MSI Press Blog

  Not everyone wins their battle with cancer. As painful as that is to say—and even harder to write—it's true. For those of us walking this road alongside someone with cancer, we carry hope, strength, and belief for as long as we possibly can. But sometimes, the ending isn't triumphant. Sometimes, it's simply… the end. That was the case with Carl . Carl had Cancer of Unknown Primary ( CUP ), one of the most elusive and aggressive forms of cancer. With no known origin, it hides in plain sight and resists targeted treatment. Fewer than 15% of patients with CUP survive beyond one year, a statistic that, while low, has improved considerably since Carl fought his battle. When Carl knew the miserable odds, he believed he would be one of the rare exceptions. He expected to win. That expectation, though inspiring in the early days, slowly became a barrier. As his body declined rapidly over five short months, the signs were all there: treatment wasn’t working, strength was fading, ...

  ​This post follows up on an earlier Cancer Diary post on whether or not to choose hospice help , when and where. Choosing between in-home hospice care and care in a facility is a deeply personal decision that depends on various factors, including the patient's medical needs, the capabilities of caregivers, and the resources available.  It also may depend upon the relationship between the patient and caregiver, whether it is a spouse or an offspring who is providing the care.  While many patients express a desire to spend their final days at home, it's essential to understand both the benefits and the challenges associated with each option. ​ brighthh.com Carl so adamantly wanted to be at home and so hated the two short visits he had made to a care facility that I agreed to take on the caregiving, but it left a lot of emotional scars and question marks about whether we had thought things through adequately. The answer of course, is no. The question had to be answered alm...

When a spouse dies, memory plays tricks on us. Grief is not just about missing someone—it’s about trying to make sense of a life that is now suddenly only past tense. One of the most complicated truths of bereavement is that we often don't remember our loved ones as they truly were. We remember them as either an icon —glorified, idealized, a figure bathed in soft light—or as an ogre , the shadowy figure who made life hard in their final days. Neither version tells the full truth. The "icon" memory is seductive. It’s easier to remember only the best—the laughter, the shared victories, the warm touches and private jokes. We place them on a pedestal so high we forget the arguments, the disappointments, the human flaws. It's a comforting illusion, but it can leave us feeling confused when our true memories sneak back in. We wonder if we’re betraying them by remembering anything less than perfection. On the other end of the spectrum is the "ogre" narrative, espec...