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Found 56 results

  1. I can't bring myself to go physically to a support group, so hopefully I can find some comfort here. . I lost my 5 year old daughter to stage 4 Wilms Tumor almost 4 months ago on May 25, 2017. She beat it once, so they said, though her remission only lasted the summer last year. We got diagnosed this time 2 years ago, the worst news I've ever heard. So out of the blue, as she had just started preschool and never seemed sick at all. Even through all the rounds of chemo, her counts being low, her platelets being almost nothing, she was always her lively happy self. She never complained when I had to give her shots in the leg many nights in a row just to boost her immune system after strong chemo. Right up until a month before she passed, she only took medicine for nausea. We took a Make-a-Wish trip in early April, which was supposed to be five days, and she got pneumonia after the first day. Sometimes I feel that if we didn't take that trip, I could have kept her longer. Everything went downhill after that. I have two boys, 7 and the other just turned 4, and they are the reason I can get out of bed. I try to be strong for my husband, but his grief is so different than mine. He drinks, and hardly ever talks about her. He'll mention that he misses her on his bad days, but I feel like I can't ever talk about her to anybody. I feel like I have to be the strong one, because everyone is going about their day and they don't need to see me bawling my eyes out. I haven't taken a shower without crying from start to finish since she passed. Anytime I'm alone, even if it's just a quick trip to the store, I cry. I scream out to God, why did he have to take they only thing I've ever wanted? Why did he have to take my only girl? She was all I've ever dreamed. Curly hair, loved everything girly and glittery and soft, and had the sassy mood to match. My mini me. My pretty girl. I can't even bake cookies without her. I can't make certain foods that we would make together, and I can't hear our girl songs on the radio. I feel like someone is sitting on my chest and I can't breathe. I thank God for letting her go in my arms, so peacefully, but I can't understand why. I fought so hard, I gave her every medicine they told me to, I researched clinical trials on my own, I took her out of town in hopes we can get stem cell transplant, but we were never able to. Her birthday is next month, and I'm already upset about it. The pain only gets worse. I miss my Mia. How do I live? I fear I'll never be happy again.
  2. Hi, I have observed several changes in my mouth for the past few months and I fear that I have got oral cancer. I have bumps on the back of my tongue and when I mentioned about this to my doctor, he told me that there is nothing to worry about. Now, I feel like my entire mouth is heavy. I have occasional pain on the side of my cheeks. My gums were light pinkish in color. Now, it has become reddish brown. I came to know that all of these are the symptoms of oral cancer. Things are getting worse each day. I have developed a pain in my throat and it is not going away. On the left side of my tongue, I have developed painful bumps. I have a tingling sensation on my entire tongue. When I consulted a general doctor, he told me that this might be due to some allergies of the food that I had. But, I am not satisfied with his diagnosis and want further examination. I am planning to visit a general dentist in Aurora next week and have an oral cancer screening. I am really tensed and cannot sleep properly. What do you guys think? Do I have cancer?
  3. I sincerely don't know if anyone is going to read this...I guess I just need to talk to someone who understands, even if it's just the void. I have always been difficult with men. Not the 'spoiled little brat'' kind of difficult, but the 'weird person'' kind of difficult. I struggled a lot when I was a teenager because I realised that I was attracted to older men and everybody around me thought that was abnormal. It took me many years to finally feel ok with myself and after various crushes -more or less insignificant-, I found love at 22. This man was everything I had dreamed of and the more I discovered his personality, the more in awe I was that such person could A) exist, and B) be interested in me. We were together a year and a half, by far the most wonderful time of my life. I was living the kind of happiness that makes anything that had come before it look so very dull. We were soulmates. He was my first everything and I simply couldn't believe my luck. Halfway through, he started having hip pains, then back pains, that got stronger by the week. After three months of trying everything, we found out. Lung cancer that had spread to the bones, brain and lymph nodes. He was hospitalised during the last three months of his life and I was by his side every single day. Call it denial, call it immaturity, I never thought he would die; but neither did he. We spent every day together, strong and determined to win what we considered would be a long and hard battle. But he died, three months ago. I still can't believe he is gone. I still haven't understood what happened. I'm in a state of shock and denial where I still expect him to come back. I have lost all my will to live. I keep wishing my heart would simply stop beating. I'm not religious, so I don't know if we'd be reunited, but at least I wouldn't have to bear the crushing weight of a life without him. I feel like my soul has been chopped in pieces. Everything has become insignificant and even the other sources of happiness of my life -my friends, my work- fail to give meaning to my existence. I don't have the will or the courage to move forward, be active, be productive like anyone at my age should. I'm supposed to have my whole life ahead of me, but I feel desperate and I don't want that life without him. My brain hurts just by trying to process what happened, and when I try to imagine my future, all I see is darkness. I don't know how I'm supposed to move on after the loss of such perfection. How am i supposed to go out with other men when they all mean nothing to me compared to him? I was lucky enough to find happiness very early and unlucky to lose it early too. All I wish is to go to sleep and never wake again. I simply don't see a point in living a life where tragic things happen so easily, were extraordinary people are gone in the blink of an eye and all colour and true beauty is lost. I feel old. I feel like no one understands, because they think that my young age is supposed to make me get back on my feet more easily. But I don't want to. All I want is to be with him and I don't ever want someone else taking his place. Ever since I lost him, I died on the inside, but I simply kept on existing. Nothing matters anymore. I want this to not hurt anymore. I am haunted by the life we would have lived together. A perfect life full of love, or even if it didn't turn out like that, a simple life with the right to a breakup. Millions of couples around me get to be together, spend time and then break up, and they just don't realise how lucky they are for that. We were denied even that. Everything would have been better if I had died too along with him. I have become an empty shell. I miss him so much my heart hurts. I hope it will eventually stop beating,
  4. My oldest sister passed away

    My oldest sister passed away 10 months ago from cancer & the effects of chemotherapy. My whole family is struggling, & so am I. Of course, we pray, as we are Christians. Has anyone joined a group for grief support (not online, in person)? I have been unable to join one yet due to social anxiety & depression. Nearly everyone seems to have forgotten that we are living with this terrible loss. It is so hard, living without our precious sister & second mother. I am glad she isn't suffering terribly anymore, because she really suffered tremendously. I just miss her so much! I feel guilty for yelling at her a few times when I was trying to help care for her, though I was very stressed & exhausted. I should never have yelled at my wonderful sister, who was so sick. I am angry at myself, honestly mad sometimes at God for letting her die, & possibly angry at my sister for not getting to the doctor sooner. Thank you to any who have gone to group therapy for grief support who can tell me if it has helped. May God bless & comfort all on here!
