The metaphor of the boxing coach is the most poignant observation I have ever heard. The fight, and the story of the fight this column represents literally grips me and shakes me to my very foundations.

To the end of my days I shall remember these words, and the people the words describe. The honour, and the privilege to read this account, is mine. Thank you

Sent by Craig Pendlebury | 9:22 AM ET | 08-10-2006

I find that I am a much better friend then I ever was before I had cancer. I know how to look my friends who have cancer in the eye and say, "How is the cancer, chemo, pain today?" I know how to say, "I know you may not be eating yet, but I brought you fruit from my tree." I know the gift will give visual pleasure and the idea of the gift is more than the actuality that they might be eaten. I know how to say, "I'll take care of that chore for you, I'll make that phone call, I'll tell others about your condition." I'm just not afraid to be a friend to a freind with cancer in the deepest and most supporting sense. I have cancer, too, and I'm not afraid that if I help, I'll die of cancer.

Sent by Louana George | 9:28 AM ET | 08-10-2006

You hit the spot- it is indeed an honor and a privilege to accompany someone through their struggles, and death if it comes. To love someone so much and have that love returned is the greatest gift of all.

Sent by Chris | 12:08 PM ET | 08-10-2006

Having been a cancer supporter to both of my parents and now a cancer patient/survivor, I think being the patient is actually easier. At least I am doing something — surgery, chemo, radiation. I just remember how helpless I felt as I watched my mother and then my father die. I wanted to walk with them, but it was their journey. Actually, I think I wanted to carry them. Of course, I couldn?t.

Sent by Stephanie | 12:31 PM ET | 08-10-2006

LeRoy,

I wanted to give you my sincere thanks for sharing your story. On Talk of the Nation you didn't sound like the poster boy for cancer, as you have said before. You sound strong and intelligent. This disease however doesn't discriminate. Your story captured my attention for the mere fact that you are facing the ultimate challenge of fighting for your life and are willing to share that with the world. I have learned so much about how I approach of my own life, from reading your thoughts, struggles and innermost feelings and those of the other readers. This has created a channel of information sharing that is invaluable. You have mentioned that you have had a good life, the power of sharing your story I believe has a ripple effect, that has touched so many people's lives. Keep on fighting for your victory. You are in my thoughts everyday.

Sent by Rebecca | 2:02 PM ET | 08-11-2006

Leroy, you are a wonderful writer, I can see from the comments you received, you have not only inspired and touched me, but so many others felt it too. I thoroughly enjoyed reading your boxer comparison, it is perfect, I'll remember always. How do you come up with this stuff? You are truly gifted. I have 3 wonderful friends. Of course my greatest friend of all is my husband. I am so fortunate to have him and I feel so sorry for him because he wants to do the suffering in my place, it hurts him so much to see me suffer through this chemo crap and I know he truly means it. He does everything in the world for me, so I don't have to. My home health nurse said the other day, "You really are fortunate to have such a loving husband. One of my other patients is married to a man in total denial. She is dying of cancer and on a feeding tube and he refuses to help her in any way. He can't stand to look at the feeding tube, he won't lift a finger to do anything around the house, if it wasn't for the home health people and her relatives she would be all alone." MY GOD, this was so very sad. I never thought about anything like this before, did you?

Something to think about. Cancer is horrible enough with caring friends and family, but to live with a jerk like this, totally unbearable.

Sent by Ruth White | 4:14 PM ET | 08-11-2006

I watched my best friend die of colon cancer at the age of 40. It changed my life forever. Now 3 years later, I am fighting for my life in that ring with Stage IV breast cancer. I know how it feels to be both. It's not easy either way but being the fighter himself sure stinks big time.

Sent by Sherry | 4:18 PM ET | 08-11-2006

The comments and article: The Boxing Coach have lifted me from the depths of despair. My domestic partner is fighting lung cancer in the fourth stage. We do not know the outcome. How I, his caregiver, pray for spontaneous remission is amazing. I, as an agonostic, never thought I would ever do this. But the hope of the Holy Spirit and the Spirit of Mankind keeps me going. The story and the comments affirm my commitment to the Spirit of Mankind it keeps me going emotionally. Thank you for making this available for me and Gordon. It rekindles our hope and comforts our journey regardless of the outcome.

