Some of you noticed in my hospital stay thread that I have been diagnosed with lung cancer. It’s spread to at least my liver. This is a very severe, very fast acting form of the disease. I have two options.
I can do nothing, and die in a month or two. I’m not quite ready for that.
I can undergo chemo, extend my lifetime for a bit, and have some good days along the way instead of feeling so horribly every minute as I do now. This is what I’m opting for. Eventually this will become useless, the chemo won’t have as strong an effect, I’ll spend shorter periods of time feeling good, and so on, and at that point I’ll probably begin to strongly consider pulling the plug on myself.
I’m trying to deal with this fatalistically. I came into life with my death sentence already issued. It was bound to happen sometime. And I can’t pretend that I was ignorant of what all those years of smoking could cause. I wasn’t ignorant, and I made my choice.
And you know, I’ve had a better life–a more comfortable, better fed, better housed, and more free life–than 99% of all humans that have ever lived. I’ll complain about my life, of course, but I really shouldn’t.
You haven’t seen the last of me, either; I expect to be around the board till the bitter end.
I’m so sorry to hear this. I was all set to come in and say chemo is much better than it was twenty years ago, talk to the doctor about side effects, they may be able to give you something to counteract.
Do as much as you can. Make sure your affairs are in order, that your family knows where the important papers are. We’ll be here too. Mucho hugs.
Frank, didn’t you once wear jackboots? Too bad you can’t use them to stomp on the cancer.
I’ll pray for you as well. I’ve said that to a number of people here and now I sometimes say “Please do the best you can for my friends on the Dope that need it.” I figure God will know who all I’ve said I’ll pray for.
Ah hell. As someone who’s going through the same thing (but with a longer fuse before I blow, so to speak), welcome to Club Terminal. The food is crappy, but the waitresses are cute.
I hope things go smoothly for you and you don’t feel the chemo at all! But just in case, here are a few things that worked for me. Smoothies helped a lot while I was dealing with cancer, surgery, chemo and effects from all of the above. Try to keep your protein intake as high as you can. I went through a lot of protein powder, but found this one from Jarrow to be the most palatable because it isn’t overly sweet:
I used frozen fruit and yogurt along with the protein powder. Jamba Juice has some good smoothies, too, if you need a little bit of out-of-the-house time, but don’t want to do anything major.
The regular protein drinks like Ensure were gross to my tastes, but the clear Ensure was palatable (I think I mentioned this in your original thread). I drank Gatorade for hydration because plain water made me sick (weird). It has sugar but it did the job.
With some pain meds and at least Zofran (anti-nausea), you risk constipation. A daily dose of Miralax worked well. You can put it in any liquid. I put it in my smoothies. I tried it with plain water (juices were burning my stomach), but it was uncomfortable and felt like it just sat there, so in something was much better.
Hugs to you and the best of luck that you’re comfortable and able to live your life fully for a long time, still!
Frank, I’m at a loss. Jack boots hell, I’ve always appreciated your Modding.
If you say a holding action is the best you can do… then you do it & you fight it. Hard.
Goals are things we set for ourselves every day, and every day you can find some progress if you look.
Also - I highly recommend the people at the Cancer Support Community, which is a national organization. They have support groups (free), lectures about things relevant to cancer patients/survivors (free), and other events (all free).
Looks like the one in Kettering went out of business, but there are several others in the Ohio/N Kentucky area. They’re good people.
Frank did indeed do a stint as an SDMB moderator. I’m sure I speak for the staff when I say we’re shocked and saddened to hear this news. Our thoughts are with you, Frank. Here’s wishing we had a way to drop the ban hammer on this disease.
I don’t know what to say, Frank, so I won’t. Any words I try to say will come out sounding clumsy. Except to say I’m very sorry to hear this. I hope you will have many good days ahead of you still to come.
