Vitamin C and Ted Howard

"Some on this board have done it. This man did it. I can and will do it too." —- HIGH FIVE to that! : ) Control what you can to beat the odds. And when you feel you're beginning to mentally sabotage yourself… turn to Ted's example for a booster shot of hope. : )

"Some on this board have done it. This man did it. I can and will do it too." —- HIGH FIVE to that! : ) Control what you can to beat the odds. And when you feel you're beginning to mentally sabotage yourself… turn to Ted's example for a booster shot of hope. : )

"Some on this board have done it. This man did it. I can and will do it too." —- HIGH FIVE to that! : ) Control what you can to beat the odds. And when you feel you're beginning to mentally sabotage yourself… turn to Ted's example for a booster shot of hope. : )

So many things are used as coping mechanisms. I lost both parents to cancer (Mom — 65 yrs old… colon cancer and Dad — 68 yrs old… lung cancer), so I was determined to be as aggressive as humanly possilbe. I didn't want my son or my husband to face my death. Initially, I had to break things down into smaller pieces that I could mentally handle. Thinking long term was too overwhelming, so I focused on the immediate treatment set in front of me, and how to manage that. We all still look back sometimes at all that it took to get me here, and think "Wow. Holy hell that's a lot of crap!"… but when going through it, and looking at each step ahead, it really didn't seem so horrible. From the start, my oncologist was telling me about Keytruda, and how it was "the cat's meow" and "the next best thing coming along". I set my goal on surviving long enough to get to its FDA approval….. one step at a time. After a little passing of time, I realized that this cancer wasn't killing me RIGHT NOW. The steps I was taking, were controlling it enough that I was able to live like a normal person. I continued to ride my bike, albeit slower than before. I continued to put the "right" foods into my body, because that gave me some sense of "control" over the cancer. On top of it all, I didn't look like I had cancer, so (most) people treated me as if I didn't. I continued to go to work. I ran my errands. I socialized with friends. The more I could do that didn't involve being a cancer patient, the better. Nights were the hardest times. As with any stress in life, we humans tend to swirl things around in our mind at night, when distractions are minimal. Eventually, I survived enough steps (19 months!) to make it to Keytruda… which, thankfully, has been my "magic potion". I'm not sure what I'd have done had it not worked. I suppose it would have been onto the next step… whatever trial that may have involved. I still have anxious days… scan times are unnerving, particularly since Keytruda treatment concluded in July. But overall, my biggest worries tend to be the typical concerns of anyone in life…. or of my sore joints and what we're going to do about THAT issue now. Not gonna lie… if a brain scan were to crop up a new tumor, I'd have a melt down for the full duration of the 3+ hour drive home. But, I'd wake up the next day, and start planning for "the next step"… whatever that may have to be. Any time and every time there has been bad news, I revert back to the "one step" method and ask "How do we fix this?". There are so many ups and downs with this disease, no course is ever smooth and steady. Each hiccup requires a mental reset. 

We're all motivated by different things. We just have to find something to grab hold of, because there will be those moments when we need to turn to a reminder that we can face this. I believe, like any other traumatic life event, a cancer diagnosis brings about the five stages of the grieving process. Eventually, acceptance settles in. The timeline for that will vary from person to person. 

Hi Niki,

I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for all your wonderful contributions to this board.  You are a good model for many to follow, especially those who are ridden with anxiety and fear, usually after an initial diagnosis.  This disease presents itself in many shapes and forms, and recognizing that individuals reactions, and how they handle their situation varies greatly.  Those in earlier stages constantly fear the worst, but those of us truly battling for our lives, who see scans of our insides looking like a fruit salad of tumors, are fighting a very different battle.  Thanks for your level head and ability to reach everyone.  Best to you in all future scans and defeating the beast.

