Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

Robert Grant84 said:Any advice here? 🤷
What should we do?

My parents have decided they're done fighting. They aren't doing chemo or radiation because they don't see any chance of a cure (maybe they'll last a few weeks or a month, but honestly, who knows)... 🙂
No one offered any tips for trying something else that might actually work a miracle.

That's a heavy call to make. The thing is, with this kind of sickness, you can never really predict the trajectory—like, when it's gonna hit or if it'll just stall out. My husband was given maybe two or three months back in the day (lung cancer, I've mentioned this before), but he’s still hanging in there over six years later. He did the whole chemo and radiation thing during that first year back in 2005, and that was pretty much the extent of the medical stuff. Everything else was just about cranking up the immune system, making it strong enough to take the fight to the disease itself... and hey, it worked for us.
I don't know, I could never bring myself to pull the plug like your folks are planning (not for me, not for anyone close to me). There's always that sliver of hope, that drive to push for one more tomorrow... just taking it one day at a time.

Robert Grant84 said:Does anyone have any advice? 🤷
What should be done?

My mother and father have come to an agreement that the fight is over, and they won't be pursuing chemotherapy or radiation, given there's no realistic chance of recovery—though perhaps they might hold on for a few weeks or a month, if we're being optimistic... 🙂
There hasn't been any advice offered regarding some sort of attempt that might actually work a miracle.

I find myself deeply saddened by this decision... but why simply surrender? Life is a struggle... one does not merely accept defeat; one seeks out new battles. There is no magic piece of advice that can offer a cure, yet I believe it is worth persisting with treatments, because sometimes we aren't even aware of what the human body is capable of achieving on its own...

Lisa White54 said:My mother and father reached an agreement that the battle is over, deciding against further chemotherapy or radiation since there is no realistic chance of a cure—perhaps she might hold on for a few weeks or even a month, though even that remains uncertain... 🙂
There was absolutely no advice offered regarding some desperate attempt that might somehow trigger a miracle...

It is a devastating decision to make. The reality is that with a disease like this, one can never truly predict its trajectory or when it might finally stall... My husband was given a prognosis of two or three months (lung cancer, which I have written about before), yet he has lived for more than six years. He underwent chemo and radiation during that first year back in 2005, which exhausted everything modern medicine had to offer. Everything else focused on bolstering his immune system, which must be robust enough to fight the illness itself... We managed to succeed.
I simply don't know; I would never dare to choose the path your parents have taken, whether for myself or for a loved one. Hope is always present, and there is always the struggle for a new tomorrow, for one more day... and so, we move through it, day by day.

I am glad to hear, Lisa, that you are still finding success in this fight... may it continue to stay that way.

I suppose I am a bit of a free spirit here, but I am quite scattered in my actual life as well, being pulled in a hundred different directions at once, so I am not even sure how to begin describing what my mother endured and continues to endure. Currently, we are in a state of status quo. Four years ago, it was uncertain if she would even survive six months. Since then, we have navigated two incredibly grueling surgeries and twelve cycles of chemo; over the last year, enlarged lymph nodes have been detected, though they eventually shrink and her markers remain stable. Her next check-up is in a few months...

And so, we live one day at a time... it becomes increasingly difficult, both financially and psychologically, but we will not surrender after having pushed this far.

Every patient is a unique case, and miracles are not a guarantee... yet, perhaps miracles occur when we all remain steadfast together. Therefore, we shall all continue to fight...

My sincere sympathies go out to everyone who has recently lost their battles alongside those closest to them... I know how incredibly heavy this weight feels, and I realize that such wounds don't simply heal overnight, but perhaps there is a way to view this loss as a reason to stay resilient, honoring the memories and the small joys you once shared with your fighters.

My grandmother passed away last week after her struggle with Alzheimer's... Throughout the entire course of the disease, I felt as though I was witnessing nothing but pure agony, watching her suffer while she drifted further and further away from us mentally. Now that the silence has set in, the void feels quite overwhelming, yet I find comfort in knowing it is better for her this way, and that we will surely meet again...

There isn't a single soul out there who doesn't want to live, regardless of what kind of misery life throws their way.
I still find myself thinking back to a conversation I had with the attending physician in the ICU while my mom was recovering from surgery. She mentioned how, no matter how many people are enduring intense, grinding pain—people who often say they’d rather just die right then and there—when that final moment actually arrives, everyone wants to keep living, no matter what that life looks like.

