Support resources for families dealing with cancer and other serious illnesses

My heart really goes out to anyone who’s dealing with a loss right now. Honestly, I can barely handle the thought of being separated from my own parents, so seeing what slyowl10 is going through has just completely shaken up our whole family.
To everyone else out there fighting their own battles with illness—I know it’s brutal. It’s just one treatment after another, and man, the bad days really pile up. But I guess you just can't give up or lose hope, no matter how heavy it gets.

@Kimberly Wright/">@@Kimberly Wright

Thank you so much for those kind words of support! Do you ever find yourself wondering how different life would be if your employers weren't being so incredibly accommodating regarding your situation? If I didn't have that grace at work, I’d be forced to push through regardless of whether I felt up to it or not... and honestly, can you imagine what that would be like? I picture everyone around me chatting about mundane, everyday things while I sit there, perhaps even catching them glancing my way with that unbearable look of pity. But worst of all, wouldn't it be the constant barrage of questions that makes me feel like I'm on the verge of a total nervous breakdown every single time someone reaches out? Those inquiries—mostly from family, friends, and acquaintances rather than colleagues—really doubled the agony during the time leading up to my surgery. Isn't it just staggering how many people ask, and how invasive their curiosity can be? It's truly overwhelming. Still, I suppose if I had been forced to focus on those "ultra-urgent and critically important" tasks at the office, maybe my mind would have been too preoccupied to dwell on everything else, and perhaps it would have been slightly easier, though I really can't say for sure. I used to be such a regular at the gym and absolutely loved it, but lately, I haven't gone anywhere at all; in fact, I haven't stepped foot outside of the local grocery store in two and a half months! My days consist of morning therapy sessions followed by staying by my mother's side all day, until my husband picks me up from home in the afternoon. That little bit of downtime helps me relax, though I end up checking my phone every twenty minutes, which drives my father absolutely crazy since he's already struggling so much with everything. Who stays with your mom when you're at work or the gym? How does she handle being alone? When I was visiting neurosurgery constantly after leaving the hospital, Mom would call me literally a hundred times because she'd forget where I was or what we were talking about every five minutes... and now, Dad won't even let her use the phone to call me when I head home in the afternoon, so she vents to me about it, and it just breaks my heart.
I've certainly rambled on quite a bit here, haven't I? But I really can't leave her side, as I spend my time sitting right next to her, making sure she doesn't drop any ash since she smokes constantly and loses track of when to put the cigarette out. So, I just sit here reading these posts online while keeping a watchful eye on her, though my heart feels so much more at peace whenever I am right there by her side.
I truly hope your day is going much better today than it did yesterday!

Hey Susan Hayes25 🙂

Today is just the complete polar opposite 🙂 I feel like a totally different person altogether...

And honestly, I get where you're coming from regarding those vague, nonsensical conversations and all those questions that seem to mostly stem from family members 🙄 It’s happened to me so many times that I’ve felt like I was about to lose my mind 😠 Just thinking back on some of the mindless outbursts and comments from certain relatives—it actually makes my stomach turn with pure frustration and irritation.
From almost being pressured into following some "guru" who wanted us to hand over $20,000 for some supposed miracle water, to getting told it would be better if I just stayed home with Mom instead of going to work 😕 (just as a quick reminder, I’m currently the only one bringing any money into this house)

I was actually only home with her for a very short window after she got out of the hospital. I was already back at my job after just a couple of weeks.

She’s nearly independent now. She eats well, takes walks around the neighborhood a few times a day, and while she can't carry anything heavy, she goes down to the local corner store to grab bread in the morning, cooks for herself, and even went to see the hair stylist 🙂..... her friends and neighbors drop by quite often. She watches TV, reads, tends to her plants....
I’ve been pushing her to stay active, and I’m really starting to notice that she’s become stronger and more full of life compared to how things looked both before and immediately after the surgery.
She lost a significant amount of weight, but I can tell by the way she moves and carries herself that she’s found her spark again 😍
I won't let her just sit around and relax 😬 I make sure she stays on top of her illness—making sure she has all her referrals, prescriptions, and lab orders organized, and keeping track of her therapy appointments. It's basically like, "Just tell me what you need and I'll go get it, but you need to make sure everything is handled on time."... In the same vein, she’s completely overhauled her diet. Actually, she doesn't even have the spare time to dwell on negative thoughts 🙂
And so on..

