3 months after being diagnosed with metastatic liver cancer, father didn’t recognize his daughter in law visiting him… At days he had no clue what ‘dentures’ where doing in his mouth…
That are some of the "not too negative" tricks his mind started playing on him due to his liver not cleaning his blood properly… And none of the doctors had prepared us for this side effect…
When the liver stops functioning well, it affects the mind sooner or later. Father also became disoriented and had to take medication like Risperdal to calm him down at times when he was seeing things that we couldn’t see…
The medical term used here is encephalopathy which indicates any dysfunction of the brain.
In father’s case his short memory diminuished from day to day but old habits died much harder. Although not recognizing his own daughter in law, he did recognize an old childhood friend at the same day.
Read about Steve’s father kidney cancer
Steve commented on Liver Cancer Story from Sue.
Steve’s father in law has kidney cancer metastized to his liver. From time to time find his mind is playing tricks on him.
Read how his loved ones are giving a little back to a parent who has given so much to his children.
Reflect a few seconds when Steve’s father says:
If I’d know it would take this long,
I would have done it differently.
Thanks for sharing your cancer story Steve, our hugs and prayers to you, your dad and your family.
Battling kidney cancer
My father in law has metastatic liver cancer. He is 86. He’s been battling kidney cancer for more than three years, but when the cancer reached the liver, we all knew the end was in sight.
Today, he is still alive, though he often indicates quite clearly he’s not completely happy with that. He told me once, “If I’d know it would take this long, I would have done it differently.” He’s always been a very robust person, in control, willing and able to help anyone, any time. Now, his is nearly bedridden, unable to stand on his own, relying on others to move him from his bed to his wheel chair.
He is confused, unhappy, and easily irritated. He is often disoriented and wonders often if anyone knows where he is. He once called the police to report himself missing… Despite the fact his wife is with him daily and his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren visit regularly.
He’s lost the ability to do even the simplest things and it is extremely aggravating to him. The remote control for the TV; the cordless telephone; these simple little everyday thins which he’s used on countless occasions befuddle him. He calls me sometimes to talk him through using the TV remote. I’ll tell him to push certain numbers to get to a particular channel and he’ll push the numbers on the telephone.
As the encephalopathy worsens, he worries more and more in his lucid moments that he is making a fool of himself. All we can do is assure him he is doing nothing that is a problem to any of us. That we love him, that we’re there to help, and that he is no burden to us, no matter how many times he calls to tell me he can’t reach anyone on the phone.
But we too wonder how much longer this will go on. How much longer will this wonderful man have to be witness to his own deterioration? We actually relish the day he will slip into a coma; when he won’t have to worry that he’s “wondering around” at night (despite the fact he can’t walk) making himself a nuisance. When he won’t have to worry anymore that he’s saying things to people he doesn’t mean. When he won’t be projecting his own symptoms on his wife so that he can try to help her.
It’s hard to watch someone die. It’s especially hard to watch them die a little at a time. But in many ways, we all cherish the time we have with him. We all feel good about the opportunity to give back something to this man who meant so much to all of us for so long and who was so willing to help us with any problems we faced. We simply wish it would be easier on him.
@Dan and Trish
Thanks for sharing!
Could you comment more what you eat, how much you sleep, what kind of exercises you do,
… anything that could be helpful for anybody doing chemotherapy as a cancer treatment?
Hi Trish,
Dan here. It has been 31 months since I learned of stage IV metastasized liver cancer from the colon. I had a resection in March 2006 and started chemo in April 2006. The dotors were kndly but expected only about two months survival. I had stints in my liver to open the bile ducts.
I have had the gamut of chemo drugs and the tumors did shrink a little. Irinotecan and Oxalyplatin were the most difficult side effects and loss of appetite fatigue causing medicines.
I am going for the record (living to be 100, 60 now). I have two grandchildren born this year six months apart. They need me around, and I love watching them!
Stay positive and exercise even if it is hard to do. I work three days a week as a consultant, sometimes the side effects force me to drag myself out the door. I was more or less expected to die last April 2008 having lost almost 100 pounds but I have recovered and gained back 50 of those pounds, about the right weight (even a little high).
I simply do not worry about the illness, though I hate being a burden to my wife when the worst bouts of fatigue make me helpless to get out of the chair for more than a short time, but those days come and go depending on the drug I am taking.
Well, I hope this is encouraging to you, at 20 months you have me to catch up to at 30!
Dan
@Trish
Thanks for sharing Trish and being our first Metastatic liver cancer survivor.
Of course all our love, hugs and prayers to you and your family.
Hello
I’m 44 years old, will be 45 soon, Thank God, I was supposed to die when I was 43. I was diagnosed December 2006.
