I commend you on your brave and interesting career, as well as your courage in facing your own battle. You can, and do, act as a guide for others, as collectively we receive little education on dealing with sickness and death. We turn our backs on it, until it's too late, and have no other choice but to confront it, often alone.

You, however, are not alone. You have at your disposal the collective wit and energy of your audience. "We are Large, we contain Multitudes..."

Good luck Leroy. I'm rooting for you. Look forward to hearing more from you.

Sent by Ross | 8:50 AM ET | 07-31-2006

It really scares me. I don't have cancer, but live in fear of it for myself, my family and friends. How are you so brave? Where does the strength come from?

On Friday afternoon, Pam Waechter, a wonderful woman, was killed by a gunman while working at the Jewish Federation in Seattle. She lived in fear of dying by the age of 56, as her mother had died of breast cancer at that age. Maybe the things you worry about never happen. I hope so.

Sent by Flora Lovejoy | 9:54 AM ET | 07-31-2006

About two months ago I was diagnosed with stage 4 Peritoneal cancer. I had never heard of it. I felt I had been given an instant death sentence. I learned that it is similar to ovarian cancer is treated the same way. A month earlier I had completed my yearly physicals and given a clean bill of health. I learned that this cancer is generally not detected until the late stage.

Shortly after that I started reading the "My Cancer" blog by Leroy Sievers.

This has been so helpful. It's like getting a daily dose of medicine with out the bad side effects. It's so uplifting. The blog expresses many of the physical and mental symptoms I experience and that I could not have expressed so well. My husband, family and friends read it everyday and can now identify how I feel.

I know it must be a struggle to keep the blog going so I want you to know how much I appreciate what you are doing and to thank you for bringing some hope and sunshine in my day.

I wish you well.

Sent by Mary Scruggs | 1:12 PM ET | 07-31-2006

I share your loathing for war for much the same reason. I have never liked war, but I used to be able to understand it, its reasons, etc. After being diagnosed with cancer and undergoing the subsequent treatments, I just didn't have the energy for news of any kind. Now, watching Iraq continue its downward spiral and the fresh hostilities between Israel and Lebanon, it has taken on an absurdist quality. It just makes no sense at all.

Here I am (and many others like me and unlike me) struggling for life, to live and there we have groups of mostly young men in the prime of their lives, killing and dying. I feel like am trapped in an absurdist script. Isn't there enough pain in the world? It doesn't even matter who is right, or who started it. Stop, already! Figure out another way to settle your disputes.

Sent by Stephanie | 5:01 PM ET | 07-31-2006

When I first heard your story months ago on NPR, I listened without really "getting" it. Just another human interest story... that is, until I was diagnosed with cancer myself, a few weeks ago. Funny how that changes your perspective.

I was lucky, or at least I might be lucky... one thing I've learned in the last few weeks is that when you have cancer, nobody tells you anything with certainty. It *seems* like mine is early stage... oh, but after that biopsy, it's more extensive than they thought... but probably it's still early stage... but it might have spread. You know the drill.

In any case, the "cure" for mine is to have some surgery. Mastectomy surgery, to be exact. Not a pleasant prospect, particularly to this newlywed just celebrating her first wedding anniversay. But with cancer, of course, there are lots of worse scenarios. They tell me "have the surgery and you're done." Not too bad, eh? Unless of course they find more during the surgery. Even then, there are other options. Radiation. Chemo. The stuff that YOU write about. But nobody knows for SURE. At least, not yet.

Anyway, as so many others have said, you're not alone. And I hope you keep writing— you write well and this is one subject that can really stand a dose of reality and frank discussion.

Sent by Susan | 9:50 AM ET | 08-01-2006

I was glad to hear that your experience of war has led you to "get" how terrible war is and to give voice to the civilians who have not choice about going to war. Too many glamorize it and the military has done an amazing job of creating a mythos of glamour around killing and being killed. War needs to become obsolete. War has no heroes, just survivors. Most of the dead and wounded are not soldiers and not enough of us speak for their need for peace. War is like a cancer gone amok and destroying everything in its path. The "others must be destroyed" seems to be the main work of the military during war. The "collateral damage" is the word used to describe dead and wounded civilians

My diagnosis of lymphoma, stage 4, in January, 2002, came about 20 years after I joined the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers). We, Quakers, strive to live a life that eliminates the need for war. Once war breaks out, it seems to take on a life of its own. Much of our faith and practice is about helping each of us focus on key aspects of life that do bring peace and avoid the need for violence.

