Resources and support for families dealing with cancer and serious illness

Angela Wright said:😉 Tomorrow is a fresh start and a better day🙂. Honestly, who even cares about those people at work when you possess more strength than all of them combined? I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't even finish this chapter, just decided to launch your own firm and become incredibly successful... Anyone who has successfully navigated the American healthcare system—regardless of the medical outcome—is more than capable of handling any administrative hurdle or closing a major business deal...👍

You are wonderful... so grounded and sincere.

It’s been a while, so hello to everyone.
First off, my sincere condolences to everyone who has lost their loved ones.
To those still fighting for themselves or their families, I pray God grants you faith in recovery, the patience to endure these brutal moments, and the strength to keep pushing through this fight.
We are still in the ring, too. My wife's brain MRI from October 12, 2007—which came over 13 months after her initial diagnosis—showed no visible signs of tumor recurrence.
She’s feeling good. Whenever we can find the time, we get out for walks in the fresh air (we usually do a loop around Central Park—3.4 miles sometimes three days in a row). For the most part, I can say we’re living a completely normal, ordinary life. The only thing that serves as a constant reminder of the diagnosis is the mountain of supplements my wife takes every single day. Her next MRI is scheduled in three months.
In the meantime, we sent hair samples for toxicological testing to the Pfizer institute in San Francisco. Based on those results, our next steps involve a full body detox (using DMPS) to clear out all the trace elements and metals that are sitting above safe levels, followed by replenishing what she's missing. We'll be using supplements from the Rockefeller Foundation. We are adjusting her entire supplement regimen accordingly.
I am grateful to the Virgin Mary, dear Jesus, and Almighty God that things have gone well for us up to this point. I would give anything to keep this momentum going until a new cure is found and we finally see a full recovery. Despite everything I know about this disease, I dare to believe it will become one of those long-term survivable conditions.
Am I crazy?
Hang in there, everyone. Don't let them win.

Does health insurance cover the Duragesic patch?

Amy Hayes28 said:Does health insurance cover the Duragesic patch?

I’d say yes, but you'll need a specialist to sign off on it first.

Hey everyone!!! I wanted to share something with you all. I know the point I'm making is a bit heavy, and honestly, I struggle with expressing myself sometimes—I usually need a lot of words and hand gestures to get my point across, plus I'm big on tone shifts. But I’ll try my best here, and I hope you can follow me.

My grandmother passed away recently after a long battle with soft tissue sarcoma. She was 85, which is a wonderful, full life, and even though she was already a great-great-grandmother, it's still hard to process. But the real reason I'm writing is about how it happened. It started with this strange scab on her nose, and within a few months, she lost half of her face, her left eye, and her nose was literally falling apart... I won't dwell too much on the graphic details, but it was devastating. Before this, my outlook on life never included death as a solution. I never viewed an ending like that as a way out. Then, everything changed. I went through this massive internal conflict, fighting between my own beliefs and what people called "rational" logic regarding her suffering. Everyone around me seemed convinced it would be kinder if she just passed away to end the misery. When the smell of decaying tissue started filling her room, only the strongest people could stomach entering. Poor thing, she couldn't even leave her bed, and the situation became so nauseating that she stopped eating entirely. Since I'm a chemist by trade, I started working with colloidal silver, thinking there wasn't much left to lose. It actually worked—we managed to neutralize the odor and even slow down the decay. For those last two weeks, Grandma was able to eat soup or some crushed cookies mixed into yogurt :-) and she even started talking again. That’s when it hit me. Despite the disease, the horrific pain, the loss of sight, and the loss of smell, she refused to give in to death. She wanted to LIVE so badly. I was shocked, but mostly I am just in awe of her strength and her sheer will to exist. Even knowing she was dying and wouldn't ever be herself again, she held on. She's a believer, but regardless of faith, every single second counts. Please, don't let the moments you have with your loved ones slip away, whether things are good or bad. It doesn't matter if communication is limited or if they can barely see or hear you—those final moments belong to you. Don't ever give up, whether it's for yourself or someone else. Even if illness wins in the end, don't let it rob you of the one thing you have left: your faith and your time with the people you love.
Hang in there!!!!!
Linda Campbell, my invitation still stands. Please come visit us; I’d love for us to meet, and I’d love for you to meet my husband. Everything you wrote in your last post is the hardest truth there is—it’s the very reason we’re all here.

