After more than 2 years of struggling, I lost my husband of 27 years to colon cancer. He wasn't even 50 when diagnosed with Stage IV. We knew that, barring a miracle, Steve would die. We accepted that situation and fought like hell against the monster, raging against the beast by finding ways to clutch on to life and joy. While our lives were markedly changed, we were determined to make this "new normal" as normal as possible. Cancer may have had its victory over Steve's organs but it was not going to take our lives, too. We were not going down without a fight. And we didn't.

These things we learned about life we shared with friends through our "SteveUpdate" e-mails, a collection that is now the book, "Dying Body, Growing Faith."

My encouragement to all of you, be you caregivers or cancer patients, is not to let cancer get your life, too. Grab the joy in each day, whether it is listening to the frog-cicada-cricket chorus of a summer's eve, enjoying a glass of wine with friends, or sipping latte with your beloved.

So grab the joy. Dont let the beast win.

Sent by Sandra A. Eggers | 8:59 AM ET | 07-13-2006

My husband, Steve, passed away on December 2, 2005 from colon cancer. He was 50.

We have a dual headstone. On his side is the epitaph, "Well done, good and faithful servant." On mine is "Trust God live boldly, embracing each day with joy." (Being a professional writer I wasn't satisfied with any of the stock phrases; it had to be my own.)

I hope to live that epitaph. That's how I want to be remembered.

Sent by Sandra A. Eggers | 9:01 AM ET | 07-13-2006

I think you'll be remembered. These discussions we've all had with you and each other are something we couldn't have with anyone else. You talk about our deepest fears and make us re-think the assumptions weve made about the situation. We couldnt do this face to face or with anyone we know, because were not going to acknowledge were having them. Until I read your blog, I thought I wasn't mad that Ive had cancer, but I realized I am and there's no one I can take it out on. So, I have to get over it. Will my cancer come back, maybe, yours did. All I can do is to face it again with the courage, resolve and humour youve shown us. Thank you, know my thoughts and prayers and remembrances are with you. We all will remember you till were gone and so you'll go on.

Sent by Chris | 1:41 PM ET | 07-13-2006

Have you heard of these "Living Funerals"? I don't know if that's something people really do, or not. But it seems like it might be nice, you know, relatively.

Sent by Morgen | 1:43 PM ET | 07-13-2006

I stumbled onto your blog. Thank you for your courage to share your thoughts and feelings. Your life has great meaning, even to those like me who dont know you. I'd like to continue to hear about your progress as well as your daily life.

Sent by Patricia McCarthy | 1:44 PM ET | 07-13-2006

Your blogs are well-written and give voice to many of my own thoughts over the last six months. I finished six rounds of chemotherapy for B-cell lymphoma in early May. My prognosis is good, but, as we learn in one way or another, life is uncertain, and fragile.

Thanks for laying your thoughts down to print.

Your blogs are well-written and give voice to many of my own thoughts over the last six months. I finished six rounds of chemotherapy for B-cell lymphoma in early May. My prognosis is good, but, as we learn in one way or another, life is uncertain, and fragile.

Thanks for laying your thoughts down to print.

Sent by Patrick Rumley | 1:46 PM ET | 07-13-2006

My cancer was diagnosed when I was 37, had two small kids and was on the fast track professionally. My "pact with the devil" was to live to be fifty so my sons would be out of high school and on their own. I turned forty-nine in June and want to renegotiate!

Cancer was liberating for me. The medical treatment was no cakewalk but the aftermath was wonderful. Not much scares me anymore....well, except for dying...but even then it's like flying an airplane...hours of boredom and moments of sheer terror. I love my life, my freedom, my confidence, my sheer joy at the many experiences I can have if I pay attention. While I think this would be the case regardless of whether I had cancer or not, I do believe the experience would be much less intense.

I wouldn't wish cancer on anybody but, if you approach it with the right attitude, you can not only overcome it, but you can experience life from an extraordinary new perspective.

My new pact is to live to be a hundred!

Sent by Katherine Gauntt | 2:14 PM ET | 07-13-2006

As I read your posts everyday, I'm recognizing a flow. From thoughts regarding the prior post emerge new and complementary thoughts that show up in the next day's post. Thanks for that Leroy, with so many things around me that don't make sense, this does. As a single Mom of a 13-year old boy, I know if I die today he would have memories of me to hold onto. But, I ponder whether those memories will reflect who I am. I want to rest in memories as true as I can. That one thought gives me an enormous amount of motivation to be present in my day and have the courage to let the people around me know who I really am. The good, the bad, the ugly, the funny, the smart, the silly, the sad, the me that is. It seems simple when I type it. Yet, over the course of my life I realize that in certain situations and with certain people I am a little more of who they want me to be and less of who I am. So for me, the real quest everyday is to recognize and accept myself for the person I truly am. Without it, the memories I leave with my loved ones won't reflect the real me. It's a win-win all the way around. And as you said?..that's enough.

