Aug 23 2008
Metastatic liver cancer mind games
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.
