my mom is 67 and was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma in August 2023. She went through chemo and a liver resection surgery. At her 1 year cancer scan in Dec 2024, the cancer is back and metastasized. The doc gave her 5-15 months left. She wants nothing more but to find someone who is in a similar situation as her, processing end of life thoughts and feelings. She is married to my dad of 30 years and has 2 daughters in their 30s. please let me know if you know of someone who could also use a relatable companion in this tough time. Via this thread [Content removed by CSN Support Team.]

My mom has been battling stage IV uterine cancer since Sept 2020. Her original treatment gave us positive results for 7 months before it stopped working. She then started Keytruda/Lenvima which did nothing and the cancer spread. She’s now on her third line treatment (Doxil) and is doing worse than ever. She has a Petscan tomorrow but we already can tell it is not working and she is shutting down. She has a follow up with her oncologist on Saturday but we already are anticipating what we will be told: that this is the end of the line.

i live in Buffalo, NY and she and her husband moved to outside Tucson, AZ for a job she has no longer been able to do since her diagnosis. My brother also lives there but has been planning on moving back to Buffalo but has put that on hold to help out with our mom. I’ve been out to visit as much as I can but with the pandemic it’s certainly made things more difficult. My mom really wants to move back home and my husband has offered up our house for her and her husband to stay in. We plan on asking her oncologist if he thinks it would be safe for her to travel here. If so, she will be staying with us. I know this is her last wish but I’m terrified if it happens. Twenty five years ago my grandfather (her father) passed away from cancer in our home. Now my mom will be passing away in my home also from cancer. I’m so unbelievably afraid of losing her and living in a world without her. How am I even going to cope with the possibility of it happening in my home? Ever since my grandpa’s passing I have been utterly terrified of cancer. Now that my worst nightmare is coming true, how am I going to get through this again?

I'm the oldest of 3 adult children who lost our father to Stage IV Prostate and Bone cancer on January 10th of this year. I don't want to say I feel it more than my brother and sister do, but it sure feels that way. My brother and sister both work, so they have something to take their minds off of the overwhelming grief. I am disabled and am home pretty 24/7; even more so now thanks to COVID19.

My brother lives about 45 minutes away and my sister lives 2 states away, just outside of Ft. Leonard Wood Missouri. Our mother and father were divorced in 1992 and my mother remarried in 1994.

My father was diagnosed on my birthday on February 15th of 2018. I truly feel that the only favor that cancer did for us was give us time to accept his fate and say goodbye. Being that my sister lives in Missouri and my brother lives 45 minutes away, I knew that as the cancer progressed, the caregiving would fall on me. We were given hope that he'd make it another 5-10 years but that was not to be. Treatment after treatment would last a little while and then stop until there was nothing left but for him to live on blood transfusions until they couldn't be done anymore. We made the most of the time that he had.  When my Dad was diagnosed, I asked him if he could wish for anything, what would it be? He said he'd truly love to go on a cruise of Alaska. I set about finding wish organizations for terminally ill adults. After finding one, his wish was granted. On September 4th of last year, we took a cruise just him and I. We rented him a scooter so he could get around the ship. We had the time of our lives. We had so much fun.

After we got home though, the cancer had rapidly started chomping on his spinal cord and he started falling.  At first, it was an occasional fall. Then, they were becoming more and more frequent until Dec 31st, he lost the use of his legs. It was time to call in hospice. He wasn't with hospice even 2 weeks before he was gone.

So, my Dad didn't even make it two years. I had reasoned the whole time that cancer was giving us time to say goodbye but I didn't factor in that after he was gone, I would be lost as his caregiver and that my best friend is no longer here. 

I can't even get away to get a new perspective on life because I'm locked in my house. 2020 is the crappiest year EVER. 

So, I'm here so I get help to get a grip on this depression. All I want to do is sleep 24/7 and that's not good. 

