MSI Press Blog

  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 beautifu...

  Murjan went over the rainbow bridge tonight after a valiant three years of fighting lymphoma and with such indomitable spirit that even on Sunday, after his hydration, he jumped down from the chair he was on, certain that he still had the springing power that he has always had. But he fell and landed on his side. Clearly, he hours were numbered.  His last days and hours were so typical of cancer patients. (Check the MSI Press website in a few weeks; there are plans for a cancer resource page for people and animals -- those questions that one can never find an answer to in spite of how much time you spend on Google; the tentative page name is Carlr's Cancer Compendium. And check out the book on cancer by Sula, Parish Cat at Old Mission ) First, the chemotherapy stopped working. Then Murjan lost interest in food, then in drink -- and then his spirit left his body. Just like his owner, MSI Press graphic designer, Carl Leaver, a month earlier. Murjan was born in Jordan and moved...

As with Carl, many people have "signs" of cancer that can be interpreted either as something else quite mild or dismissed entirely as just a bad day or maybe I ate something bad yesterday. Otherwise quite healthy people simply ignore them as an annoyance. (Before cancer, Carl was sick just one day in his life -- 50 years earlier he threw up, once, on the lawn, from unsuspectingly drinking stagnant water the day while carrying out his Forest Service employee duties, Seriously. Never again did he ever throw up even after three rounds of chemotherapy, but he died, healthy, from cancer!)  This is the insidious nature of cancer. Often, you just do not know you have it because the signs are so innocuous until it has taken over your body and is in the winner's circle -- and you have an incredibly difficult battle to get your body back -- and many people lose that battle every single day. This is especially true of "toilet information." Change in bowel movement is prett...

  Looking back on Carl's cancer, our cats' cancers, and cancers among friends and family, we should have seen the signs, which would have led to better decisions and, likely, better outcomes. But they were small changes, slow changes that we got used to gradually without thinking back to what things used to be like.  One day, Carl forgot where the brake on the car was and pushed the gas pedal instead. Scary! Could happen to anyone, right? That was a few months before his late stage 4 metastatic cancer diagnosis, with hypercalcemia (which really messes up the brain). A small sign, but we missed it. His growing tendence to leave dishes to do until the next morning of plants to water the next day. Lazy, right? That started maybe a year out before the cancer diagnosis, likely about the time his organs were being attacked and overwhelming his immune system -- and likely his energy. A small sign, but we missed it. There were more. If we even noticed them, we dismissed them all as...

  Times were tense. I was caregiving for my husband, dying from cancer and on chemotherapy that required multiple trips a week to a distant hospital, my spina bifida daughter in a city a half-hour away who had lost her caregiver during the days of covid, and a CHARGE Syndrome adult son living at home -- and trying to run a business at the same time. The son tried to help out as best he could with his own care, but he did not always have the skills to do so. To wit, the scene above that ensued when he tried to help out by making his own breakfast -- one that at least brought a moment of levity into a too-tense life. Speaking from personal experience, the spouse (in this case wife, but it really does not much which spouse is pressed into the role) who ends up as the caregiver for a cancer patient is in a no-win situation, emotionally and physically. The role of spouse is to support the spouse and to navigate through life together, IMHO. That complicates the matter of caregiving. The ...

  Colorectal cancer has a life expectancy of 4-6 months if discovered in stage 4. If discovered in stage 1-2, life expectancy is 5 years. (Note: Carl's Cancer Compendium provides longevity statistics for a wide range of cancers.) So many people die from colon cancer and colorectal cancer after brief periods of chemotherapy, if that, a imperative exists for watching for early signs of cancer is not heeded (or in some cases, they are simply missed or misinterpreted). I speak from personal experience because although Carl died from cancer of unknown primary ( CUP ), his oncologist was convinced that the original cancer was gastro-intestinal in nature although the colon was clear of the cancer by the time the cancer had reached stage 4 (which can happen in cases of CUP). So, assuming the oncologist was right about the original cancer, did Carl actually survive the 5 years without knowing it? Discovery at late stage does not mean the cancer arrived late stage -- it may have taken mon...

  Found this interesting and in need of no further comment -- From Quora: posted by Amoretta Kitsa If cancer is advanced, I see no reason to do chemotherapy. Why would I drag out the inevitable? I'm not afraid to die. Here’s something my neurosurgeon told my terrified parents 45 years ago when they were trying to come to terms with their daughter’s terminal diagnosis and discuss possible treatment plans. ”You don’t want to play by today’s medical rules. You want to play by the rules five years from today.” My doctors didn’t aim for infinite longevity, just enough to buy a little more time for medical advancements to catch up and redefine the rules. And once I was there, they were able to move the goalposts again. For other Cancer Diary posts, click  HERE . Blog editor's note: As a memorial to Carl, and simply because it is truly needed, MSI Press is now hosting a web page,  Carl's Cancer Compendium , as a one-stop starting point for all things cancer, to make it easier fo...

  Whispers Before the Roar: Listening to the Early Signals of Head and Neck Cancer The body has a quiet way of speaking—soft signals, minor shifts, barely-there discomforts. For those facing head and neck cancer, the journey often begins not with a roar but with a whisper. A tickle in the throat that won’t leave. A lump that appears without fanfare. A voice that sounds unfamiliar. This entry in the Cancer Diary series is for those curious, concerned, or caring for someone navigating this terrain. It's not a substitute for clinical advice—but it may be the nudge that prompts someone to listen more closely. 🌱 The First Little Signals Head and neck cancers often creep in quietly. Look out for these early nudges: A painless lump in the neck or beneath the jaw A sore throat that lingers past logic Voice changes, like persistent hoarseness Ulcers in the mouth that won’t heal Difficulty swallowing or the feeling that something’s "stuck" Unexplained fatigue or weight...

It is Tuesday. Time to tall turkey. Monday's madness is over, and Wednesday will take us over the hump, so Tuesday it is for some serious discussion with authors. Tuesday talks mean to address authors in waiting and self-published authors who would like to go a more traditional route or who would at least like to take their steps with a publisher by their side. Today's topic  is the anatomy of a successful book. We are talking here about books by small presses, micro presses, and self-published authors. Large presses have a different sales volume and a different approach to marketing and sales not typically available to those without their big pockets. The image of a successful book is a high volume of sales from the get-go (and maybe even from pre-orders) that either steadily builds or starts big and stays there on a flat trajectory. Conversely, if a book starts slowly, stumbles, and has a long spell of poor sales, one often assumes that the book is and always will be a poor s...