Ha ha. I?ve pulled rank once. The parking fee at my hospital is six dollars unless you have a document that shows you are a patient. Then it?s two. There was a new attendant and I didn?t have my papers, so I had to remove my wig in desperate attempt to prove that I qualify for the discount. He gave in grungingly.

Sent by Kris | 8:28 AM ET | 08-18-2006

You make the point: "I sit in the waiting area at Hopkins sometimes and envy the people walking by with their hospital IDs. They?re there to do their jobs. Then they go home. We?re there for a very different reason."

Well, in two weeks I return to work in the hospital I have worked for the last twenty-two years. As you may remember, I have stage III bowel cancer and will have four months chemo to go. In three weeks time. I will be sitting in the Oncology Centre with my hospital ID awaiting my turn. We never know the stories of those who look after us.

Sent by Julian Evans | 8:29 AM ET | 08-18-2006

Thanks for the humor. I like to joke about "milking the cancer for all its worth" to lighten the mood.

Sent by Judy Van Lishout | 10:32 AM ET | 08-18-2006

It?s embarrassing to admit to having exactly these thoughts about having cancer giving me some kind of special dispensation from fully booked restaurants or hotels, unhelpful service personnel (in or out of the medical profession), demanding colleagues, etc! And on the flip side, I?ve been doing radiation for two weeks (also at a hospital that charges $6 for parking, $2 if you?re a patient, and here?s a privilege - if you?re there every day you can get a discount letter!) and looking at the staff with envy - thanks for the reminder, Julian, that we don?t know anyone?s story. When I wear my wig, and my government badge around my neck, no one looks at me and says "CANCER PATIENT!" - when I wear my hat and big earrings... different story.

I also remember that I had some trouble getting a call back from my breast surgeons office in the early days, and when I mentioned this, just after my dx, she said - "oh, now you have a pink sticker on your chart ? you?ll always be able to get through" - special, no?

This blog is still the first place I visit every morning.

Sent by Leigh | 10:34 AM ET | 08-18-2006

We call it "playing the cancer card" in my breast cancer chat room. I played it recently, and I think appropriately, when I contacted a person in my health insurance company with the clout to fix a snafu around getting my prescription filled at the strength my doctor wanted. Over a month of concerted effort on my part and on that of my doctor?s office staff hadn?t worked, and my symptoms were coming back. I got the meds.

It would be fun to get a free trip somewhere, get free maid service, or hey! have a Publishers Clearinghouse sweepstakes JUST for cancer patients! That would bring the odds somewhere down lower than the realm of getting hit by lightning while being run over by a car. Paris, here I?d come!

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 10:35 AM ET | 08-18-2006

I tried to pull rank once and got nowhere. I missed an appointment with a ENT doctor because I was in the hospital having surgery for pancreatic cancer. Since they billed me for a missed appointment, I sent a check with the explanation of why I missed the appointment. They cashed the check anyway. Oh, well. I didn?t go back since I figured whatever problem I was having with my ear sort paled in comparison to my cancer.

Sent by Stephanie | 10:36 AM ET | 08-18-2006

Leroy, The only consideration that I would like to see for me is that the staff, nurses, techs, etc. At the clinic where I go Vanderbilt in Nashville, do their jobs. The clinic is full to the brim with cancer patients, it seems like to them, were just another "cancer patient", I go to my appointment and wait for two hours to see the doctor, wait to have labs drawn, am sent all over the place because nobody seems to know who does what. I call the nurse in an emergency: I?ve gotten a bad cold and am on chemo, what can I take? I have to go through three staff people to get the right nurse, then wait five hours for a call back. I can?t go to the emergency room with severe diarrhea because its overcrowded and they make no special exceptions for cancer patients, you?re better off at home suffering then waiting there not being near a empty bathroom. I?m sorry but I don?t want special privilege, I merely want people to DO THEIR JOB!

Sent by Ruth White | 10:38 AM ET | 08-18-2006

When my husband was driving a friend and me 100 miles each way for daily radiation, he told us to take off our hats if we were ever stopped for speeding because he was going for sympathy. It would have been interesting to see if it worked.

My daughter is legally blind. I have always taught her that she can?t get rid of the disadvantages of her vision, so she might as well use the advantages that are available. She had the best teachers in high school because I hand-picked them. All I had to do was say to the counselor, "Because of her vision we need to..." What could the counselor say but yes? She gets an extra break on her taxes, and her workplace schedules her in ways that her vision isnt a problem. In my opinion, that is the way it should be.

