Leroy,

In April of 2004, I too joined the world of the big C. I was diagnosed with Vulvar Cancer and underwent a partial radical vulvectomy. A silent, lonely and scary type Cancer. Not much discussion on this one. July of 2006 I found a tumor and was once again diagnosed with a reoccurrence. At this time and upon test after test it appears to be contained to the pelvic area lymph nodes only and I am in the middle of Chemo and Radiation. I know I am fortunate, lucky and blessed to be feeling like a hot dog in a microwave with one end blown out so I can buy myself some time.

I just want you to know a good Angel friend of mine found your blog and has been printing them out for me every day ?- I'm addicted and so thankful for you, your sharing and honesty, and gift for words have become an emotional life line. The feeling of being all alone lessons every day that I read your words -? I've come to realize that Cancer is Cancer and no matter what kind we all have the roller coaster rides are all very similar.

Yesterday's blog regarding spending money was the biggest relief of all that only another Cancer patient understands. To add a little humor just imagine for a moment the 47-year-old crazy lady (who really isn't crazy at all) running up and down her driveway (because that's all the energy I have right now) waving her blog paper screaming "I'm not alone, THEY UNDERSTAND." That's what you've done for me Mr. Sievers and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing!

Sent by Pam Hickey | 10:33 AM ET | 09-13-2006

Well said Leroy. I think the hardest thing about being goal oriented, and having a life threatening disease in the family, is slowing down to live in the moment and letting stuff wait.

We purchased some comical relief last week. Both seasons of The Munsters (1960s-campy, funny, and creative) and My Favorite Martian (1960s), and Dinosuars (1990s). We really aren't ones to "waste" money, but we've gotten some great laughs.

Sent by Laura | 10:36 AM ET | 09-13-2006

When I first learned that I had a large mass in my chest, but did not know what it was yet (it turned out to be lyphoma), I remember lying awake a couple of nights later wondering what it was and mentally selecting music for my funeral (Mozart). But I quickly got away from those dark thoughts and just decided that I was going to survive whatever it was. So far, so good with nearly four years in remission. You are so right about being an optimist and doing something optimistic and future-looking.

For my wife and me, one of the really optimistic things that we did was to put in an offer on a new home in a "maintenance free" community. It would not be ready for nearly a year. I realized later that by doing so, we were not only getting a new home — we were making a statement that we believed in the future.

Thanks again for your blog. Get those new clothes that you talked about in a previous post. That is also making a statement about the future.

Sent by Art Ritter | 10:48 AM ET | 09-13-2006

Dear Mr. Sievers,

This past year I lost my sister to cancer, and that caused my 97 year old mother to give up her desire to hang on to life and we lost her as well. Then I found out my husband of 30 years had been having an 8 yr. affair. The reason I am writing you is that during this particularly dark period in my life your blog has given me the strength to put one foot in front of the other. If you can be so brave in your situation so can those of us who may not have cancer but who face the challenges of life and its many ways of freaking one out. Your spirit has touched me deeply and I am forever grateful.

Sent by Terrell Atwood | 10:55 AM ET | 09-13-2006

I am enjoying the optimism and courage of this series.

Sent by Tania Anderson | 11:00 AM ET | 09-13-2006

Several months ago while in the "mire" of chemotherapy for ovarian cancer, I adopted a brief slogan - Make every day a great day! I've shortened that to fit into a screensaver textbox on our several home computers, as a regular reminder — Make today great! This reminder has helped me focus on the positive aspects of almost everything I do or want to do... that four mile walk, family conversations, straightening up my horrendously overgrown flowerbeds, a friends special birthday night out, getting past the effects of steroids, starting to clean closets, and making both big and small plans for the future. It's just a little thing but, it's been helpful for me.

Sent by Sheara | 11:07 AM ET | 09-13-2006

I'm not going to act like I'm dying until I'm dead. My gratitude and optimism for today is overwhelming. I have tickets to an event months from now. I bought new fall clothes that I look great in and they weren't even on sale! Leroy thanks for sharing your hope and optimism. Cancer and the fear of cancer can't take that from you unless you allow it to.

Sent by Missy | 11:49 AM ET | 09-13-2006

Hi. I am a breast cancer patient and I wanted to let you know that I was greatly encouraged by your column. I can identify with a lot of your thoughts and feelings.

