Resources and support for families dealing with cancer and serious illness

hiddentiger80 said:@ Angela Wright - if they’ve done the surgery and everything looks clear, shouldn't an oncologist be ordering tumor markers, an MRI, or a CT scan? And if those come back clean, why not skip chemo? Plus, what happens if something just feels "off" after the scans? Also, does every oncologist handle everything, or are they specialized by body part?

@Jeja - hang in there! I really admire your strength and how you're handling this. 😘

There’s a thing called micrometastases—tiny cells a surgeon simply can't see. They won't show up on markers, so doctors often recommend radiation or chemo just to be safe. For what it's worth, Gamulin specializes in radiation. I’m actually her patient, and she’s incredibly thorough; you just have to have some patience to get through the waiting list!🙂))

I’m just completely lost at this point... if a surgeon tells you to go see an oncologist, which one are you actually supposed to follow? And if, for instance, this female specialist focuses specifically on radiation therapy—does that mean she isn't handling the rest of the treatment plan?

hiddentiger80 said:I’m just totally lost now... if a surgeon tells you to see an oncologist, which one do you actually go to? If, for instance, this lady specializes in radiation, does that mean she doesn't handle anything else?

They actually handle everything, even though every specialist has a specific niche within a certain type of cancer. Her specialty might be radiation, but she guides her patients from day one until the very end. Every single treatment decision—the type of chemo used, the exact radiation dosage—is decided during multidisciplinary tumor boards where all the oncologists weigh in with their suggestions and expertise.
The reason I singled out Dr. Gamulin is because she frequently sacrifices her own well-being to help her patients. To be specific, she’ll work from 8 AM straight through to 8 PM—often skipping lunch entirely—even though her shift is supposed to end at 4 PM if she isn't on call. As long as there are patients, she won't leave. Some other oncologists at the unnamed hospital's outpatient clinic will just leave incredibly sick patients waiting all day, even when they have morning appointments and have traveled from another city, only to be sent home at the end of the day and told to come back tomorrow. That happens because doctors simply disappear—they head home or off to a meeting and don't bother coming back.
Dr. Gamulin has never done that, at least not in my mother's case. You might have to wait a long time, but she always shows up eventually.
Unfortunately, there aren't enough of them at the unnamed facility, and everyone is completely overwhelmed. Plus, some of them refuse to work overtime out of pure spite toward the administration or the Department of Health.

A family member of mine isn't dealing with a tumor, but rather a case of rapidly progressing muscular dystrophy. Since they’ve always been such an incredibly open, bubbly, and outgoing person (well, they used to be), this sudden loss of autonomy is hitting them hard. It’s making them increasingly irritable, angry, and just generally short with everyone around them. I’m doing everything humanly possible to support them and ease the burden, trying to make things as painless as possible, but man, it’s tough. It’s especially draining when I’m the one catching the brunt of those angry outbursts every single day—it doesn't happen constantly, but it's definitely becoming more frequent. I’m starting to think we might actually need some professional psychological help to navigate all of this properly, but I’m honestly at a loss... where do you even start looking? And who should we actually reach out to?

Thanks, Angela Wright 🙂 I have a much clearer understanding now 🙂

Back in early 2004, I ended up at an infectious disease clinic because of a fever. After a battery of tests, I got hit with the shocker: a CT scan confirmed colon cancer. At a major hospital, they performed a right hemicolectomy within a few days—ripping out the tumor, part of the colon, some small intestine, and the associated mesentery including blood vessels and lymph nodes. Once the wounds healed, I endured seven grueling rounds of chemo. Every follow-up since then has been, to put it bluntly, satisfactory. Everything came back within normal limits. But man, living from one test result to the next... it takes a toll on your stability, on your head. I tried to take it stoically, or at least I thought I was. All the while, I kept wondering how my family was handling it. How was this hitting my kids at school, among their friends? And my wife—she was my rock, my lifeline to the world. She kept the household running financially and handled everything else she possibly could. I constantly wondered if she would just snap under the pressure. Then, two and a half years later, the recurrence hit. I felt it coming. A nipple on my left breast started pulling inward and wouldn't pop back out, and then I felt a lump in the upper left quadrant. Then came the vomiting, the diarrhea, and the tremors. It was the exact same set of symptoms I had before the '04 surgery. Urinating became difficult and the weight started dropping off. Even the scratches on my arms wouldn't heal. Instead of heading straight to a doctor, I went with the unnamed approach by Rudolf Breus. For 42 days, I lived on nothing but vegetable juice blends and various teas. Long story short: all those symptoms vanished. My subsequent checkups showed excellent health, though I dropped 35 pounds between the illness and the fasting. I have another CT scheduled for January 30th. My biggest mistake? Not getting checked out before I started the fasting.

