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

Edward Grant3, you should try reaching out to Dr. Marijan Braš. She’s a psychiatrist, but she specializes specifically in oncology patients and that particular type of depression. If you're feeling lost, she can point you in the right direction regarding next steps. She practices over at Memorial Sloan Kettering.

Hey everyone, my mom passed away on March 16, 2014—exactly 16 months after her surgery back on November 19, 2012.
From late February until she died, everything just went downhill fast, despite everything we did—and I mean everything, from the Dex to the Mannitol and all the medical care...
First, she lost feeling on her left side, then her speech started failing, then breathing got harder, and right before the end, she slipped into a coma. She wasn't in any pain, at least that's what they told us.
I just want to say thank you again to all of you (and honestly, God forbid anyone else has to join this group).
Angela Wright, a huge thank you to you specifically for everything you've shared with us. Personally, following your experience made my own journey a little easier and a bit better. Truly, thank you.
I wish you all nothing but the best in life—I hope nobody ever has to go through this hell again.
Best,

Kenneth Wilson6 said:Dear everyone, my mother passed away on March 16, 2014—exactly 16 months after her surgery back on November 19, 2012.
From late February until the day she died, things moved incredibly fast despite everything we did, including the dexamethasone, mannitol, and professional nursing care...
First, she lost function on her left side, then her speech started failing, then her breathing became labored, and shortly before she passed, she slipped into a coma. She didn't suffer any pain, just as the doctors told us.
I want to thank all of you once more (and God forbid anyone else ever has to join this group).
Angela Wright, I want to give you a special thanks again for everything you’ve shared with us. Personally, following your experience made my own journey a little smoother and easier to bear. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I wish you all the very best in life, and I pray that no one else ever has to walk through this hell.
Sincerely,

Dear Kenneth, please accept my deepest condolences.😢
What can I even say? Honestly, I believe God spared both her and your family from much greater suffering. It really was a mercy. That’s how it was with my mom, too, and it’s the one thing I am most grateful for. Unfortunately, that’s just the nature of this disease. Even today, I live with the hope that they will finally find something—anything—that gives us a glimmer of hope that this illness can actually be controlled.
Stay strong, and be proud of her, but also be proud of yourself. Very few people have the strength to stand tall through something like this. You’ve earned your place in heaven.
Let her rest in peace now, and move forward with love in your heart.🙂

Angela Wright said:Sofi, you should try reaching out to Dr. Maryan Braš. She’s a psychiatrist, but she specializes specifically in oncology patients and that particular type of depression. If nothing else, she can point you in the right direction regarding next steps. She works over at Mayo Clinic.

Doctor's contact info:
Dr. Maryan Braš, MD, PhD, Psychiatrist-Psychotherapist
Department of Psychological Medicine, Mayo Clinic
Address: 12 Kišpatićeva St, Rochester, MN 55986
Tel: (507) 233-3282
Mob: (555) 223-323
E-mail: mbras@mayoclinic.org

Kenneth Wilson6 said:Hey everyone, my mom passed away on March 16, 2014—exactly 16 months after her surgery back on November 19, 2012.
From late February until the day she died, everything just moved way too fast, despite all the meds and care we were providing... things like Dex, Mannitol, nursing care, you name it.
First, she lost feeling on her left side, then her speech started failing, then breathing got harder, and right before the end, she slipped into a coma. She wasn't in pain, at least that's what the doctors told us.
I just want to say thank you to all of you one more time (and God forbid anyone else has to join this group).
Angela Wright, I want to give you a special thanks for everything you've shared with us. Honestly, following your experience made my own journey a little easier to handle. Thank you so much.
I wish you all nothing but the best in life. I hope nobody ever has to walk through this hell again.
Sincerely,

My deepest condolences.🙂

Angela Wright said:Carl Kern66, hang in there. You just gotta adapt somehow. I know that sounds harsh as hell, but that's just how it is...

It feels like I see this happening more and more every single day. 😢

My dad is in surgery today. They actually wouldn't wait until next week since he’s still in decent shape and isn't in pain yet—so why drag it out, right? I talked to him this morning; he's terrified, obviously, but he says there's nothing to do but grit his teeth and deal with it.