Every patient is an entire universe unto themselves. Everyone carries a unique story. You have to consider everything: the stage at which the illness is caught, the age of the person, the sheer severity of it, whether there are metastases or not, where those metastases are located, how aggressive the tumor itself is acting, and how the body responds to treatment... honestly, there are a million different parameters to weigh.
And you should fight for life and health as long as it is humanly possible.
But you also have to be realistic.
Because you really need to be clear about what exactly it is we are fighting for.

From the very beginning, the doctors told my mom there was no chance for a full cure because of the nature and location of her tumor. Still, she went through with the surgery to remove her stomach and the affected lymph nodes, though the tumor remained in her body.
Mom went through chemotherapy and radiation as well, which managed to keep the remaining tumor dormant for a while.
But once those treatments wrapped up, the tumor flared up again with a vengeance. It’s no longer operable.
And Mom is simply too weak now for any new rounds of therapy.

So now, in this limited time she has left—provided the pain isn't absolutely destroying her—she finds herself wondering what she was actually fighting for. And I can't say I blame her. She was given a year and a half of struggling to survive. A woman who was independent and active her entire life became everything she never intended to be: dependent and helpless. Those eighteen months she gained through all that fighting were spent almost entirely in pain. She says she didn't truly get to live that life anyway.

That’s why we should be careful with those slogans about how one "must" fight. In my opinion, we need to respect the reality of the illness and weigh what can actually be saved, if there is anything left to save. At the end of the day, everyone decides for themselves, and everyone knows best what the right option is for them.

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That’s why you have to be careful with slogans—you actually have to fight. Personally, you have to respect the illness and weigh what can actually be saved. If there's anything left to save, that is. Everyone decides for themselves and knows best what their options are.

Is my struggle and pushing others to fight just some empty slogan? I wouldn't say so. Fighting takes serious guts, patience, and a hell of a lot of money..
It breaks my heart to see her mother suffering like this. It’s gut-wrenching watching someone go through agony. My husband is going through it too, and man, it isn't easy. I don't even know exactly what's happening. Nobody is giving me any straight answers. We were over at Jordan a few weeks ago, and the doctor literally refused to tell me a single thing. For the last six years, I haven't received one piece of real information. Just a vague "it's fine." And I know why they do it. If I don't know anything, I can't demand anything. I can't even push them to continue treatment.
My husband is struggling hard. He’s got pain that just gets worse every single day. His bones ache. It’s probably cancer that’s metastasized to his bones or his spinal cord. Who knows. All I know is that something is going on. He’s on 75 Durogesic, he's taking Tramal, he's on antidepressants... He’s a different person now, mentally. But I’m fighting. I’m carrying the entire weight of this disease on my shoulders. When it comes to this sickness, I am completely alone. And I’m fighting the only way I know how. Every day is different, and I've just accepted that. I don't know what tomorrow looks like, but when the day comes that my husband doesn't wake up, I'll know I gave everything I had to help him. I won't leave anything to chance. At the end of the day, I just look at it this way: how would I want people to treat me if I were the one sick?..

Nancy Hernandez43 said:It’s a brutal call to make. The thing is, with this kind of sickness, you’re always flying blind—you never know when it’s gonna pivot or just stall out. My husband was given maybe two or three months to live (lung cancer, I’ve mentioned that before), but he’s still here, over six years later. He did his rounds with chemo and radiation during that first year back in 2005, and that was basically the extent of the medical intervention. Everything else was about beefing up his immune system, making it strong enough to take the fight to the disease itself... and we pulled it off.
I don't know, I’d never have the guts to go down that path your parents are looking at (not for myself or anyone close to me). There’s always hope, you know? You just gotta fight for a new tomorrow, one day at a time... just grinding through the days.

So happy to hear, Lisa White54, that you guys are still holding the line!!!! Keep fighting!

I’m a newcomer here, but honestly, I’m a bit of a mess in real life too because my head is always spinning in a hundred different directions. I don't even know how to put into words what my mom went through and is still going through. Right now, we’re just maintaining the status quo. Four years ago, we weren't even sure she'd make it six months. Since then, we’ve survived two massive surgeries and twelve cycles of chemo. Over the last year, they found some swollen lymph nodes, but they eventually shrink back down and her markers stay steady. We’ve got another checkup in a month..

We’re just taking it day by day... everything gets harder, both on the wallet and the mind, but we aren't throwing in the towel after how hard we've pushed already.

Every patient is their own universe; there are no guarantees... but miracles happen when everyone stays in the ring together! So we keep fighting!