Sent by Ron | 4:20 PM ET | 08-11-2006

Now that I am a cancer patient, let me say how much a good, loving, caretaker means. The daily support, the empathy, the listening—these things are so important to us as we go from doubts to disappointments to fears. We try to keep our heads up, and with help, we can and do. Thank you, Joan.

Sent by David Larsen | 4:23 PM ET | 08-11-2006

I am sitting here crying again. This is my third time watching a friend with cancer. Cancer took my grandfather and aunt. My father is surviving cancer. I have never been consciously afraid that I will get cancer, though a case of psuedotumor gave me 24 hours of experience with the words, "we think you have cancer." But I am afraid that I will lose this friend. She is someone precious to me I really don't have enough close friends to go letting cancer take them.

But the sad truth is there is nothing I can do except be there. I find that I feel like I am wasting time if I am not with my friend because what if she isnt there anymore? And then I feel guilty for even entertaining the doubt that she might not make it. And until I read this, I hadn't realized that part of me is screaming about the loss of friendship as it was and might have been. Thank you for the insight. And thanks to my Cheeky Librarian for being such a wonderful friend!

Sent by Naomi | 4:39 PM ET | 08-11-2006

I am a breast cancer survivor for sixteen years. At diagnosis, I felt a ton of bricks had been dumped on me. I am enormously blesed to have had access to the best available medical thinking and treatment, that with my faith in God and the love and care of a very devoted and loving husband and family.

Additionally, I have been impressed by the many support networks available.

Sent by Mary Ann Peters | 12:32 PM ET | 08-14-2006

I agree with the metaphor of a boxing coach. It was an honor to help my friend, and it caused great sadness too, as it had a predictable ending. There was something else that I felt, other than the boxing coach - I think it was the overwhelming desire to protect in any way possible, which was not possible. I remember wanting to lift her up and walk out of the room on several occasions as if that would solve everything. The experience did make me a better person and I would give it all up to have her back.

Sent by Lisa | 12:35 PM ET | 08-14-2006

I just lost my lover to brain cancer four days ago. His wife never knew about our nine-year affair. I loved him so very much, and he loved me back. I am grieving horribly, and I have no one I can tell, no shoulder to cry on. He was cremated, so there?s no place under the elms to quietly grieve and talk to him. He made me promise not to go to his service. He didn?t want any questions about how I knew him. I don?t have closure. I don?t believe I ever will. I want you to know, though, that I found a modicum of peace and solice through your words about your struggle with cancer, and I better understood what he was feeling and experiencing these last few months — something he couldnt communicate to me very well after his second brain surgery, but I knew, thanks to you.

Sent by Constance Pollet | 12:36 PM ET | 08-14-2006

Hello again,

I wrote earlier, though I am not going through chemo, my domestic partner and mom are going through therapy. My 88 year old mother curses like a sailor, not publicly, but in her privacy and with me. Shes resolved with her outcome - this is her 4th bout with cancer. She was first diagnosed at 62, then 72, then 78 and now. She will be glad to be rid of the suffering. However, she says that Gordon, my partner, is too young -63- to give up. He needs to fight. Well, that coming from an 88 year old who has been through hell, that?s something. I must admit, as his caregiver, I sometimes get too overwhelmed with fears that he has to pull me out and say, "well beat this damned thing! My trick is turning fear into faith, and Gordons trick is the will to live and a positive outlook. I know that sounds too commercial, however, it seems to be working for us. We also have a lot of friends giving a lot of support. We also have a special friend, a neighbor who is a shrink, who has been invaluable. When the lights begin to dim, hes there giving us a realistic assessment of whats going on, helping us to understand this ugly disease, and most importantly, interpreting/summarizing the harsh information given by doctors. Wow, that has helped tremendously. I have learned about spontaneous remission, wow do I pray for that one too. I have distance myself from my Catholic upbringing in the last forty years but am slowly coming back to a more liberal part of the church: progressive and CAT groups. Getting both spiritual and humanistic support has helped a lot. Gordon is not there yet. For us, it?s one day at a time.

Sent by Ron Perez | 2:20 PM ET | 08-14-2006