  5. It's been almost 3 months since I lost my mom. Everybody keeps telling me to be patient, to let time heal, but things are just getting worse for me. And I've tried to cope with it, but it just keeps coming back. I'm more a spiritual than religious type of person and I'm seeing a shaman. I've been working with her, it's better at times, but there are days when I just feel I can't go on. My mother was my best friend, my sister, my soulmate, my all. She was my rock, the person to which I turned to every time, the person who gave me strength, the only person to whom I gave all the love I was capable of. I found out that she had cancer in January, when it was already too late and I decided to not tell her immediately because I was afraid. She believed that once one gets cancer, there is no escape from dying and she was also a person who, once she had her mind set to something, that thing would happen. So I wanted to try to keep her in a positive mindset for as long as I could. It was the first time I lied to her sincer I was a kid. After a while, it got out, I told her a part of it and things started getting worse. Afterwards, I told her everything and in about 2 weeks, she died. I blame myself for taking this route but I don't know if I would have done it the other way around, I don't know if things would have been better if I would have told her from the start. But the most awful thing is that the last two months were filled with anger and a lot of disputes. Meaning exactly the opposite from how we were before. And this just kills me. I was trying to explain that all cancers have also emotional causes and that she should change, that she should think more about herself (my mom always thought about before thinking what's best for her), that she should try solving those issues. And she was asking me to be patient, because maybe we have time, and I was not because I was desperate and afraid and I knew that time mattered. And from this we always started to quarrel. I don't have regrets when it comes to my relationship with my mom, but I have a lot of regrets related to the last period spent with my mom. I could have just shut up and not try to tell her what I think she should do, I could have just renounced trying to change her. I had faith she would get better until the end, I was trying also in the few hours in which she was in a coma. Because I just couldn't stop. But I don't know how to live with myself knowing that the last months with my mom where how they where, that I didn't offer her the understanding and the support that she needed. Because I think that in the last period she wanted to be left alone, to die. My mom was always there for me, she knew how to cheer me up, she knew how to support me, she knew what to say to make it all better. She was always there when I needed her, when I was sick, she always made me better or knew what to do or where to take me to solve the problem. She always figured out a solution and I didn't when it came to her needing me. I couldn't save my mom and offer her what she needed, when it was my turn to do it. And I just don't know how I can get used to living with this. Does someone here have a piece of advice? Thank you and I really hope that somehow, each and every person here will find his or her peace.
  6. I lost my dad on May 3rd of this year (2017) from prostate cancer. I am angry at God for all the pain my dad went thru and he slowly took his body and soul. I am upset at myself for allowing hospice to care for him (was medicated for 7 days with no food and etc to reduce his pain). I blame myself for not understanding the consequences. I wish I could turn back time. I am sorry dad. Please forgive me. Please!
  7. It's been 2 weeks since I lost my husband to cancer. He was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer 10 months ago...a devastating blow to us as we had only been married 2 years.....we met 10 years ago in our 40's....we both said at the time fate bought us together....neither of us had been married or had children.....we met at Ballroom dancing! We had a beautiful wedding 2 years ago...and we were both looking forward to many years together...retiring; travelling....building our home....adding a dog to our family of 2 cats! When Andrew was diagnosed we both refused to believe the terminal diagnosis....we searched for treatment overseas and had just returned home after Andrew's latest treatment....when he suddenly went downhill very quickly and passed away within 4 days... He was 59....I'm still putting our wedding album together and now I had to organise my husband's funeral... I lost my mother 3 years ago and Andrew lost his mother last year...just prior to his diagnosis.....I'm only 56 and I can't believe I'm a widow.... We were a fun-loving; young minded couple enjoying dancing; running and our 2 cats of course.... I'm not working and now I'm in our home alone... I do have lots of nice friends and some family but as you all know...it not the same without your soulmate.... It would be nice just to get some replies and chat with others in the same circumstances.... Thank you Susan
  8. I lost my mother at the age of 22. She battled cancer for 3 years and her last 6 months were painfully slow. It was hard losing her and I suffered from very deep depression during and after her battle with cancer. My father struggled a lot to be by her side always. He drank a lot after she died. Our whole family was in pain. Half a year after my mother died they found a tumor in my dads kidney that they thought was cancer. They removed the tumor and everything seemed well. Now I found out a few months later that he needs to start chemo therapy.. He has lost a lot of weight and I am very afraid of what will happen next. I am terrified. I am 23-years-old and the second oldest from all my siblings. I have an older brother who has been constantly living off my parents and needs more care taking than our youngest sibling. I have three younger siblings aged 22, 19 and 7. One of my siblings already stuggless with their mental health and is constantly on medication. I am basically the one who has to take care of my younger siblings and support them because I know my older sibling can't. We are all still not that mature and I am really scared. I am so sad.. I don't even know what I need. I just needed to let this all out.. I have to be so strong for my siblings yet I am suffering. How do people do this? How are people capable of living knowing they will not have their parents there? I just need some reassuring words that everything is going to be okay.
  9. Hello All, I have just signed up to this forum as I want to try and help people if I can just by chatting to people (god knows it helped me!) as I know it helps to chat to someone who can relate to what that person is going through. I lost my mum when I was 10 from cancer and it's fair to say it messed my schooling up and being at that age, I didn't really understand what was happening and it started to hit me as I got older the fact that I wasn't going to have that "Mum" influence as I was growing up in my teens. I'm now in my 30's and my step mum has a heart of gold but she still will never replace my mum, I don't think anyone's mum can ever be replaced. I will always miss her and would give up everything I have even just to spend a day with her.
  10. Hey everyone, I'm new to this place and I've been reading some of other peoples posts and somehow it's easier to support someone else, but not yourself. Odd. Anyway, I lost my father to prostate cancer about 5 months ago, after almost 2 years of struggling. The conclusions I can draw at this point is: - At the beginning I mourned but it didn't affect me that much. I blocked out everything just to move on with my life. I was actually proud that I handled it so well, and was saying this to friends and family. - Then boom, earlier this month it just hit me. Maybe it was triggered by my work situation, I don't know, but all of a sudden the depression hit me. It's a little better now, but I was truly surprised about it, it felt wierd that it came so long afterwards. - Since then for some reason, I've isolated myself from my family, fighting with them and just not wanting to be part of it anymore. I don't know, is this normal? This is unknown territory for me, since I'm normally very close to my family. Maybe it's something I have to go through I don't know. - Last but not least, I feel like a different person since he died. A more darker and cynical side of me has emerged and I don't really recognize myself. Is this also normal? I guess time will tell how it develops, but I hope I return to my sunny and happy self soon.
  11. Hello! I'm new to this site. I am a 33 year old female who was diagnosed with Stage IV stomach cancer on Halloween day last year. I was given a six to twelve month life expectancy. I have been having extensive...horrible...chemo for over nine months now only to get scan results back that the cancer still doubled...now I'm on weekly chemo in a last ditch effort to...well I guess prolong the agony. I know it us all in Gods hands and I could get a miracle but.... I don't know....just came looking for something...even in my cancer group I'm the only diagnoses terminal one...it's like I don't have a place....people who understand.....
