We meet up with my sister in law last night who is now dealing with her second round of cancer. She was talking about the advancements in cancer treatment have improved exponentially since her last fight with cancer 10 years ago. Talking to her made me think of your situation. It does feel like there is so much more hope right now.Just a day later and it's really up and down. She's struggling with the pain, but this was a truncated surgery so she's really afraid of what the "real" surgery will be like when we finally get there. Of course hearing a doctor say "the cancer is everywhere" is ****ing terrifying, and even with the doctor's caveat of a "very good prognosis" at the end, it's hard not to take that kind of news like getting hit by a truck.
I found her in the bedroom today just sitting on the bed, I walked in and touched her shoulder and she turned to me and just started to sob. That's when it really hit me. I just held her, no words spoken. She trembled and leaned into me and in the end I just told her I love her and am going to be here for her every step of the way. She expressed appreciation for that, and we just sat there together for a while.
33 years together. Feels almost silly to say that, I don't feel like I'm old enough for that. I can't imagine there not being a 34th. And 35th. I told her she can't be done with this life because she needs to make it to our 35th anniversary because we had planned to go back to Hawaii for our 35th if we didn't go sooner. She laughed and promised we'd make it back. I know what those promises mean, but we are both taking it as solid as stone.
But in the end we did get a good prognosis, and I told her what my doctor told us 27 years ago. He said, have your pity party. Take a day or 2 and feel it, feel the impending doom, the grief, the fear and anger, and embrace it. Accept it. Then put it aside and get busy beating the bastard. We talked about that tonight and and went to bed in better spirits. We're in that first phase for this weekend, then we'll put it aside and move forward. And beat that bastard. I'm confident she will come though this with flying colors. And I'm doing all I can to ignore that nagging piece of me that whispers, what if she doesn't? But she will. If I could get through it, who is basically bedridden when I get a stupid cold, then she certainly will. She's a lot stronger than I ever was. She'll make it through, I'm sure of it.
Sorry for rambling. Guess I need to ramble. lol. And again thanks for all your kind words. I don't have much of a support group here, I'm usually the one holding everyone else up, so I appreciate having family at Jazz Fanz to hold me up. Thanks.
Oh man 33 years..Just a day later and it's really up and down. She's struggling with the pain, but this was a truncated surgery so she's really afraid of what the "real" surgery will be like when we finally get there. Of course hearing a doctor say "the cancer is everywhere" is ****ing terrifying, and even with the doctor's caveat of a "very good prognosis" at the end, it's hard not to take that kind of news like getting hit by a truck.
I found her in the bedroom today just sitting on the bed, I walked in and touched her shoulder and she turned to me and just started to sob. That's when it really hit me. I just held her, no words spoken. She trembled and leaned into me and in the end I just told her I love her and am going to be here for her every step of the way. She expressed appreciation for that, and we just sat there together for a while.
33 years together. Feels almost silly to say that, I don't feel like I'm old enough for that. I can't imagine there not being a 34th. And 35th. I told her she can't be done with this life because she needs to make it to our 35th anniversary because we had planned to go back to Hawaii for our 35th if we didn't go sooner. She laughed and promised we'd make it back. I know what those promises mean, but we are both taking it as solid as stone.
But in the end we did get a good prognosis, and I told her what my doctor told us 27 years ago. He said, have your pity party. Take a day or 2 and feel it, feel the impending doom, the grief, the fear and anger, and embrace it. Accept it. Then put it aside and get busy beating the bastard. We talked about that tonight and and went to bed in better spirits. We're in that first phase for this weekend, then we'll put it aside and move forward. And beat that bastard. I'm confident she will come though this with flying colors. And I'm doing all I can to ignore that nagging piece of me that whispers, what if she doesn't? But she will. If I could get through it, who is basically bedridden when I get a stupid cold, then she certainly will. She's a lot stronger than I ever was. She'll make it through, I'm sure of it.
Sorry for rambling. Guess I need to ramble. lol. And again thanks for all your kind words. I don't have much of a support group here, I'm usually the one holding everyone else up, so I appreciate having family at Jazz Fanz to hold me up. Thanks.
Thank you.This was hard to read. Im very sorry and I hope God will somehow help your wife and you get over this.
A friend of mine's father, an old person, was diagnosed with cancer and given a few months to live. My friend started to prepare for the funeral, burial place. People came to see him for the last time and say goodbye. That was 5 years ago... He still lives to this day, and many of those people that visited him are no longer with us.
So dont give up hope!
Wish you all the best!
