MSI Press Blog

  With the rumors floating about these days, especially inside Russia, about Putin's health and a visiting oncologist, thyroid cancer is in the news. While I have no inside information (thyroid cancer? Parkinson's, growing old? all in the minds of the rumor mongers?) and therefore will not comment on Putin's state of health, I will note that Carl's Cancer Compendium recently fleshed out a fair amount of information related to thyroid cancer (which just might be helpful to people other than Putin who may be exhibiting some symptoms of one of the more treatable, if caught early, cancers). From the site: Thyroid cancer Definition : A cancer that develops in the cells of thyroid gland, a butterfly-shaped gland located just below adam’s apple in the neck. It causes difficulty swallowing hoarseness, lump on the neck, and swollen lymph nodes in the neck.  Types  include Papillary  Thyroid Cancer Follicular  Thyroid Cancer Medullary  Thyroid Cancer Anaplastic  Thyroid Cancer Ca

  Choosing hospice is choosing to die. That may sound like a stark statement, but it is, in my experience, a true one. Now, when confronted with cancer, one can choose to live at home, not receive treatment, and not be in hospice--at least, for most of the course of the disease. That is what my sister-in-law did. She chose to die naturally and not fight nature, in part because she had no insurance (and did not want to rack up major debt for her husband or jeopardize their life savings and house) and in as much part due to her religious beliefs. She did go on hospice during the last six weeks of her life; she needed medical attention, and the hospital, to which she was ambulanced, moved her to in-patient hospice as a compromise. She was placed in a very nice New Hampshire hospice, Hyder Family Hospice House , known simply as Hyder House. Not all hospices are this attentive, gentle with the family, well-appointed in interior ambience and amenities, or surrounded by such beautiful landsca

  This is a slightly different kind of Cancer Diary post. It is not sharing information but rather asking for it.  One of the MSI Press staff, who lives in Nigeria, sent a note yesterday: "Sadly, I have some bad news to share with you. My mother has been diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer that has now spread to the bone to cause  Spinal Metastasis ,  resulting in   a   fracture of the right femoral neck with the femoral head tilting into varus position and surrounding bone marrow and joint effusion. I was wondering if you know of any US-based not-for-profit organisation that helps women in Africa (especially in Nigeria) in this kind of condition with medical, counselling or financial assistance?  We are in need of medical assistance to manage my mother's condition. I was hoping that you can connect me with any such organisation to provide us with the best treatment options available. The medical expenses associated with my mother's condition have been quite significant,

  This is not the first time we have written about cat cancer in a Caturday post. We learn more about it over time, and it seems that more in general is learned about it over time.  Blind Cat rescued share the following interesting and information post about cat cancer:  Feline Carcinoma (blindcatrescue.blogspot.com) . Cat cancer not only occurs, but at least in our household has become common as our cats have aged. Among our cats, three have died of it, and two are living with it. The breed does not seem to matter; it appears that cancer is blind to breed. Intrepid was the first to be diagnosed with cancer and the first to die with it. In his cancer, it was small cell lymphoma. He lived only a few months after diagnosis. His vet missed the cancer -- that happens with people, too. After describing Intrepid's late night howling to a friend who works at the SPCA, he gave us the name of a vet with excellent diagnostic skills. She immediately intuited the problem, scoped Intrepid, fou

  Recently on Twitter, a cancer victim complained that friends kept elatedly sending her information about a potential cure for rectal cancer. She suffers from breast cancer! Sort of like rubbing salt in a wound, but the confusion is understandable for those who know little about cancer. Our vet (oncology expert) suggested that we ask Carl's oncologists to consider immunotherapy for Carl. We clung to that possibility initially since immunotherapy had thrown our little Snyezhka into full remission after having been given a maximum of four months to live. Nearly two years later, she is still with us and is healthy.  Carl was given just days to live when he was diagnosed with advanced metastatic cancer involving five organs. We clung to the hope that Stanford University Cancer Center might recommend immunotherapy; that was one of the possibilities the oncologist mentioned. Yes! However, immunotherapy is highly targeted -- against the source cancer. Test after test ruled out each of th