Gary

Hi Niki,

I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for all your wonderful contributions to this board.  You are a good model for many to follow, especially those who are ridden with anxiety and fear, usually after an initial diagnosis.  This disease presents itself in many shapes and forms, and recognizing that individuals reactions, and how they handle their situation varies greatly.  Those in earlier stages constantly fear the worst, but those of us truly battling for our lives, who see scans of our insides looking like a fruit salad of tumors, are fighting a very different battle.  Thanks for your level head and ability to reach everyone.  Best to you in all future scans and defeating the beast.

Gary

Hi Niki,

I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for all your wonderful contributions to this board.  You are a good model for many to follow, especially those who are ridden with anxiety and fear, usually after an initial diagnosis.  This disease presents itself in many shapes and forms, and recognizing that individuals reactions, and how they handle their situation varies greatly.  Those in earlier stages constantly fear the worst, but those of us truly battling for our lives, who see scans of our insides looking like a fruit salad of tumors, are fighting a very different battle.  Thanks for your level head and ability to reach everyone.  Best to you in all future scans and defeating the beast.

Gary

Thank you Gary. That's really sweet of you to say. I've been tied into cancer organizations in some way or another since long before it became a commonly spoken word in my family or personal life. I've seen people fear the worst, and people clinging to any shred of hope, because they are facing the worst. We all find our way in different ways. I hate to see cancer "win"… be it the physical battle, or the mental one. Isn't it strange how the fear seems somehow diminished when you've heard shitty news so often? At one point, i was clinging to the thought that "worse come to worse", my life has been given purpose, simply because my doc had used my case in a research study. Somehow knowing that we can learn from one another, and help one another, was very liberating. But then, I thought… why does the paper matter? All of us can and may be someone's hope. Even when things are going to hell in a handbasket… because they can learn from you… even if it's just to learn how not to lose to cancer mentally, when your physical world is a "fruit salad of tumors". ; ) So, thank you… for being a part of this forum and sharing your hell with us, along with words of wisdom or encouragement. Keep throwing punches at the beast! There is a virtual world full of MFers (melanoma friends/family) in your corner. : )

Thank you Gary. That's really sweet of you to say. I've been tied into cancer organizations in some way or another since long before it became a commonly spoken word in my family or personal life. I've seen people fear the worst, and people clinging to any shred of hope, because they are facing the worst. We all find our way in different ways. I hate to see cancer "win"… be it the physical battle, or the mental one. Isn't it strange how the fear seems somehow diminished when you've heard shitty news so often? At one point, i was clinging to the thought that "worse come to worse", my life has been given purpose, simply because my doc had used my case in a research study. Somehow knowing that we can learn from one another, and help one another, was very liberating. But then, I thought… why does the paper matter? All of us can and may be someone's hope. Even when things are going to hell in a handbasket… because they can learn from you… even if it's just to learn how not to lose to cancer mentally, when your physical world is a "fruit salad of tumors". ; ) So, thank you… for being a part of this forum and sharing your hell with us, along with words of wisdom or encouragement. Keep throwing punches at the beast! There is a virtual world full of MFers (melanoma friends/family) in your corner. : )

Thank you Gary. That's really sweet of you to say. I've been tied into cancer organizations in some way or another since long before it became a commonly spoken word in my family or personal life. I've seen people fear the worst, and people clinging to any shred of hope, because they are facing the worst. We all find our way in different ways. I hate to see cancer "win"… be it the physical battle, or the mental one. Isn't it strange how the fear seems somehow diminished when you've heard shitty news so often? At one point, i was clinging to the thought that "worse come to worse", my life has been given purpose, simply because my doc had used my case in a research study. Somehow knowing that we can learn from one another, and help one another, was very liberating. But then, I thought… why does the paper matter? All of us can and may be someone's hope. Even when things are going to hell in a handbasket… because they can learn from you… even if it's just to learn how not to lose to cancer mentally, when your physical world is a "fruit salad of tumors". ; ) So, thank you… for being a part of this forum and sharing your hell with us, along with words of wisdom or encouragement. Keep throwing punches at the beast! There is a virtual world full of MFers (melanoma friends/family) in your corner. : )

