The cruelty of cancer

[twinniefan]

Today I lost my friend Jean to that accursed scourge called cancer.
Jean was diagnosed back in December last year with incurable cancer of the liver and the doctors gave her 6 months to live, quite scarily they were pretty much on the mark.
I should be used to it after losing my Dad to prostate cancer some years ago, but you just never quite grasp how a seemingly healthy and vibrant and bubbly person can be reduced to an almost cadaver like shape in such a short period of time.
Jean's husband had actually accepted what was going to happen, and yet I am just dumbfounded and stunned, I cant believe that I have lost yet another person I care about to this horror.
I was most fortunate to visit her today and I was informed that basically an hour after another friend and I left, she passed on, perhaps she was holding on for her last 2 visitors.
R.I.P. my dear friend Jean, it was an honour and a privelige to have known and loved you, thank you for being my friend.
Good people here do you think we will ever be free of this damn abomination? or is it here to haunt us for eternity?
I dare say the lesson here is to just enjoy life and pack as much fun and enjoyment into it as you possibly can and always treasure your loved ones wether they be family or friends, because you just never know with this disease.
Best wishes to all.
Steve.

 

[panthera]

Steve,

my condolences.

 

[ronhic]

Steve...

....Thinking of you....

Chris

 

[dnastrau]

I am very sorry Steve

Hi Steve:

I am sorry to hear about your friend Jean. I can definitely relate to your feelings about cancer as my wife has battled breast cancer since January 2009. Thank God we caught it early although they still had to perform major surgery three times due to the nature of it in the hope that it will never return. Her prospects are excellent. My mom had it 20 years ago as well but it was caught and dealt with early. Thankfully she is still OK. My grandmother wasn't as fortunate and my oldest aunt has inoperable Stage IV cancer at this point.

It certainly puts what is important into perspective. Hopefully one day they will conquer this horrible disease. God bless and take care.

Andrew S.

 

[tomturbomatic]

Steve, I am sorry for your great loss.

 

[westyslantfront]

Hi Steve. My condolences to you and I will keep you and Jean in my thoughts and prayers.

Ross

 

[rll70sman]

Steve, you have all my condolences. I've lost countless family members and friends to cancer throughout the years. It's got to be one of the most abhorring diseases I've ever seen. Cherish those wonderful memories in your mind and know you'll see her again in a new everlasting body without sickness, pain, or sorrow. May God bless you!

Rob

 

[hunter]

Sorry Steve.

Steve, I am terribly sorry.

 

[spiralator60]

Deepest Sympathy

Steve,

You and your friends are in my thoughts and prayers.

 

[earthling177]

I'm very sorry for your loss.

 

[toggleswitch]

I am very sorry for your loss.

Perhaps we need to think about all the chemicals dumped into the environment and the plastic-sheathed wiring allowed ("ROMEX instead of armored B-X"). The electro-magnetic fields are said to be cancer-inducing.

It is said that the deceased live forever as long as they are in our hearts and minds. May her memory be eternal! AMEN.

 

[perc-o-prince]

Hi Steve,

I'm sure I can speak for Rich as well when I say I'm very sorry for your loss. Perhaps she did "hold on" for you and your friend. I know other folks who have waited for that special person or time, and I do believe it's possible.

As for the scourge, or abomination, as you call it, maybe you can do something there to help fight it in memory of Jean. Do you have a society, association, or charity that not only fights cancer, but educates about it? Here we have the American Cancer Society (among others), and Rich and I have become more involved because of his bout with it and the losses we've suffered over the years. I'm sure a web search or call to your local health department will give you ideas.

Sincerely,
Chuck

 

[polkanut]

Some good friends of my wife and I have a son who will be doing the 3-day Susan G. Komen 60 mile cancer walk in Chicago, Aug. 6-8, 2010. Our polka club pledged $50 in memory of our immediate past-president who passed away 1.5 yrs ago after a 4 year struggle with prostate cancer. I've included a link to the website.

The Susan G. Komen 3-Day

Join the 3‑day, 60‑mile walk that’s making a real difference in the fight against breast cancer.

www.the3day.org

 

[twinniefan]

Many thanks to all

My most sincere thanks to all you good folk for your kind thoughts and wishes, the world is most certainly a brighter place with such decent caring people as all of you.
Thanks also to you Chuck for your suggestion, actuaolly you must have read my mind, I have donated $200.00 to the Cancer council, in the hope that may help some other poor soul suffering with cancer.
Thank to you all once again.
Steve.

 

[panthera]

Steve,

One of my oldest and dearest friends died last year of cancer.

Irish-American from NYC, there was quite a discussion on whether she should stay in Munich, go to her birthplace in Ireland or back to where she had lived longest, and most of her family is, in NYC.