What I want the most in life is for those people who plan on being at my funeral to just stop and see me while I'm alive and well. Share a beautiful poem with me now. Let's sing about the beauty of life now, while we are in it. No vigil at my deathbed when I can't communicate and don't have the strength to be as witty and charming as I really am. Let's create a memory together in this life. And for those who actually have the courage to be there, be present, during my last days, they are the ones who will already have the best memories of me and that is no consolation prize. That kind of love wins every time.

Sent by Missy | 2:17 PM ET | 07-13-2006

I am currently reading "The China Study," by T. Colin Campbell, PhD. When I saw the title of your blog on npr.org, I immediately thought of telling you about this book. I then read through some of your previous posts, in case somebody else has already suggested it to you. I see that people have discussed diet with you. However, before you give up hope and rule out changing your diet, you should really read THIS book. Seriously. I love cheeseburgers. This book, however, has changed my view of food forever. In this book, Dr. Campbell, a cancer research scientist from Cornell University, discusses lengthy research into cancer, its causes and its growth. Please read this book. It may just change your mind about the food you eat! There are lots of very satisfying, tasty foods in this world, I'm only currently finding. Why shut them out, especially if you have everything to gain by trying them? I have nothing to gain by telling you this. I have no affiliation with the author or the publisher or anything having to do with this book other than reading it myself. Honest. Check it out. It's just a book. If I had your address, I'd mail it to you from Amazon. :) You have my sincerest best wishes.

Sent by Mark Reed | 2:20 PM ET | 07-13-2006

Leroy,

I ran into some Nightline people for the first time in a long time a couple of days ago who told me about your struggle with cancer. Since then, I've read your entire blog and gotten caught up on (and in) your life. I'm sorry to see how much you've been struggling and can only imagine how hard it has been for Lori. I hope the two of you are living every bead to the fullest, as you put it.

Leroy, my thoughts are with you and Lori. May your time be filled with warmth, love and big, hearty laughter.

Brad

Sent by Brad Phillips | 3:09 PM ET | 07-13-2006

Just a heartfelt "Thank you."

Sent by James O'Reilly | 12:23 PM ET | 07-14-2006

My friend has just been diagnosed with cancer on the lymph node; from what I understand, terminal. How can I be the most supportive to her at this time? Your column is informative on the emotional aspects, but if I shared this with her, would it be more offensive then helpful? Is trying to be helpful - in fact not helpful? Should I just act like nothing has changed? I really don't know what to do for her - but I want to do as much as possible.

Sent by Karen Kovarik | 1:25 PM ET | 07-14-2006

I'll always remember you, Leroy...

Sent by Jane Rooney | 1:27 PM ET | 07-14-2006

I admire your courage,optimism and humor when facing difficulty, even cancer. People often say that life is sweet. And in my eye ,you have made it sweeter and richer. To my surprise, instead of spending time thinking why me, you dedicate yourself to writing those touching words. In addition, I also appreciate your attitude toward life. Your blog makes me learn precious lessons from your inspiring story and guides me with the right direction of life. Thank you!

Sent by Shirley Peng | 11:52 AM ET | 07-16-2006

I'm impressed by your character. Although you are ill,you don't give up yourself. It's very hard to face the cancer and have such healthy views about life. But you did it. That really takes courage to accept it. Your story also inspires me to cherish my life. Life is to live. We can do everything we want even when we have numerous challenges. To look on the bright side of life is the most important. I think you can handle your disease very well. And I give my best wishes to you, hoping you can constantly share your stories with us.

Sent by Lisa Liu | 11:56 AM ET | 07-16-2006

I think you are a brave person. You face the cancer strongly in your life. That takes a lot of courage. I guess in your world, everything can be very beautiful, even you have cancer, you still treat it with positive attitude. I believe that you can go through the hard times, and Laurie will be proud of you.

Sent by Audry Wu | 9:18 AM ET | 07-19-2006

Even though the waiting period between the scans and results is nerve racking, it gave us 6+ more years with my mom. We went through this every 3 months for the past 6 years until recently, when my mom was informed by her doctor that her treatments will no longer be effective. In reflection, those tense moments were definitely worth it for my mom as well as for the rest of the family. Hearing others talk about their battles with cancer and all that they have gone through definitely makes you feel as if you're not alone.

Sent by Chris T. | 12:07 PM ET | 07-24-2006

I heard Leroy Sievers' commentary on NPR this morning. It moved me deeply. I am 46 years old, and was diagnosed with breast cancer a year ago. I had surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation. Right now, I am doing well.

A book that greatly helped me while I was most frightened was "Cancer Ward" by Alexander Solzhenitsyn. It is true, moving and, above all, honest in its unflinching look at the disease. I found it more helpful than any self-help book I have read.

Sent by Liliana Holtzman | 2:06 PM ET | 07-24-2006