Big hugs, Nancy Hernandez43.
It’s good to see an old veteran popping up in the threads. I’m a newbie on this forum, too. You said your mom’s situation is status quo. Honestly? That’s a win.
Look, we all know there are no rules. Every person is wired differently, no two cancers play out the same way, but we all want the same thing: we want to live, and we want our people by our side for as long as possible.
Hang in there. Sending a huge hug your way.

🙂 Dad isn't ready to just throw in the towel, even though Mom keeps begging us to let him stop... He’s in constant pain and he’s convinced there’s no coming back from this. He thinks we're all just dragging out his misery. His last PET scan was over two months ago, and honestly, given how much he's aching all over, I'm worried the cancer might have already spread to his bones
They'd probably give her the truth if it were actually the end—if she knew she'd never have a normal life again—but the doctors keep insisting it's not over yet, telling us it's still worth fighting and continuing treatment

Robert Grant84 said:🙂 Dad isn't just gonna roll over and quit, even though Mom keeps begging us to just let her go. She's in massive pain and she doesn't buy the whole "recovery" thing for a second. Thinks we're just dragging out the inevitable. Last PET scan was over two months ago, and honestly, since she's complaining about aches all over, I'm worried the cancer might have hit her bones by now.
They’d tell us if it was truly the end—like, if there's zero chance at a normal life—but the doctors keep saying it's not over yet, that fighting and treatment are still worth it.

You gotta fight. Always. Sure, there are those days where you just feel totally helpless, desperate, terrified, or just straight-up pissed off... It's that eternal question, right? Like, why us? But those days, they pass. I know things are brutal for you and your dad, but I bet it's even harder on your mom. It's her life on the line; she's staring down that fear of losing everything.
You guys need to keep her spirits up. When she hits a wall and falls into a depression, pull her back up. You've got to convince her that even if today sucks, tomorrow can be better. You have to fight for that tomorrow. Just stay by her side, shower her with love, tenderness, and attention. She deserves all of it. Let her see how much you love her and how much you actually believe she can get better. It makes the fight easier when you feel like people are in your corner.
Just remember, she's the one carrying the heaviest load here.
About those pains, is your mom using a Durogesic patch?

It’s not helping right now, but Dad is going to pick some up today, so maybe things will finally start looking up... The pills he’s on currently only seem to last about five hours before the pain kicks back in, and honestly, between the pelvic cancer and the incision from his fourth surgery acting up over the last few months, it's just been a lot...

Lisa White54 said:Warmest regards, Nancy Hernandez43.
It is truly heartening to see a familiar face resurface here... I consider myself a veteran of this forum as well. You mentioned that your mother’s condition remains stable, which is certainly encouraging news.
We all understand that there are no universal rules; every individual is unique, and no two cases of cancer are ever identical, yet we all share that singular, desperate desire to live and to keep our loved ones by our side for as long as possible...
Stay strong. Sending you a massive hug.

The most difficult part is facing the lack of concrete solutions... everything ultimately rests upon hope, willpower, and our own inner strength. Sending big hugs to you all as well.

It takes an incredible amount of strength and sheer willpower to endure that level of suffering. I have so much respect for people facing these battles—it reminds me of my own mother. Despite what the doctors told her, she fought with everything she had until the very end. There were countless moments when she wanted to give up, but she kept pushing forward, mostly for herself, but most of all for us. My heart goes out to anyone navigating these moments without a support system by their side. Hang in there.

Robert Grant84 said:She isn't using it yet, but my dad is picking some up today—hopefully that makes things a bit easier. The pills he's on right now only last about 5 hours before the pain kicks back in... it’s coming from the pelvic cancer and that incision from his fourth surgery, especially over these last few months.

A specialist has to prescribe the Durogesic patch before a regular family doctor can write the script. For cancer patients, you don't have to deal with co-pays; it goes under the blue prescription tier.
My husband started on Durogesic at 25, and he's up to 75 now. You gotta swap the patch every third day—you absolutely cannot skip a day. I know because we tried it once or twice and it was just brutal. The Durogesic lasts for 72 hours.

Along with the Durogesic, depending on how bad the pain hits on any given day, my husband
also takes some Tramal drops.
And I can tell you, it still helps him, thank God.
Just find a specialist, an oncologist, or anyone who can give the okay for the Durogesic. That patch is definitely going to take the edge off her pain.

