overtherainbow

I was in touch with Susan's son via Facebook over the last several months. What an incredible family. If you haven't seen their documentary yet, you can view it on YouTube: "Lung Cancer Through the Eyes of My Children." Hearing this news so soon after the loss of my own father seems to have hit a nerve.

My sweet Daddy passed away this afternoon. After a very long night and morning during which he struggled to breathe, our amazing home health nurse found the right combination of pain meds to allow him some rest. Once he was comfortable he just slipped away peacefully. So much pain to deal with, yet so much good to make us smile. Cancer is a terrible, awful disease. But I wouldn't trade the time I had these last two months for anything. What a blessing to be surrounded by people who love you...

Thank you all for your kind words. This community has been so much help to all of us, including my dad, as we have gone through this (too short) journey. Daddy is still with us but has slipped into a coma. We have been keeping vigil since last night and have all been able to steal moments with him alone and together. I finally let it all out earlier tonight, which felt really good, but now I can't seem to make the tears stop. I've tried to be the knowledgeable big sister/"nurse in training" but finally I just let myself be the grieving daughter. There are so many things I love about my Dad that I'm overwhelmed to list them all. But here are a few just to give y'all an idea of how blessed we have been to have this amazing man as our father: -His love for spontaneously dancing, whether it's the swing or the twist -His communication skills - he always knows what to say and when to just give a big "Daddy hug" -The traditions he created and carried on from his own childhood - every year we have "birthday strings" scavenger hunts. -His strength as our "rock" in the midst of a lot of family trials over the past 30 years -His utter devotion to Mom, his soul mate, to the point of being a romantic sap we all teased but secretly wished our spouses would be like someday I could go on. A lot of people are referring to him in the past tense but I refuse to go there yet. He's still here...really he always will be....

Dad's CEA markers shot up from 74 to 123 in a week. Yesterday his home health nurse said we should all start preparing ourselves. Last night he was agitated and in a lot of pain, despite increasing the dose on his morphine drip and pushing the button as often as we were allowed. Then he fell down while walking to his bed and was in so much pain we couldn't move him - he and Mom slept on the floor and the Fire Department very kindly came this morning to move him back into bed. They're now saying it will be a matter of days, if not hours. We are discontinuing his TPN after today, as well as the Tarceva and Avastin, and making a rapid transition to hospice. This is happening way too fast. I alternate between feeling completely numb and completely out of control. Mostly I just can't fathom the thought of waking up without him here.

I know your dilemma well. I lived 3,000 miles from my father with stage IV cancer and just decided a couple of months ago to move home. I put off grad school, moved back in with my parents and found a job locally for the time I was living around here. I don't know if you want to keep the job you have now or if you'd be willing to consider finding something closer to your family, even on a temporary basis. But I've never regretted it for a second. One thing is for sure ... it's different for everyone - I would echo talking to your parents about it and asking their advice.

I feel like a million dollars compared to today's earlier post. Thank you so much for your kind words - this is such an amazing community. Dad's brain MRI was CLEAR! He looked like he could have kissed his doctor! The reason he's been so nauseous is still a bit of a puzzle but it's good to have ruled out any more mets. Being admitted to the hospital could be just what he needs to get this pain under control. He's been so much better today and was able to keep his dinner down ... he's even looking forward to lunch tomorrow, which is unusual these days. It's all about celebrating the everyday victories, isn't it?

It's been a while since I posted anything but I've been keeping up. I decided to wait on nursing school until next year and moved back here to CA from North Carolina two weeks ago. This is too important...no regrets, right? Dad finished round 6 of chemo a few weeks ago and scan results on Tuesday were not promising. The primary tumor in his left lung is slightly smaller but there are new bone mets all over the place, and a new soft tissue spot as well. His pain is horrible - he's received hydration and pain meds four out of the past five days at the day hospital. The scariest part is that he was admitted to the hospital this morning for persistent nausea. He hasn't been able to keep anything down and even with any empty stomach, he is constantly sick. Oncologist is worried it may have spread to his brain - this is Dad's worst fear (as a neuropsychologist, he knows how devastating a brain tumor can be). So my sister and I are packing up our stuff and headed to the hospital. Dad's brother is there with my mom right now. I'm glad I came home.

Hi Tammy, My dad also has Stage IV NSCLC and he was a non-smoker. He is on the Carboplatin/Taxol/Avastin protocol and it seems to be working pretty well so far. The drawback with this regimen is that you can only have up to 6 rounds before its effectiveness is compromised. So after Round 6 we'll reevaluate and look at other options. The treatments do reduce his WBC and RBCs and he receives boosters for both (Neulasta to boost WBCs and I can't remember the other). He receives Zofran and Emend to help with nausea and takes Decadron for three days following chemo day to help ward off the worst of the side effects. He also has a transdermal fentanyl patch which really seems to help his pain. I would also echo the recommendation to get a bone scan - Dad has several mets to his bones and was able to reduce a couple of them with radiation. Good luck - this is a wonderful community and I hope you feel as welcome as I did.

My dad had a similar reaction to the fentanyl patch when he first put it on - hallucinations, nausea, vomiting. However, those symptoms have not returned since the first couple of days. It seems like the body needs to adjust to the shock of the narcotic effects, but everybody responds differently.

It could be pain meds. My dad hallucinated when they gave him a fentanyl patch.

Max, I am so sorry to hear of this. I hope you are surrounded by people you love at this difficult time!

I can completely relate to what you're going through, Missy. I'm focused on being as strong as I can but sometimes I just want to scream!! Since getting the news about my father's dx., I have hidden my tears from everyone, including my husband. I actually found myself comforting my friends when I told them and they burst into tears! It's like I'm afraid if I let myself give in to the grief a little, the flood gates will open and I won't be able to function.

Thank you all for your wonderful words of support! This group has already provided so much comfort and information. It's hard getting news like this but your stories have inspired me. Dad had a very encouraging consult with his oncologist yesterday. They consider this very treatable and will start the first round of chemo tomorrow. We're all trying to keep up each other's spirits as this journey begins...

I'm still in shock from the awful news we received yesterday! It's even harder when I'm in NC and Dad (and everyone else) are in CA. Friends have been great, but I want to be with Dad! I am studying to be a nurse so knowing what I know doesn't make this any easier. Then again, knowledge can be power. For now I'm just numb. Stumbled across this message board while looking for information and I'm so glad I found y'all! Thank you for creating this website...I have a feeling it will be a Godsend.

Just got the horrible news yesterday that dad has stage IV NSCLC that spread before they were able to catch it. He has never smoked a day in his life. Prognosis isn't great but he is exploring aggressive chemotherapy options and we're all holding out hope for a miracle. I am 26 and married and have a 24-year old sister and a 19-year old brother who just started college. Mom and Dad will celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary this June. This is a huge blow...