ruggednomad182 said:Back at the start of 2004, I ended up in the infectious disease ward because my fever was spiking. After a whole battery of tests, I got hit with the shock of a CT scan diagnosis: colon cancer. At Mayo Clinic, they performed a right hemicolectomy just a few days later—they had to cut out the tumor, part of the colon, a section of the small intestine, and the associated mesentery including the blood vessels and lymph nodes. Once the surgical wounds healed, I endured seven grueling rounds of chemotherapy. For a while, follow-up results always looked good—to put it bluntly, everything was within normal limits. I lived from one test result to the next, and that kind of uncertainty takes a massive toll on your mental stability. I tried to handle it stoically, or at least that’s how I tell myself. Meanwhile, I constantly wondered how my family was coping. How was this hitting my kids at school, among their friends? My wife was my rock, my connection to the world, managing our finances and keeping the household running while trying not to crack under the pressure. Then, after two and a half years, the recurrence hit. I felt it coming. A nipple on my left breast retracted and wouldn't pop back out, and then I felt a lump in the upper left quadrant. I started vomiting, dealing with diarrhea and tremors. It was the exact same set of symptoms I had before the surgery in 2004. Urination became difficult, and I started dropping weight rapidly. Even minor scratches on my arms wouldn't heal. Instead of heading straight to a doctor, I followed the unnamed protocol by Rudolf Breus. For 42 days, I lived entirely on a regimen of vegetable juices and various herbal teas. To make a long story short, all those physical symptoms vanished. Subsequent medical tests showed I was in excellent health, though I lost 35 pounds between the starvation aspect and the illness itself. I still have a CT scheduled for January 30th. My biggest mistake was not getting checked out before starting the fast.

Please, if you can, point us toward a specific book or a link regarding this therapy. I am personally very interested.
I’ve read about several cases online where people pivoted to alternative treatments and actually pulled through. There was one woman with an astrocytoma—a brain tumor—who, much like my mother, walked away from conventional medicine. She operated on the premise that her body was reacting this way because of a lifestyle dedicated to pleasing everyone else. She actually started "communicating" with the tumor, asking it what needed to happen for it to leave so she could heal. She learned how to say "no," overhauled her diet using macrobiotics, got physically active, stripped away everything causing her stress, and finally aligned her life with her own needs. She recovered, and it hasn't come back. That was ten years ago.
Sometimes, a person’s internal defense mechanism kicks in—that primal instinct that tells you exactly what to do—but we either fail to recognize it or we aren't brave enough to listen. I am deeply convinced that the human immune system is capable of overcoming anything, but why that vital mechanism fails to trigger isn't something anyone can truly explain. Perhaps it's because we’ve become so disconnected from nature that we lack the instinct of a dog or a cat, which would instinctively eat certain grasses to kickstart that recovery process.
My grandfather used to have a cat that would hunt rattlesnakes. Many times the snake would bite him, and he’d immediately bolt into the field to graze on specific grasses, spending the next day vomiting black bile. He’d spend three days fasting, drinking nothing but water. By the fourth day, the old cat was back. Once, a snake emerged from the brush before the grass had grown back; the cat attacked, got bitten, and since there was no grass to eat, he died.
I honestly feel like we’re drowning in pills for every little thing, yet somehow we've managed to lose touch with those primal, ancient remedies that used to be our foundation. It makes me think that certain primitive cultures living deep in the wilderness surely have a cure for unnamed, if they ever face it.

Don't beat yourself up about not doing more research before starting your treatment. What matters most is that you're okay and that the approach actually worked for you—now you have that knowledge to pass along to others. Honestly, I might stop hovering over the shoulder of people whose methods didn't end up helping me anyway.