Then I saw that post from Edward Grant3 (wishing your dad all the best in the fight. sending strength and patience 🙂) and it reminded me to ask: does anyone know if there are any support groups or nonprofits in Los Angeles that offer psychological help for families dealing with illness? I'm asking for my mom. She’s absolutely hit rock bottom emotionally. If she isn't at the hospital with Dad, she's just lying there crying. She won't leave the house, won't even move... and she's not exactly healthy herself (dealing with resistant hypertension and diabetes). I tried Googling it, but I can't find anything useful to no avail.

Amanda Anderson87 said:My deepest condolences, 🙂

Thanks, Carl Kern66—wishing you nothing but the best.

Does anyone know what this means? LYMPH NODES: 24 lymph nodes, 1 tumor metastasis...
My dad just had surgery for colon cancer, and this was the pathology report we got: adenocarcinoma of the rectum, Dukes C, pT3N1a.

Kenneth Wilson6 said:Friends, my mother passed away on March 16, 2014—exactly 16 months after her surgery back on November 19, 2012.
From late February until she passed, everything moved fast, despite all the interventions we tried, including the Dex, Mannitol, and medical care...
First, she lost feeling on her left side, then her speech became labored, followed by difficulty breathing, and she eventually slipped into a coma shortly before passing. Contrary to what we were told, she didn't seem to be in any pain.
I want to thank you all once more (and I hope no new members have to join this group).
Angela Wright, a special thank you to you for everything you’ve shared with us. Personally, your experience helped me navigate my own journey a bit more smoothly. Thank you so much.
I wish you all the very best, and I hope no one else ever has to walk through this hell.
Best regards,

My deepest condolences....

Carol Smith27 said:Does anyone know what "LYMPH NODES: 24 lymph nodes, 1 tumor metastasis" actually means???
My dad just had surgery for colon cancer and this was the report... pathology diagnosis: adenocarcinoma of the rectum, Dukes C, pT3N1a.

It could be a typo in the report. My gut feeling is that they removed 24 nodes total, and only one showed metastatic cells. Since we're looking at a Dukes C stage, finding metastases in the lymph nodes is a given. At the end of the day, whether it's one node or twenty-four doesn't change the fact that there was one positive hit.

Nutritionist Jean Wallace from the States has seen some massive success treating brain tumors. We're talking about people with glioblastoma actually making it to the 20-year mark. Even David Servan-Schreiber mentions her in his book.
Given the glioblastoma stats we see here in the US, I think this is worth knowing... If this helps anyone out, good.

She works on other types of cancer too, but brain stuff is really her specialty.

Don't get me wrong, my dad is fighting cancer himself 😢

Thank you so much for the kind words and for passing along that hospital contact info. We’re actually living over in the States right now.

Dad has been doing a little bit better since Friday afternoon—he’s finally managed to move around a tiny bit on his own, though he’s still strictly confined to the house. It’s just once or twice a day, really, and even then he’s leaning heavily on his walker and needs someone right there by his side to grab onto if he loses his balance.

We are still sitting around waiting on the pH results from the liver biopsy. This coming Wednesday marks one month since the surgery, which was the "preliminary" timeframe the doctors set for him to check back in with the oncologist. But, honestly, from what I can gather, he’s just nowhere near ready for chemotherapy in the condition he’s in right now. 😢

Does anyone know how risky it is to wait too long when the liver is involved? They removed his stomach, and the diagnosis was adenocarcinoma based on a biopsy taken before the surgery, but they found metastases on the liver via ultrasound and then confirmed it with a CT scan. During the actual surgery, they took another sample from the liver, and that’s the specific result we’re currently waiting on.

Nancy Robinson26 said:The nutritionist Jean Wallace here in the States has seen incredible success treating brain tumors—some patients with glioblastoma have even lived for 20 years. David Servan-Schreiber actually mentions her in his book.
I think this is vital info given the American statistics on glioblastoma... If this helps anyone, I'm glad.

She works on other types of cancer too, but the brain is her specialty.