  12. The healthcare system has failed my mom. In 2013 she was found to have a lymphnode in her neck that had metastasized from an unknown site. Her pathology was sent all over the US where they eventually labeled her as having lymphoma. This was a misdiagnosis. They treated her with surgery, chemo, and radaiation. A year and a half later she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She underwent a lumpectomy and radiation. She has trouble swallowing and went to several doctors who told her it was from the first radiation causing scar tissue. She also noticed one of her nostrils was closing up and she had difficulty breathing through it, again this was dismissed. She went to ER due to a severe headache and vomiting where she was found to have a brain tumor. She underwent a craniotomy where the pathology was the same as the first cancer, a metastasis of an unknown origin. Further work up revealed esophageal cancer, no wonder she couldn't swallow. It had spread to her colon, lungs, liver, spleen, bones, and nose (the reason she was having difficulty breathing)She has undergone radiation to the nose, esophagus, and brain and currently going through chemo where her cancer is continuing to grow. During this time the insurance continually denied her treatments and follow up appointments, doctors were waiting far too long between scans and visits, and no one has told her how bad her prognosis is/life expectancy. She was in good health and lived a healthy life style, only 64, Active, vegan, exercised, applied sun screen daily, didn't smoke, didn't drink. I estimate she only has a couple months left and I'm having a hard time coping. How will I get through this? She will never see me get married or have children. I don't have religion to fall back on. Seeing my dad so upset over this is also termultuous. He has seen her everyday for the last 48 years. He is clearly not in good health either and I think he will pass shortly after she does. I will have no parents. I feel useless. I feel like the healthcare system failed us. How do people get through this? I'm so upset my heart literally hurts. How did this happen.
  13. How Do I Get Past the Guilt?

    My beloved cat, Starbuck, died on Monday, January 16th. He was diagnosed with cancer about a week prior, and the vets at his care center gave him his first chemo treatment the day after diagnosis. Starbuck's full story can be found here : Starbuck's GoFundMe Page (we are no longer seeking donations). Long story short (unless you followed the link), Starbuck got better, then worse, then a little better, then even worse, and through it all, the doctors continued to give me hope, saying things like, "If we can just get him over this hump, the chemo can do its work", and "If we can just get food in him for a few days, he'll be much more stable." I just wanted my kitty to live a little longer, and it seemed like a real possibility, the way they explained it, and all the research I did online seemed to support what they were saying. But after we'd spent $6000 on blood transfusions and a feeding tube and meds and oxygen and ultrasounds and centesis and hospitalization, we ran out of money. The vet called me Monday morning to check in, and let me know Starbuck was doing about the same. I informed him that we had to bring Starbuck home at this point, because we were flat broke. He said he'd write up some detailed instructions for home care. My dog died in November of 2016, we'd had to have her euthanized at this same veterinary facility. The cost was $900. My four children and I got Starbuck home around 1pm. He was MUCH worse off than I'd been led to believe. He was pitiful, and it was obvious he did not have long. My kids were seeing this first hand, and with the exception of one holdout, we agreed that Starbuck needed to be put to sleep, as a kindness. The one holdout, my oldest son, was fully on board with euthanasia by the time of Starbuck's death, which was at 2:30. Until the last minute, he'd still had hope we might find some more money, or that one more dose of medicine might help, or maybe if we waited long enough, Starbuck would improve. He was grasping for any straw out there, he wanted his kitty to live, and I love him for it. Unfortunately, we never had time to act on the euthanasia plan, even though I had found someone to come to our home and do it, at a price my parents were willing to pay, due to our current financial situation. I had read up on ways to comfort a sick and dying cat, and we'd prepared our home in every way we possibly could. He had a cozy bed and blankets in a warm, quiet, draft-free part of the house. His water dish and litter box were right at hand. We had quiet nature sounds playing, and soft, indirect lighting for him to see by. There was room for all of us to gather around him and pet him. We had tried to see to Starbuck's every comfort, and between the five of us, we were ready to provide round the clock care. It wasn't enough. His ending was awful. We were all there, petting him, telling him we loved him, saying that it was okay to stop fighting and let go. He gasped his last breath surrounded by loved ones, but it wasn't peaceful, it wasn't dignified, and I wished to god I'd had enough time to arrange a better ending for him. He was such a good kitty, he was so sweet and gentle and funny, he was so LOVED, and he didn't deserve to die like that, to spend his last moments on earth in distress and pain. I can't stop seeing it over and over in my mind, and it hurts more than anything I've ever experienced. How do I get past this? I can't sleep, I can't eat, and everything I see reminds me of Starbuck. I'm a useless person while I'm consumed with this much grief and guilt, and I want to get better. What do I do?
  14. This is written for my most wonderful shaded silver Persian cat, Flutter, who passed away at 10:45 pm, New Year's Eve, December 31, 2007. I remember wanting a chinchilla Persian from the time I was 4....but it would not be until some 25 years later that you walked into my life. And even then, it was a lucky accident because I wasn't even searching for a cat like you. I wanted a brown tabby Maine Coon, Norwegian forest, or another that looked like the 12 year-old cat who had just passed. I found you at a cat show, playing with your brother and sister. You were all 6 months old and so energetic--and I stood there mesmerized. Before I knew it, I had made arrangements for your purchase and adoption. I was to bring you home the next day. I was initially unhappy--because you were. When I brought you home on Sunday, you hid under the radiator. You wouldn't come out at all. On Wednesday, when I brought you to the vet for your first visit, there was progress of sorts as you actually came out of hiding at 6 pm and ate! You even played until I went to bed. And so it was like this for the next few weeks when you would hide behind the sofa for much of the day, only to emerge at dinner....I joked that I should have named you Casper the friendly ghost because you only ever appeared when it was dark outside. You began to snuggle with me at night....so much that I wound up with a nasty rash for weeks that made me wonder if I didn't have a cat allergy. I was even beginning to think that I might have to bring you back to the breeder who was understanding enough to say yes. But I also began to love you so much that I knew I just couldn't do that--not when we had started to bond. And just like that Disney hit that appeared at this very time, we were beauty and the beast....you, of course, were the beauty with your big green eyeliner eyes, pink nose, fluffy white fur--and I, the beast. "Tale as old as time True as it can be Barely even friends Then somebody bends Unexpectedly Just a little change Small, to say the least Both a little scared Neither one prepared Beauty and the Beast" You