The same is true, I believe, about dealing with death. You can't wait for death to show up at your door, before dealing with your mortality. As a Holocaust (WWII) survivor and also as a child of Holocaust survivors, I learned early on that death is not far away and strive to live life as though "today is the last day of the rest of your life." I also learned that living in fear means to be partly dead already as ones soul is diminished by "circling the wagons." "Do anything to survive" is the body's message. But my soul knows better. The ends don't justify the means.

For me it meant that when I found out about my cancer I did not "attack" it. I held my cancer in the Healing Light. I asked my community to do the same for me. Early in the morning I would look up at the night sky and ask the cancer to go somewhere where they wouldn't be killing. I would tell them that they were OK, just in the wrong place and that their frantic mission to "hunt and destroy" all cells in their path, was unnecessary. They had been given bad instructions and needed to cease their "shock and awe" and go back to their home where they could lay down their arms. The chemotherapy and rituxan drips did a lot of good (as well as damage), but the peace my faith believes is what we really crave above all, allowed me to experience my cancer as not the "enemy", but as another part of the world that we are all a part of and which also wants to be loved.

Recently I have been diagnosed with early prostate cancer and my "seeds" get planted in a few weeks. It is an outpatient procedure with less than a week recovery time predicted and, compared to the chemotherapy, seems like walk in the park. Yet, I am not angry at the cancer or fighting it. Once again, I take the peaceful road and gather my loved ones around me and ask them to hold the cancer in the Light.

Glad to hear you speak out against war. Someone who has been "there" knows how NOT glamorous war is. There are NO heroes on the battlefield. My heroes are the men and women who work for peace with justice, non-violently. I also pray that we support our troops by bringing them home now!

Thank you, Leroy, for giving us this opening to share our journeys together. I hold you in the healing light.

Sent by Free Polazzo | 1:53 PM ET | 08-01-2006

Not long ago, maybe mid-June, I was sitting in the "infusion" room (what a bland and soothing name for that place and what goes on in there) receiving my chemo treatment. They make it as nice as possible— with recliners, warm fuzzy blankets and a TV monitor, mainly for those sitting with their friends and family members. I had just awoken from a gentle bentryl-induced slumber when the news that the Israelis lobbed a missile into the Gaza and had mistakenly killed a family on a picnic came blaring over the TV news. I just broke into to tears. Here we are, hooked to their IVs trying desperately to survive because we want to live, because we value life and outside of this room life is treated so cheaply and callously. Be it a the death of innocents due to being "collateral damage" as a result of political strife or the carnage on our streets from gang fights, it is all so very sad and obscene and you can't make it go away by turning off the TV.

Thank you Leroy for expressing so well what many of us have come to realize: life is precious.

Sent by Sue | 2:41 PM ET | 08-01-2006

Dear Leroy,

Your comments bring all of my thoughts into focus. Thank you! It's the one year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. 28 chemos, bilateral mastectomy, and 28 radiations later, I'm down to one pill a day that blocks my estrogen. I'm now in that wait and see limbo. My chances of recurrence are about 50/50. I keep thinking of a coin toss. Will it be heads or tails? I can't imagine what it's like to be told your chances are pretty much nil; yet so many people at my clinic were in that situation, as I guess you are. It's funny the things you have to consider. I feel pretty safe buying ripe bananas, but I don't think I want to waste precious time getting reconstruction. Besides, one of the few perks of this is not having to wear a bra. I havent been able to do that since the 60s! I think I'm finally getting the whole "be here now" thing that passed me by years ago.

Sent by Patricia Buchanan | 3:12 PM ET | 08-01-2006

The ancient rules, "kill or be killed," "conquer or be conquered" are evolving out of existence, replaced by "win/win." What is most cutting about our current fight against terrorism is that most people know in their hearts that win/win is the best solution to all problems but in this case we just can't figure out how to do it. We kill, knowing there is a better way, but not knowing what that better way is. The angst we feel will continue to drive us to discover non violent solutions, but not overnight.

Most of us also know that cancer can become a curable disease. It will take time, money and more commitment, but eventually well get there. Until then we suffer and die, knowing that it doesn't have to be this way.

Sent by Jerome Frank | 3:16 PM ET | 08-01-2006