Don't get me wrong, my dad is fighting cancer too.😢

You aren't being misunderstood; you're just misinterpreting the point😁. Look, the whole concept is built on the idea of a healthy, balanced diet designed to keep the body in a state where the immune system can identify and wipe out malignant cells. In people who develop cancer, that mechanism eventually fails due to various circumstances. We all carry malignant cells inside us, and our bodies destroy them every single day. Dr. Schreiber practiced preventative medicine quite clearly; he went through surgery, radiation, and chemo, but by shifting his lifestyle and diet, he managed to maintain the clean slate achieved by oncology treatments and held off glioblastoma for twenty years. Sadly, he lost the battle in the end, but the reality is that his own case proved how much food and lifestyle act as triggers for the disease. It might not be identical for everyone, but the fact remains: we are eating worse than ever and living chaotic lives dictated by the frantic pace of modern society and social pressures.

Brenda Foster29 said:Thanks so much for the kind words and for passing along that hospital contact. We’re living in the States right now.

Dad has been doing slightly better since Friday afternoon; he managed to move around a little bit on his own, though it’s strictly limited to the house, and even then it’s just once a day using a cane and leaning on someone for support.

We’re still waiting on those liver pathology results. Wednesday marks one month since the surgery, which was the preliminary timeframe the oncologist set for follow-up. However, from what little I understand about this, given his current state, he isn't exactly ready for chemotherapy. 😢

How dangerous is it to wait too long when the liver is involved? They removed his stomach, the diagnosis was adenocarcinoma based on the biopsy taken before surgery, and they found metastases on the liver via ultrasound and then confirmed by CT scan. During the surgery, they took another sample from the liver, and that’s the result we’re currently pending.

It doesn't matter—just reach out and ask them for a referral to a colleague in your area. I'm certain they know people they can recommend.
As for the chemo, what makes you think he isn't up for it? Is it his mindset? His lack of mobility? You have to look at the bigger picture. His physical condition isn't perfect, sure, but primarily it’s because he’s mentally checked out. Try to find someone who has actually gone through this and is actively fighting. There’s a guy on this forum, a 40-year-old named vedransaba, who has powered through 75 rounds of chemo and is still standing. He even went to Europe for experimental treatment that didn't work, and now our doctors here are trying more experimental routes. The man is full of life; he refuses to quit... there were even articles about him in the local news. Find someone similar in your circle who is willing to sit down and talk to him. He needs to trust someone like that to pull him back up.
Delaying treatment is definitely a bad move, because every second counts while malignant cells are dividing and multiplying, causing the tumor to grow. What he needs first and foremost is help with his headspace. Maybe even some antidepressants to start with, because even a 100% effective drug won't work if the patient's mind isn't in the game. It’s like driving a car downhill with no brakes. And no amount of praying is going to change his mind if he's already decided to give up.
Sometimes, a reality check is the only thing that works. Sit him down and tell him straight: "Look, old man, either you commit to the treatment and get your act together, or you go straight to hospice to spend your final days there. Mom can't keep breaking her heart over this, and nobody else can if you refuse to try. Just make a choice." Then, leave him to it. Let him process it and decide. Put the contact info for a hospice center right in front of him and see what happens. Keep everything calm and polite; don't let him rattle you. Reading your description, I get the impression he's stuck in a loop of constant complaining and self-pity.
Come on, stay strong and be bold.

Angela Wright said:It’s not that you were misunderstood; it’s that you misunderstood 😁. Look, the whole idea centers on eating a balanced, healthy diet designed to keep your body in a state where the immune system can spot and kill off malignant cells. In people who actually develop cancer, that mechanism eventually fails due to various circumstances. We all have rogue cells in us, and a functional body kills them off daily. Dr. Schreiber treated this preventatively through standard medicine—he went through surgery, radiation, and chemo—but by pivoting his lifestyle and diet, he managed to maintain the clear status achieved by oncology treatments and held off glioblastoma for twenty years. He lost the fight in the end, obviously, but his case proved that for him, food and lifestyle were the primary triggers. It might not be a universal rule for everyone, but let's face it: our diets are getting worse and our lives are becoming increasingly chaotic, driven by the frantic pace of modern society and social pressures.

I get what you're saying, and I'm on board with the whole diet plus a mountain of supplements thing...