Hey everyone, I wanted to share something personal with you all. About two years ago, my ex-girlfriend's mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. The doctors were telling her she needed surgery immediately because she might not even make it another month—it was a total shock for her and the whole family. But despite everything, she turned down the surgery. In her eyes, the medical system had "screwed over" her father, her brother, and her uncle (who passed away on New Year's Day back in 2005). Shortly before that, she called my dad and told him she’d been drinking this "Noni juice" constantly and felt better quite quickly. Two months later—keep in mind they gave her only one month left—she went back for more tests, and the cancer was almost gone. It's true, since it's malignant, there's always a risk of it coming back, but she's still using the Noni juice and feels great. It's been over two years now and she's still with us. I talked it over with a doctor, and she mentioned that while results vary from person to person, it shouldn't cause any harm; there aren't any side effects (at least nothing life-threatening), so I think it's worth the risk. I'm going to pick up some of that juice for my mom tomorrow, and if anyone else is planning on trying it, please reach out and share your experiences.

You can find more info about the product on this page. Honestly, I really hope it helps my mom and anyone else who might need it. 😉

http://www.noni-sok.savjeti.com/

Anonymous said:Hey everyone, I wanted to share something with you all. About two years ago, my ex-girlfriend's mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. The doctors were warning her she needed emergency surgery immediately because she could have passed away within a month—it was a total shock for her and the whole family. But despite everything, she refused the surgery because, in her eyes, the medical system had "screwed over" her father, her brother, and her uncle (who passed away on New Year's Day back in 2005). Shortly before that, she called my dad to tell him she’d been drinking "Noni juice" constantly and was starting to feel better. Then, after two months (keep in mind they gave her only one month left), she went back for more tests and the cancer had almost vanished. It's true that since it's malignant, there's always a risk of recurrence, but she still uses Noni juice, feels great, and it’s been over two years now and she’s still with us. I consulted a doctor, and she mentioned that effects vary by individual but it won't cause harm; there are no side effects (at least nothing life-threatening), so I think it's worth the risk. I'm buying some of that juice for her tomorrow, and if anyone else is doing the same, please reach out and share your experiences.

You can find more info about the product on this page, and I sincerely hope it helps both my mom and anyone else who needs it 😉

http://www.noni-sok.savjeti.com/

My mom has been drinking it every single day for two years now, going through several servings a day, and nothing sensational has happened. Let me be clear: that juice isn't some miracle cure for anything, including cancer; it's more like something that boosts the immune system and helps the body get into the best possible state to fight off illness. I have to admit, that ovarian cancer your ex's mother had is a genuine miracle if it really just disappeared like that, because usually, by the time ovarian cancer is identified, it has already spread to other organs. Honestly, I'd suspect it might have been a benign growth that was misdiagnosed—or rather, not fully diagnosed—because with ovarian masses, you typically need surgery to remove the tumor or cyst, and only after tissue typing can you actually confirm if it was malignant or benign. I'm speaking from experience here; I once had an ovarian cyst that turned out to be exactly what they suspected—benign—even though my tumor markers were absolutely haywire. They told me they assumed it was benign endometriosis, but they left themselves enough room to hedge their bets since they couldn't give a 100% diagnosis until after the surgery when the pathology report came back confirming their suspicions. So, what was actually going on with that lady is highly debatable.

Anonymous said:I totally get where you're coming from. It’s the same for me, especially since I was adopted, so my mom and I had this unique bond. We definitely went through some rough patches, mostly due to her drinking, but I always found it in me to forgive and move past it. Like I said before, she just got diagnosed with esophageal cancer today, and honestly, I have no clue what happens next—if she can even handle surgery, how she’ll cope, or how much time we actually have left... It’s a massive shock to the system because just over a month ago, she seemed perfectly fine.

It kills me seeing her stuck in the hospital, hooked up to an IV and all that. She can't eat normally and has to force down tiny bites just to get by; watching her struggle like that is brutal. 🙂

Up until now, I guess I just took everything for granted—our relationship, our life together—and now it feels like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. 🙄

The Chosen One, hang in there! 👍
I’m asking those same questions myself, and let's be real, there isn't anyone out there who can give us actual answers. 🤷

Deep down, I know God has a specific plan for everyone, including your mom and my dad, but sometimes my faith just wavers and I get lost in the "why" of it all.

All I know is that we have to show up for our people, every single second. We need to spend as much time with them as possible, being their rock and their strength, even when we're feeling terrified, confused, or completely broken inside.

Wishing you guys nothing but strength and resilience on this journey. 😉

My mother-in-law is battling lung cancer and is scheduled for six rounds of chemo (Pfizer). After her first session, she was dealing with intense bone pain, and by the second round, the nausea and vomiting were just brutal.
It’s been a week since her third treatment, and now she’s struggling with debilitating headaches. She’s terrified that the cancer has spread to her brain. Has anyone else gone through something similar? Any advice on how we can help her get through this?

Anonymous said:My mother-in-law is battling lung cancer and is scheduled for six rounds of chemotherapy (tuxol). After her first session, she suffered from intense bone pain, and by the second round, she was dealing with constant nausea and vomiting.
It’s been a week since her third treatment, and now she’s experiencing agonizing headaches. She’s convinced the cancer has metastasized to her brain. I am pleading for anyone who has dealt with something similar to share their experience and offer advice on how we can support her.