Your situation is entirely different, so it makes sense why you can't apply that same approach to your own mom.
But, you're also aware that, say, you're being a bit hard on your dad... maybe you could try not making his life so complicated with that whole career thing..😉

It just crossed my mind that back when my mom was first being admitted to the hospital—right when everyone was talking about her upcoming surgery—one of my cousins just started breaking down, sobbing right there in front of her about how cruel life is and how everything can just end so abruptly when you least expect it 😲 😠 🙂
I honestly have no idea what she was thinking at the time.

Kimberly Wright,

Isn't it just wonderful news that you’re feeling so much better today? I am absolutely thrilled for you, because honestly, I am feeling quite wonderful myself! Today was such a lovely day for Mom; we had a delicious lunch here at my place and then took a gentle little stroll over to her house, since we live just a stone's throw away—hardly even a mile apart! She was eating well and walking beautifully, and I certainly enjoyed the sunshine too; doesn't it feel like life is finally starting to look a bit more normal again?
And hearing that your mother is managing all of that independently, socializing with her friends, and even heading off to the hair salon—isn't that simply fantastic news? You have truly made my entire day so much brighter just by sharing that. It's just marvelous!

As for dealing with extended family... oh goodness, it is an absolute nightmare that seems to happen to everyone, doesn't it? I used to think my entire family was just out of their minds, but it turns out there is just something strange in human nature! Sometimes I worry if I'm being unfair to people, but it really feels like when relatives come to visit during times like this, they somehow feel a sense of superiority... as if they aren't totally delusional! Don't they all just assume that nothing like this could ever happen to them?
Back home, they would show up even while I was stepping out to greet them—some were still weeping before they even made it up the driveway! And there I was, having already taken two or three Lexapro tablets since morning, constantly rehearsing this single thought in my head: I will not cry, and I won't let them see how much I'm struggling, even if it kills me! I handle it all with such grace, yet they just keep whining and staring at Mom as if she were some kind of miracle, offering to cook things for us as if I were completely incompetent or incapable! They drone on about "similar" stories they've heard, and the moment Mom tries to stand up, they all rush to help her—completely bypassing me, even though I've been right there by her side the entire time!
I would laugh at the absurdity of it all if I hadn't burst into tears every single time those worried relatives and friends dropped by.
The pressure has eased up a little bit now, thank God, and I am just praying that everyone feels they've shown enough respect and will finally stop dropping in so often....
Do you know what one of my neighbors said to me? She’s a simple woman, but one of my favorites: "I just can't believe this happened to such a brilliant woman."
In that exact moment, I honestly wished the earth would just swallow me whole; I wanted to simply vanish from existence so I wouldn't have to hold onto that memory for even a second...
She, who barely finished high school because she married at fifteen, looking at my mother—who spent her entire life devouring two books a week and teaching her children everything from math to physics and chemistry, even tutoring college students for those brutal math exams—and she actually acts surprised! As if Mom is choosing to forget or repeat herself for fun, rather than because of this terrible thing we are going through... it is just pure chaos.

I am just praying to God that Mom responds well to these treatments so that I can finally get back to my normal life and work. Oh, I would do it all with a song in my heart! I truly hope that time comes soon. Best wishes to you!

Susan Hayes25 said:Kimberly Wright,

And when it comes to family... good grief, it’s an absolute nightmare that happens to everyone. Honestly, I used to think my entire family was just plain insane. But it turns out this is some strange, deep-seated human flaw. Sometimes I actually worry about accidentally offending someone, but let's be real: people acting like they're visiting you during times like this? They walk in with this ridiculous sense of superiority. It's pure delusion. Everyone seems to live under the pathetic illusion that something like this could never happen to them.

Thank goodness we didn't let many people into our circle back in the day. And for those who actually did make the cut? We strictly forbade any crying or whining. If you wanted to speak, you were only allowed to tell pleasant stories. Period.
It used to drive me absolutely insane whenever certain relatives would show up. You know the type—people my folks couldn't stand to be in the same room with, yet they’d just roll up unannounced like they were doing us some grand favor by dropping in to say hello. It was infuriating. Honestly, I think you hit the nail on the head when you said people love to gloat. They get such a kick out of it, completely failing to realize that this kind of drama can happen to anyone. It’s a universal truth.

Susan Hayes25 said:And you know what one of my neighbors told me? And mind you, she’s a simple woman, but one of my favorites: "I just can't believe what a brilliant woman like you would even think."