In the end, she was too weak to go anywhere and stayed here.

It was no big problem for the Irish relations to just bop over for a day or two to see her, but for the (mostly very elderly or very young) Americans, a trip had to be for a week or two.

So we put together a web-based calender and housing site and listed when and where the Americans could stay when they came.

It seems like such a simple thing, but just organizing the logistics to make those visits possible - especially for her eleven siblings and over twenty nieces and nephews - made a big difference in her quality of life and their last weeks and months with a beloved sister and aunt.

Not everybody can donate money, but when we know that someone is in the hospital, it doesn't hurt to let folks know that relations and friends who live far away are welcome.

Again, my condolences.

 

[dblrinz]

So sorry for your loss...

Recently lost an uncle and dear dear friend (sister like - not actual blood relative) to cancer - It is horrible!

 

[mixfinder]

I'm sure its fine..

It begins innocently enough, a spot, bump, soreness, a sense of change. I'm sure its fine, you tell yourself but the thought doesn't go away as you push, measure and feel the unknown. At the end of routine office visit you say, "I'm sure its fine" and ask the doctor to look at what you see. "I'm sure it fine," says the doctor but just to be sure lets have you see Dr Specialist. Dr. Specialist gives you a once over and say's, "I'm sure its fine" but just to be safe a test is ordered. The surgeon says, "I'm sure its fine" but just to be safe we'll send it to the lab. Innocently enough a visit is scheduled to remove stitches and Dr. Specialist opens the door and says, "You have cancer." In the recesses of your mind the possibility of cancer has lurked but so many people, including yourself have all said, "I'm sure its fine." Your mind is flooded with so many questions and just as quickly the lid of fear and uncertainly clamps over the top of reason. What should I do is the first thought and the surgeon advises those are questions best answered by an oncologist. "Where will I find an ocologist" you wonder out loud. "You'll need to ask friends who they have used and perhaps ask your own doctor," is the surgeon's reply. Dazed, the room spinning and the sunlight a touch too bright, you're standing on the curb in front of the office and trying to piece together what just happened. It is the six letters strung together that spell cancer that sets everything upside down. You'll come to understand that "normal" is gone and nothing will be the same. The flurry to finding an ocologist, a medical treatment center, researching what you can find about your own cancer and trying to sift the "I'm sure its fine" from the "whatever you do don't let them give you chemo, get a second opinion and I'm sure its fine" Patient by patient the exact same script is played out as frightened, stunned and ignorant we all head off in search of answers. You learn that each cancer has it's own organization with support, money and services available. You come to understand what a medical social worker is. You'll learn your way through an infusion center and how treatment will unfold. You'll learn the medications that help to control nausea, dizziness and fatigue. After the initial shock and fear, anger takes a toe hold and nothing seems to work right. You tell yourself, "I'm sure its fine" without really believing it. Then the search to find normal begins. What needs to be said, what should be decided and written down, where are all the papers pertinent to your estate and how shall the end of my life unfold all bubble to the top. Paramount in it all is the sense of betrayal by your own body as you question "I'm sure its fine" and wonder when and where the next surprise will come from. In the end, with nothing to lose, I opted for an experimental course of treatment. It was touch and go for a while and the last infusion was April Fool's Day 2008. By the end of summer the oncologist watched the blood values rebuilding and suggested I find something to do with my time for the next 10 years. I had just perfected the art of dying gracefully and graciously leaving my circle of friends and family with memories of the kindest, most generous man they'd ever met. Now, mid stream, I needed to pick up everything I'd just let go of and try to visualize a future. In many ways being told I was going to live was harder than being told I was going to die because the variables are so great. Gilda Radner died of ovarian cancer and she lamented that after her diagnosis no one teased her, friends stopped telling wildly funny stories, people expected nothing from her and she felt isolated in a space only she could understand. Following her death, Gene Wilder set up a foundation that charters and supports Gilda's Clubs all across America as a respite from the rigors of cancer and a place where everyone is normal and no one is special. Cancer touches so many lives and family and friends need support just as a cancer patient would. In the final days of a loved one we spend every moment focused on loving and supporting, sharing and remembering all the good which skews the memory to focusing on only good, intensifying the grief and separation at the time of death. In the American culture we celebrate birth as a miraculous event filled with joy yet remain silent on the subject of death simply saying, "he's past, he's not with us, we've lost him." I came into this world having no idea what to expect, not given a script and yet willinly I came. To experience the next miraculous piece in the journey of my soul I will also face death with the same exuberation of birth looking forward to the next step in the journey. Cancer knows no reason, respects no boundaries and cannot be trusted. Sometimes "I'm sure its fine" is all we need to believe.