  I like to follow the blog of Barbara Karnes , hospice nurse par excellence. Much of what she has to say to hospice nurses about end-of-life issues in general apply to caregivers of cancer patients in particular. Her latest post, " For some doctors, it just isn’t in their tool kit to stop trying to treat,"  reflects our experience very well. Only when Carl fell and needed four people to lift him and get him to the hospital and x-rays showed complete take over by cancer of four major organs along with blood clots in his legs and lungs did the doctor suggest hospice (although he also expressed a willingness to continue treatment -- a different treatment -- if we wanted). We chose hospice, but the period of time was short. Carl returned from the hospital and went on hospice August 7. He died August 16. I have always wished that the doctor had put the hospice option in front of us much earlier, perhaps even at the beginning of the 5-month period during which the doctor tried eve

  Carl, whose experience launched this blog and the MSI Press's Carl's Cancer Compendium (CCC) died after a very short 5 months post-diagnosis of occult cancer, or, as the official term goes, Cancer of Unknown Primary (CUP).  Carl fell February 23 and went to the local hospital where staff found advanced stage 4 metastatic cancer in five organs and subsequently transferred him to Stanford University Hospital, stating he would not likely return him. He did return home, for a brief four months--and he died at home on hospice almost a month later, having spent only 10 days in that capacity.  Stanford spent almost a month trying to determine the original cancer that had spread to these five organs (none of these organs was the original.) That is the problem with CUP. Finding the original seems out of reach and a guessing game. The doctor made his best guess, based on the spread pattern, but the cocktail he came up with for chemotherapy while doing no harm also did no good. The pro

  One of the most famous people I have ever met -- and a very lovely person at that -- is Shirley Temple Black, who passed in 2014 after making the world better in several areas of using her talents at acting, diplomacy, and just good people skills. She genuinely liked people. I remember her taking time from a busy schedule to spend a break period from language studies to talk to my 10-year-old, a conversation he obviously will never forget, about our planned move to Monterey and about how she loved Monterey so much that she got married there. I bring her up in the Cancer Diary post because her birthday would be this coming Saturday (April 23, 1928), and, more important, because she was a breast cancer survivor. Her openness about cancer may have saved millions of lives. The more survivors, the more doctors learn. The more survivors, the more hope for others with breast cancer. And the more survivors, the more we realize that breast cancer does not take sides or pick victims -- every w

  The final conversation had with Carl's oncologist was what we needed in our first conversation but did not get. Not quite two weeks before Carl died, at which time he was in a subacute facility, having fallen the week before, been admitted to the hospital, then shifted to the care facility, the oncologist called us with the results of the latest scans. "Not good at all," he said, and he gave us three options: let nature take its course -- Carl could move to in-hospital hospice or in-home hospice (we chose the latter, and while we had a very bad experience with the initial hospice , it was still the best choice) try out another chemical compound - He told us he had given us the most appropriate and strongest ("the best") that he had, but if we wanted to try another mixture, he would look at other options take part in a clinical trial - He did not of any for Cancer of Unknown Primary and would have to do some research; there might not be any, and there might no

  Earlier, I wrote about the two paths that erupted in front us when faced with a late-stage cancer diagnosis: to focus on living or to focus on dying. There are so many problems and so much confusion when told after a fall or a blood test or something else that seems otherwise innocuous that your loved one has advanced stage 4 cancer.  The worst thing about a late-stage diagnosis is time, or the lack thereof. Not just the time left for a cancer victim to live, but the time available to make decisions.  The first decision--to treat or go on hospice --is a significant one, and there is often no time to really think in through. From my own experience with more than one relative diagnosed with more than one kind of cancer at an advanced stage, there is an automatic, nearly instinctive choice made, not a reasoned one. Got insurance? Treat the cancer. Don't have insurance? Don't treat the cancer. Those are clearly not the most logical or even medically best or viable criteria, but

  Personal experience from the editor: When three of our six cats were diagnosed with cancer, it was at a late stage. (The number is normal; 50% of cats over the age of 10 end up with cancer.) Even talented feline oncologists cannot turn the clock back. They can try to stop the clock, but sometimes the damage is too great.  We lost Intrepid to cancer three years ago (and wrote a book about him). He survived only a month of chemotherapy; he was diagnosed too late, and several important organs were in the process of failure: kidneys, pancreas, stomach. His older "brother" (not biological) who came from Jordan as well was diagnosed at the same time.  Murjan  managed to survive three years on chemotherapy, but by the time he died last Sunday, he was on seven medicines, periodic hydration, and down to 5 pounds (from 16). He fought valiantly, but ultimately the cancer won. Likewise, our young Lynx Siamese cat, Snyezhka, has breast cancer, diagnosed at stage 4, treated with surgery,