The same thing applies to cancer. If an advantage presents itself - grab it!

By the way, the IRS did waive the interest and penalties for filing late the first two years after I was diagnosed.

But if a million times the available advantages could be given up to be rid of the cancer or the poor vision, both my daughter and I would jump at the chance.

Sent by Paula Howry | 10:40 AM ET | 08-18-2006

To mirror Julian?s comments?I?ve been a library assistant at the St. Louis University Medical Center Library & worked with medical students as well as pt, ot, public health, etc. folks during that time. Two and a half years ago, my melanoma popped up and I?m being treating here in the depts. of dermatology, oncology & surgery. I?ve seen the students in all range of their years of study and it?s generally proven to give a chuckle of "I?ve seen you somewhere before" when they see me on their rounds. At first I was nervous, me in a gown and them in their street clothes, but it doesn?t get in the way of my treatment. I get the 20% staff discount in the hospital cafeteria whether I?m there as an employee or a patient!

Sent by Eunice | 10:41 AM ET | 08-18-2006

I can only say "guilty as charged!" The doctors' offices charge $5 for parking and when you go every day for weeks, every month for months, it can really add up. Handicap parking passes get free parking and I used it up, but mostly for valet parking.

When I was getting chemo, my wife used to go around to all the new friends in the chemo rooms and take orders for lunch. I know it wasn't an ice cream cone, but to see the satisfaction of someone looking so puny sipping on some hot soup certainly warmed my heart.

Thanks again for reminding me of some things that were a little fuzzy from the past. It seems to sharpen the mind a bit to do the mental exercises that your words prompt me to do.

Best wishes and may today be the best day it can be for you.

Sent by Ed Brown | 12:43 PM ET | 08-18-2006

Just to clarify, the reference to the "special lane" for cancer patients is from Dan Barry's fine memoir, Pull Me Up... and not original with me.

Sent by Mary Ann Carcich | 10:44 AM ET | 08-21-2006

I've used the "cancer card" a few times with variable success. The tile guy still hasn't shown up even though I've been begging him to finish up before I die. Same for the electrician. However, the motor vehicle department got my handicapped placard to me the next day after I told them I wouldn't live long enough for them to catch up with their three month backlog.

Also, even though I didn't ask, my kids got the best teachers for next year (first and third grade) and ones we were familiar with because their big brother had them. Big brother also seems to be getting special attention in class scheduling, tours etc at middle school which he will be starting in the fall. I have made it clear that while these things are greatly appreciated, I do not want my illness to be an excuse for poor performance, bad behavior etc. I'm also allowed to visit the classrooms and/or volunteer whenever I feel up to it and I'm ALWAYS guaranteed a seat at assemblies. Wonderful because it allows me to be involved with my kids and community!

My pediatrician lets me bring in the kids (sick or well) at my convenience without an appointment and were always put into an exam room right away to spare me the germ filled waiting room.

The flip side of being the "town celebrity" is that we can't ever ignore my illness. People come up to us wherever we are: supermarket, playground, beach etc to ask how I am and to offer best wishes and prayers. While we, of course, appreciate the concern, there are only so many "thoughts and prayers" conversations that one can have. Sometimes we just want to be a normal (annonymous) family. My husband and I find ourselves ducking in the aisles to avoid people and/or going to stores further from home with less chance of running into anyone. I find myself avoiding the town gathering places such as the beach, park, library etc.

Some attention is good but too much of a good thing...

Sent by Holly | 10:49 AM ET | 08-21-2006

I found myself laughing out loud when I read "My personal favorite, which I'm actually dying to try..." Thanks for the humor Leroy. Laughter and tears sometimes go hand in hand. Thank goodness. About 10 years ago we sang a hymn at my wife's funeral that goes "We laugh, we cry, we live, we die..." As time goes by I find moments of communion with my wife dominated more by laughter than by tears.

One image stands out. As a nurse who helped with the implementation of the nursing care computer system at our hospital, sometimes while she was a patient she would be asked a question about a problem that was being encountered. I remember one occasion when she was working at the nursing station computer, in her hospital gown, bald and with her IV pole beside her. I suspect that may have caused some fellow patients to have second looks!

Best wishes. Thanks for sharing your experiences and your talent.