Until later,

Mel

Hope you're having a good day and prayers and best wishes for cancer fighters! I am a newbie to "caregivers" thing and have recently lost my dear uncle who was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. I spend my few months in taking care of him that's how I got to know about cancer diagnosis treatments and becoming caregivers etc. Now..  He isn't anymore so thought of moving to support groups and online communities to learn more about caregivers and helping others. 

Indeed he was like a role model to me and watching him fighting with cancer was the hardest thing. 

Well, it's life what I can say; The Show Must Goes On... 

January 27th my Dad was told he had pancreatic cancer. We then found out it was stage 4 that had spread to his liver and lungs. He had lost a lot of weight before the diagnosis. Doctors told us he had maybe a year to live. I went home march 9th to be with my dad for his first treatment of chemo. Dad ended up getting pnemonia from having no immune system from the chemo and started to turn jaundice. He was hospitalized march 14th. Dad was then not responsive for about a week. Then came to out of no where. We were so shocked because doctors said he had a few days to live. We believe he was over medicated at first which put him in a state of no response. After he became responsive and started eating again me and my brother were able to spend time with him. He was back to his normal self expect for the physical aspect. He was very thin. He looked 80 years old and he was only 57.  April 10th dad was moved to hospice after the pain had become too much. He was put on a pain pump and we knew it wouldnt be much longer. Dad was at the hospice for 2 weeks then passed away with me my one brother, grandmother and my dads 2 siblings by his side. It was so hard to see my dad deteriorate. He was always so positive and wanted a good outcome so bad. I think it happened all so fast he didnt have time to accept it. Anytime a new doctor would come to see him he would always ask "is there a cure yet?". It was heartbreaking. I recently got married in july and my dad so badly wanted to be there. When he first got diagnosed he said to me " dont worry I will be at your wedding". I was lucky i was able to spend the last two month by his side. He always made my laugh and never got grumpy or mad about the situatio . Just always hopeful. I miss my dad so much. After he passed i focused on my wedding and planning it and getting everything finalized. I also went back to work 3 days after his funeral.  I had so much going i feel like i havent really grieved. After the wedding and everything kind of went back to "normal" i have been having a difficult time. Last month a started getting panic. attacks. Ive never felt like this before. I dont sleep at night. I try to occupy my mind so i dont think about everything that has happened. Im scared to be alone because thats when my panik attacks are the worst. I dont know how to cope with all this. My husband doesnt really understand and i dont blame him. He has both his parents and still has 4 grandparents. He has never lost anyone close to him. I just feel so sad for my dad. So sad he had to go threw all that he did and so sad he is missing out on a lot of things. My brother is getting married in a few months and bought a house and became a police officer recently. I got married. There were so many good things happening that my dad has or will be missing. Im just so sad for him even though i k ow he isnt in pain anymore. 

Had Jim not had multiple co-morbidities - congestive heart failure and stage 4 COPD among them - the decision for palliative and hospice would have been more difficult.

His memorial service is tomorrow. I am so torn between being happy for Jim that he is with our Lord and intensely sad that he is not here with me. Losing your high school sweetheart is difficult. No one can ever know how deeply we loved other or how much I miss him. Two hearts became one when we met: I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.

Add to that the fact that I just miss him, my best friend for the past 30 years, and that's lonely. It's not like I don't have friends, but they are not close friends, the kind who sit and watch a movie on the couch with you. So it's a brand new world, and I don't like it. Don't want this responsibility, don't want to be a grown up. I do know talking helps, and that you guys understand b/c you've been there. So thanks for listening.

Its been over 4 months now that you've been gone. It seems so much longer than that and my pain of missing you will always be with me. On the surface the pain will subside but there will always be that underlying pain that will at times come to the surface. It was just a little over 16 years ago (Auguest 31st, 2001) that we had our 1st date. we met at Tuscarora Mill in Leesburg and I surprised you with a bottle of Champagne. I was so excited to go out with you the that night and when you arrived I saw the excitement in you too. It made for such a great evening. Little did I know that in a little under 16 years (May 12th, 2017) I would watch you take your last breath here on Earth.