When my late father’s lung cancer spread to his brain, he didn't actually experience much physical pain. Instead, it was a cognitive decline—he started becoming disoriented. He could still talk to us, but the logic was gone; he wouldn't know what he was talking about. He had no sense of place. He would interact with us as if we were just sitting in our living room rather than being in a hospital ward, giving nonsensical commands like, "Go do this now," or "Move those books over there." It was all quite aimless. Within a very short window, he slipped into a state of agony—essentially a coma—which is how we ultimately lost him.

Anonymous said:My mother-in-law is fighting lung cancer and is scheduled for six rounds of chemo (tuxol). After the first round, she was dealing with intense bone pain, and by the second, she was stuck with constant nausea and vomiting.
It's been a week since her third dose, and now she’s suffering from excruciating headaches. She’s terrified that the cancer has metastasized to her brain. I'm asking if anyone else has dealt with this or has advice on how we can help her.

Look, those headaches don't automatically mean the cancer has spread to her brain. Chemotherapy is an absolute sledgehammer to the system, and intense headaches are a very common side effect.
That said, you need to watch for red flags. If the headache comes paired with dizziness, loss of balance, facial drooping—like a stroke where one side of the mouth hangs low—slurred speech, or sudden confusion, stop everything. Those are neurological symptoms. In that case, get her to an emergency neurology ward at the hospital immediately for an urgent CT scan. If there is metastasis in the brain, doctors need to assess if it can be surgically removed right away.
Some of the more manageable side effects, like the nausea and general aches, can often be mitigated with various supplements or medications. Ask her oncologist specifically for prescriptions to handle the vomiting and pain. As for natural remedies, we have discussed them extensively on this forum based on our own lived experiences, so you might want to scroll back through some older posts for ideas.

Every single cancer diagnosis is its own damn universe.
I’m telling you, I know this from experience...

My mom passed away from cancer... Honestly, by the time they caught it, she was already so far gone that nobody could even tell where it all started...
I spent the first day just crying my eyes out... That moment when everyone finally realizes things aren't going to be okay. For the next six months, I stayed by her side as much as life would allow—and those last ten days? She passed right in my arms... Quietly, just like how she lived her life. You know, I actually felt a weird sense of relief that she's gone... It wasn't because I wanted her gone, but because the struggle was over. Watching her go through that was just brutal. I miss her every single day, obviously. But at least the suffering is finished...

Honestly, thank you all so much for the advice. I could really use one more tip if anyone has it. She’s completely shut everyone out—she won't talk to anyone except her sister and my husband. She won't even look at me or listen to a word I say. My biggest fear is that once this whole ordeal is over (and I am praying so hard she pulls through), she might turn around one day and claim I wasn't even there for her.

Anonymous said:Honestly, thank you all for the replies. I need one more piece of advice, please. She refuses to communicate with anyone except her sister and my husband. She won't even see or hear me. I'm terrified that once this whole ordeal is over—and I truly, deeply hope she pulls through—she might claim one day that I wasn't even involved in her care.

I completely get why you’re feeling uneasy and anxious, but look, she is sick. You have to respect her will, her wishes, and her need to be seen in this state only by those she considers her absolute inner circle. Next time you get a window to talk to her, just lay it out there plainly: tell her you want to be more hands-on whenever she needs anything at all, and that she can always lean on you, but that you will also always honor her boundaries and her choices. You could even pass that message along through your husband with her regards. That way, you sidestep any awkwardness and create a shield for yourself against her and the rest of the family. We all know what mothers-in-law can be like, especially when illness starts warping their actual personalities. In these brutal moments, people's masks often slip, revealing who they really are underneath. Dealing with that kind of fallout during my own mother's illness was the hardest part for me, so just prepare yourself for the possibility that things might go that way.

Anonymous said:I am truly grateful to everyone for their responses. If I may, I would ask for one more piece of advice... She refuses to communicate with anyone at all, with the exception of her sister and my husband. She won't even permit me to see her or hear her voice. My fear is that once this ordeal concludes—and I pray with everything I have that she pulls through—she might someday claim that I wasn't actually involved in her care at all...

We navigated an identical situation ourselves; initially, Mom insisted that only Dad be by her side, and she strictly forbade any visits or calls from the rest of us. It wasn't until a month had passed that she finally opened up, allowing us to call her again. I cannot say for certain when the realization struck her that we all needed to be there to provide her with strength...

Perhaps those she is willing to speak with could attempt to persuade her to reconsider, convincing her that your presence is vital and that you are also suffering through this together...

kisses

Amy Lopez45 said:Every single cancer diagnosis tells its own unique story.
I speak from direct experience when I say that...