became attached to me. You seemed to know my daily schedule. You'd sleep under the dining table as I worked, grading essays online. Then at 4, when I was done, you would join me at the sofa, sitting in my lap for a few minutes before taking your place by my side. You, unlike my other cats, enjoyed "people" food too: you would clamour for yogurt, ice cream, pizza, steak, and lamb. And you would be there until it was time for bed: and you always knew when I was going, even when I went very early. You didn't like the dark; if I put my head under the blankets you would meow until I petted you just like you would wait for me by the door when I returned at night. You always seemed to know hen I was sick: you'd sleep by me, and look as though you were taking my temperature when you put your paw on my forehead. You also knew when I was going away even though I'd try to hide it. I can still remember that day when you walked me down the hall when I was leaving to see a friend. And when I returned, you were overjoyed, following me everywhere. Years went by....in early 2006, you began to have problems, even though you had always been healthy. It started with your unwillingness to eat. I remember how you bit into your food and yowled such that I immediately knew you must have had problems with your teeth, but the idiot vet insisted that all your issues were intestinal and/or psychological! That summer, you had a feeding tube inserted. It wasn't until I brought you to a veterinary dentist that I realized I was right all along when she discovered that you had a mass in your right jaw....but that it would have be seen by a radiologist. That was one of the worst and best days of my life. I still remember how mom and I were told by the radiologist that it was cancer and that it was probably inoperable. We were almost ready to put you to sleep....until the surgeon told us that it could be done. So you were there for the operation and two additional days. And then nearly, a week later it seemed like a miracle when you started eating by yourself--and playing too! Not only that, but the pathologist discovered that you did not have cancer after all, but some sort of fibrosis. In September 2007, we moved to CT....a decision which I still wonder about even as I'd always wanted to return to the East Coast. By then you were functioning quite well without your feeding tube and you looked well. But things began to change in October, You began to lose your appetite again. Although you seemed to do well after a visit to the vet in November, you deteriorated rapidly, requiring hospitalization. In December, you were back on a feeding tube. We kept waiting for you to improve, just like last time--even though you were missing the litterbox which you had never done before. Perhaps the fortune in a cookie was not inaccurate after all--"You may try to change the fates but sometimes you can't." I remember that last weekend in December. You were suddenly more active on Friday, walking about the house. We were excited. Maybe you were improving? Saturday and Sunday passed uneventfully....you spent much of those 2 days sitting on the bed, looking very tired. Then came Monday, December 31st. I was working that day, grading essays at the computer. When I finished at 4 and walked to your room, you jumped onto my lap as always, resting there for about 10 minutes. Not much changed....Then around 10:30 when mom was with you, you threw up violently. I went to the computer to find an emergency vet. By the time we got there, you were pronounced dead. I remember how I terrible I felt when you were zipped into a black bag. My poor baby who didn't like the dark....who didn't like to be alone. I had an autopsy done even though I knew it was useless....I wanted to know what killed him. It turned out to be lung and liver cancer. God only knows the agony I felt for months, at least until I had to teach the new term which started in March; I cried night after night, feeling so guilty...I felt as if I had killed you, moving to CT. Maybe if we remained in IL, you would still be alive? Our entire family loved you dearly too. You had left a definitive pawprint on their hearts such that neither wanted anything more than another shaded silver Persian; I wanted one that would be related to you. And so we did: in August, we purchased two kittens descended from your dad. I love them dearly and can sometimes trace out the resemblance between the three of you. But as charming as they are, I know they can never efface or replace you--ever so affectionate, ever so loving. You will forever be my beauty. [deleted pics because my entire photobucket was on display!]
  15. my wife passed away monday

    i will not lie beside you on the morrow nor shall I reach out and touch your hand your voice will not call out like your countenance or a lock from your hair I will not hold you closer than can be corporeal disappearance no breakfast across from thee yet somehow I see your soul safely inside of me My wife had bladder and ureter cancer in 2012. It was doing well enough that on Dec 6th they were going to reduce her scopes to every 6 months from every 3 months By Christmas an adjacent cancer had taken hold called urothelial carcinoma of the renal pelvis. It was like cheesecloth instead of a dense mass and it is invading or crushing organs, veins, and ducts. In December it shutdown her right kidney and small intestine and by January it had encased or compromised the small intestine, common bile duct, psoas muscle, and inferior vena cava These attacks from the cancer were accompanied by constant pain which often exceeded 7 out of ten and sometimes exceeded 9 out of 10 (and Ellen is very pain tolerant) Ellen could not even eat at the beginning of February.They had to do surgery for a bowel bypass to handle the small intestine issue in February so she could eat again. she has spent over 30 days inpatient in the hospital this year not including infusion center and urgent care visits. She has also had a DVT and pressure ulcer due to her compromised situation Ellen failed one chemotherapy (gem carbo) in January and immunotherapy (keytruda) in February. The tumor kept growing and spreading hence the failure. They had done a milder chemotherapy because Ellen's kidney was so compromised in January but her kidney numbers got good enough in March to get the gold standard chemotherapy called MVAC. the chemotherapy reduced the tumor by 30% during the first four weeks but failed to reduce it further after that. It was very toxic to Ellen including symptoms of neutropenia, anemia, massive vomiting and fatigue. MVAC reduced her pain to zero They did not believe that more MVAC would likely help anymore and the toxicity risk was too high. After MVAC they just monitored Ellen and restarted the immunotherapy in the hopes it can be effective with a weakened tumor They discussed and discarded surgery because of the infiltrating nature of Ellen's tumor where they may have started removing the kidney and ureter and find that the tumor was so connected to other organs they would have had to start removing more and more. They were not sure she would have any quality of life afterward A July PET/CT showed the tumor to be active but not growing but lymph nodes were slightly growing. The mid-August PET/CT showed renewed growth of the original tumor and broad growth of new tumors around her kidney and stomach regions. The doctors declared her terminal. two weeks before the scan her pain had begun to return so we were not surprised. They stopped all curative treatment efforts and put her in hospice She was deteriorating rapidly and the pain was rising. incontinence, constipation, diarrhea, fungal infections, pressure ulcer, distended stomach, loss of mental acuity. pain slope was steep She passed away in her sleep on September 26th 2016. She is not suffering anymore.