This is absolutely appalling!!!! Seriously, that woman is just disgusting. I honestly cannot believe someone could actually say something like that. If I heard her talking like that, I’d toss her right out the front door headfirst!!! 😠😠😠

Hang in there, ladies! 😘

brisksurfer-Sorry to hear that...😢

brisksurfer, sending my deepest condolences to you and your family.😢

I’ve been away from the group for a little while now. Mom just finished her first round of chemo, and honestly, she took it much harder this time than the first time around...

Regarding the discussion we had earlier, I recently heard that our neighbors across the street are acting all surprised, whispering about how we’re supposedly hiding Mom’s diagnosis, her illness, and all the details regarding her treatment; it never even occurs to them to actually reach out or ask us how things are when they see her or any of us walking by...
It’s like everyone assumes we should be walking around in a constant state of grief, crying and rehashing every single detail for them to hear...
Of course, we aren't hiding anything, because there is absolutely no reason to be ashamed of an illness. Just like you all said, health issues can hit any one of us at any time. Disease doesn't care who you are or what you've done; it just shows up uninvited and hits you where it hurts...
All those pitying looks, the weeping, and the endless complaining just because she's young and hasn't done anything wrong in her life... it really gets on my nerves (excuse my language, dear friends).
Anyone who comes to visit us knows they won't even make it through our front door if they intend to whine or spout nonsense. Without any apology, I’ll say that if they have those intentions—complaining or repeating the same old stories about sickness because Mom has "that same kind" of condition—they can just turn right back around and leave. I’m being as stubborn as a little bulldog about this...😁
I have this feeling that Mom would never have said anything herself, so I’ve taken it upon myself to step in and play the role of her protector against all these busybodies...
I know I’ve rambled on quite a bit, and I have so much more to share with you all, but I really have to run now...

Please stay strong for me!

brisksurfer said:The staff at the local hospital told us that Dad can't be kept there anymore. Now we have to make a tough call: either bring him home or find a long-term care facility that can accommodate him permanently.😢

None of us have the heart to let him go, so we'll probably end up bringing him home... Mom heard somewhere that you might be able to rent a medical bed with an adjustable headrest. I wanted to ask if anyone knows where we could track one down and if that's even a realistic option?

On a brighter note, Dad was doing much better this afternoon, so I'm feeling happy about that. 🙂

My mom was told the exact same thing. It really feels like they're signaling that the worst is coming soon. I can't help but wonder if they're just trying to move patients along because they don't want them passing away in their wards...

So, the doctor arranged for her to go to Smalltown, USA. She spent two and a half weeks there before she passed away yesterday. 🙂🙂🙂🙂 It was lung cancer that had spread to her brain. Staying at home wasn't an option, and nursing homes were ruled out too. Honestly, I just regret that she wasn't closer to us at the end, but what can you do? 😢 😢At least she isn't suffering anymore.

Edward Vaughn10 said:They told my mom the exact same thing—that the worst is coming soon. Maybe they just don't want patients dying on their watch, so they shuffle them off somewhere else...

Medicine basically breaks down into three lanes: preventive care, which focuses on stopping illness before it starts; curative medicine, which actually treats diseases within hospital settings; and palliative care, which provides dignity and support to those facing terminal illnesses. Palliative care is specifically delivered through facilities known as hospices. The US is actually one of the few developed nations where this isn't consistently accessible everywhere, and frankly, it’s a massive stain on the conscience of our society. We all share the responsibility for this huge humanitarian oversight.

Hospitals aren't meant to be the primary site for palliative care. The staff there isn't specifically trained for end-of-life comfort, and it’s fundamentally wrong to keep someone in a hospital bed when curative treatment is no longer an option—especially when that bed could be used for a patient who actually stands a chance at recovery but can't get in due to chronic overcrowding.

An initiative called "stay by me" has been launched. Its goal is to raise funds through various campaigns to build and equip the first dedicated hospice facility here, while also funding the specialized training for the teams that will work there.
Because we belong to the segment of the population that has looked this tragedy in the face and understands exactly why this matters, we have to be the ones leading the charge and motivating others to help fulfill this vital mission.

I’ve included a link regarding this campaign. What truly saddens me is seeing that only one person on this forum has commented, and even then, the comment wasn't even relevant to what I wrote.