Best,

Sophia Ross53 said:It takes an insane amount of grit and pure willpower to push through all that pain. Honestly, I have so much respect for people fighting this stuff. It reminds me of my own mom—even when the doctors were giving her zero hope, she just kept grinding until the very end. There were so many times she wanted to throw in the towel, but she kept going, mostly for herself and even more for us. My heart breaks for anyone facing this kind of battle without someone standing right there by their side. Hang in there.

Thanks! 🙂

The oncologist has been out on medical leave for two weeks now, and apparently, nobody else has the guts to actually look over my discharge papers and medical history...

Robert Grant84 said:The oncologist has been out on medical leave for two weeks now—and apparently, nobody else has the guts to actually review the discharge papers or the medical history...

Our healthcare system isn't just slow and inefficient; it’s profoundly inhumane. You endure excruciating pain only to be brushed off by everyone involved—zero action taken. I went through this exact nightmare with my mother, so I know exactly what you're feeling.
Even now, a month after her passing, the anger and resentment feel even sharper than before. Because our medical system failed to do anything meaningful, she died in significant pain and suffering. An ER doctor once told me that in this day and age, no one should ever have to die hungry, thirsty, or in agony.
How beautiful that sounds—and how many light-years away it sits from our actual reality.

That was a nice way for him to put it... but did he actually step up and help, or was he just standing there watching it happen?

Robert Grant84 said:The oncologist has been out on sick leave for two weeks now and nobody else has the balls to actually look at the discharge papers or the medical history...

Look, don't just sit there waiting for the oncologist. While she’s out, go see some GP or have them send you to an internist... honestly, anyone. Just don't wait. If you have to yell, make threats, or act crazy—do it. They have to help you. You ask the GP to rewrite the Durogesic prescription and they say they can't? Fine. Then demand a referral to someone who *can* do it, and demand it right now! Threaten to report them to the medical board. I've dealt with all kinds of nonsense over the last six years. My move is usually to try being nice first, but let's be real, that rarely works. After that, I'm threatening, screaming, fighting... you gotta do something to light a fire under them. Fight for her. Demand they help your mom; it's literally their job. Nobody should be in pain. Period. No one. Remind them that they could wake up with cancer tomorrow too (that usually shakes them up!). Ask them if they think they could handle that kind of agony. Seriously, scream, threaten, whatever. They have to help. It's just how it is.
It sucks that we're forced to get aggressive, but if that's the only way to win, don't feel bad about it.
Check out that nonprofit group, New Day Hope. They have a website and a forum where cancer patients and families hang out. If you aren't on it, go there; you'll find tons of useful advice. There's even an amazing oncologist who works with the association. If you need advice, support, or anything else, she'll be there. She helped me a ton.
And... don't give up. You have to fight. I know how brutal this is. Just stay stubborn and stay brave.

ironsailor22 said:It’s not just that our healthcare system is slow and broken—it’s straight-up inhumane. You’re sitting there in agony, getting nothing but attitude from everyone, and nobody lifts a finger. I went through this exact nightmare with my mom, so believe me, I get it.
And now, a month after she passed, the rage and bitterness are even worse than before. Because our medical system did absolutely zero, she died in massive pain and suffering. Some ER doctor actually said that nowadays, nobody should have to die hungry, thirsty, or in pain.
Man, that sounds beautiful, doesn't it? Too bad it's light-years away from how things actually work here.

The whole healthcare setup is a disaster. It makes me sick. My husband's entire medical burden is falling squarely on my shoulders. I'm not a doctor or anything, so everything I do is just guesswork because I have nobody to turn to for answers. It’s awful. Every single day it’s something new, and I’m just lost on what to even do with it... He was a patient at Jordan's clinic, but they don't want to treat him anymore because they've done their part. Other hospitals won't take him because he's "from Jordan's," and so on... it's just constant ping-pong! He feels terrible, but who cares? Nobody knows what's wrong with him and nobody gives a damn. It's pathetic.

Robert Grant84 said:That’s all well and good to say... but did he actually step up and help, or was he just talking?

Look, honey, my husband's doctor actually has lung cancer himself. And the guy is still working. I honestly thought he'd have a bit more empathy, you know? Like, since he's looking at this disease from the same side of the fence now, maybe he'd get it. But nope. Not even a little. Our last check-up was such a disaster that I was stuck in a funk for an entire week just thinking about how poorly that doctor treated my husband.
It’s like, oh, it doesn't matter if my husband is hurting, nooo! No need for any tests... nooo! We're just imagining things! It's terrifying.
And when they're the ones in pain, then what? Suddenly nothing needs to be done?? Is everything just irrelevant then??