Sent by Jon Manchester | 10:56 AM ET | 08-21-2006

Dear Leroy Sievers,

Just wanted to let you know I've been reading My Cancer and have found comfort in your candor. Thanks for writing these pieces and sharing them.

What I appreciate the most about your writing is your attentiveness to your reader, your warmth and connection. It's been the year of cancer for my family — my 2 year old niece was diagnosed a year ago yesterday and my 36 year old sister two months ago. Reading your blog earlier this summer actually inspired me to work on some pieces about my sister and niece.

I'd be honored if you stopped by sometime and took a look.

Sent by Grace Talusan | 12:59 PM ET | 08-21-2006

Leroy,

It's good to see that you still have your sense of humor! I really do think that you should get some special treatment now and then. And I hope that you will!

Sent by Greg Sheryl | 1:01 PM ET | 08-21-2006

I just lost my mother to leukemia and have found your blog to be a great comfort — as I get a better sense of what she must have been thinking and feeling during treatment. A close friend of mine (a birth date twin) who battled breast cancer some years ago used the "cancer card" to full effect (and most deservedly, I'd say). As a kind of final wish, she wanted an impossible, to get new automobile. The dealer insisted that it could not be done — until she told him she had terminal cancer. The car was delivered within days! Wishing all of you better days and comfortable nights.

Sent by Belinda | 1:04 PM ET | 08-21-2006

Finally I found a laugh in all this! I'm in remission... yeah, let's talk about that little word one of these days... anyway, I never played the cancer card until our neighborhood HOA guy dinged me for having a "decorative mail box cover"! I was so angry that my magnetic mail box cover didn't "meet the neighborhood standards" that I e-mailed him a very sweet letter and then dropped the c-word... it didn't faze him one bit ... I was still threatened with fines if I didn't remove the magnetic cover. But I felt sooooo good just pulling out that card and using it for once! Like you said, don't I get to have my own way just once while I'm dealing with this crap?! Thanks for making me laugh even if it is at myself! Thoughts and prayers are going out to you and yours!

Sent by Sylvia | 1:09 PM ET | 08-21-2006

I cheat and park in those "mother with child" parking spots after surgeries. No one has questioned me, yet, although I do get the occasional ugly look. I ignore it. If pregnant women can get courtesy parking at big suburban grocery stores, why not us?

Sent by Lisa | 1:49 PM ET | 08-21-2006

A friend and colleague is dealing with breast cancer. When she came to our first staff meeting post chemo, we all showed up with hats. We are a rowdy group and tend to get out of control with people speaking out of turn and on top of each other. When Paige and another colleague were vying for the next turn, she won it by very confidently stating, "I go next, I'm bald" and bearing her head. She had us all on the floor with laughter.

The cancer card is a powerful one that deserves much respect, who else knows what it is to live with that elephant in the room. I am of the mind if you have that card in your deck you have the uncensored right to use when you see fit.

Sent by Terry | 1:54 PM ET | 08-21-2006

Leroy,

I've had the same thoughts although I think I've already been given preferences. People who know me, or of me are more sensitive and engaging. My wife puts up with more of my crap than ever. After miscalculating my chemo and overdosing me, my oncologist has been on top of my every concern. Some benefits are intrinsic. When my son returned from overseas and asked if I was concerned about terrorists on planes I said, "What are they going to do, give me cancer?" What if I get a ticket, don't show up for jury duty, get audited by the IRS? What are they going to do? Threaten my life? Ha, Ha! Staring death in the eye puts things in perspective and that is the best part of having cancer.

Sent by Jerome Frank | 1:57 PM ET | 08-21-2006

Our joke at home is about when I'll be able to successfully pull off the "cancer card." I don't look sick enough to get special treatment, and so far, I've had to take out the trash every night since I've been diagnosed and started treatment (and to make matters worse, trash and recycle night is the same day I have chemo). My daughter says that I'm not ready to play the cancer card yet, so I'm stuck with trash duty. I did manage to get out of jury duty and a terrible business trip and gotten free cookies at a bake sale. I do think we should get a better break on the parking at the hospital. I'm not asking for a reserved space, just a break from the $8 I have to pay every time I get "infused."