The difference between stage 3 and stage 4 is pretty huge, right? "Stage 3" were the most hopeful words—to my ears—in this whole thread.She is recovering well from the surgery, and we finally met with the oncologist. First step, implant a portacath for easier access for chemo. If you do not know what that is, then #1 consider yourself lucky and #2, this is a portacath:
![]()
NCI Dictionary of Cancer Terms
NCI's Dictionary of Cancer Terms provides easy-to-understand definitions for words and phrases related to cancer and medicine.www.cancer.gov
It is embedded in the chest on the upper right completely under the skin, and it has a catheter inserted into a major vein, so as to ease the chemo's impact on the veins when receiving chemo. I had a few rounds of chemo sans port and it "burned" a few of my veins so they became scarred and hard and closed off, so the smaller veins do not handle the harsh chemo drugs very well. Anyway, that is the next step.
Next, we also received her official diagnosis: serus carcinoma, stage 3. That is the most common type of ovarian cancer. There are 3, generally, and the serus one is the most aggressive, or "high grade" cancer, yet it is also the one that tends to respond the best to chemo. So with that she will be receiving 2 chemo drugs and 1 support treatment:
The treatments are every 3 weeks and they said they should take about 4-5 hours to deliver each time. My wife is scared to death of the chemo because she saw mine, but mine was extra severe, as the 4 chemo drugs I had were among the worst for side effects, while hers will actually be pretty moderate, so says the doctor. But I had a doctor tell me mine shouldn't cause nausea or vomiting until we found out that was the primary side effect, and I can tell you that anti-nausea medication only gets you so far. But we are hopeful hers will be much more manageable.
- Carboplatin (a platinum-based alkylating chemo - damages DNA of cells so they cannot divide, cousin of one I received called cisplatin)
- Taxol (disrupts cell division)
- Bevacizumab (an antibody that blocks a specific protein used to repair damaged cells, helps keep the cancer from regenerating itself and helps reduce recurrence)
The prognosis is still pretty good, the doctor said he had no qualms saying we can get her to remission, the bigger risk is in recurrence. He also said the chances of recurrence, generally, once in remission, are about 10-15%, which is pretty decent odds. To help keep the cancer at bay, they will do a regimen of bevacizumab every 3 weeks for 2 years after her primary treatments and surgeries are complete.
That last paragraph is nice to read.She is recovering well from the surgery, and we finally met with the oncologist. First step, implant a portacath for easier access for chemo. If you do not know what that is, then #1 consider yourself lucky and #2, this is a portacath:
![]()
NCI Dictionary of Cancer Terms
NCI's Dictionary of Cancer Terms provides easy-to-understand definitions for words and phrases related to cancer and medicine.www.cancer.gov
It is embedded in the chest on the upper right completely under the skin, and it has a catheter inserted into a major vein, so as to ease the chemo's impact on the veins when receiving chemo. I had a few rounds of chemo sans port and it "burned" a few of my veins so they became scarred and hard and closed off, so the smaller veins do not handle the harsh chemo drugs very well. Anyway, that is the next step.
Next, we also received her official diagnosis: serus carcinoma, stage 3. That is the most common type of ovarian cancer. There are 3, generally, and the serus one is the most aggressive, or "high grade" cancer, yet it is also the one that tends to respond the best to chemo. So with that she will be receiving 2 chemo drugs and 1 support treatment:
The treatments are every 3 weeks and they said they should take about 4-5 hours to deliver each time. My wife is scared to death of the chemo because she saw mine, but mine was extra severe, as the 4 chemo drugs I had were among the worst for side effects, while hers will actually be pretty moderate, so says the doctor. But I had a doctor tell me mine shouldn't cause nausea or vomiting until we found out that was the primary side effect, and I can tell you that anti-nausea medication only gets you so far. But we are hopeful hers will be much more manageable.
- Carboplatin (a platinum-based alkylating chemo - damages DNA of cells so they cannot divide, cousin of one I received called cisplatin)
- Taxol (disrupts cell division)
- Bevacizumab (an antibody that blocks a specific protein used to repair damaged cells, helps keep the cancer from regenerating itself and helps reduce recurrence)
The prognosis is still pretty good, the doctor said he had no qualms saying we can get her to remission, the bigger risk is in recurrence. He also said the chances of recurrence, generally, once in remission, are about 10-15%, which is pretty decent odds. To help keep the cancer at bay, they will do a regimen of bevacizumab every 3 weeks for 2 years after her primary treatments and surgeries are complete.
Thanks, I really appreciate it. Yes stage 3 is way better than stage 4. Stage 3 means the tumor is sloughing off cells into the abdomen, stage 4 means it has traveled through the bloodstream to the distant organs like the liver or lungs. That's nearly a death sentence, with a 3 year survival rate at something like 12-15%. Stage 3 with the current regimen we are doing has a 3 year survival at something like 70-80%. So we are trying to stay hopeful. But it's tough. I feel like Samwise Gamgee, telling Frodo "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you". That's all I can do.The difference between stage 3 and stage 4 is pretty huge, right? "Stage 3" were the most hopeful words—to my ears—in this whole thread.
Thinking about you lots, man.