Dear Leroy,

Thanks for your thoughtful comments about your cancer struggle. I have lost several friends to cancer and always ask why. Tonight a friend emailed her sorrow about a close friend that is struggling with a very aggressive cancer. So when I stumbled upon your story I took the time to read and remember why I am grateful for my own good health (at the moment). We are all potential victims of this strange disease. Cure? Cause? Who knows? I take glyconutrients everyday and feel safer. I don't believe in preventative tests. I don't believe that I should allow anyone to predict my death. I strive to be healthy in body and spirit and glyconutrients give me that edge. Recently, my dog Isis was diagnosed with mammary cancer at her annual vet visit. I have started giving her glyconutrients as well. Her cancer is responding with swelling of the mammary glands, as my glyconutrient cancer survivor friends warned me they would. The doctors see this sign of swelling as bad news. They (my survivor friends) see it as a sign of rejoicing, since they outlived the predictions and they all experienced this change. They think that the swelling is the body's immune system responding to the assault, surrounding it, and digesting it. They are alive... who can deny that? The doctors are suitably surprised and dismissive. I feel better as I down my daily glyconutrient dose. The investment is worth it.

Sent by Martha Bush | 10:21 AM ET | 08-30-2006

Thank you, Leroy, for opening up this topic. There are so many generous souls that we meet. My neighbor who drove me to so many chemo treatments (100 miles round trip). My friend who shaved his head in solidarity with me when I went bald from the chemo. My youngest child who never has any cash, writing me checks for each month, two years into the future for me and then adding some blank checks. . "Just in case I needed them." My co-workers who carried my load without one complaint, while I was in chemo and recovering from the chemo. My customers, who told me they were "there" for me and would still, be my customers when I recovered.

All the amazing people who open their hearts and even wallets for you. Our illnesses give us a chance to connect. It is the gift we "sickos" give to the community.

It does take a village!

Sent by Polazzo | 10:25 AM ET | 08-30-2006

You are a true solider.

Sent by Florence Ruiz | 11:08 AM ET | 08-30-2006

Thank you. I wish you the best on your journey.

A fellow traveler.

Sent by Ann Lassalle | 11:11 AM ET | 08-30-2006

Dear Leroy,

I think it is the most natural question in the world, "why me?" "Why her/her?" Just because we ask the question does not mean there is less of anything else: less courage, less compassion, less concern, less caring, less hope. Perhaps there is even more for having traveled in the path of someone before you and someone after you. Your willingness to share your struggles, joys, and successes speaks with honesty. Your willingness to reveal so much of your struggle is immensely helpful. I was particularly struck when you spoke about not taking away the ability to be a friend from people dealing with cancer. Thank you for sharing that insight. Thank you, too, for taking the time to write everyday. All the best, Leroy!

Sent by Molly Rich | 11:36 AM ET | 08-31-2006

Thanks again Leroy. I often forget to be grateful, especially in the mornings... I don't jump out of bed like I used too. This Saturday is my monthly treatment... my attitude is getting much better.

Sent by Meredith | 11:39 AM ET | 08-31-2006

Leroy, just found your blog when browsing NPR. As a fellow cancer survivor I felt I needed to write. I was diagnosed with colon cancer in April, 2002. Two months after my six-year younger brother had died from esophageal cancer. 10 years before had some severe esphageal ulcer so decided I better have a new EGD, ( scope) and since some blood in stool was a concern, thought from hemorrhoids, a colonoscopy was added.

Colon cancer, stage AII, also found to be in A-Fib, admitted to hospital, surgery two days later, and home a week later. In August 2003 wanted a small incisional hernia from initial surgery repaired, surgery went well except could not get any energy or wellbeing after surgery, a CT scan done one week later revealed a mass in liver, PET scan confirmed cancerous, had RF ablation, and started chemo three weeks later for six months. Completed chemo March 2004, what a relief. Will not bore you with all the side effects etc.

I was able to work most of the time during all this, I am a nurse practitioner and had wonderful colleagues that would help me on the days when it was tough. However, I found that working really helped me, kept my mind off the disease and allowed me to feel "normal."

December 2005, I decided it is time to retire and start enjoying my time, on my last day at work also has my six month scheduled visit with oncologist for which a Ct scan was done two weeks before. Bad news, a mass? on Ct scan, discussion with oncologist/ surgeon. A liver resection is most probable option. So on January 19, two weeks after my 61 birthday I underwent a resection of my right liver lobe( approx 60% of my liver).

Had complications, weight loss etc, but finally I am now feeing well and doing well again. And my liver has regenerated. Aren't our bodies amazing?

