven't been functioning normally for a year now, because from last September to February, we were dragging her from clinic to clinic, and everyone there just looked at us blankly saying, "She's fine." We live day by day. Some days are good, some are bad. I pray to God that these "good" days are more frequent. I sincerely hope your husband has better periods during this illness. Best wishes and good luck!