One thing that’s absolutely vital for patients, and especially for those of us who love them, is finding a way to let off some steam. We have to channel this stress and the trauma we carry inside somewhere, otherwise, it'll just eat us alive and make us sick too. For me, these forums serve as that outlet. My personal way of coping is writing about everything my mom and my family are going through, hoping my insights can help someone else. I'll probably spend the rest of my life dedicated to fighting unnamed. To me, unnamed is a demon, and I've made it my life's mission to hunt it down wherever it dares to show up. This disease doesn't just physically and mentally torture the patient; it tears at the souls of everyone who loves them. It's a cursed, stinking blight!😠

I picked up the book I used for my treatment about seven or eight years ago at a local shop in an unnamed town. It was written by Rudolf Breus, titled "unnamed." You can find it in most major bookstores across the US. I first learned about this method from a priest back in unnamed who used it during the war in 1992 while the city was under siege. He applied the therapy after undergoing two or three surgeries and following a fourth recurrence that had spread metastases everywhere. Since then, I’ve met others whom mainstream medicine had completely written off, people who defied every single rule of conventional medicine using this exact protocol. The process involves consuming two 8-ounce servings of a vegetable juice blend—beet, carrot, radish, celery, and potato—along with several types of tea over a 24-hour period, following a specific pattern for 42 days.
You aren't allowed to put anything else into your system besides what's listed. Through this therapy, I discovered you can actually find joy in life even after facing terrifying diagnoses like that. Throughout the entire treatment, and continuing afterward, I’ve been writing on unnamed.

My grandfather started his second round of chemotherapy today, which will be administered over the next three days. He hasn't lost all of his hair just yet, but he’s already joking that he’s embracing the "modern bald look" and needs to stay trendy. 😉
I try my best not to overwhelm him with all my medical research and constant talk about doctors, but he’s incredibly disciplined and takes everything I give him without question. He tells me he just wants to feel stronger, so he doesn't care if the supplements look unappealing or taste terrible.
So far, I've been able to keep his blood counts steady. We had a bit of a scare when his white blood cell count started to dip, but we managed to pull through that hurdle.
There are moments, though, where the exhaustion just hits me, and I feel completely helpless knowing I can't just fix this for him. I find myself spinning in circles, feeling like I can't bear to be the therapist, the nurse, or even just his granddaughter; I just want to be a normal person who can have a regular conversation and laugh without everything feeling heavy. I’ll lie down in bed and try to recall herbal remedies, recipes, or anything else I might have missed... it feels overwhelming.
But most of the time, I am right there in the trenches with him, fighting this alongside him. In those moments, nothing feels like a chore—not grating the ginger, squeezing the juices, brewing complicated teas, or whipping up various nutritional shakes. We share plenty of laughter, too—real, genuine laughter that keeps us going. 🙂

Carol Ramirez said:Grandpa starts his second round of chemo today. It’s going to be spread out over three days. He hasn't lost all his hair just yet, but he tells me he’s officially one of those "modern bald guys" now, so he might as well embrace the look. 😉
I try my best not to overwhelm him with all my medical research and constant doctor talk, but honestly, he’s incredibly disciplined about following everything I give him. He says he doesn't care if the stuff tastes terrible or looks gross, as long as it makes him feel stronger.
So far, I've managed to keep his blood counts steady. There was a point where his white blood cell count started dipping, but we managed to pull through that hurdle.
Sometimes, though, I just hit a wall. I feel completely helpless, wondering what else I can possibly do to help him. I find myself spinning in circles. I don't want to have to play the part of the psychologist, the nurse, the granddaughter, or just... a normal person who can have a regular conversation and actually laugh. Sometimes I just collapse into bed and try to remember herbal remedies, recipes, or anything else I haven't tried yet. It feels like total despair.
But most of the time, I’m right there in the trenches with him. When we're fighting this together, nothing feels too heavy—not even grating ginger, squeezing juices, brewing complicated teas, or mixing up all those various concoctions. We laugh, too. A lot of genuine, unforced laughter. 🙂