One thing that has helped me was the recommendation after the initial surgery to start an exercise program, which I did and has been able to keep up throughout the years. Walk three miles on treadmill daily now, gradually worked myself up to this and feel it really helps me.

I know it is different for all of us, have a good friend, colleague currently undergoing treatment for breast cancer. In the past I have had numerous patients with cancer and have come to realize that we all cope with this in different ways.

Sent by Birthe S. Boone | 3:42 PM ET | 08-31-2006

There has been a wonderful documentary produced recently entitled Lion in the House. Any one with children with cancer in the family would/could fine enormous support and help from this incredible film. It was shown on PBS in June 2006. One of its directors was... at the time of the films premiere at Sundance, diagnosed with cancer herself. The film and the producers are incredibly strong and dedicated to the fight.

Sent by Sallie Collins | 6:05 PM ET | 08-31-2006

Dear Leroy,

Yes, but cancer is bad enough! Although I do not have cancer, my mother did, so I know something about what I'm saying.

Sent by Greg Sheryl | 4:44 PM ET | 09-01-2006

"That is stronger than any disease."

Leroy, YOU are stronger than any disease and by sharing your thoughts and experiences with others, you make them stronger.

Sent by Mary Gail | 4:48 PM ET | 09-01-2006

I avoid asking the question "Why me?" Many times I feel my cancer has some sort of underlying meaning, I don't like think of it as a curse.

It is a struggle to not want to push back and just surrender to where Im at now. If I can do that, it makes it a little more bearable and I can even feel grateful in many ways.

I don't want to be here with this, but I'm not going to love my cancer in any way, I have to let it go.

Sent by Michelle | 4:50 PM ET | 09-01-2006

Leroy — I can't possibly imagine why you, either. My daughter is eight and was diagnosed with a brain tumor at three-and-a-half months. She had brain surgery as a four month old, again at five years old and has had one year long course of chemo and is currently in another year of chemo. She has never once verbalized the 'why me' scenario and I realized I haven't thought like that much either. Thanks so much for writing about that issue, as it caused me to be showered with gratitude at our lack of focus on that question. Although it is such a genuine and human response, somehow we just haven't struggled with it. Our gifts from this nasty brain tumor business have been so multiple, mostly from the illness ability to rally the compassionate spirits of so many people, without our ever asking. Whenever I begin to get down, my heart is made to shine again by the kindness of yet another individual who seems delighted to make our lives a little easier. This extends from neighbors and church folks to the spectacular nurses in the infusion room at the Jimmy Fund Clinic. Some days I think my heart will burst in gratitude for all of the kindnesses that have been bestowed upon us. Thanks again for all your courage to open your heart and share your thoughts and feelings. As the mother of a child with cancer, your column is so helpful to me as I try to be her anchor. Good luck with your new chemo.

Sent by Alice Williams | 5:05 PM ET | 09-01-2006

Four good things about chemo....

Fleas and mosquitoes don't bite you while you have chemo.

No bad hair days, all days are bad hair days.

Five hours, once a week while having chemo you don't have to make lunch, answer the phone, do the dishes or feed the cat.

You are with people who are all in the same kind of situation so you don't have to pretend that everything is ok.

Sent by Mary Graham | 1:43 PM ET | 09-05-2006

I do not think it is selfish at all. When my baby was on chemo, I asked my husband, 'Why are we the richest people here?' Then was horrified and the snobish words. I am still trying to figure it out. I am now able to voulteer at the clinic to make up for them. Why Ella? Why my parents that teach you to think and then realize the power of education. It doesn't work to intellectualize everything. But don't beat yourself up, cancer is.

Also, I am painfully aware of the savage death from AIDS. I was in a high risk population during first 15 years if the onset. In a human resource role all over the county. I got the deer in the headlights, do I have long term disabilty question, back from the doctor appointments. It is tragic. My heart aches for all illness. But with AIDS, that was so new to us. We have managed to have enough research to keep most alive for 10 to 20 years. That is wounderful. Why can't we figure cancer out? So yes, why us, why cancer at all?

My child's disease was not cancer. Only two in a million get it a year. But given the choice, I support both equally but cancer is much bigger. We celebrated monthly birthdays, daily prayer — and hourly silent payer. We try to savor the good in ever minute. Do not feel badly. You're fighting a good, hard fight. Do what you want to do and say what you want to. I hope this becomes a book. It would be so wonderful for the second rounders.

Sent by Robin Mcbride | 1:53 PM ET | 09-05-2006