It’s tragic how there is often no sense of collective responsibility here. When we endure something horrific, we don't feel the need to ensure no one else has to suffer through it later. Usually, once a catastrophe hits, everyone asks why nothing was done beforehand. But once the problem stops being "our" problem, people just move on. You often hear the sentiment: "Nobody stepped up to make things easier for me, so why should I care about anyone else now?"
Unfortunately, with that kind of inertia, nobody is ever going to live well in this country.

Everyone bears responsibility, regardless of the specific pain or suffering you are currently navigating!

p.s. Edward Vaughn10, don't take this personally—this post isn't aimed at you, it's directed at the entire community.

@brisksurfer/">@@brisksurfer
Look, girl, I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.😢

I don't even know what to say to make this hurt any less. We all wish our people were still here, that the sickness had never even happened in the first place. Your brain is probably going to spin in circles—replaying everything you did, everything you didn't do, wondering if there was something else you could have tried... It’s totally normal to feel that way.
But honestly? I truly believe we all gave it everything we had.

When it came to my dad, I turned my whole world upside down for him. I gave him everything I possibly could, even the stuff that seemed impossible. Aside from the pain, that's actually what keeps me going—that weird sense of "joy in sacrifice," if that makes sense.
I'm still stuck in those phases of trying to accept it all, just learning how to live with the hole they left behind.

The fight just keeps going...
My mom got sick just a few days after my dad passed. I'm pretty sure the sheer stress of it all just broke her health. 🤷
I'm feeling completely caught in the middle right now... But you can't let your strength or your faith slip.
(It's crazy how much a living person is expected to endure...)

Hang in there. Sending love to all of you!

My brother-in-law passed away this past Thursday, April 29th.
It all feels so surreal. Like, you just can't wrap your head around the fact that he’s actually gone. My sister was right there with him in the hospital through all those grueling days of his struggle. She didn't leave his side, even at the very end. His last sight was her face. He went out looking at the love of his life... and honestly? His suffering is over now. He isn't hurting anymore. He went through so much pain. And my sister... man, she is absolutely devastated.
I'm trying to be there for her, to comfort her, but it's tough. It's just hard. My heart goes out to her, and honestly, to everyone else out there who's dealing with losing someone they love...

Edward Vaughn10 said:They told my mom the exact same thing—basically implying the worst is coming. It honestly feels like they just don't want patients dying on their watch, so they shuffle them off to somewhere else...

So, the doctor pulled some strings to get her moved to Smalltown, USA. She spent about two and a half weeks there before passing away yesterday 🙂🙂🙂🙂 lung cancer that had spread to her brain. Keeping her at home wasn't an option, and the doctors basically ruled out home care entirely too. I really wish she could've been closer, but what can you even do? 😢😢 At least she isn't suffering anymore..

Please accept my sincerest condolences.

Rose, please accept my deepest condolences😢. I truly hope that, from here on out, you finally find some peace and much happier days ahead.

Linda Cox69 said:Regarding the discussion, I recently heard that our neighbors across the street are acting puzzled, saying we’re hiding Mom’s diagnosis, her illness, and all the details about her treatment. It never occurred to them to actually ask us or stop by when they see her or any of us..
Everyone assumes we should be walking around moping, crying, and recounting every single detail to anyone who asks.
We aren't hiding anything, obviously; there is no reason to be ashamed of an illness. Like you all said, this can happen to any of us. Disease doesn't care who you are or what you do. It just arrives uninvited and hits you hard.
The pitying looks, the weeping, and the constant complaining because she's still young and hasn't done anything wrong to anyone... it drives me absolutely insane.
Anyone coming to visit knows they won't even make it through our front door if they intend to whine or spout nonsense. Without any apologies, I'm telling you: if they have those intentions—complaining or repeating the "same old" stories about illness because Mom has the "exact same" thing—they can turn right around and leave. I'm standing my ground like a bulldog.😁
I get the feeling Mom would never have said anything herself, so I've taken it upon myself to play protector against all these "well-meaning" busybodies.

When my mother got sick, which was about a year and a half ago, people kept asking how she was doing (and they still do, regularly), and not once did I tell them she was lying there sobbing. I always made sure to state clearly and firmly that, given the circumstances, she is doing great. Not because I wanted to mask the reality, but because she truly is handling it well. The surgery, the initial post-op days, the chemo, the radiation. Likewise, I don't hesitate to snap at anyone who shows even the slightest hint of pessimism in her presence (the worst outburst came from a close family relative who, upon hearing that some lymph nodes were removed during surgery, snapped, "That's it, end of story." 😲 😠). I don't speak to her anymore; I wouldn't forgive that kind of attitude to anyone, even if my mother were fully recovered. It reminds me of yours—how she stays quiet and swallows how others act, even though she should be much more demanding—if she isn't already in a position to be—and when will she be?