  16. September has been a very difficult month for me this year--and not just because of professional pressures. Traditionally, it's always been a refreshing month of sorts, if not mostly because there's the first real whiff of fall in the air (now that seasons seem to be starting later and later). It's always marked a new school term with all of the excitement that it brings. Hopes of new projects. A time to break out new fall fashions. And yes, the approach of Halloween: meaning more horror to watch on TV. Last year changed that optimism so drastically. It was last September when my mom's decline assumed a frightening pace--right up to her death on October 4, 2014. Not that we ever gave up hope entirely. After all, her CAT scan had shown that she had improved in some places, and deteriorated in others. When my cousin and her husband came to visit us in mid-September, she seemed happy. Yet, it seemed strange to us that her red and white blood cells kept declining so markedly, even though she was still fit for chemo. That she suffered more and more severe stomach pains: not just once a day, but multiple times. That she could not see objects placed straight in front of her. That she could only go down the stairs with extreme difficulty. This was not the mom I had in February or even in May when she could still go up and down with ease, despite her stroke in April. It was on September 21 that she looked so uncomfortable and very cranky. Strange, because she seemed be doing much better the day before, a Saturday. She ate a good deal and I was happy. On Sunday, tempers flew. I threatened Mom if she didn't start eating or stop talking the way she was, I was going to call the visiting nurse. It was meant as both a threat and yet also as a possible life saver. After all, what if mom was about to suffer a stroke or heart failure? Finally, by early evening, I thought it was better to give a call. Up till very recently, I still had (or have?) no idea if I did the right thing. The nurse decided she needed to go and so she went. My mom was furious at me--and also began to suffer severe pains and low oxygen. They put an oxygen mask on her which made her even more uncomfortable and I almost wanted to cry for her. One of the nurses came by to give her morphine. In the meantime, it was discovered that she seemed to have some masses around her lungs. They didn't know if it was the cancer spreading, or if it was pneumonia. The next day, she was better but still seemed quite weak. We were relieved that her roommate appeared to be very friendly. In the next two days, as we had requested, my mom got moved to a single: this was partly so my dad could stay with her as it was clear she wanted one of us to stay with her. Since I was already spending so much time there in the daytime such that I wasn't able to respond to my students, we decided it was best for dad to be with her. The weekend of the 26th and 27th were beautiful, sunny days--sort of the eye of the hurricane. Mom was still somewhat weak, but she was eating more and seeming more alert as she wanted to be wheeled down the hall for her "exercise." Two women from the Taiwanese Association came to visit her (the ones I was complaining about earlier); one brought a roast Chinese-styled chicken from the local Asian grocery. On Sunday, she seemed even better and more alert. She ate with more gusto. We were pleased when the doctor making his rounds confirmed that--adding that her lungs were clearing up and she seemed to be recovering from what they were calling pneumonia. Already, I was mentally preparing a discharge from the hospital the next day: I would make or buy whatever breakfast she wanted--and then we would leave for home where I would make extra certain that she did not get sick again. Mom couldn't quite decide what she wanted; so I told her, "look I usually call you in the mornings anyway. So I'll call and you tell me then." I will never forget our goodbyes that weekend. She was awake both afternoons and managed to say "I love you." On Sunday when one of dad's friends was picking me up, she told me "don't get into trouble." Ever the protective mother. That evening, it seemed as if a cloud had been lifted. I had a chat with the lawn service guy who lived across from us. I then called mom to tell about a fly that had gotten into a water bottle which I had sealed immediately. Even after 3 days, it was alive and kicking in that water. Mom, certainly you can thrive right? But she was drifting off. Dad told me she had only eaten some of the food. As I got up next morning to call mom--the morning of the 29th, I received a shock. It was not mom or dad who picked up the phone, but a doctor. And strangely, a doctor with the same surname as my dad's personal physician. (Turned out to be his niece.) I was told mom had suffered a stroke. It would have been her second that year. When I arrived, she (and my dad) had already been wheeled to the ICU. Her room was a wonderful one, all clean and modern, overlooking the hills: it was her best one so far and it was too bad she could not enjoy it. I went and asked what meds she had been given to see if it was any different from what she'd gotten that week--before blowing up at my dad who told me he had also given her aspirin because she'd requested it. WHAT, YOU IDIOT, YOU GAVE HER MORE PAINKILLERS AFTER SHE'D ALREADY GOTTEN A HUGE DOSE?! (Later that night, my pharmacist cousin told me she thought those meds she got over the week were somewhat heavy for someone her age.) There was one only hope left at 12pm: that she would wake up like she did after first stroke. It had taken about 4-5 hours before she had gained consciousness the first time. Maybe this could happen again? The hours went by. 1 pm, 2 pm, 3 pm, 4 pm....and the day becoming increasingly overcast whereas it had been somewhat bright and hazy that morning. It was becoming evident that the hoped-for miracle would not recur. But my dad did tell me something interesting. Late Sunday night or the wee hours of the morning, she had called out for me. Then she proceeded to call her mother and all her siblings from oldest to youngest, not missing a single one. We wonder if she knew the end was coming. (More to come this week...I have so much to do but I feel I need to chronicle her passing. )
  17. Still.

    My mom passed away 12.12.14. I'm still pissed off, I'm still hurt, I'm still sad. I don't cry like I used to but I do cry. Currently I'm just trying to pick up the pieces. I miss her so very much. Since she passed, I just can't get on track. My life has changed in so many ways, I don't think I'll ever be the same. I do know time is a great healer, I know these things take time. I just had a birthday and I couldn't get into it, nothing seems right. The loss of a mother is so profound, it's true what they say "You only have one mother." I pray all the time now, I ask G-d for strength because I need it. My mother was everything to me, most days I just wished she was around. I just need her advice, her perspective and most importantly her love.
  18. Hi everyone, Not sure how to begin but I'll try to keep it short. I was very close to my dad, saw him every day and lived at home. He died suddenly of cancer, he was diagnosed and then died within a few days. It was horrific. From when he died I haven't had a sex drive. That was almost 2 years ago. Prior to his death I was extremely sexual. 3 months after my dad passed I started a relationship and until this day I've never felt how I did sexually. There's only what I can describe as a block. When I do make an effort with my partner it can take forever to orgasm and sometimes I even feel numb. I don't feel half of what I used to. I used to have such a high sex drive and think of sex daily. Now I don't think of it even once. Having sex is a chore. The odd thing is that I dream of sex a lot and in those dreams I have the familiar feelings I used to have every day. And the moment I wake up from the dream the feeling immediately vanishes and I'm me again. I have suffered from depression and been on medication for a few years or more, but prior to my dads death the tablets didn't affect me sexually at all. I think I have to stop complaining that it's the medication as I have tried 3 other antidepressants and been to my GP. Someone suggested trying counselling and I probably should but what I'm curious about is whether losing my dad has been the cause of what I'm feeling? If so why? And how is something like that overcome?? I feel so hopeless and low because to go from one extreme to another is very hard!