Sent by Bob | 1:59 PM ET | 08-21-2006

I remember vividly being awakened by my alarm clock at 6 a.m. the morning after I'd gotten my cancer diagnosis, thinking, "I have cancer I shouldn't have to wake up early!" I did manage to get a parking space once by playing the "cancer card." I used it, legitimately, as a reason for forgetting to renew my social work license. The woman on the licensing board would have none of it: "Did you neglect to pay your electric bill, too?!" After jaws dropped around the table, she did relent and waive some of the continuing education credits required over the time I was in treatment. Works sometimes, not others!

Sent by Julie | 2:03 PM ET | 08-21-2006

Leroy, Once again thank you for your daily thoughts. You are helping so many people. Reading your commentary and the comments that follow have helped me so much in dealing with cancer. Today really hit home. Isn't it strange that we want so much to be "normal" and not be treated different and when something happens we want to say "but I have cancer — give me a break." My biggest excuse when I have a hard time remembering some things is that I have "chemo brain." That's a phrase that the group I take chemo with decided on. I have been very fortunate and have only had the bad side effects for about a week after the chemo and the day after shot. I work everyday that I can even if it is only for a few hours. Making myself get out of bed in the morning really makes me feel better. If I get to the stage that you are in now, I hope I can handle it as well as you can. Hang in there and know that we are all there for you in your thoughts. If you can get something special, go for it.

Sent by Sandra Smith | 2:08 PM ET | 08-21-2006

Hey Leroy: Ill be at Hopkins on 11/20/06 for an appointment (I've had breast, ovarian and uterine cancer) and, if you're there too, I'll be glad to buy you an ice cream cone and you can buy one for me! Thanks for the "tumor humor," as we call it here, and my very best wishes to you and your loved ones. God bless you.

Sent by Cynthia | 2:13 PM ET | 08-21-2006

My little dog has cancer and she can't help but play the cancer card every minute of every day. She has a large tumor on her back and as much as we try to just do normal things, she grabs attention and sparks conversations about "What's going on here?" whenever people see her. Of course, big brown eyes plus a big sad tumor, equal I get everything a dog could ever want. The best food, the best spot on the couch, a car ride EVERY time a person leaves the house, handfuls of treats at the bank drive through, full dispensation for accidents on the carpet, immediate response when I want to go out or eat or get a treat... sometimes we (grimly) joke that she's faking the tumors just so she'll get all the love and bacon and car rides she wants. As far as I'm concerned she and anyone out there fighting cancer, can play the cancer card as often as they want.

Sent by Carri | 4:36 PM ET | 08-22-2006

My 33 year old husband and I were at an indoor swimming party shortly after he received his diagnosis of stage IV colon cancer. We had already RSVPd and our sons, ages four and six were excited about going, so we went.

There was very little seating around the pool area. My husband sees this extremely pregnant woman sitting close by and says to me "I know she's pregnant but I've got cancer. She could offer me her seat!" I had to smile because that attitude was so unlike him. It just goes to show how your thinking can change once you've been told that you've got cancer. That and the fact that the medical staff all but yelled out "dead man walking" everytime they looked at him!

Sent by D.L.N. | 4:45 PM ET | 08-22-2006

I loved your entry about special treatment. After I completed chemo, I went to visit a fellow cancer survivor who I met online. We wanted to take a tour of the Rockies on a mountain train but the couple in front of us got the last two seats. As we walked away, we both looked at each other and said in unison, "but were cancer survivors". It would've been nice to have gotten those last two seats — maybe if we spoke up to the attendant instead of each other, we would have, but we didn't want to make waves. Still, sometimes you feel you should get something out of this experience...

Sent by Leslie Frank | 5:51 PM ET | 08-22-2006

I really enjoyed hearing these experiences with playing the cancer card — including a few that mirrored my own of playing it and it not having any affects whatsoever! I pulled off my head scarf as a last-ditch effort to convince the person who showed up and hit the one empty parking place first, while I had been driving around for 30 minutes feeling sicker by the minute. She went ahead and took it—she was late to class and apparently cancer doesn't trump that. A lot of this is about visual cues and how much we base on what we see and what we think we know about people on that basis. One of my funniest experiences was a woman asking me where I had gotten my haircut (it was 1/4 inch of new growth, and, as during the bald times, I never had a bad hair day!). When I told her it had all fallen out and was growing in, she looked like shed eaten spoiled yogurt and walked on. Weird....I really wasn't TRYING to play the cancer card there but it sort of slipped out. Thanks, Leroy!

Sent by Martha | 10:51 AM ET | 08-24-2006