My mother passed away from cancer... To be perfectly honest, she had reached such a state by then that they couldn't even pinpoint where it all began...
I only allowed myself to cry on that first day... Once everyone finally realized that things were truly not okay. For the remaining six months, I stayed by her side as much as humanly possible, including those final ten days... She passed away right in my arms... Quietly, just as she lived her life... You know, in a strange way, I felt a sense of relief that she was gone... The struggle was over for her... Watching it happen was devastating... I still miss her deeply today. But at least the suffering has ceased...

I understand you completely. It is incredibly difficult to witness someone suffering :-( when you can't alleviate their pain or take a portion of it upon yourself to help... Of course you miss her... and you always will... but try to hold onto those beautiful memories of her and accept that this was perhaps inevitable—just keep moving forward...

Anonymous said:Honestly, thanks to everyone for the replies. Just one more piece of advice, please—she won't talk to anyone except her sister and my husband. She doesn't even want to see me or hear my voice right now. I’m just terrified that once this whole ordeal is over (and I am praying so hard she pulls through), she might claim I wasn't even there for her.

That’s not weird at all, really.
My own mother wouldn't let anyone visit her. She just didn't want people seeing her like that.
Talking was exhausting for her too—just total burnout.
We’d spend hours just sitting there in silence...
Or sometimes, she'd tell me, "I can listen, just talk to me..."

Just respect what she wants right now...
Honestly, I think that's the greatest gift you can give her.

First off, I just wanted to send my greetings to everyone here. I’ve been following this thread constantly, and I know I've read so many heartbreaking stories. My heart truly goes out to all of you who are struggling right now, and to your families as well...

My story, however, has a happy ending. My husband has finally reached the finish line of his chemotherapy! After six cycles of Adriamycin and Ifosfamide, 30 radiation sessions, and another four cycles of the DTIC protocol—we have officially completed treatment. A successful conclusion!
Our oncologist looked at us with such bright, smiling eyes and remarked that if he were in our shoes, he’d be finished with therapy by now too. We just caught each other's gaze and laughed, feeling this massive wave of relief. Now, we face a round of detailed follow-ups: a cardiac ultrasound, a CT scan in a month, and a PET scan in mid-December. If the PET scan at Mayo Clinic shows anything suspicious or unclear, we would head over to Germany for a PET/CT. We’ve already scheduled the appointment at Mayo Clinic for December 19th. Our only remaining task is figuring out where to get the CT done, since they aren't operating at Mayo Clinic right now (and who knows when they'll be back up and running...).

Anyway, I wanted to share this bit of good news with you all, just as I’ve shared the heavy, painful details along the way... I am sending so much love, luck, and HEALTH to every single one of you, your families, and your friends.

I’ll still be reading through these posts; you all were such a pillar of support for me during my darkest moments. 🙂

A lot of people have told me that Noni isn't all that special, but hey, I’ll take whatever hope I can get right now...😢
My mom had her CT scan today, and she's heading in for an esophageal exam tomorrow. We won't see the results until next week, and if they decide on surgery, there will probably be a few more days of waiting after that...🙄I honestly don't get why everything takes so long. It's easy for doctors to say when it's just one more patient on their list, but it doesn't feel that way to us.🙄The waiting is what's actually killing me. Mom has been stuck in the hospital for almost two weeks now, and we still haven't gotten any concrete answers.👎And from what I can see, it's the same story for everyone else too. Our healthcare system has always been "top-tier"—meaning you'll likely pass away before you actually get the treatment you need. It's tragic, but it's the truth.

What has your experience been like with doctors?

slyseal28 said:First off, I want to send my best to everyone here. I’ve been reading through everything, and I see so many heartbreaking stories. My heart truly goes out to all of you who are struggling and to your families...

My story is a happy one. My husband has finally reached the finish line of his chemotherapy! After 6 cycles of Adriamycin and Ifosfamide, 30 radiation treatments, and another 4 cycles of the DTIC protocol—he’s done. A successful finish!
Our specialist looked at us with such bright, smiling eyes and said he’d be wrapping up the treatment right now if it were up to him. We just caught each other's gaze and laughed, feeling this massive wave of relief. Now we just have to navigate the follow-up checks: a cardiac ultrasound, a spiral CT in about a month, and a PET scan in mid-December. If that PET scan at Mayo Clinic shows anything suspicious or unclear, we'd head over to Austria for a PET/CT. We already got ourselves scheduled for the PET at Mayo Clinic for December 19th. Our only hurdle is figuring out where to get the CT done, since the machines at Mayo Clinic aren't running right now (and there's no telling when they will be back online...).

Anyway, I wanted to share this win with you all, just as I’ve shared the heavy, dark details along the way... I am sending so much love, luck, and HEALTH to every single one of you, your families, and your friends.

I’ll keep reading your posts, because you guys were my rock when things were at their absolute worst. 🙂

👍 😘