I know that feeling of helplessness—that constant, nagging loop of asking yourself if you've done every single thing possible. In my experience, the best thing you can do is just stay true to yourself and try to maintain some semblance of a normal daily routine as much as life allows. Treat the illness and the treatment like a chore or an obligation that just needs to get done. And whatever you do, don't let him see the desperation or the tears. When it gets to be too much and you feel like you're breaking, go into the bathroom, turn on the shower, grab a pillow, and scream into it. Screaming was my release valve. Afterward, I always felt a sense of peace, like a weight had been lifted from my chest.
Just realize that by simply being there for your grandfather and looking after him, you are already doing an incredible amount. There are so many forgotten, sick elderly people out there left to the care of strangers. Even though he's battling this, your grandfather is blessed with the love of his granddaughter, which is truly the greatest thing a person can achieve in this life. Because of you, his life is full. He is lucky to have you. 😘
Keep being brave, keep loving your grandpa with everything you've got, and keep laughing with him like you have been. Honest laughter is medicine; it drives the demons away. 😁

Thank you so much for those kind words, 😘

I just find myself hoping there will be more of those moments where I feel truly strong and capable of handling whatever comes my way. I wish the exact same for you and for everyone else currently navigating this fight.

My grandfather hasn't actually seen me sad yet. To be honest, I catch myself getting a bit frustrated with people around me who can't seem to hold it together; I’ll give them a sharp look when they walk by him crying or complaining, mostly because I feel like it's selfish of them to act that way in front of him—even though I know, deep down, that things aren't easy for anyone. With him, I try to keep everything just as it was before we received the diagnosis; we sit together playing dominoes or chess, or we just talk. I don't want to hover over him twenty-four hours a day; I make sure to visit regularly, but I also give him plenty of space to just be himself, the way he always has been. Lately, I've been spending a lot of my time reading up on nutritional supplements and natural remedies to help support his blood counts and immune system. I've realized that certain supplements can genuinely improve someone's quality of life, which my grandfather definitely agrees with, since he's been eating well, sleeping soundly, and maintaining his energy throughout the day.

Sending good vibes and keeping my fingers crossed for all of you!! 😍

ruggednomad182 said:I picked up the book I used for my therapy about seven or eight years ago at a shop in an unnamed small town. The author is Rudolf Breus, and the title is "unnamed." You can find it in most major bookstores across the US. I first heard about this method from a priest back in the early 90s during the war in an unnamed city. He used it after undergoing two or three surgeries and dealing with a fourth recurrence where the cancer had spread everywhere. Since then, I’ve met others who were basically written off by mainstream doctors but defied all the odds using this exact protocol. The process involves drinking two deciliters of a specific veggie juice blend—beet, carrot, radish, celery, and potato—along with several types of tea over a 24-hour period, following a strict 42-day schedule.
You aren't allowed to put anything else in your body besides what's listed. This whole experience taught me that you can still actually enjoy life even after getting terrifying diagnoses like that. Throughout the treatment and afterward, I've been posting updates on unnamed.

Great blog, I actually printed the whole thing out!
Honestly, you need some serious guts to pull off a fasting therapy like this. Living solely on juices? I don't think many people facing a serious illness could handle that. When you're fasting, that fear of death kicks in, and when you're already battling a disease with a high mortality rate, deciding to starve yourself... look, I'm just saying, it takes a lot of nerve.
My dad has pancreatic cancer right now, and so far, the Budwig diet—mixing flaxseed oil with fresh cheese or yogurt—is helping him a ton. I'll try to see if I can pick up that juice blend at a Whole Foods. Personally, I think combining different alternative methods is the way to go when you're dealing with cancer.
Best,

mistyranger4 said:A family member of mine isn't dealing with a tumor, but rather a rapidly progressing muscular dystrophy. Because he used to be such an open, communicative, and cheerful guy, this sudden loss of autonomy is hitting him hard; he’s becoming increasingly moody, angry, and irritable with everyone around him. I am doing everything within my power to help him, to ease his burden, and to minimize his suffering. It makes it all the more difficult for me because I’m constantly catching the brunt of his lashings—he hits me with a storm of angry words every single day. It isn't always like this, but it's happening more often. We probably need psychological support to handle this properly, but where do we even turn? And who should we look for?