Greetings to everyone reading this. I am facing an incredibly difficult situation and I am trying my best to make sense of it all and find some way forward. My wife (born 1963) underwent surgery seven years ago; I will quote her discharge summary from back then:

-Patient was admitted to the Emergency Room on February 19, 2014, due to a brain tumor. She had undergone surgery seven years prior for breast cancer, followed by radiation and chemotherapy. For about ten days, she has been experiencing headaches and visual flashes. A cranial CT scan performed two days ago revealed a tumor in the right occipital region, which is likely a metastasis. Upon admission, she was fully oriented. She presents with only slight weakness in her left limbs, including some numbness. She is unable to clearly describe any specific blind spots in her field of vision.
Based on the clinical presentation and CT findings, surgical intervention was indicated. Following preoperative processing, the procedure was performed on February 24, 2014. Through a right posterior osteoplastic craniotomy, we removed the tumor in its entirety. The surgery and postoperative course proceeded normally. The drain was removed on the first postoperative day. The patient is doing well, with no neurological deficits. Sutures were removed on the 8th postoperative day. The wound healed properly. A follow-up CT shows good results, with no visible remaining tumor. We consulted with an oncologist, and upon receiving the pathology report, the diagnosis was confirmed: Carcinoma metastaticum.
We also performed an echomammography and an X-ray of the left shoulder per the oncologist's recommendation. Additionally, the oncologist advised a PET-CT scan.
On March 13, 2014, she was discharged home with instructions to continue follow-up care with an oncologist.

RADIOLOGICAL FINDINGS

ECHOMAMMOGRAPHY

Ultrasound shows the skin and subcutaneous fatty tissue of the right breast are normal. The glandular parenchyma is largely maintained, though there are pronounced fibrotic changes and oval zones of fatty infiltration.
At the 9 o'clock position, an oval hypoechoic lesion measuring 5mm is visible.
Left side status following mastectomy:
No focal lesions are visible around the surgical incision.
The axillary area appears normal.
It is recommended to compare these findings with previous scans and, if indicated, perform an ultrasound-guided fine-needle aspiration of the lesion in the right breast.

RADIOLOGICAL FINDINGS

Color Duplex Ultrasound of carotid and vertebral arteries:

Carotid arteries show appropriately structured walls bilaterally, with normally calibrated lumens and physiological blood flow.
Spectral flow analysis shows normal curves with appropriate velocities.
Vertebral arteries show normal antegrade flow with appropriately structured walls.
Spectral flow curves are normal.

CONCLUSION: Normal findings, appropriate for age.

PATHOLOGY REPORT

Material:

Reviewed and verified by DR. GEA FOREMPOHER, MD, PhD

Up. Diagnosis:

1. Grayish-white small pieces of tissue received for intraoperative analysis—reported as malignant, metastasis.
2. Grayish-white tissue specimen measuring 3x2x1 cm, submitted for permanent analysis.
Microscopic examination of both specimens reveals tumor tissue that is partially necrotic and hemorrhagic, composed of atypical epithelial cells with large vesicular nuclei, prominent nucleoli, and numerous mitoses.
Scant brain tissue infiltrated by the aforementioned tumor is also visible.
Immunohistochemical staining shows the tumor tissue is positive for CK7, CK8/18, progesterone, and estrogen receptors, while CK20 is negative.
Following the Herceptin test, no staining was observed; HER2 neu score = 0, meaning the Herceptin test is negative.
Based on the histological image and immunohistochemical staining, the findings are consistent with metastatic breast carcinoma to the brain.

CARCINOMA METASTATICUM

Following these results, she underwent a PET/CT with diagnostic CT yesterday, and the results aren't back yet... Is there anyone with medical expertise here who might be able to offer any kind of prognosis? Even just a general idea... anything. We both know the situation is grim, and it’s a heavy burden to carry, but we intend to explore some alternative methods alongside the standard treatments prescribed by the oncologists.

Thank you in advance for any response, no matter how small.

Nancy Robinson26 said:I get where you're coming from, and I agree—diet plus a mountain of supplements...