  19. My dear grandmother passed away 3 and a half years ago on the 16/02/2012 when I was 15 years old. She sadly lost her battle with cancer and it broke me. She was my everything. The only one who understood me. From the day I was born she was there for me, and looked after me like a mother. I went round to sleep over her house once a week when I was little, creating precious memories that would never be forgotten. She was so special to me. I have tears streaming down my eyes typing this. Her death put me into a deep depression for the first year. I am now 19 and even though the pain gradually got better, I was never the same. I think about her every single day and have done since the day of her death. Recently, the pain has become a lot worse. Ive been dreaming about her and its giving me false hope as I wake up thinking i'll see her again. I cannot think about her without breaking down. Ive tried counselling which helped for a bit but now I feel as if im back to square one. I just refuse to believe she has gone forever. I feel like I need a way of speaking to her. I am going to see a medium and see if I can communicate through there. My biggest hope is to see her again once ive passed, is this likely? I am just not ready to give up and accept she is gone. There must be a way of making some sort of contact?? Your advice would be greatly appreciated. Karys X
  20. This is long, and to the one most dearest to my heart ever. I lost my mom. To say that I lost just that, is the biggest understatement. She's been my best friend, the one who's always been there for me and always loved me, and I the same for her. I care about her more than anything in the world. I'd been her caretaker since she was diagnosed with cancer at the beginning of the year, and had always just been with her before that (we'd pretty much always been best friends and I know her the best, and she knows me). She always knew how much I loved her and I told her, but after the diagnosis I would tell her at least 10 times a day how much I love her, would give her kisses constantly, hug her and lay with her and hold her hand, and rub her back all the time. She knew how much I loved her and commented on how much I did, I know it made her feel so good inside. I researched good foods for her to eat, the correct vitamins that long term survivors were taking, researched all the clinical trials we could put her on. I was on top of everything. She also got so much love and support from friends and other family members, she was happily blown away by how many people cared about her. I told her "of course, who wouldn't love you?" That always made her smile. My sister came to help and actually did a lot for a while, but ended up not being around as much after time had passed, so everything was back on me. Talking to doctors, researching (which I didn't know anything about before and had to learn quick so I could help my mom, she was counting on me and I would never let her down. I would do anything for her). I know my father loves my mom, but he would watch tv all day, but he even did that before she got sick. He would go out and do chores and buy groceries, I guess that's the most he could do. He would get her food or things she needed if she was cold or needed medication, but for the most part it was all on me to take care of everything, even him, though he is relativity healthy. They're both in their early 70's and had been together since their teens, and my mom was seemingly very healthy before all this happened. She still had been working, while he had been retired for a good while with no problems. She never looked her age, she was always so beautiful and youthful looking, no one would ever guess she was in her 70's. Watching my loving mother, really the rock of my life that always had been there for me, seeing her health decline and body change was so hard. To know this is the person I love without a doubt more than anyone in the world and to know I'm doing all I can for her and not sure if it was going to help, killed me everyday. I never wanted her to be afraid, and we were doing everything we could for her and researching any and all the options out there. She was going to be the exception. We stayed extremely positive and so did she, she was going to fight and I told her I would be there every step of the way and as long as she didn't give up I would never give up on her. I told her to give me all her burden and I would take it on my shoulders. I really did think my love would somehow help heal her, as we worked on other things like chemo and nutrition, meditation, praying, and positive thinking. This really seemed to work and she got better for a couple months, then the chemo stopped working. She very much loved and believed in God. I thought it was just a matter of time before we got her on another modality that was going to help her. Seeing her in the hospital was unbearable at the end (though I didn't know that was happening at the time). I spent all my time with her as I always did whenever she was in the hospital, just coming home to shower and recharge so I could go back and be with her. I would hold her hand constantly and just try to keep her mood up, hug her and tell her how much I love her and just talk about normal things. She only went in to the hospital for something minor that was due to the cancer and we all thought she would be out in a couple days, which turned into almost 2 weeks. She got better, then things happened and seemed to go wrong and a major blood vessel problem changed everything. She told me she loved me and I did to her, and had such love in my eyes when I looked at her because I didn't want her to be scared in any way. I knew things didn't look good. The last 2 days were more than horrendous. She was no longer responsive and I knew I was losing my fight to help my mom heal and get better. I promised her I would, it was my job to take care of her and I could feel everything moving so fast and I couldn't help her. There was family drama going on during all of this (and after), which makes it even harder. Watching her go was the worst thing I've ever experienced, to hear the breaths get shorter and I knew what was coming. I held her and told her I lover her over and over, played her favorite music, and sang our favorite songs into her hear. I never thought this would happen. One day, maybe very far in the future but not now. Not her. Not my mom. She was such a good person, but cancer doesn't care what kind of person you are. Neither do some doctors who's bedside manner made me want to punch them as hard as humanly possible in the face. It's only been a couple of weeks. I can't stop thinking about the last days and how she looked and all the images and occurrences with family that I have in my mind. Even how she would ask me months before if she was dying, and I would tell her no we're doing all we can for you, we're gonna get you better. That's exactly what we were working so hard on. It was so heartbreaking to hear her ask me that. I knew very clearly that it was my purpose to be there to help her. She told me I was the one who made her feel so much better, so calm, and that everything was going to be alright. That made me feel so happy, that I was helping her in some very real way. She loved me so much, as I love her so much. I thought it was my life's mission to get her better. I feel I failed. Those images, being with her as she went (though I was proud to do, and proud to do everything I did for her and would do it all the same in a heartbeat). I know she didn't feel alone in her fight, my dad and sister made her feel supported as well, just not as consistent as our relationship did. I would calm her when she did get scared, and tell her we're gonna do the best we can to get you better. I never wanted her to feel alone. I don't think she did very often, I was with her just about 24/7, physically and emotionally. People say that at least she's not in pain now, and I definitely never wanted her to be in any pain. I could never have even in my worst dreams imagined this, truly, maybe other family members but I never even considered this would happen to her, not my Mom. I empathize so much with people that it hurts me really bad to see someone I love suffer. I'm sure a lot of people feel that way. I can't seem to help it but I keep seeing those last day horrible images in my head. It comes to me when I wake, during the day and at night. I can't stop crying. I cry intensely, everyday. I know it's all had a very traumatic effect on me, I'm sensitive by nature in the first place. I try not to think about those moments when I knew she probably was scared because they hurt me the most. When scary stuff was happening, and I was the only one there to help, until the nurses came, scared the hell out of me but I knew I had to be brave for her and take care of things, just like I knew she would absolutely do for me. Then later to see her body change and her becoming non-responsive, and sweating profusely. Then seeing her get strong medication so she wasn't in pain as the doctors said, but I knew she was to a certain degree because she was losing her battle and she did not want to lose it in any way, she was such a fighter. I know she fought to stay with me, I wanted her to as well, and also for herself. The family I have now without her is extremely unsupportive emotionally. We barely talk, though my sister takes care of my dad and pays him much attention. We had trouble in the past but she is still cruel to me, even after everything that has happened. She has returned home which is far away, but still is very domineering and bossy. My brother is very unconcerned and seems to not really care at all, he has his own family on the east coast and is seems to be very settled in it. It makes me so sad because I know my Momma cares about him so much and my family treated him like "the golden child", now that tragedy struck he is so emotionally detached, and just seems to care less. He is happy and has developed a very separate life that doesn't include our nuclear family, other than on the surface. My remaining family is very cold emotionally, and generally towards me, and not involved in my life. My mom was the exception. There was true love and caring(and still is) between her and I, and I know that will never be replaced. That hurts inside so bad. I don't have a spouse, so I'm now all alone trying to deal with all these emotions that I'm having such a hard time trying to process. As time is passing it's getting harder, as it's all sinking in. I think the burden would be easier if I had some compassionate people in my life, people who care to talk to and spend time with. Whenever I talk about how I feel in the least bit I get the uncomfortable feeling from others that I should just keep a stoic appearance and not make them uncomfortable. That is so, so, isolating. I also get the message that what I have done has been forgotten, and now I have to "take care of my Dad". Like I didn't give my blood and everything I had and tried to take care of my dearest Momma, and also my father at the time (who is capable of taking care of himself) and try to feed myself and get some rest in the meantime- all forgotten, like it never existed, never happened. The trauma of witnessing all that I saw to the one most special and dear to my heart, gives me this daily horrible pain in my chest that I wake up with, like someone's ripping my heart to pieces and I can't breathe. I have horrible nightmares all the