WhenStars

There is actually a lung cancer event (run/ walk) coming up in Central Park in just a few weeks. I'm getting my whole family to participate this year. To learn more: www.tglclassic.com Hope to see you there, Kate

October 13 was the anniversary of my dad's diagnosis. The week leading up to the anniversary and the day itself were very hard to handle. I kept thinking that October 13 was the day my life ended as it had been, that from now on, I would never be happy again. I also thought my dad would make it through - and that we would have at least a few years. I am sorry for your sadness and send you warm thoughts and prayers. Kate

Jamie, I'm so sorry for the loss of your dad. I agree with Connie B., though - even if your dad was NED, the chemo and radiation he went through during his LC struggle could have had a big impact on the strength of his organs. My dad didn't die from the LC, per se, but from a stroke (at 64?!?!). The doctors told us that this was a side effect of the "successful" treatments (which my dad had completed months before). After the experience of battling lung cancer with my dad and then losing him suddenly, I can imagine that you might have some of the same feelings of anger and injustice. How can we have gotten through all of that and still lost him? Anyway, you are in my thoughts and I wish you as much peace as you can find during this awful time. Kate

My father suffered very extensive radiation pneumonitis after a lengthy stretch of radiation. I found it difficult to balance my happiness that the tumor was shrinking so dramatically with the anger and fear over the rapid decline in my dad's lung function. If you want to chat at all, please send me a pm. I would be happy to share my experience and thoughts. Sending prayers and wishing you and your family well, Kate

My toughest day is on Sunday - the same day that my dad passed. I think Sundays can be tough anyway, between running errands and getting prepared for the upcoming work week. On Sunday nights, even when I am busy, I still get very melancholy and quiet. I keep thinking, "here I am, starting another week without my dad". And yet, on Monday morning I get up and shower and make my lunch and head off to work... and I survive.

Darlene, My dad passed in February and I have been aching to talk to him. I would do anything to talk to my dad. I need his support, his advice, his humor, and his love. Never seeing him again is terrible, but not being able to talk to him is the worst thing in the world. And when people tell me, "oh, you can still talk to your dad!", I just want to slug them! I talk to him, and the air is empty, and he doesn't answer me back. I consider myself a very spiritual person, but I can't hear my dad right now. All I can do is guess what he would say. Maybe that's all you can do with your sister right now too. I wish you strength and peace. I'm sorry you are so sad. Kate

Today's Wall Street Journal features an article, "Should Ex-Smokers Worry?". The article discusses the higher incidence of ex-smokers now being diagnosed with LC. Unfortunately, the WSJ online is by subscription only, so I can't post a link. If you are interested in the article, send me a PM with your email address and I can forward you a PDF. Thanks, Kate

Tammy, When my dad was first diagnosed, we thought he had a bad case of pneumonia as well (from playing in a golf tournament in the rain!). His tumor was pressing on his chest wall and he was in enormous pain. Once we finally got the doses right for the pain meds, my dad was much more comfortable, much less anxious, and more positive. After he started the radiation, his tumor shrunk very quickly, relieving the pain. He was able to gradually come off his high dosage, and was taking only very small amounts of pain medication as needed. I also felt very worried that my dad was depressed. In fact, I was so concerned that he was not fighting hard enough because he seemed so down. I was a bit pushy with him - as was my mom - and I think it helped to have us continue to be positive when he was having doubts. The doctors never gave us a time table, but even if they had, we wouldn't have paid it much heed. Every person is different, every fight is its own, and numbers and statistics should not dampen your hope. Sending prayers and hope to you, your dad, and your family. Kate

Shirley, I'm so sorry for your loss.

Sometimes I feel a bit conflicted - between trying to go on with life and needing to be alone in my bed. I haven't had any energy to socialize recently, and I have actively avoided any type of gathering on the weekends. On both this past Friday and Saturday, I backed out of plans at the last minute and spent the time by myself, getting to bed early. Lately, I have been just sitting on my bed, staring at a photo of my dad. I am so crushed I hardly know how I am going to make it to next month, let alone to next year. It feels like there is nothing in life to look forward to. I just miss my dad so much, and I feel so bad for my mom who is so lonely. Kate