Not quite. You pick three at most, and you have to be smart about it—like one for infection defense, one heavy-duty immune booster, and then maybe one other specific thing tailored to your own needs. You take those consistently from start to finish, and that's it.

redfox81 said:Hey everyone. I’m dealing with a heavy situation here and I’m just trying to navigate my way through it as best as I can. My wife (born in '63) had surgery seven years ago. To give you some context, here is an excerpt from her discharge papers from a while back:

...

Thanks in advance for any input you can offer, regardless of what it is.

Trying to predict where this goes is a losing game—it's impossible. Thank God they managed to clear out the metastasis; that’s a massive win right there. However, we still have to deal with this suspicious mass found in the breast. My biggest fear is that we’re looking at a recurrence that previously spread to the brain. They’ll likely need to perform a surgical excision, but they’ll definitely start with a biopsy first. From there, she’ll move straight into oncological treatment. This isn't a sprint; it's a grueling marathon with an uncertain finish line. We just have to find the internal grit to face that reality. For now, she needs to focus on resting and recovering from the surgery. They won't kick off the oncology protocols until at least three weeks have passed since the procedure.

What was the specific diagnosis for the breast cancer back then (the exact type and stage)? What have her tumor markers looked like over the years, and when was the last time they were checked? Have they run them recently?

And please, be extremely careful with "alternative" remedies; you don't want to end up making things worse by chasing something that doesn't work.

Hey everyone... here I am again with another question. It probably looks like I only pop up when I need something, but that isn't true. I read everything here regularly and I feel for all of you—I’m going through the exact same thing. I’ve already lost three people very close to me, dear ones, and now, here we go again 🙂 .. 😢

Does anyone know anything about microwave therapy treatments over in Europe? Who should I contact about this? We are dealing with colon cancer with liver metastases, and I’m just hoping there’s some kind of option for the metastases specifically.. maybe they can be destroyed, or at least shrunk enough to make surgery possible, or even just slow down the growth for a little while...

I realize I might just be chasing shadows here, but I stumbled upon this one article, so
if anyone knows even a shred of information regarding this, please let me know..

edit: I was reading about radiofrequency ablation here in the States, but the article claims what they do in Europe is superior to that. I intend to ask my dad's oncologist as soon as the opportunity arises, but right now, things are just too hectic..

My dad still hasn't received a definitive diagnosis. The abdominal CT scan indicated stomach cancer, enlarged lymph nodes near the pancreas, and several liver metastases—the largest being about 80 mm. I tried my best to make sense of the reports while we were waiting over at the surgical wing, but... most of it is just medical gibberish to me; all I could gather was that his heart and kidneys seem to be holding up okay...
They had us pacing the halls of the hospital from 1:00 PM until 6:00 PM.
He had more blood work done on Monday, provided a urine sample, underwent another scan, and they've scheduled him for yet another endoscopy. This follows the one he had back on March 5th.
In the interim between the CT, the colonoscopy, and the gastroscopy, and before we even saw these latest results, he spent the weekend vomiting what looked like coffee grounds—massive amounts of it. It wasn't until later that the realization hit me: it was blood.
Initially, the doctors didn't think he needed to be admitted, but after he lost so much blood, he’s been staying on the internal medicine ward since Monday.
He’s currently on an IV and receiving a transfusion... He isn't allowed to eat or drink anything. When I pressed the doctor for answers today, she admitted they still aren't certain where the primary tumor is located.
At first, they suspected the pancreas, then they pivoted to the duodenum. But now, following that bleeding episode, nothing feels certain anymore.
They took a biopsy during the gastroscopy, and we should have the results in about a week.
I asked the doctor straight out: if it is indeed stomach cancer, is surgery even an option?
She told me no, because of the multiple metastases in his liver.
Today marks exactly two months since my father suffered that fall on the ice. Since then, it has been a relentless cycle of running from one specialist to another... And then they have the nerve to say, "If only you had come in a month sooner."
Just when I thought I finally understood the situation regarding his pancreas, they start talking about the stomach—though they still aren't sure if that's the culprit, or if perhaps a perforated ulcer is the real issue.

I feel as though I've been dropped into some twisted, horror-movie version of Alice in Wonderland. I truly don't know what to hope for.