My brother was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer on February 4th. He died on March 10th. They gave him 2 months to 22 months. My sister and I were with him when they gave us the death sentence, but right away we said well we will do this and that, carrot juice, supplements. He opted for chemo as he felt this was his only chance. He had one chemo treatment and it all went bad. He went into the hospital with severe pain. His colon had ruptured. I stayed at the hospital with him and he vomited all night long. He was in pain even with morphine. My brothers and sisters came. My parents died young and since 1983 it has been the six of us. He developed sepsis and it was horrible and traumatic to watch my brother die and there was nothing I could do. I feel like I let him down, like I should have demanded that on Wednesday when he went in that they find the problem before it got to the point it did. My brother was 62 and the adventurer of the family. He skydived, rode a Harley around the country, kayaked, and was full of life. He was loved by so many people for his wonderful generous nature and how much fun he was. He worked all his life and we thank God that he retired at 59.5. It is not fair that this happened to him, he was such a good and kind man. I want to remember the wonderful life he had but the hospital scenes keep replaying in my head. I will never get over it. I am just going through the motions. He would be so mad at me as his favorite saying was "deal with it, and move on". I want to honor his life by having the best life I can, but the pain of losing him seems insurmountable.