Sole… you don't have to apologize for being scared. It's a perfectly natural thing that we all went through… even those of us who have had to deal with it for a long while now. The thing about us dealing with it for so long, versus "the clueless newbies" is that we sometimes have become so numb to bad news, that we forget how bad the HUGE cloud of smoke on the horizon looked when we have walked across hot coals so often. Sometimes small fires make for large clouds of smoke and sometimes it's an out of control forest fire! We can't judge someone's fear and feelings by how afraid of the smoke they are. Those fears may turn out to be quite legitimate, and none of us will be feeling very good if/when one of "the newbies" progresses and must join those of us who have fought for years. One day at a time is all you can do. Eventually, you'll find that it is one week at a time… then one month… you'll get there, but in your own time and at your own pace. On the occassions when I do think back to my initial diagnosis response, I can clearly recall wondering if I'd be gone in a week, or would I make it to my husband's birthday. Would I make it to our anniversary? My birthday? Christmas? My son's birthday? Nights were horrible and sleepless. I didn't want my husband or son to know that, because I didn't want THEM to freak out that I was freaking out. : )  I think the only thing that helped finally soothe me, was knowing that I didn't FEEL like I was dying. That's whay I meant by "the disease wasn't killing me RIGHT NOW". Physically, I felt stong enough to shower, to go to work, to dress myself, to ride my bicycle. I still had an appetite, even though food tasted "odd". I knew there were lesions in my lungs and in my brain. I had seen them on CT's and MRI's, but I couldn't feel them. I had no neurological or harsh physical deficit from them (**caveat** — other than the initial brain lesion that caused a seizure… but that was removed and used in the pathology for my official diagnosis). I was walking and talking and emailing… generally being "normal". I knew that there would be drastic decline before "the end". Unfortunately, I had witnessed it with both of my folks. Even though the cancer continued to grow (despite initial treatments) for a year, I was feeling ok. We gamma radiated brain tumors as they cropped up, and I watched the largest lung tumor go from 5cm to 9cm… but still… I physically felt fine. I knew that people who are still walking and talking with cancer in their bodies are not very likely going to drop dead overnight from it. That may have been the turning point in allowing me to get some sleep at night. I knew that I'd be waking up to face another seemingly normal day. 

I'm not saying any of us will ever feel perfectly comfortable again. There will always be concern of a return. If I were ever in a nasty car wreck, I'd likely carry some level of fear everytime I were to strap into an automobile. But as time passes, the human mind eventually protects itself by pushing memories to the back burner, and bringing about longer spans of happiness and comfort. You are still adjusting to your new normal. Give it some time, and don't be too hard on yourself if it takes longer than you'd like it to. Nobody but you is in your shoes and in your mind, having lived your every moment of existance and all that brings to the table. 