When I think about all of the things that we did together between those times with and without the kids it makes me smile at first but brings me pain afterwards. The vacations, the weekend trips, the holidays, the speciall occasions and just simple date nights were the best. The ones that mostly standout are when I threw you a surprise 50th Birthday party or I surpised you by buying you your Grand Mothers antique chairs and remembering how happy that made you that so much it brought you to tears or in your final months when I would get home from work and your eyes would light up and that made me happy that you were happy that I was home. You supported me and you were my rock. You always tried to make me happy. I know there were times I disappointed you. I know all of those years we had together weren't the happiest too, but all of our problems that we had seem so miniscule now that you're gone. I hope who ever reads this letter to you will take a lesson from me and realize that we are all imperfect but we all have perfections. You had so many perfections. For instance, Everytime there was a winter storm in the forecast you always made sure you had a Roaster chicken so you could make home made chicken noodle soup. Or Christmas time when the house was decorated with all of your Department 56 buildings. Little things like those examples were plentiful and those are two of many of your perfections. It was the little things that made you who you were.

You loved your children like no other and I'm here to tell you that they miss you just as much as me, if not more, if that is even possible. Kelsey says that Kade ask about you all of the time. They seem to be doing ok but I know they miss you. Ashley told me that she misses your spaghetti and I know Molly is just sad you are gone. I know its hard for them because they are still so young.

Like them, I wish you were still here. It is getting ready to turn to Autumn and this was always your favortie time of year. I am going miss that smell of your fresh Banana bread right out of the oven and the delightful taste of your Apple, Cherry or Peach crisp. When I feel that Autumn wind blowing and looking at the changing colors of the leaves I will be thinking of you in knowing how much you loved the changing of the seasons. There will be no drives this Autumn for me to Skyline drive. It just won't be the same without you. Everything isn't the same without you.

Currently, I'm reading a book called "Proof of Heaven" by Eben Alexander. It's a very good read and I'm going to recommend to many who question the afterlife to read it. Dr Alexander (the Author) doubted the Afterlife until he had a near death experience. He writes about it in such detail that I have a hard time not beleiving his experience.  I know when you were here, I wasn't the most romantic guy. I know you got your Flowers and your cards but I know you felt that I wasn't the most romantic. But I know you must be smiling now in knowing how I feel about you. I know you can feel me at least I hope you can. Hence the reason why I'm reading the book. It also gives me hope and faith in knowing that one day we will be together again. That will be a glorious event for us. You can rest assure that when that does happen I will always keep you by my side and never let you go. My faith in God has been strengthened since you've left me behind but I will be with you again.

in closing, It was an honor to be loved by you and I am privliged to love you back. Also know there isn't an hour that goes by that i don't think of you. I long for that day when we are reunited and hoping thats where Gods path will lead me. I miss you immensley and I love you beyond words. You were and always will be the true love of my life. 

I'll Love You Forever,

Joe

I know this because I've been here before, sort of. My husband and I lost our only son, 7 days old, 27 years ago. I was a young 27 year old (remember when 27 felt old?) and believed born babies didn't die. Of course I knew about miscarriages, but thought once you made it out of that danger zone, the baby lived no matter what. Couldn't doctors fix anything nowadays??? When I first learned there was a problem, I thought okay, my poor baby will have struggles in his life. Never, never, never occurred to me that he could die. I learned, and I learned the hard lessons of grief, like how most friends and family drop off after a week, then the diehards after 2-3 weeks. At that point it seems they think you should be over it. At least that's what I experienced with my baby. For some reason it seems they thought, because he was only 7 days old, I hadn't had time to form an attachment to him. Honestly, I know I would have been just like them if I hadn't experienced such a loss myself. I learned. It took months of crying every day, followed by years of meltdowns whenever another friend got pregnant, had a baby, celebrated a child's milestone, etc. Twentyseven years and I'll still grieve for him, though in an entirely different way. 

