MSI Press Blog

  In March, Carl was diagnosed with advanced stage 4 (metastatic) cancer of unknown primary. In August, he died.  When we got the diagnosis, we had to choose a detour from our normal life. There was no way to move straight ahead with life as usual because, you see, there was this big obstacle, called cancer, straight ahead. So, the question was to detour to the left and choose a treatment option, hope, and focus on the living or detour to the right and let nature takes its course, choose to accept the situation at face value, letting nature take its course, and focus on the dying. To fight or to surrender? There was no logical superiority of either path, not knowing what lay behind the cancer tree and how long was the path for it  continued out of sight. We decided not through reasoning but through conditioned reaction to fight. That is what we had done all our adult lives, as we successfully navigated life for four children, two with rare birth defects, and three grandchildren, two wi

  Today's guest post from Dr. Dennis Ortman continues the theme he started last week on dying and living. Journey through Death “Unless the grain of wheat dies, it remains just a grain of wheat.” --Jesus of Nazareth   Pope Benedict XVI, the retired pope, recently died. One of his caregivers reported his last dying words: “Lord, I love you.” He was echoing the last words of Jesus on the cross: “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Mahatma Gandhi, called the “Great Soul,” was assassinated. His last words were a cry to God: “Ram, Ram, Ram!” The last thought of these men before they died was not of all the loved ones they left behind, but of God, who was their constant companion throughout their lives. They faced death with a tranquil spirit. Socrates, the epitome of wisdom, faced his death with a similar calmness. He was condemned to die on a charge of corrupting the youth of Athens. His friends tried to convince him not to take that fatal drink. Socrates responded

Carl, so proud in his new, smaller, fully fitting Scott vest   Indeed, several months before Carl was diagnosed with advanced metastatic cancer (stage 4), he lost quite a bit of weight. Nearly 50 pounds overnight. Now, he was big, very big. Any weight loss, in our thinking at the time, was to be applauded. And so, he ordered s smaller Scott vest and showed off his new slimmer self. (Not slim, mind you, but slimmer -- he was still nearly 300 pounds when he died.) What we did not realize -- and I certainly wish we had is that such a weight loss is not to be celebrated. It is a sign of dying, or at least, of advanced cancer. Instead of showing off his success ("achieved" -- more accurately, "experienced" -- though he was not on a particularly regimented diet), he should have been rushing to his doctor and asking, "What is wrong with this picture?" Perhaps, hopefully, the doctor would have figured out the cancer diagnosis early enough to do something about it,

Watching the always-obese Carl waste away from cancer (though he still had quite a bit of poundage when he died) evoked terribly deep feelings of helpless and frustration. We were losing the fight to keep Carl healthy, and Carl was losing the fight to stay alive. Some days, it all seemed so pointless.  One bright light that we experienced near the end was that perhaps some good could come of Carl's experience. Yes, there is good that comes from sharing experiences, such as through Cancer Diary. But there is something more: whole body donation so that researchers can learn more and medical students can be trained.  Carl wanted to leave that kind of legacy and, the father of a neurobiology professor who had needed cadavers for her training, wanted to help out medical students become better doctors, and if some research into cancer of unknown primary, of which little is known, could shed a little more light on a dim subject, then he was all for that, too.  We researched and found an o

  When Carl , MSI Press LLC graphic designer and co-founder, was dying from cancer of unknown primary , which has a very grim prognosis and no routinely accepted treatment, he wanted only hope -- that he would be in the 1% that has been reported to survive CUP at least for a year or more. He steadfastly avoided talking about death with his children, friends, and me. He resolutely did not want to talk to a professional of any sorts although he was willing to talk to a priest friend. Unfortunately, he was semi-comatose and near death before even one meeting could take place, given his frequent unplanned trips to the ER and regular trips out of town for chemotherapy. (The oncologist made an educated guess as to the possible primary cancer and gave two drugs, one a wide-sprectrum which generally does not work well because it is not targeted and the other targeted against his best-guess that the cancer started in the GI tract.) So, when the priest was finally able to connect with us, it was

  Most patients who end up at the end of life, from cancer or otherwise, experience anxiety and restlessness. Typically, medications are given to help with both of these conditions. Ironically, Carl's last days were very peaceful although he suffered from restless leg syndrome for many years (it disappeared as he entered his final month of life -- probably NOT common). To understand the differences, here are accepted definitions: Anxiety  An abnormal and overwhelming sense of apprehension and fear often marked by physical signs (such as tension, sweating, and increased pulse rate), by doubt concerning the reality and nature of the threat, and by self-doubt about one's capacity to cope with it.  Use words of encouragement and remind them that a panic attack can never harm them and that nothing is physically wrong with them. This is because many people will assume they're having a stroke, or even dying. Reminding them that they are physically okay can help. Typically when so

  Carl dozing with his beloved cat, Intrepid both died of cancer, were cremated, and share a vault in local cemetery's columbarium Carl was often dozing during the last months of his life, perhaps as much as the last year. He had had uncontrolled sleep apnea and restless leg syndrome for years. For the former, her refused treatment; the CPAC and his beard battled for dominance, and his beard won. RLS was tames with medicine.  When Carl would doze off, I just assumed he was tired because he did not get adequate amounts of sleep. However, something else of which I was completely unaware was probably at work: dying. The dozing off became longer and more frequent during the last 2-3 months of his life, and during the last week, he moved from being mostly interactive to being mostly somnambulant. Carl dozed off and on during the day a lot even as much as a year before being diagnosed with advanced stage 4 cancer of unknown primary . Indeed, some of it was very likely a manifestation of