Sole… you don't have to apologize for being scared. It's a perfectly natural thing that we all went through… even those of us who have had to deal with it for a long while now. The thing about us dealing with it for so long, versus "the clueless newbies" is that we sometimes have become so numb to bad news, that we forget how bad the HUGE cloud of smoke on the horizon looked when we have walked across hot coals so often. Sometimes small fires make for large clouds of smoke and sometimes it's an out of control forest fire! We can't judge someone's fear and feelings by how afraid of the smoke they are. Those fears may turn out to be quite legitimate, and none of us will be feeling very good if/when one of "the newbies" progresses and must join those of us who have fought for years. One day at a time is all you can do. Eventually, you'll find that it is one week at a time… then one month… you'll get there, but in your own time and at your own pace. On the occassions when I do think back to my initial diagnosis response, I can clearly recall wondering if I'd be gone in a week, or would I make it to my husband's birthday. Would I make it to our anniversary? My birthday? Christmas? My son's birthday? Nights were horrible and sleepless. I didn't want my husband or son to know that, because I didn't want THEM to freak out that I was freaking out. : )  I think the only thing that helped finally soothe me, was knowing that I didn't FEEL like I was dying. That's whay I meant by "the disease wasn't killing me RIGHT NOW". Physically, I felt stong enough to shower, to go to work, to dress myself, to ride my bicycle. I still had an appetite, even though food tasted "odd". I knew there were lesions in my lungs and in my brain. I had seen them on CT's and MRI's, but I couldn't feel them. I had no neurological or harsh physical deficit from them (**caveat** — other than the initial brain lesion that caused a seizure… but that was removed and used in the pathology for my official diagnosis). I was walking and talking and emailing… generally being "normal". I knew that there would be drastic decline before "the end". Unfortunately, I had witnessed it with both of my folks. Even though the cancer continued to grow (despite initial treatments) for a year, I was feeling ok. We gamma radiated brain tumors as they cropped up, and I watched the largest lung tumor go from 5cm to 9cm… but still… I physically felt fine. I knew that people who are still walking and talking with cancer in their bodies are not very likely going to drop dead overnight from it. That may have been the turning point in allowing me to get some sleep at night. I knew that I'd be waking up to face another seemingly normal day. 

I'm not saying any of us will ever feel perfectly comfortable again. There will always be concern of a return. If I were ever in a nasty car wreck, I'd likely carry some level of fear everytime I were to strap into an automobile. But as time passes, the human mind eventually protects itself by pushing memories to the back burner, and bringing about longer spans of happiness and comfort. You are still adjusting to your new normal. Give it some time, and don't be too hard on yourself if it takes longer than you'd like it to. Nobody but you is in your shoes and in your mind, having lived your every moment of existance and all that brings to the table. 

Sole… you don't have to apologize for being scared. It's a perfectly natural thing that we all went through… even those of us who have had to deal with it for a long while now. The thing about us dealing with it for so long, versus "the clueless newbies" is that we sometimes have become so numb to bad news, that we forget how bad the HUGE cloud of smoke on the horizon looked when we have walked across hot coals so often. Sometimes small fires make for large clouds of smoke and sometimes it's an out of control forest fire! We can't judge someone's fear and feelings by how afraid of the smoke they are. Those fears may turn out to be quite legitimate, and none of us will be feeling very good if/when one of "the newbies" progresses and must join those of us who have fought for years. One day at a time is all you can do. Eventually, you'll find that it is one week at a time… then one month… you'll get there, but in your own time and at your own pace. On the occassions when I do think back to my initial diagnosis response, I can clearly recall wondering if I'd be gone in a week, or would I make it to my husband's birthday. Would I make it to our anniversary? My birthday? Christmas? My son's birthday? Nights were horrible and sleepless. I didn't want my husband or son to know that, because I didn't want THEM to freak out that I was freaking out. : )  I think the only thing that helped finally soothe me, was knowing that I didn't FEEL like I was dying. That's whay I meant by "the disease wasn't killing me RIGHT NOW". Physically, I felt stong enough to shower, to go to work, to dress myself, to ride my bicycle. I still had an appetite, even though food tasted "odd". I knew there were lesions in my lungs and in my brain. I had seen them on CT's and MRI's, but I couldn't feel them. I had no neurological or harsh physical deficit from them (**caveat** — other than the initial brain lesion that caused a seizure… but that was removed and used in the pathology for my official diagnosis). I was walking and talking and emailing… generally being "normal". I knew that there would be drastic decline before "the end". Unfortunately, I had witnessed it with both of my folks. Even though the cancer continued to grow (despite initial treatments) for a year, I was feeling ok. We gamma radiated brain tumors as they cropped up, and I watched the largest lung tumor go from 5cm to 9cm… but still… I physically felt fine. I knew that people who are still walking and talking with cancer in their bodies are not very likely going to drop dead overnight from it. That may have been the turning point in allowing me to get some sleep at night. I knew that I'd be waking up to face another seemingly normal day. 