So I'm no stranger to the grieving process, and I expected people would lose their desire to listen long before I lost my need to talk. I just didnt expect it to happen as quickly. Don't I get more than a week to talk about this? I mean, I was so numb the first week it shouldn't even count, right? I still want to talk. I want to talk about my husband of 33 years, how strong he had always been, how I felt unbelievable guilt for leaving him five years ago, how I never stopped loving him, and he never stopped hoping I'd come back. I want to talk about how that guilt has grown into an all consuming feeling - guilt about leaving him back then, and major guilt about leaving him alone to evacuate for Irma, even though I knew he was sick. He had just started to feel something serious was happening - we both thought it was COPD. I tried to help him from my safe place 1200 miles away. I sent him updates about when the power was expected to be restored (he was without power for 10 days), where to find gas for the generator when the gas stations started to reopen, and not to drink the water yet because of boil water notices. It was the first time I ever evacuated for a hurricane. I told him I was nervous about leaving him alone, but he told me to go. I know it's because my anxiety over the storm would have driven him crazy. I wish I would have listened to my gut and stayed! If I had only known then what he found out the day before I returned - it wasn't COPD, it was lung cancer, already spread to the brain and possibly other places. As he put it when he called me, "it's bad, real bad." Oh my god! I left my husband who had stage four lung cancer alone during what was expected to be the worst storm to hit Florida in our lifetime! To deal with 10 days of no power, no AC, no gas for the generator, food spoiling, and his brain being eaten up so he was losing his sense of time, his sense of reality. ("You told me yesterday that your friend said my power would be back on today and it's not! They lied! Everybody is lying to me!" No, I never said that. I'll never forget how strange that conversation was, almost a week before he found out it was cancer. I tried to tell myself his confusion was from lack of sleep, but I guess deep down I knew this wasn't COPD, especially when he started sleeping constantly. My brain just wouldn't let me think it yet. Because what kind of wife leaves her terminally ill husband alone during a hurricane??? Oh my God! I will never get over that guilt!)

I want to tell someone every detail about the next three weeks of hell, from scheduling the first oncologist appointment ("We can see your husband November 1st." In six weeks??? Are you kidding me??! No, he could be dead by then! We need to see the doctor today! Tomorrow at the latest!), starting radiation the next day, going in for the lung biopsy consult, deciding not to have the lung biopsy, hearing the oncologist had called and talked him into having the lung biopsy, getting the $&3%#?! lung biopsy, and being admitted to the hospital due to serious complications. I want to tell someone how my husband who has a phobia of hospitals went in for a lung biopsy and (almost) never came home. About how every day in that hospital was a torturous hell for him, and would have been even without the brain tumors that made him think I was gone for hours when it was minutes, and days when it was hours. How on the evening of the eighth day I found him in his hospital room, awake, with every light and TV off, as he told me quietly he knew he was never leaving the hospital, that he was going to die there. He had given up.

And something happened when he gave up, I grew stronger. The same way I did when I had to let our baby die. Something inside that says I can grieve later, and for the rest of my life, but right now I will be strong for you. I am here for you and only you. The amazing clarity that feeling gives. I have only one priority for now and that's you. 

Thank God for hospice! They made it possible for me to tell the doctor the next morning (when he told us for the ninth time you wouldn't be going home that day, or for a long time) that you were leaving as soon as hospice and I could get you home. And when you got home you relaxed. I relaxed. Yes, you still had paranoid moments, and fixated moments, like when you insisted I log in to your Dominoes account so that you could get the points for the Pizza order (seriously?!) but they were our moments, to be shared alone together, without nurses or doctors. 

I want to tell someone how you lived for four days at home, where you wanted to be, then slipped away so peacefully and quietly on the fifth morning, exactly four weeks after being diagnosed. I'm grateful for every moment we had together, and I'll miss you terribly, probably every day for the rest of my life. Oh I know, this grief will change, become more bearable. I'll cry less, smile more, and enjoy life again someday. I know this because I've been down this road before. We've been down this road before. Grief is a process, not linear, but eventually you move forward. I know this. But for now, I hide away in my room, and I cry, and I ache, because I want to talk, I want to tell someone, not just about your death, but your life, our life. I love you. ❤️

And I just needed to tell someone, so thank you for listening. 