I'm sorry, I completely missed your post and only just saw it today. Honestly, I wouldn't know who else to turn to for mental health support besides asking a primary care physician for a referral. Sometimes you need a sort of passive therapy, where you see a psychologist who can work with you personally and coach you on how to talk to him or how to soften his edges (though I know that can get incredibly expensive).
You have to develop nerves of steel, because believe me, if you break, things will only get harder for him. Try to find ways to turn things into a joke whenever possible. When you feel like he needs to do something, don't approach him with commands like "you have to," "come on," or "just do it." Instead, try something like, "Do you think it might make things easier if..." or "What do you think about...".
My own mother could never stand being told what to do, especially when the order came from me (God forbid🙂 ), and I realized that when I say, "But Mom, you really have to, please," it isn't out of spite, but when I ask, "Do you think maybe you should do this because of X and Y," I'm putting her back in the driver's seat. It gives her a sense of control over her own life, which is vital. Illness strips away our agency and makes us dependent on others, and that is incredibly frustrating; people with strong personalities can become absolutely unbearable when they lose that independence.
I hope this helps at all, even though I'm struggling with this exact same thing myself.

Angela Wright said:My mom has always been the type who absolutely hates being told what to do, especially when those instructions come from me (God forbid 🙂). I finally realized that if I approach her with a direct "But Mom, you really have to, please," she doesn't just get stubborn... but if I frame it as, "Do you think it might be helpful because of this or that?" I'm actually giving her the space to feel like she's still the one in control of her own life.

That is such a brilliant tactic. 😘

I think I’ve just reached my limit—honestly, after everything with both of my grandmothers and then my dad, I am completely drained. Now that my mom is fighting cancer too, I find myself without any tears left to cry, no encouraging words to offer, and frankly, I lack the will or the strength to even try... all I have left is a hug and a long, heavy silence...
It's a blessing, really, that my mother is such a fighter...

Chloe Jones95 said:After dealing with the agony of losing both my grandmothers and then my dad, I’m just completely spent. Now my mom is fighting cancer, too, and I’ve run dry—no more tears, no more encouraging words, no willpower left... there’s nothing left but a hug and long silence...
I'm just thankful my mom is a fighter...

It kills me that you're going through this; it sounds so much heavier than what I've faced. Even though my grandmother was under hospice care and passed away right in my arms, it didn't drag on nearly as long as this. My mom is doing really poorly today. The day started out so bright—she was even having a lovely chat on the phone with her cousin—but then, right before lunch, she just completely shut down. She can't finish a single sentence anymore; her speech is broken, incoherent, and totally disconnected. It’s terrifying to think about what happens when she loses the ability to communicate entirely. How will I know if she's thirsty? How will I know if she's in pain?

Yesterday, my dad was unnamed with this massive lump on the back of his head. It’s immovable, looks like bone has grown over it, and he says it's painful. I'm starting to spiral into a panic.
I know it doesn't offer much comfort, but things happen for a reason, and for some inexplicable cause, you were the one chosen to carry this caregiver's burden on your shoulders. Maybe God orchestrated it this way because you were the only one with the strength to handle it.

Don't let your spirit break. We have strength deep inside us even when it feels like we've hit zero. If someone had told me eighteen months ago that my life would turn into this gauntlet, I would have told them it was impossible. Me? That strong? Honestly, looking back at everything I've endured and am still enduring... I don't even know how I'm doing it.

Life is suffering, and people will be a lot happier once they finally realize that. Those who understand this are the lucky ones; they know exactly what I mean. Nothing in this life is certain except for hardship, but suffering isn't a negative thing. Some of the most beautiful things are born from pain. A mother goes through pain to bring life. Only those who have truly suffered can truly appreciate the tiny, fleeting joys of existence. I'm a believer, and even though I haven't been particularly religious lately, it's only through this struggle that things have become crystal clear to me. Suffering purifies; it enlightens.

We all carry our own cross, and it is precisely as heavy as we are capable of bearing (that's a fact, believe me). Along this path, we stumble and rise again, lifted by the love of those around us, who shoulder part of our weight so we can make it to the end. That is the core philosophy of life: suffering and love.