I'm not saying any of us will ever feel perfectly comfortable again. There will always be concern of a return. If I were ever in a nasty car wreck, I'd likely carry some level of fear everytime I were to strap into an automobile. But as time passes, the human mind eventually protects itself by pushing memories to the back burner, and bringing about longer spans of happiness and comfort. You are still adjusting to your new normal. Give it some time, and don't be too hard on yourself if it takes longer than you'd like it to. Nobody but you is in your shoes and in your mind, having lived your every moment of existance and all that brings to the table. 

So many things are used as coping mechanisms. I lost both parents to cancer (Mom — 65 yrs old… colon cancer and Dad — 68 yrs old… lung cancer), so I was determined to be as aggressive as humanly possilbe. I didn't want my son or my husband to face my death. Initially, I had to break things down into smaller pieces that I could mentally handle. Thinking long term was too overwhelming, so I focused on the immediate treatment set in front of me, and how to manage that. We all still look back sometimes at all that it took to get me here, and think "Wow. Holy hell that's a lot of crap!"… but when going through it, and looking at each step ahead, it really didn't seem so horrible. From the start, my oncologist was telling me about Keytruda, and how it was "the cat's meow" and "the next best thing coming along". I set my goal on surviving long enough to get to its FDA approval….. one step at a time. After a little passing of time, I realized that this cancer wasn't killing me RIGHT NOW. The steps I was taking, were controlling it enough that I was able to live like a normal person. I continued to ride my bike, albeit slower than before. I continued to put the "right" foods into my body, because that gave me some sense of "control" over the cancer. On top of it all, I didn't look like I had cancer, so (most) people treated me as if I didn't. I continued to go to work. I ran my errands. I socialized with friends. The more I could do that didn't involve being a cancer patient, the better. Nights were the hardest times. As with any stress in life, we humans tend to swirl things around in our mind at night, when distractions are minimal. Eventually, I survived enough steps (19 months!) to make it to Keytruda… which, thankfully, has been my "magic potion". I'm not sure what I'd have done had it not worked. I suppose it would have been onto the next step… whatever trial that may have involved. I still have anxious days… scan times are unnerving, particularly since Keytruda treatment concluded in July. But overall, my biggest worries tend to be the typical concerns of anyone in life…. or of my sore joints and what we're going to do about THAT issue now. Not gonna lie… if a brain scan were to crop up a new tumor, I'd have a melt down for the full duration of the 3+ hour drive home. But, I'd wake up the next day, and start planning for "the next step"… whatever that may have to be. Any time and every time there has been bad news, I revert back to the "one step" method and ask "How do we fix this?". There are so many ups and downs with this disease, no course is ever smooth and steady. Each hiccup requires a mental reset. 

We're all motivated by different things. We just have to find something to grab hold of, because there will be those moments when we need to turn to a reminder that we can face this. I believe, like any other traumatic life event, a cancer diagnosis brings about the five stages of the grieving process. Eventually, acceptance settles in. The timeline for that will vary from person to person. 

