Last night, I was feeling the sadness for the isolation that I've felt around those that I work with. The feeling is like being a "stranger in a strange land," and it made me cry. I think that I have a closer idea of what combat veterans feel when they return to their homes. There must be this sense of "otherness"...that they've been through something really awful and life-changing that those they know at home have only imagined or seen on television. Maybe that's why all of the jargon around cancer relates to war..."he lost his battle against cancer","we really have to fight this disease with every weapon we have", "the armamentarium against cancer."

I have much reason to hope. I am fortunate to have a rather "fashionable" kind of cancer. Lots of money has been raised for many years for breast cancer research, thanks to women who saw other women who were dying too young, with no real progress being made in their treatment, or in finding the causes of breast cancer, or a cure. I am the beneficiary of one of those drugs that wasn't around 20 years ago...an aromatase inhibitor that has been quietly chasing the lung mets away...for now, and I'm hoping, for a very long time. So there is reason to hope, but it's still scary, lonely and sometimes...it makes me cry.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 11:20 AM ET | 07-28-2006

Last year, I lost my dad to cancer ? a horrible disease that vandalized his body until nothing remained.

There is something powerful going on here. Checking in on your blog has become a daily ritual. As I sit silently in front of my computer, reading your sincere thoughts, day after day, week by week, I can't help but think that memories are being formed in each of us who visit this site. I believe that someday we will all think back and remember this time in our life ? your wonderful candidness and the many insightful comments contributing to this blog.

Thank you Leroy, for being so open with your feelings. A heartfelt thank you, to all who are contributing personal thoughts and finally, thank you NPR for providing this forum.

Sent by Linda Nelson | 11:48 AM ET | 07-28-2006

Leroy,

I have really enjoyed your insight and willingness to bring all of the truth out to where we can share it.

I am not alone, I know that now; there may be a ray of hope shining through the depression and the tears after all.

Male, retired Army, fitness fanatic excellent health, 52 years of age, surviving a 10 year battle.

Oct 1996 Squamous cell carcinoma/throat polyps = 6 weeks radiation.

Jan 2000 Same cancer in the larynx = total laryngectomy

Oct 2002 Same cancer in the lymph nodes under my chin and neck = dissection/removal and 6 more weeks of radiation.

April 2006 Same cancer metastasized in my lungs both sides, stage IV, undergoing chemo.

Trying to help my wife and daughter cope with the reality, yet prepare for the future as unknown as it is.

Still hopeful, waiting for/expecting that magic cure, it's coming any day now, I can just feel it.

Sent by Les Martin | 11:52 AM ET | 07-28-2006

Hi Leroy,

My 65 yr. old father in law is battling lung cancer (Stage IV NSCLC). I read your blog everyday. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I think by reading your blog I get more insight into what he's going through and it helps me to support him better. I wish I could better explain what your blog has meant to me over the last couple of weeks, but I can't quite figure out how to put words to it.

I wish you and your family all the best.

Laura

Sent by Laura | 11:57 AM ET | 07-28-2006

I read what you had to say to me— you sincerely touched my heart. I just boo-hooed and boo-hooed. Thank you for your inspiration, I really mean it— I needed that. I went to the doctor and he gave me the rest of the week off to regain my strength and eat. On Monday, I start up again on the pump at a lower dose. This has to work. I feel like I'm wasting time, I can do this. Yes, you are right— when I falter, my husband gives me renewed strength but only one who has been there can really understand. Thanks again, Leroy. I pray for you too.

Sent by Ruth White | 8:53 AM ET | 07-31-2006

Leroy, if it's any comfort to you, please know what a great and powerful service you are doing for others just by posting your thoughts on your journey. It is much appreciated.

Sent by Lisa Stanley | 9:47 AM ET | 07-31-2006

During my chemo treatments, the nurses had me keep my fingers in a bowl of crushed ice. I kept bags of frozen peas on my toes. Supposedly this keeps the circulation away from my fingertips and toes and prevents the neuropathy. I had slight discomfort with tenderness in my fingers but, two months after ending chemo, my extremities feel normal... no lasting effects. Hope this helps someone.