If it means anything to you, and if you have faith, know that through your love, your devotion, and your sacrifice, you are earning your ticket to Paradise. When your time eventually comes, everyone you cared for will be there to carry you.🙏
Don't worry, better days are coming. The One above has a plan for you; just surrender to it and you'll see how everything falls into place. It’s all going to be okay, you'll see.

placidfalcon said:Great blog, I actually printed the whole thing out!
I think you need some serious guts to try a fasting therapy like this. Living strictly on juices? I don't think many sick people could pull that off. When you're fasting, you're bound to face that fear of death—especially when you're already dealing with a high-mortality disease. It takes real courage to go through that kind of starvation.
My father has pancreatic cancer, and right now the Budwig diet is really helping him—basically flaxseed oil mixed with fresh cheese or yogurt. I'll look into getting those juices from Whole Foods. Honestly, I think combining different alternative treatments is a good move when you're fighting cancer.
Best,

The hardest part is just taking that first step; after that, it just becomes a routine. This therapy isn't actually that difficult to follow. Now that I understand the process, I could probably even manage a shortened 21-day version while still going to my job. I know someone who was completely bedridden, but after 12 days of this therapy, he could sit up, and by day 21, he stood up and never went back to being a patient again. He's 91 years old today. As for mixing diets with other alternative methods? That's a bad idea. If you commit to one therapy, stick to it. Don't mix them. They can interact, cause counter-effects, and trigger side effects so severe we don't even have solutions for them.

Angela Wright!! Thank you so much for those beautiful words!!! I’m sitting here reading your response and my eyes are just welling up with tears.😘
I suppose I know all of this on some subconscious level, but—honestly—sometimes it’s still just so difficult. I should mention that after my father passed away, I didn't cry for five years; I didn't love, I didn't feel anything, and I certainly didn't let anyone get close to me. It wasn't until I fell in love that I finally broke down and cried, and it was almost as if I had finally come back to life. I am so grateful to my partner for being my rock and for putting up with me 😍.
I am a woman of faith, and I try to tell myself that certain things simply have to happen—that searching for a reason is mostly futile. You are right, though... strength tends to arrive exactly when you think you've run out of it, when you feel like you've reached your absolute limit, almost as if you're undergoing some sort of endurance test.
I know it is hard for you too... only those who have walked that path truly understand... and it isn't even just about the patients themselves being in pain; sometimes, watching someone you love fade away day by day—watching them struggle through agony and helplessness—is worse. And you find yourself thinking that when the end comes, it might actually be better if God just took them home to Himself, yet you feel so incredibly selfish because you simply don't want to let go...
I sincerely hope that your mother's condition improves, and that you find the strength to keep caring for her, to take whatever hits life throws at you, and to keep moving forward with your head held high...
As for me, I’m doing as much as I can, but I suspect certain feelings will follow me for the rest of my life—guilt, perhaps—wondering if I could have tried harder to show certain things...
And then there is that old, familiar fear of loss—the one that caused me to retreat into my shell because it felt safer that way—but now that the shell has opened up, the fear of losing a loved one is what holds me back...
Oh, I nearly forgot to mention that even my dog has a tumor now😢
But we just take it one day at a time... there isn't any other way to do it. We are resilient, and we will endure everything!!!😘

Chloe Jones95 said:I was completely numb, just keeping everyone at arm's length. Then I fell in love, and it was like I finally broke down, cried it all out, and actually started living again. I'm just so grateful to my man for being my rock and putting up with me.😍

I also happened to meet the most incredible person in the world when I was hitting rock bottom, 😍, yet when life was actually going smoothly, I spent years feeling lonely and miserable.
He’s my guardian angel, and honestly, I think he's the reason I finally tapped into this new strength inside myself. Love is everything—that profound realization that you aren't walking this path alone. In my opinion, the people who step into your life during your darkest hours and decide to stick by you until the very end? Those are the real ones.👍

Angela Wright said:I also happened to meet the most incredible person in the world during what was arguably the absolute lowest point of my life 😍, yet when everything else was going smoothly, I spent years feeling completely alone and miserable.
He is truly my guardian angel—I honestly think it’s because of him that I managed to rediscover this inner strength within myself. Love really does matter; that realization that you aren't just drifting through this alone... I suppose people who step into your life during those dark chapters and actually stick by you until the very end are the only ones who truly count.👍

👍 He is definitely the real deal for me—he’s already standing right by my side during these incredibly difficult times, whereas someone else... well, maybe they wouldn't have stayed at all...
I am genuinely glad that you have someone looking out for you and providing that kind of support and strength.😘
And I know for a fact that I would be there for him, regardless of whatever life throws our way...
Everything is going to work out fine...