So many things are used as coping mechanisms. I lost both parents to cancer (Mom — 65 yrs old… colon cancer and Dad — 68 yrs old… lung cancer), so I was determined to be as aggressive as humanly possilbe. I didn't want my son or my husband to face my death. Initially, I had to break things down into smaller pieces that I could mentally handle. Thinking long term was too overwhelming, so I focused on the immediate treatment set in front of me, and how to manage that. We all still look back sometimes at all that it took to get me here, and think "Wow. Holy hell that's a lot of crap!"… but when going through it, and looking at each step ahead, it really didn't seem so horrible. From the start, my oncologist was telling me about Keytruda, and how it was "the cat's meow" and "the next best thing coming along". I set my goal on surviving long enough to get to its FDA approval….. one step at a time. After a little passing of time, I realized that this cancer wasn't killing me RIGHT NOW. The steps I was taking, were controlling it enough that I was able to live like a normal person. I continued to ride my bike, albeit slower than before. I continued to put the "right" foods into my body, because that gave me some sense of "control" over the cancer. On top of it all, I didn't look like I had cancer, so (most) people treated me as if I didn't. I continued to go to work. I ran my errands. I socialized with friends. The more I could do that didn't involve being a cancer patient, the better. Nights were the hardest times. As with any stress in life, we humans tend to swirl things around in our mind at night, when distractions are minimal. Eventually, I survived enough steps (19 months!) to make it to Keytruda… which, thankfully, has been my "magic potion". I'm not sure what I'd have done had it not worked. I suppose it would have been onto the next step… whatever trial that may have involved. I still have anxious days… scan times are unnerving, particularly since Keytruda treatment concluded in July. But overall, my biggest worries tend to be the typical concerns of anyone in life…. or of my sore joints and what we're going to do about THAT issue now. Not gonna lie… if a brain scan were to crop up a new tumor, I'd have a melt down for the full duration of the 3+ hour drive home. But, I'd wake up the next day, and start planning for "the next step"… whatever that may have to be. Any time and every time there has been bad news, I revert back to the "one step" method and ask "How do we fix this?". There are so many ups and downs with this disease, no course is ever smooth and steady. Each hiccup requires a mental reset. 

We're all motivated by different things. We just have to find something to grab hold of, because there will be those moments when we need to turn to a reminder that we can face this. I believe, like any other traumatic life event, a cancer diagnosis brings about the five stages of the grieving process. Eventually, acceptance settles in. The timeline for that will vary from person to person. 

Anecdotal is just that, something someone said, not proved by scientific proof.  Vitamin C was long ago disproved as a cureall for anything.  Yes, a big grain of salt is needed where evidence is lacking.  What works for one person shouldn't give false hope to another.  Snake oil is still out there!

Anecdotal is just that, something someone said, not proved by scientific proof.  Vitamin C was long ago disproved as a cureall for anything.  Yes, a big grain of salt is needed where evidence is lacking.  What works for one person shouldn't give false hope to another.  Snake oil is still out there!

Anecdotal is just that, something someone said, not proved by scientific proof.  Vitamin C was long ago disproved as a cureall for anything.  Yes, a big grain of salt is needed where evidence is lacking.  What works for one person shouldn't give false hope to another.  Snake oil is still out there!

Yes, I looked at what you posted. I don't comment on that which I have not read. Did you read the many articles in the link I posted? One can only do the best they can. As I noted in one blog post…coffee, curcumin (the main ingredient in mustard and curry), being more zen (decreasing stress), increasing exercise NEVER hurt anyone! And….have helped many with cancer  and without…and are backed in those positive effects with more data than Vit C, if that is important to you. Science and data have actually looked at Vit C, E, and D in many regards…and in relation to their effects on cancer in particular. Vit E and D have pro's and cons since they are fat soluble and can actually cause trouble for some folks. Vit C is hard to OD on because you will simply excrete that which your body does not need. Your urine will be a very pretty bright yellow! So no particular risk there.

I am a huge proponent of a diet high in fruits and veg and daily exercise. I eat the veggies no one else will. I've always been a runner. Always worn sunscreen.   I have never had high blood pressure, smoked, been over weight….etc.  I lived that life before melanoma…and it didn't save me, did it?  AND…I live it still!!  So, even though a healthy life style didn't keep me from acquiring or progressing in my melanoma journey…I do think it is best to live as healthy a lifestyle you can, no matter who you are!!