My dad had not smoked in 20 years when he was diagnosed with stage IIIB last fall. Some people have asked me if I am more intolerant of smokers now - or if I feel angry at people who smoke. Simply, I harbor no anger at people who smoke. The more research I have done, the more I realize that cancer happens and we are all exposed to cancer-causing substances (voluntarily and involuntarily) throughout our lives. According to one study of autopsied adults who died from non-cancer events, "most people have a tumor somewhere in their body, but it remains microscopic and dormant until it flips a switch that triggers angiogenesis". Further, the study goes on to say that "the autopsies revealed microscopic prostate tumors in over 40 percent of men in their 60s, microscopic breast tumors in more than one-third of women in their 40s and microscopic thyroid tumors in virtually everyone aged 50 to 70. Yet the rates of clinically diagnosed prostate, breast and thyroid cancers in these age groups are 1 percent or less." I know this sounds a bit depressing... but for me somehow it provides comfort. If cancerous cells are something that exists in most people - regardless of whether the tumors become threatening or dangerous - then cancer seems less unjust. It becomes more of a normal part of human existence for me. I am so deep in the depression and misery of grief, that reading medical studies on cancer provides me with solace. Now, that's really depressing. Kate

At each stage of treatment, our family got multiple opinions. We found this to be very effective, comforting, and helpful. I have limited experience with insurance, because we just went ahead scheduling appointments without consulting with them first. I wish you lots of luck and send you and your family prayers. Kate

I wish I didn't know how you feel. But I do. My dad died on February 13, and I am having a terrible time with it. Really, I seem to get more depressed and sad by the day. I was in a meeting yesterday, and all I could do was imagine that my dad would appear at the door of the conference room and take me for a walk. It was the most improbable day dream, but I kept imagining he would come get me and he would tell me that he had only a few hours, but we could spend them together. But I can relate so well because one small detail I keep obsessing about is that my dad will never see me married. I am in a very long-term, serious relationship with a wonderful man - a man that my dad *loved* and hoped I would marry. I have been a little difficult about marriage, wondering (for most of my twenties) whether it was something I needed to do in my life. But lately, as its become obvious that I will get married, I am really upset that my dad won't be there. Being walked down the aisle by my cheerful dad in his bow tie all of a sudden seems impossibly important, and I can't imagine how I will ever be able to have a ceremony at all. My dad loved to dance! How will I ever dance at my wedding without him? It seems at this point in my mourning that I will never have joy again in my life, that everything is so trivial. Sorry for the self pity. I am just stuck in a swamp of heartache right now and can't seem to see any light. Kate

I appreciate all of teh thought-provoking and sound advice. This weekend, my mom and I began talking on our way to the grocery, and we continued to play the "what if" game. It was funny how selective each of our memories are! Taken together, our memories supply the full picture of my dad's condition, and supported the conclusion that we had done the best with the information we had at the time. Individually, we both forgot things or unintentionally omitted details. For example, I forgot that my dad had been in excruciating pain when he first went into the hospital (and was ultimately diagnosed with LC). The tumor had put pressure on a nerve, and he had nearly debilitating pain in his chest wall. Only after he started treatment did the pain subside (as the tumor shrunk and moved away from the nerve). I forgot that he had no choice but to proceed with treatment because he was in pain and this was the only way to release him from the pain. Between my discussion with my mom and all of your *very* helpful posts, I am starting to understand that we did the right thing. I just wish that the treatment hadn't been so harsh, that my dad's quality of life could have been better over the last four months. I guess that will never change, but I am at least beginning to accept that we did the best that we could. Kate

The doctors followed up with us yesterday on the result of my dad's biopsy (the "simple" procedure during which my father had his fatal stroke). The lab sent the samples for a second round of tests at Johns Hopkins, so it took over a week to get the final report. Apparently, my dad was suffering from an extremely severe form of radiation pneumonitis. My brother and I have been furiously reading academic research on the topic, and it seems to confirm what the doctors suggested: even if my dad hadn't had the stroke, he would not have made it much longer. His lungs would have simply stopped functioning. I guess what I am struggling with now is that the treatment seems to have ultimately been the most damaging. Before he started chemo and radiation, he was very vibrant, very alive. The radiation destroyed his lungs... but I guess if we had not gone through with the therapy, the cancer would have taken over. I am having a very frustrating internal debate. Thanks for "listening". Kate