time, and go from not sleeping at all, to sleeping 16 hours. I have dreams that I have cancer, that spiders are coming out of people's mouth's and last night that a spider laid a web around most of my body and as I tried to peel it off, it was like a flesh eating virus and my lower layer of epidermis was exposed, looking something like raw prosciutto ham, even on my private parts. Very disturbing. Nothing at all interests me, even things I did enjoy. I'm so lost, I have no idea what to do with myself or where even I want to be in the future. I can't think of anything. I can't even think of a single thing I want or really want to do in general. Nothing has any meaning anymore. I don't even know what I want to do career wise, as I quit my job to be with my Momma and take care of her, and been running off of savings I've built up. I don't even care about that as work in this current condition doesn't seem like it will be happening very soon. I'm having a hard enough time trying to keep myself together right now. Nothing seems to be going the right way or making sense. I feel like I'm in some parallel universe where everything I would never want to have happen, has. If I go out in public alone I feel so dead inside, I don't relate to anyone and everyone feels so "far" away, like they're not even real. Sometimes it's nice though just to get out and talk to a stranger, because the people I do have as remaining family that are supposed to be there for me are non existent, or just don't want to help. I think they see me as some kind of emotional problem they don't want to deal with. "If you just ignore it, it'll go away", is how my family has worked, and to some degree some of my friends also. I do have a couple friends who are very supportive, but they have their own lives which are very busy, but do manage to make some time for me. That really helps when that happens. I've had counseling in the past for depression, which had been mildly effective at best. I still try. It seems to be difficult to find someone who is skilled enough to actually really help. The people who do try to help say things like "she's in a beautiful place", and "you've got such a great future the sky's the limit!". Really? It's only been a COUPLE of weeks, are you really saying that right now?? I know people mean the best and are trying, but really that is way too soon. If they understood how I've been feeling, they wouldn't say that. Actually some do know, and still say those things. I put all my effort and time into helping my mom, and because I only wanted to see her get better. She did too. Now I don't know what to do. I feel like I've been left in this horrible place without my one true north, my rock, my best friend. A mother can never be replaced. She was the one I'd go to to tell her about my day, and she would to me. We'd both make each other feel better when the other was down, and were each other's personal cheering section. I have a hard time getting close to people and making bonds that seem to last, I'm not exactly sure why that is because I try to be the best friend I can be. My mom was always there and I feel like maybe I took that for granted in thinking she'd always would be. I've done a lot of things in life but I knew she was always there for me and just a phone call away. No matter how far I travelled, I could always call her and tell her what was going on in my life and share feelings and emotions with her, as she would. That's what moms do, they love you unconditionally, pick you up when you're down, and make you feel safe and loved. I know time is supposed to help but I don't know how I'm going to get through all of this. With all the circumstances I'm going through, it's making it even harder. Though I hate to say this in regards to the fact of having anyone suffer, it is comforting to know there are people out there going through similar pain and experiences that I am. No one I know in real life has gone through something like this. It makes it harder to relate to someone who doesn't understand the pain you're experiencing so intensely. There's such a big hole. It hurts so bad. If you've never been that close to somebody, you have no idea how it feels. I try to block my mind from thinking anything, and that has been working temporarily, but I know it's going to catch up to me. I just want to hear her voice, and talk to her. I would be telling her all these things and talking to her, now I have nobody. I try to fake it and make like I'm okay, because people don't want to know how you're really doing. The more time passes, the more scared I get for how I'm going to deal with this.
  21. I lost my mom to cancer 1/16/15. She was my best friend, my entire world. I dropped out of school to take care of her around November of last year, before that I was trying to take care of her and go to school when she was diagnosed in August around her birthday. I miss her more and more everyday. I wish I could've taken better care of her, I wish she was still here. It's getting close to her birthday and life is getting increasingly rough. Mostly I would greatly appreciate taking to people that understand what I'm going through, I feel alone.
  22. Only 50 days ago I found out my father had stage 4 lung cancer. I had always been more attached to my father, I was a daddy's girl. I came to him for everything. I spoke to him every single day, and told him about my day in great detail, and he would listen to my rants about my mother, and rant about her too. You see, she left him and broke his heart, then went back like 4 years ago and left him again. She has been in abusive relationships, and she has a drinking problem. All of my problems became less of a problem once I spoke to dad. He made me feel better, and I could tell him anything. But in the past year, year and a half, mom had had a new relationship, with a new guy. He had a kid a year younger than me, with whom I had grown extremely close too. They would take me and my younger sister away for a day all the time, and often times, come between me and my father without realizing it. Because mom and dad lived with each other even after they split this last time, she had her boyfriend move in here. So, while they took us on adventures my dad stayed home alone. One New Years Eve, I wanted to stay at home, with dad. But mom forced us to go to his house. My dad had gone to the store and bought snacks and everything...we were going to watch the ball drop and watch stupid late night television like we had the year before. But Mom had made us go to his house, even though I cried about it all day that day. I told dad I wanted to stay home but mom made us go. I still feel so guilty that that one memory makes me cry. Over the past year, we grew apart, I was getting older, I could no longer tell him everything that happened at school- I mean, I had crush's on boys now and I had even asked one out without permission, I couldn't tell him that. Our conversations became shorter and shorter, despite my growing guilt. SO MANY times dad had offered to give me a ride to my friends house, double checked and triple checked. But I thought it was burdensome towards him, so I had Ed do it, mom's boyfriend. In retrospect rereading those texts I realize he wanted to give me a ride he wanted to talk to me in those short five minute rides but I refused, not realizing he might have wanted to give me a ride. And then he got a blood clot in March, late march, and sure, he was in pain but stuff didn't change too much, he still called me his sh**head, and texted me every night, and I still came into his room and would rant about mom and ed, and he would agree with me. He still spoke to me about art and my future, he just was in pain. then 50 days ago, I got the dreaded news, that he had stage 4 lung cancer. Mom and Dad had grown close within the time when they found out and when I did. They found out almost two months before me. They assured us he would have a few more years, that they would knock the cancer down a few notches and put it into remission and he'd be fine for a little while. But then just a few weeks later, the doctors said, about 6 months. That was hard. I had hoped on a few years. But one day, before we were totally aware of how brittle his bones were (The cancer spread pretty much everywhere) he fell trying to leave the bathroom, and I was the only one there. He said he was okay, and he was up by the time I got there, but a few days later we were told he broke his left hip, and he had a little less than 6 months to live. Now, I thought they meant 5 or 4 or something like that, but it was actually only a few weeks. Because he died on June 4th 2015 at 4:23ish pm, and I was called out of school early. I didn't know what to say to my father as his spit was making gurgling noises and his breathes shook the bed. I didn't know what to say as his hands pulled back from us and as his mouth hung open forming an oval shape, i didn't know what to say when his eyes were open only slits and didn't blinkand only the whites were shown. What do you say when the person you love most in the world won't hold your hand? Between sobs I told him I loved him, and I told him the story about how when I was little he told me when people die they become stars and look down on us living, and then my grandma who wouldn't leave the room told me that the story was not appropriate. So I left and said more to dad than her, that I'd be in the other room. A few minutes later, when my aunt was speaking, I popped in quickly and leaned over him, hovering and touched his arms gently and told him that I loved him. I left without another word. But I didn't tell him it was okay. I was suposed to but I couldn't because it isn't. But I kept him here suffering with every second because I was too scared to say it was okay to die. ANd once my mom told him that it was okay, and that me and my sister would be taken care of, he took two breaths and died. I wasn't there during his last breath, but I was there soon after, hyperventilating and sobbing uncontollably. After several minutes I gained control, because there was already too much I couldn't control, I wasn't going to let my crying be another thing i couldn't gain control of. And then he was gone. I don't feel his presence. I don't feel him looking down on me. But about a half hour after he died, I looked at him, and when I left the room I heard him say "mad", aka, the thing he called me to get my attention short notice. I looked back in, but his mouth still hung open the same, his eyes wouldn't close. His skin yellow, like it was before his death, because his kidneys and stuff, pretty much every surrounding organ had cancer in it and didn't function to his full potential. But since then, I have to imagine what he would say, I have to make myself wonder what he would say, most often it being "Dumbass" and smacking my arm playfully, or his long drawn out sigh that really didn't mean anything like people thought it did. Why does it only get harder as time progresses? I'm so worried about the future- what's going to happen if he's not here, I get anxiety so bad at this point that I can barely stand it. I've always had anxiety, thanks to my mother. Mom doesn't think I should have meds to regulate my anxiety, she thinks i need to handle it on my own. The attacks are short and not too strong, but enough to give me jitters. I can tell when I'm going to get one two, because I need to move and shake my leg or something. He only died 11 days ago, at the age 57.
