You don’t know me from Adam, Frank, but I’ve lurked on this board going back to when you were appointed a mod. From what I’ve seen and remember of you, even before then, you’re a stubborn bastard who isn’t afraid to be and say who you are. I like that quality in you, and people in general. It shows a real passion and determination in living, and living life on your terms, not anyone else’s.
I sincerely hope you’re the stubborn bastard I’ve seen in the past, now, with the horseshit illness you’re dealing with. To back down now serves no one, most importantly yourself. To fight it means whenever the time comes, it’s on your terms and you lived life your way until the end.
I wish I were more eloquent in how I write things or I express myself, but my thoughts boil down to what others have already said, my thoughts and prayers are with you. And fight this bitch with the tenacity you fought everything else.
I’m sorry to hear you have lung cancer. I lost my father to lung cancer last summer (as he said, with a 60 year smoking habit it wasn’t exactly a surprise). He chose to make the best of what time he had left rather undergoing chemo, but that was his choice, not yours. But do make the best of what time you have left, regardless of what you choose to do.
Well, I won’t be praying for you, Frank, but I’ll be looking to see you around here whenever you can find the time. Here’s hoping the good days last longer than the bad!
My mother just did chemo. She lost most of her hair, but other than that and some swelling in her hand and feet, which sleeping with her feet elevated did wonders for, she had very little in the way of symptoms. She said pregnancy was more onerous than chemo, and she wasn’t even taking any of the drugs that counteract that side effects. She has had lots of energy-- and she’s 77. She even managed a trip to Greece for a wedding, and danced into the night.
She has had a full remission, and has been told that, given the fact that her father lived to 87 and her mother lived to 98 1/2, there’s no reason she can’t expect to live a minimum of ten more years. She’ll see her grandson graduate from high school, and maybe even college.
She had a malignant tumor on her ovary, and ovarian cancer is one of the least survivable cancers, albeit, in her case, the tumor hadn’t penetrated-- they could not possibly have caught it earlier.
My point is, she didn’t “suffer through chemo” in the hope of gaining more time afterwards, which was the old model of cancer treatment-- she had a high quality of life during treatment.
I am praying for you as well, Frank. I hope you have many lovely days ahead.
the ONE thing that is good about knowing a diagnosis such as yours is it gives one a chance to settle things: say things that might need to be said, build bridges, cram as many happy things into your life as you can, spread all the love you have, eat the ice cream for breakfast, make prank calls. You get the idea!
That’s so horrible and unfair. I’m sorry it’s happening to you. I’m sorry when and if it happens to anyone, but being someone I know of and a person like you, it’s almost unbelievable. I don’t know what to say, I feel like there’s nothing I could say that even comes close to making a person feel better about something like this. I can’t imagine.
I hope things go well for you, Frank…and that if it happens, that it is painless and peaceful.
But most of all I hope a miracle will happen and that you will somehow defy the odds. I will hope for it, and you can’t stop me.
