When I think back to my life before my diagnosis, it seems like I was somewhat innocent and naive, like if I just ate well and took care of myself I'd stay healthy for a long, long time. I know better now it seems like a layer of protection was peeled away, and I do see the world differently. It has something to do with control and something that has to do with my trust of my body. Plus other things that I haven't entirely figured out.

Thanks for sharing your experiences with us. You're helping more people than you know. Writing is cathartic, so I hope that this process is also helping you get perspective or make some sense out of this chaos.

Sent by Leslie | 2:07 PM ET | 07-05-2006

In 2000, my brother John, age 24, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Two years later, I was, at age 31, diagnosed with a brain tumor. Last month, my sister Mary, age 32, was diagnosed with melanoma - we are still waiting for the pathology results to determine whether or not it moved into her lymph nodes. The doctor said there was only a 20% chance it moved, but since we've just blown the odds out of the water on all the other cancers, we are very cautiously optimistic. Oh, somewhere during that time, my father had surgery for prostate cancer. He was only 54. We are now considering the possibility that we weren't born, but spawned from some sludge in the Hudson River. Between us, there have been 6 surgeries, two rounds of chemo and two rounds of radiation. Wev'e been to Johns Hopkins, Mass General and UAB. My parents still answer the phone, which to me is one indication of their strength since so often the news has been so difficult to hear. They have celebrated two of their wedding anniversaries in hospitals waiting...

Our two sisters, Jennie and Katy, are thankful and supportive, but just like the rest of us, they too have been rattled to the bone by the onslaught of cancer in our lives. They have to wonder how (and if) they have dodged this bullet. We also look at our children and wonder what their lives hold. They are all under the age of 13.

As I read Mr. Sievers's blog, I am so struck by how similar our experiences are. I wanted to tell people I was scared when the tumor showed signs of growth for the second time. At that point in the journey, I did. Prior to that, I was concerned that others would worry too much - that I needed to make them feel better about it. I've gotten over that. I also often wondered what I was doing around all those sick people. Where did they come from and why was I in the same room with them?

The blog about cancer being a thief rang loudly today. The diagnosis of the brain tumor came about due to a grand mal seizure I suffered. Following the surgery I have had about ten more. Fortunately, there was a time when the medicine kept the seizures at bay for over a year and I began to drive again. Two months after I had been driving, we received the news (on Valentines Day — romance is always in the air around our house) that the MRI revealed some growth. No more driving until we are certain the effects of the radiation are gone. My children forget on occasion that mom has a brain tumor, which is a sign of how well I am doing. Today, my son Jim asked if we could go see a movie, paused and then said, "oh, thats right we can't go anywhere." Bam, right in the kisser. Cancer has stolen my mobility. I am so tired of arranging carpools, making last minute pleas for someone to take me to the pediatrician, shopping at a frenetic pace because someone is always waiting for me, not being able to get to the post office, bank or whatever other small errand I want to do — of not being able to drive my children to the movies. At the same time, cancer has forced me to be more organized and efficient. We have reconnected as a family because we are not driving madly from practice to friends to another practice, etc. My children have learned how to play without structure. I have a four-foot deep hole in my backyard with a dam and river to prove it. Don't be concerned about GI Joe — he escaped the rapids of the river. Their socks are in the trash and I am certain I will find mud in the cracks on the porch for many days to come, but I am also certain they had a great time that afternoon.

As so many people feel, cancer has taken, but it has also given. Today, it did do some taking, but I expect that the giving it will do tomorrow, will tip the scales.

Sent by Molly Hooper | 2:10 PM ET | 07-05-2006

I think you have chosen, with your candor, honesty and vulnerability, a tremendous way to touch people. Really, I don't think you can imagine how much you are touching people...bringing people to look and think about their own conditions, and reminding us how short *everyone's* life really is. You are teaching us about living, and your lifetime of experience and talent with words is bringing us an immeasurable gift. "Thank you" is so small compaired to the tremendous gratitude that I feel. Just know...we are listening...

Sent by M. Goldberg | 2:26 PM ET | 07-05-2006

My daughter sent me your link about a week ago, and I am so thankful she did. I look forward to your commentary each day. Our lives can certainly change in a blink of an eye. I was a caregiver for my husband for seven years. He passed away last July. I decided to give myself a year before I made any major decisions like retiring from my job that I love, selling my home and moving and many other things. On May 1, I found out that I had cancer. I was feeling better than I had in years and was beginning to start doing things that I had put on hold for the past seven years. So much for the year to make decisions. The advice I had given others for so long that today is the only day we really have became so much more real to me. Yes, when you have cancer your life does change. I am so thankful to have someone like you sharing your experiences, so I know that the way I am feeling is normal. Unless you are going through the same thing there is no way someone can understand. The comment you made in one of your previous articles about people saying they can't tell by looking at you that you have cancer is so true. I hear that so often, especially since I have lost weight and have a new "hair style." It is hard for people to understand that even though you don't look like you have cancer, your body is going through a tremendous battle between the cancer and the poison that is fighting the cancer. I am fortunate that I have tremendous support from my children, my friends, my staff at work and, most of all, my faith. I am trying to live my life each day to the fullest that my body will allow me to. I know that may change at anytime. I was able to get up and walk three miles this morning, and I thank God for being able to do that. If I can't tomorrow, I was able to today. Again, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with us. May this day bring joy into your life.

Sent by Sandra Smith | 2:21 PM ET | 07-06-2006

My thoughts, prayers and good wishes are with you. Spend some time by the water (ocean, lake, etc.) if you can. Peace.

Sent by Sandra Yudilevich | 2:25 PM ET | 07-06-2006