The funeral was simple but dignified and beautiful. Mike was a simple kind of guy. The funeral home was packed to double it's capacity. I was surrounded by friends and family but felt alone.

It's been a long summer. I'm angry, sad, depressed, afraid, grateful.  I'm angry that he died, I'm angry that he worked for 38 years and was going to retire in December and that was taken away from us. I'm sad to see happy old couples together, something we never shared. I'm sad that it's just me and the dog all afternoon when my son is at work. I'm depressed - I cry pretty much everyday and some days don't even care if I get out of bed or shower or eat. I had to have a total knee replacement 6 weeks ago before our wonderful health insurance increased by 400% for just me. I'm glad it's done and on the mend. Both my mother in law and father in law are still alive, mother in law has dementia and father in law is in hospice. I've been helping clean out their home that's now sold. My oldesd son pushed me into doing a much needed shower replacement which turned into a complete bathroom makeover. I've become a savvy online shopper and am tripping over boxes of stuff I haven't even opened yet- no matter how much I shop it doesn't fill up the hole. I'm grateful to have such a wonderful support system with friends and family. I'm not alone but definitely lonely.

Finally I'm afraid. I'm lost. I don't know if I'm ready to go back to work yet. What's next???

I'm a newbie here, and I will start the caregiving 'journey' tomorrow. I always  thought that journey was  something to look forward to...not anymore. I think a new word needs to be used, since journey sounds too  nice for what's coming. I don't mean to sound pessimistic- it's just that I'm so scared. Scared of everything to come.........I guess that's why it's called 'anticipatory'. I can't remember a day I haven't cried  since we got the diagnosis 8/22/17 that my  husband of 16 years has stage IV lung cancer. We are blessed that he's going to be on a chemo cocktail of 2 drugs, with the addition of Keytruda. 

However, I would be ever so grateful if anyone out there who has or is going through this hell- how do you cope with the overwhelming grief of knowing what will be coming? I know that sound horrid to say, even before the treatments start, and of course I pray that this treatment will give us more time. I asked my   husband how he's coping right now, and he says he is dealing with his own grief on how hard this is, now and in the future, for me and his daughter. I just reminded him that no one asked for this trainwreck, but that we just have to get through it, no matter what, and to try not to feel guilty. Poeple keep  saying "well, enjoy every minute you can with him'. That's the rub. The more time I claw back from other chores, or work or just daily  living to be with him makes me hurt worse. Am I wrong in feeling this way?

Most days at work, I don't let too much in, but on my way home, (and most nights when I'm wide awake) I weep at the drop of a hat,   all I can think of are how am I going to get on with....everything that has to be done now or that will need to be done one day when he's gone.

I honestly believe I  am starting to withdraw a  bit as the pain is just too  intense, and in my mind, I know that it SO wrong, but I can't help myself.

Any suggestions?  

Thanks for just reading.

shoo2

I can see how actions help. But how do words help? and YOUR misery just makes me feel bad for you, doesn't help me, how does it going on in great detail help you? . So I must be missing something. Oh and I never used to be this angry, but I guess it's the new me. But I don't like this new me. 

What is it about losing an aunt that is making me feel so lost?  I keep thinking it might be a safety net I always had in my life is gone.  A part of my childhood is gone.  Someone who understood me even when my parents didn't is gone.  That comforting voice that called me "honey" is silent.  

This world seems harsher today. She was a gentle person amid life's bad things.  It was such a stark contrast to the accepted way of behavior I see in many people today.  During one of our last conversations she told me she was lucky and so grateful for things in her life.  Her life was far from ideal, but she was happy.  She was uncomplicated.  She was authentic.  I told her she was a blessing to me and such a good aunt.  I'm so glad I got to say those things while she was still healthy.  

My mom said she doesn't want to know this world without her sister.  I understand how she feels.  I'm trying to help my mom process her grief, but I am struggling with it myself.  I'll have to find a way and have to help my mom with all this too.  I am grieving today and know life will always be a bit rougher without her.