The doctor that delivered the news (who I hated for about 6 months mind you) gave me 4 to 6 months to live, he told me to get my things in order and go sit at a vineyard, enjoy some wine and watch the sunset.
My Husband and I said that I would gladly sit and enjoy it, if I could sit down. I had a tumour the size of a small can of drink on my rectum, it couldn’t be operated on, so he sent me to a radiologist.
When I met the radiologist, I asked her never to tell me how long I have to live, I think she wrote it on my documents, my oncologist doesn’t tell me either.
The radiologist crammed 30 treatments into 10, I also had chemo attached to me, being metered over a week at a time for 2 weeks.
The obvious after the Radiotherapy was the burns, I was burnt inside and out, back and front for about 3 weeks. I pretended it didn’t hurt, I did have to ask for pain killers in the end though, but once the burning healed, I was off the morphine.
1 week later I started Chemotherapy (Oxcilliplatin & 5FU 46hr infusion) I managed 12 and a bit fortnightly treatments of this
(I think my oncologist likes to push things to the limit, which I think is great for me), the largest tumour on my liver had decreased by half. I was stoked. My oncologist let me have 6 months off with just the fortnightly 46hr infusion of 5FU.
After another cat scan, a couple of my tumours had grown a little, so back onto the big chemo again (Ironotecan this time, I find it dastardly, it knocks my white cells for a 6, has put my in hospital a couple of times, had a nice rest there though), tomorrow I’ll be going in for my 12th cycle of 12,(hopefully I’ll get a little break from chemo again, fingers crossed).
My tumour markers have been under 3 for over 1 year now.
I think in all the time I have been on chemo (20 months now), I have always believed that a cure will eventually be found, and if I can stay strong and healthy enough till it’s found, I like to believe that I will be one of the first survivors of secondary metastatic liver cancer.
I have been very fortunate to be able to cope pretty well with the chemo, it’s funny, my Mum takes me to the hospital on Chemo days and everybody directs conversation to her, until she rolls her eyes and points her thumb at me. Fortunately I haven’t all lost my hair, it’s thinned a bit though, unfortunately though, I’ve put on 14 kilos since starting chemo. ( I guess taking the steriods to stop vomiting is worth it, I feel sorry for myself when I vomit, and feeling sorry for myself is not something I do often), I’m going to make a request to my oncologist that the next lot of chemo he puts me on gives me only 1 sleep day recovery, lots of energy, and encourages weightloss. I’m sure I’m going to die of obesity instead.
Boredom makes me feel miserable. I try to go out as much as I can. I go to work approx. 3 days a week (fortunately for me, it’s my husbands business, I can work when I want to) I love the interaction with our customers, I forget that I’m sick when I’m busy, the only time I have anybody do anything for me is when I go in for my chemo, I take muscle relaxants with this chemo, it’s like truth serum. I forget what I’ve said when they wear off. My Mum says I yak on the way home, and she’ll ask me a few days later if I did what I said I was going to, and I ask her what the hell she’s talking about. Hey, I felt good at the time.
This is the fist time I have posted a comment in my life, it feels good to talk about what’s happened over the past couple of years. My family believe me when I say I’m going to conquer this disease. I suspect that they are bored with me talking about it, sometimes I think they envy my experience of a lifetime (mmm maybe not). When I found out, oddly I accepted my fate, and had to assure my best friends and family that I was cool with it and that it was just another challenge.
Please, please, be as positive as you can be about your condition. As crap as it makes you feel, I really believe the chemo helps. And I really believe your attitude helps too.
Hey, thanks for listening.
Trish from Brisbane Q Australia
@Donna
Thanks for sharing your story, which is featured at More metastatic liver cancer minds out of control
All our love, hugs and prayers to you and your family!
Hi, I truly feel what you are feeling. My husband was told he had metastatic liver just 3 weeks ago and it has been a nightmare ever since. The 3 weeks seems like 1 long day without end. He has lost SO much weight! I agree with the post that said it is like watching a snowman melt away in the sun. There have already been times when nothing he says makes any sence and he is also at times, “seeing things” that are not there. The Dr basically gave him morphine and sent us home. He is in good spitits and has high hopes for a full recovery…..So far everything I have read and researched gives me no hope of that. Liver cancer is truly a monster that sneeks up on a person. He has good days as well as bad days. He has even gone to work on a few days!
We have a meeting with the DR on Wed to discuss chemo. It will be his decision wheather to go this route or not. From everything I have read, it is really hopeless and will only put him in misery & make him extremely ill, with no real prolonging of his life. So he will have to decide longjivety? OR quality? This is the worst thing we have ever had to deal with. Keep praying & hoping! I wish you & your family a lot of luck & send my love. Liver cancer patients are truly in God’s hands.