I like folks to have the best data possible for whatever they want to examine. If I have some studies that are pertinent, I share them. This is not an argument. This is just a contribution of additional information. If you want to eat veggies, run and take Vit C you will get no arguments from me.  C

Yes, I looked at what you posted. I don't comment on that which I have not read. Did you read the many articles in the link I posted? One can only do the best they can. As I noted in one blog post…coffee, curcumin (the main ingredient in mustard and curry), being more zen (decreasing stress), increasing exercise NEVER hurt anyone! And….have helped many with cancer  and without…and are backed in those positive effects with more data than Vit C, if that is important to you. Science and data have actually looked at Vit C, E, and D in many regards…and in relation to their effects on cancer in particular. Vit E and D have pro's and cons since they are fat soluble and can actually cause trouble for some folks. Vit C is hard to OD on because you will simply excrete that which your body does not need. Your urine will be a very pretty bright yellow! So no particular risk there.

I am a huge proponent of a diet high in fruits and veg and daily exercise. I eat the veggies no one else will. I've always been a runner. Always worn sunscreen.   I have never had high blood pressure, smoked, been over weight….etc.  I lived that life before melanoma…and it didn't save me, did it?  AND…I live it still!!  So, even though a healthy life style didn't keep me from acquiring or progressing in my melanoma journey…I do think it is best to live as healthy a lifestyle you can, no matter who you are!!

I like folks to have the best data possible for whatever they want to examine. If I have some studies that are pertinent, I share them. This is not an argument. This is just a contribution of additional information. If you want to eat veggies, run and take Vit C you will get no arguments from me.  C

Just want to say your hand doesn't suck, you've gotten close to the best results someone with a deep primary could get…. extremely minimal amount of cells in 1 lymph node. It's gone now. There's no evidence of anything else. There is a really good chance you won't see melanoma in your body again. Absolutely get healthy, boost that immune system, that's good for everyone to do no matter what. Just don't put yourself down, stop telling yourself your circumstance is so grim, there are those on here actually looking at the end of the road. Your road is long and wide, get on it and start living!

Just want to say your hand doesn't suck, you've gotten close to the best results someone with a deep primary could get…. extremely minimal amount of cells in 1 lymph node. It's gone now. There's no evidence of anything else. There is a really good chance you won't see melanoma in your body again. Absolutely get healthy, boost that immune system, that's good for everyone to do no matter what. Just don't put yourself down, stop telling yourself your circumstance is so grim, there are those on here actually looking at the end of the road. Your road is long and wide, get on it and start living!

Just want to say your hand doesn't suck, you've gotten close to the best results someone with a deep primary could get…. extremely minimal amount of cells in 1 lymph node. It's gone now. There's no evidence of anything else. There is a really good chance you won't see melanoma in your body again. Absolutely get healthy, boost that immune system, that's good for everyone to do no matter what. Just don't put yourself down, stop telling yourself your circumstance is so grim, there are those on here actually looking at the end of the road. Your road is long and wide, get on it and start living!

Yes, I looked at what you posted. I don't comment on that which I have not read. Did you read the many articles in the link I posted? One can only do the best they can. As I noted in one blog post…coffee, curcumin (the main ingredient in mustard and curry), being more zen (decreasing stress), increasing exercise NEVER hurt anyone! And….have helped many with cancer  and without…and are backed in those positive effects with more data than Vit C, if that is important to you. Science and data have actually looked at Vit C, E, and D in many regards…and in relation to their effects on cancer in particular. Vit E and D have pro's and cons since they are fat soluble and can actually cause trouble for some folks. Vit C is hard to OD on because you will simply excrete that which your body does not need. Your urine will be a very pretty bright yellow! So no particular risk there.

I am a huge proponent of a diet high in fruits and veg and daily exercise. I eat the veggies no one else will. I've always been a runner. Always worn sunscreen.   I have never had high blood pressure, smoked, been over weight….etc.  I lived that life before melanoma…and it didn't save me, did it?  AND…I live it still!!  So, even though a healthy life style didn't keep me from acquiring or progressing in my melanoma journey…I do think it is best to live as healthy a lifestyle you can, no matter who you are!!

I like folks to have the best data possible for whatever they want to examine. If I have some studies that are pertinent, I share them. This is not an argument. This is just a contribution of additional information. If you want to eat veggies, run and take Vit C you will get no arguments from me.  C