Here are some things I can tell you about cancer:

When someone is doing chemotherapy, you can bet they are silently wondering if they're going to feel this shitty for the rest of their lives. I watch her sleep and I worry so much.

When you're taking care of someone with cancer, you feel two things in your bones: 1. "I'm so tired." and 2. "Everything is so expensive."

Chemo looks so rough. My son had a thing called a neuroblastoma at 5 months old (he’s 8 now and doing great!) and needed chest surgery. Which in hindsight was an awful, traumatic thing for him and me and my wife, but we thought we hit the jackpot that he didn’t need chemo. Had many many follow up visits to pediatric oncology surrounded by bald kids hooked up to infusion stands and bags of fluorescent junk and it’s emotionally eviscerating every time.

I’m really sorry your wife and you are dealing with this and I do hope there’s a clear path to a point that things work their way to normal.

Hoping for the best Fuck Cancer outcome for your family, DFTR.

dontfeartheringo wrote: Wed Feb 01, 2023 8:58 am Here are some things I can tell you about cancer:

When someone is doing chemotherapy, you can bet they are silently wondering if they're going to feel this shitty for the rest of their lives. I watch her sleep and I worry so much.

When you're taking care of someone with cancer, you feel two things in your bones: 1. "I'm so tired." and 2. "Everything is so expensive."

What you said is so true. Five months seems incredibly daunting but it gets chipped away and dealing with this all can get better - at the very least, you know more as you go and you're better equipped. Early on, anti-depressants were a godsend as a tool - it kept the worrying at bay so we could focus on the mechanical/logistic aspects of getting through the physical and financial roller coaster.

I am so truly absolutely sorry for you and yours - this is a shitty club to have to join.

Early on someone told me plainly and I think it really helped, "You are a different person now. You don't control this. The only thing you can do is manage how you respond and deal with everything as it comes. You eventually get to relax, and you can find small periods right now to do that. You'll be thinking about this even if you try not to - use that, be proactive and engaged and slowly, things get better."

dontfeartheringo wrote: Fri Jan 27, 2023 10:15 am I'm just gonna vent for a second, but it is amazing how many people in the infusion center are unmasked AND coughing like they swallowed a live kitten.

The politicizing of public health measures has literally shaken my faith in human beings.

damn - ours has a mask policy still, lots of crazy coughing but I give them benefit given some definitely have lung cancer

Feel like I can talk about this here now. This is a bit rambly and not at all complete. Still working through some feelings shit.

My younger brother, Joe, died after a swift fight against pancreatic cancer around 6pm on 26 Dec 22. The week after that I started a new job. Two weeks later, I had my birthday. A lot of survivor's guilt coupled with that my brother's cancer rode on the same genes as our mom's breast cancer, so I've basically been having a month long panic attack with chest and back pains, nausea, fucked up bowel movements.

Got myself checked out at the hospital (blood work, CT scan, etc) and got a clean bill of health so, hey! won't die at forty two but why did my brother die at thirty five? "Why did he die? I'm the older one, I'm the one who was nearly decapitated on the job site, should've been me." Survivor's guilt, man, fucks your head around.

The day I was feeling guilty for stealing his Donald Duck comic book, which I still have, when we were kids is the same day my mom calls me to tell me my sister-in-law wants to send me Joe's guitars. More survivor's guilt.

Today is the first day I could eat something without feeling ill before or after. This past weekend was the first weekend since he died where I didn't drink first thing in the morning. Since the doctor's visit, the physiological manifestations of the stress have been dissipating.

So, cheers to the memory of Joseph Gregory Pauken, the no-good cock-sucker who I taught to play guitar and wound up playing better than me.

And also fuck him in his dumb face for stealing my idea of being buried under a tree.

I'm glad I got to talk to him on his last day and I'm glad that the last thing I told him was that I love him and I would talk to him tomorrow.

Also, I've been yolo'ing like a motherfucker since the kid died, trying new foods, seeing classic movies I'd missed, dropping a little bit of extra money on going to the aquarium, planning four different vacations for the summer. Trying to reign it in, keep it reasonable but the death really lit a fire under my ass to "get some living done".

Mate, I'm so sorry to read this. Condolences, and strength to you.

Thanks, man.

Ah, fuck, what a terrible thing, Charlie. I wonder if the gene thing is the same one that caught my wife?

BRCA2 mutation? That one?

Man, hang in there. Live life. Don't feel bad about feeling grateful that you woke up today.

<3