For people around me whose loved ones are fighting an illness, I strictly dose out the news. I have no desire to spread the stench of death and disappointment with bad updates. I "learned" this from a friend's mother who was in a similar situation to mine—she told me she had to pull away from a breast cancer support group because they were constantly spinning tales about who died and who is falling back into cycles. Whether people want to hear it or not, that kind of news hits hard, and what benefit does it do for the patient?

My sincere condolences to the members here who have lost loved ones in their fight. I am truly sorry, and I hope you find peace.

I first stumbled upon this thread about four months ago, back when I was desperately searching for answers regarding cancer—a disease that, until then, felt like a complete mystery to me. It was four months ago that my father was diagnosed with stomach cancer that had already metastasized to his liver. At first, we were just completely blindsided by the diagnosis. It was especially devastating because surgery wasn't an option, and even the doctors couldn't really give us any indication of how much time he might have left. What followed was this heavy cycle of stages: fear, uncertainty, anger, despair, learning, and grief...
While scrolling through this thread, I kept coming across posts from people who were going through the exact same things we were. Some of them read as if I had written them myself. During that time, finding this community meant so much to us, because there were moments when it truly felt like we were alone in the entire world. We were living through a literal hell. I am just so grateful to everyone who has shared their story here.

My dad passed away two weeks ago.
And I, I haven't been able to write those words or even say them out loud this whole time. Now, after such a grueling struggle, watching him slowly fade away and face death itself, I honestly don't know how to move forward.
I can't quite wrap my head around why he had to suffer so much, or why he wasn't given a fighting chance—no surgery, no chemotherapy, just the ebb and flow of better and worse days. I wonder how much more time needs to pass before I can think of him and remember the man he was before he got sick. I can still see the horror of what we went through every time a new symptom appeared, watching him in pain, or lying awake at night wondering what was crossing his mind during those long hours, feeling so incredibly alone. I could see such intense fear in his eyes, yet there was also this lingering expectation and hope... that I might tell him... that things would get better or that this would all pass. We knew they wouldn't, and I just didn't know how to help him. Now that he's gone, it doesn't make sense to me why he had to endure all of this, especially since he was always such a good man. And that terrible image of a stranger—someone who still looked like my father but was struggling so violently for his final breaths—it just won't leave my mind. It feels overwhelming to be alone with all these thoughts.

Sandra Martin36 said:I stumbled upon this thread four months ago when I was desperately hunting for answers about cancer—a disease that was a complete mystery to me until then. Back then, my father was diagnosed with stomach cancer that had already spread to his liver. We were absolutely blindsided by the news. It was especially brutal because surgery wasn't even an option, and the doctors couldn't give us any real sense of how much time he actually had left. What followed was just a relentless cycle: fear, uncertainty, rage, despair, frantic learning, and pure grief...
Scrolling through this thread, I kept finding posts from people going through the exact same hell we were. Some posts felt like they were ripped straight from my own head. During that time, reading them meant everything to us because we truly felt like we were alone in the entire world. We were living through a nightmare. I am so incredibly grateful to everyone who has shared their story here.

My dad passed away two weeks ago.
And honestly, I haven't been able to write this or even say it out loud until now. Now, after that grueling battle, watching him slowly fade away and face death itself, I feel completely lost.
I can't wrap my head around why he had to suffer so much, or why he wasn't given a fighting chance—no surgery, no chemo, just the endless cycle of good and bad days. I don't know how much more time needs to pass before I can think of him as the man he was before all this started. All I see is the horror of those moments when a new symptom appeared, seeing him in pain, or lying awake at night wondering what was crossing his mind while he sat there alone. I remember looking into his eyes and seeing such intense fear, mixed with this desperate hope... hoping I’d tell him things would get better or that it would all pass. But we knew it wouldn't, and I felt powerless to help him. Now that he's gone, I can't understand why a man who was always so good had to endure all of this. And that haunting image of him looking like a stranger, struggling for every last breath, won't leave my mind. Dealing with these thoughts alone is terrifying.