Sent by Ann | 9:49 AM ET | 07-31-2006

Leroy, just when I think you have explored all of the issues raised for those of us with cancer, you articulate an experience that really resonates anew. I can sometimes go a few hours without thinking about the cancer, and then suddenly it hits me up the side of my head. When did I stop being a healthy person? And, as you say, what will happen? When? It does sometimes feel too much to bear, but it makes such an incredible difference to know that those dark, difficult thoughts are shared by others who are walking this path. Once again, I add my voice to those of us who have written to say thank you so much for giving words to your experience, to our experiences.

Sent by Lynne Dahlborg | 9:50 AM ET | 07-31-2006

Leroy, I just want to thank you for putting into words exactly how I feel. The fear and loneliness is numbing. After awhile no one around you wants to talk about it, the fear of facing death and leaving young children behind. I have stage IV breast cancer and am now in remission. Everyone thinks I should be so happy because the chemo worked so well for me. But I still fear every day it coming back. I emailed my hubby your blog and told him to please read it, that you pretty well spoke for me. He came home and said "that stuff is pretty hard to read"... "Try living it," I told him...

Sent by Sherry Gautreau | 9:51 AM ET | 07-31-2006

I have witnessed devastation of cancer for last 12 years. It was not a story of "triumph over tragedy." My 15 year daughter died in my arms before she turned 16. She made a birthday wish to the president of this country, asking not for worldly possessions, asking for more funding for cancer research. Funding in real value has gone down. It is really hard when a child dies of cancer. I am working hard to generate funds... so someone else's child gets to turn 16. The more you share, the more awareness hopefully will result in more funds for the cure.

Sonia was an exception in more ways than one...in life and in death. In successes and in failures... she defied odds when she lived and did so again and died. Sonia was diagnosed with an extremely rare tumor (meningeal sarcoma with rhabdoid features) before her fourth birthday, it was a "rare exception", she survived initially. As a result of her chemotherapy, Sonia got AML leukemia. Her only brother was a perfect match for a bone marrow transplant. Sonia went into remission. Stayed in remission for six years. Once you are out five years, you are considered cured. She relapsed after six years. Sonia did not get normal AML- leukemia (in the blood), she got an intestinal chloroma. Sonia went through four bone marrow transplants. As a complication, Sonia developed a brain hemorrhage. She died January 23rd.

Please check out Sonia's web site, www.peaceisthecure.org which was designed by her to raise awareness about cancer and funding etc....please check it out. Sonia was passionate about life and compassionate for others. She did not let cancer define her.

Sent by Beena Bawa | 5:43 PM ET | 08-02-2006

I am stuggling to save my Dad from his stage 4 nsclc. He was diagnosed in Aug. 2005. He started on Gemzar and it bought him a year. After that he became immuned to it and need to change. His T cell counts during this time went down to 60. They started out over 1,000. So Gemzar had worked. After that he was put on Tarceva. Did not work, cancer spread to his liver. Then tried Alimta. Did not work. Next was Navelbine. Did not work. During trying these drugs his cancer progressed and his T cell counts rose to 1,673. He has cancer in lungs, liver, all lymphs nodes in his torso and has severe lower back pain . Seems to have cancer in sacrum. He was placed on Carboplatin which has brought his T cell count levels down by 60. He takes morphine opium combo called Dalaudid for his back pain. He still has pain even with the pain meds. Doesn't eat as well and pain causes him to only venture out for a few hours at a time. He has been fighting this for 1 year and 7 months now. But it seems we are losing. It is a real roller coaster ride. Ups and downs from day to day. I am always fearful and spend all my time trying to figure a way to make it all right. It is tearing me up. Of course I am only positive for him. But it is extremely stressful for me. I am finding it hard to cope. Please would appreciate any help at all.

Sent by Lyn | 12:28 PM ET | 03-27-2007