  23. Hi all, I'm new here. My estranged father has passed away 11 days ago of cancer. I didn't know he had cancer. I had to keep contact to him very minimal because he had a massive gambling problem and well...he basically messed it up with the entire family because he threatened to kill himself several times if we were not to send him money for his gambling. In fact, the 'gambling' was more him sending millions (!) to E-mail scammers (usually from Nigeria, Ghana etc.). He was a highly intelligent man (a brilliant scientist) and for some incomprehensible reason believed that he would one day have this promised 12 Million cheque as promised by those crooks. My father, according to some psychologists I have visited in the past, shows behaviours to those who are termed 'sociopaths'. He beat up my mother for pretty much 25 years while they were together (she dies of an overdose of antidepressants when I was 17, 13 years ago). He is also a liar and well...never seemed to ever take responsibility for his behaviour. He always blamed others, including my mother, for everything. For my 30th, 3 months ago, he sent me a long e-mail explaining what an awful bitch my mother was and that she should have known that 'she would not get away with behaviour like this'. In essence, I told him to F*ck off and to never contact me again. Three months later I was found by my embassy abroad (he never had my contact details as I had to protect my identity because of his gambling activities) - i was informed my father was dying of pancreatic cancer. If i wanted to see him again, I would have only today to do so. Torn apart, and 16 flight hours away from where he resides, I decided to travel back home to say good-bye to him. It was too late. Since then I have been going through so many emotions at once. On the one hand, I still hate him for everything he is - everything he has done to my mother and to me (by f*cking up my childhood). Needless to say, I had been going to therapy since the age of 13 - with a childhood like this, it is a miracle that I am who I am today. I found evidence of my father's dodgy past in his flat and basically...I'm having to deal with thousands of debts and will have to walk away from the inheritance as otherwise, according to the laws of my home-country, i would be liable for everything. So apart from the bureaucratic nightmare...and the grief process i am going through (i am oddly remembering a lot of positives about my dad), there is one thing that confuses me the most: I feel complete and utter disgust and hate towards my boyfriend. We have had major relationship issues for the last pretty much three years (we have only been together for four). He had lied to me in the past, has had massive money problems and is an avoider (attachment style). I once had him on a pedestal but his lies have broken my trust immensely. And yet, we always wanted to work on our relationship and fight for it. He is, at heart, a good person - really is. But he is so incredibly non-proactive. I feel like I have to tell him 'how to help me' and 'what to do' all the time. It drives me up the wall. He only ever does what I tell him to. There is no proactivity on maybe helping me with the bureaucratic stuff or finding things to do to keep my mind from going mad. He is there yes - but only when I urge hi to help me with something. everything he says or does irritates me. I'm also starting to see how stupid he can be sometimes. I don't know if this intense anger is actually grief and I'm just dumping it on my boyfriend or what the hell is going on here? I can't ever imagine being so awful to anyone else (let's say if a friend helped me in this situation). I just really feel like exploding around him non-stop. I even asked him to leave the flat earlier so I can be alone. I don't want him to touch me - kiss me - nothing. He irritates me so much. I am yet to see a grief counsellor next week - maybe she can shed a light on the situation. I also noticed that as I'm now somehow 'back in my father's life' where I am meeting all these intelligent people, that I have always been dating 'losers' and men who were the complete opposite of my dad in terms of career achievements and intelligence. Could it be that I was frightened of an intelligent man as in my father's case, he used his intelligence for very destructive things too? What is happening here?
  24. Hello everyone. Almost 2 years my mother died, and i have just finished a small blog about her death and my journey with it. I now wish to share it, in the hope that my words will accompany, and perhaps support others who are living the same journey. Thank you for your presence and for reading, Arusha My Blog: http://arushatantrablog.strikingly.com
  25. It's been over a year since my father died of pancreatic cancer and my mother is ready to start dating again. I've actually been hoping she would date again because she's living alone, as my brother and I are in our early twenties. While I'm glad she's dating again, I do not know how to breach certain topics with her, as we have never been particularly close--my father and I were close while she and my brother were close. We've always been a family who shields our emotions and don't talk about our personal lives. I have the following two concerns which I do not know how or if I should voice to her: 1) I don't mind her dating, but I also don't want to hear about her barring experiences. It's a little bit TMI for me as well as too much of my mothering her. When I come home to visit, all she cares about is going to the bars--which is fine--but I'm not a fan of her coming back at 2 am in the morning, drunk, and then waking me up to talk about it. I understand she wants to have fun and she should--but she's acting like a reckless teenager while I'm cleaning up after her 2) I don't want to meet these new guys unless she's serious about them. My mother has been with my father since she was 17--he was her first and only boyfriend. I know that she's not really in tune with dating and I expect it will take her a while to find the "right" guy, especially when she's meeting them in bars. In the meantime, I don't really want to meet every guy she dates on the few days I can return for visits. I don't want to be unsupportive but every guy has a different dynamic in what he thinks his role with me (as his girlfriend's kid) should be. 3) I know this may be a little too far in the future--I may be worrying for nothing--but how do you tell your parent when the new guy is acting like he's your father and you don't find it acceptable? I've noticed that a lot of family friends have been trying to step in as my new "father figure" and in a lot of cases, I personally feel they are overstepping boundaries. I know it's all good-natured and well-intended, but it bothers me that people are trying to tell me what to do and/or making demands of me. I'm a pretty good kid, with a 4.0 GPA, full scholarship, and graduating from college in 3 years with a double major--despite my father's cancer being during my senior year of high school until junior year of college. I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I just think I'm too old to have people--especially any of my mother's suitors--trying to condescend to me and become my new father. I don't want to be a b***** and say that they're not a part of my family, but I don't want or need a new father figure and I feel too old to be treated like I'm a child whom can be condescended to as a child. My brother feels the same way. How do I mention this without seeming unsupportive? I want my mom to be happy with a new guy but I don't want him thinking he can simply replace my father.
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