Honey, cancer has been part of the human experience since the beginning, and it isn't going anywhere. It doesn't pick sides based on merit. It’s just a biological reality woven into our very makeup. This is simply how our bodies are built. Don't beat yourself up asking "why" when there isn't a single answer in existence that will satisfy you or take away the weight of what happened.
The only thing I can offer is what I’ve done to cope.
I try to help others who find themselves in this same position. If I can lessen even a tiny bit of someone else's suffering through advice, action, or just being there to listen, then I feel fulfilled. It gives a sense of purpose to everything my mom, my family, and I have been through.

Lisa White54 said:My brother-in-law passed away this past Thursday, April 29th.
It all feels so surreal. You just can't wrap your head around the fact that he's truly gone. My sister was right there with him in the hospital through all those grueling days of his struggle. She stayed by his side until the very end. His final gaze was fixed upon her. The last thing he carried with him was the sight of his true love. His suffering has finally reached its end; he isn't in pain anymore. He went through so much... And my sister... she is absolutely heartbroken.
I am trying my best to comfort her, but it is incredibly difficult. My heart goes out to her. I feel such deep sympathy for everyone who has had to endure the loss of their loved ones...

Please accept my sincerest condolences, Lisa White54, and to everyone else following this thread. I haven't been following the updates closely, but I know firsthand how devastating this is for all of you.😢😢 It is profoundly difficult to find any sense of solace during times like these.

Susan Hayes25 said:Kimberly Wright,

I’m seriously stoked you’re feeling better today!!! Awesome. I’m doing great too. Mom was actually okay today—we had a nice lunch at my place and then walked over to their house since we live right around the corner, probably less than a block away. She was walking and eating fine, and honestly, with this sunshine, life finally feels a little bit normal again.
And hearing that your mom is handling all that on her own, hanging out with friends, and even hitting up the hair salon is incredible news. You honestly just made my day better. Great.

As for family... man, what a nightmare. It happens to everyone. I used to think my whole family was just insane, but apparently, it’s just some weird human trait. Sometimes I worry I’m being unfair to people, but it really seems like when relatives visit during times like this, they act all superior. They're totally delusional. Everyone thinks "this could never happen to me."
Back home, they’d show up even when I went outside to meet them—they’d be crying before they even hit the porch steps. Meanwhile, I’d popped two or three Lexapro pills since morning and kept repeating to myself: *don't cry, don't let them see how hard this is*, even if I were dying inside. And I play it cool through all of it. Then they start whining, staring at Mom like she’s some kind of miracle, offering to cook stuff for us (as if I’m incompetent or something), telling these long-winded stories about "similar" cases they heard about, etc. When Mom tries to get up, they all rush to help her—completely ignoring me, even though I’ve been standing right there the whole time for that exact reason.
I’d laugh if I hadn't cried every single time those worried relatives and friends showed up.
The pressure has let up a bit now, thank God, and I just hope they think they’ve done enough and leave us alone for a while....
And you know what one neighbor told me? Just some simple lady, but one of my favorites: "I can't believe a woman as smart as you would deal with this."
In that moment, I just wanted to die. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole so I could just vanish and forget everything ever happened....
This woman, who barely finished high school (she probably got married at 15), talking to my mother—a woman who read two books a week her entire life, taught math, physics, and chemistry to her kids and neighbors, and literally tutored college students for math exams (which, by the way, was the hardest subject in my entire degree). And now SHE is acting shocked, as if Mom is just choosing to forget things for fun, rather than because of this horrible thing that happened to us... it's chaos.

I'm just praying to God that Mom gets better through these treatments so I can get back to my life and my job. I'd do it with a song in my heart. I really hope that time comes. Best,

Don't let that person get to you.
You're in so much pain and she's just openly showing her malice. What a piece of work.
Next time, just knock her sideways so hard she flies, and make sure she's terrified of you from now on.
Make sure she won't even come within a mile of you. Protect yourself and your mom from
people like that. Your mom deserves respect. Protect her from those losers if
you have to—even if you have to practically choke them out.

Angela Wright said:Honey, cancer has been part of the human experience since the beginning of time and it isn't going anywhere. It isn't something you earn or deserve. It is simply baked into our biology. That is just how our bodies are built.

I honestly doubt we will ever find a definitive cure for this monster. At its core, it's just your own cells losing their minds and multiplying due to a "glitch" in the system. Anyone can be hit by it, though I get the feeling it's incredibly prevalent here in America—I think even Mickey mentioned that once.