Sent by Grace Arogo | 12:05 PM ET | 09-13-2006

I have been following your journey, which has brought back memories for me. My son was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma in September 2004, when he was 8-years-old. After many erroneous diagnoses, it was discovered that he had a tumor in his chest cavity going into his spine. He endured multiple surgeries, 14 rounds of chemotherapy (given over three to five days in the hospital every three weeks) and 31 radiation treatments. The radiation damaged his esophagus and he was unable to swallow or eat normally for a year. He has been done with treatment for almost a year now, is able to eat once again and his quarterly CT scans show no sign of the cancer returning. He is happy to be a "normal" boy once again (his words).

Although there is much about the year of his treatment we want to forget, I feel it is important to remember. Your column today made me think back to the summer of 2005 when I was sitting in a theater with my son, watching previews for a movie that wouldn't come out until more than a year later. As I watched, I was acutely aware that he might not be around to see it. Well, that movie is being released this fall and my son and I will see it together. Even though we are still scared about what the future may hold, your column about optimism made me think that it is time to start planning for the future as though he will have one. (Because none of us really knows, do we?) To that end, I will do one thing that I have been putting off, which is starting a college fund for my son.

Thank you for sharing your story with us. You remind me to take the good from our experience and try to use it to make the best of our lives as we live them each day. I wish you all the best.

Sent by Sue Sidler | 12:12 PM ET | 09-13-2006

Leroy, your optimism stands in stark contrast to the letter my friend received from his sister. My friend is not a professed "Christian" but his sister is. In a nut shell she told him that all the prayers she and her church were praying were not working because his spiritual life was a void. Can somebody explain that biased unloving thought to me? God does not make us sick or make us better. He does not pick and choose over his children in an unjust and evil way. My friend's sister and all who believe like that better concentrate on their own salvation.

Sent by Leah Wellman | 12:18 PM ET | 09-13-2006

My five year old son has summed up his optimistic, sunny spirit this way: "I know how to have a great day every day. All you have to do is be happy and smile." His father, my husband, has been undergoing cancer treatment.

Looking back on this difficult time, I had given up on myself and my future, no longer exercising, eating appropriately or taking care of myself in any way. I think I was expressing my sense of despair and hopelessness, figuring what's the point?

I am now trying to follow his lead and enjoy happy moments every day. Those moments are the steps that enable me to move forward, lose 25 pounds, buy those new clothes and expect happiness in the future.

Thank you for reminding us that optimism can make a difference. It may not ultimately affect the course of cancer, but it can turnaround a day. I believe that our today is the most important thing we have at any given moment. I'm going to smile, be happy and have as many great days as possible.

Sent by Ruth | 4:04 PM ET | 09-13-2006

Ever since my mom was diagnosed with metastasis breast cancer two years ago, I've been discouraging her from doing any long term planning as we never know when will her cancer progress. Oh how wrong was I! I will try to be more encouraging in the future. All I can say is THANK YOU!!!

Sent by Sharon | 4:29 PM ET | 09-13-2006

I really hope that you stay strong and keep up your spirits because I could never imagine hearing such news about myself. It takes a very strong person to overcome the pain of such news and move along with your life. I believe you deserve a lot of respect and I admire your strength and drive. God bless you.

Sent by Tiffany Vazquez | 4:33 PM ET | 09-13-2006

Leroy,

I think that what you're referring to as optimism is really more of an orientation to the future. Optimists are realists. They are most likely to see the truth of their situations and respond appropriately. Optimists are more vigilant about their health. They see the doctor and take their medications as they are supposed to. Optimists recognize risk and danger and prepare for it. Their strongest trait is self-efficacy. They don't just assume that things will turn out well they believe that they can make things turn out well. As a cancer patient my optimism isn't telling me that I'll be cured. I know the odds and I'm not waiting for a miracle. Optimism lets me know that I have the talent and virtue necessary to cope effectively with whatever ensues, including death. It's not about the glass being full or empty, rather it's about believing that you have what you need to deal with whatever life dishes out -? whether it's a half full or half empty glass.

Sent by Jerome Frank | 12:09 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Your column offers a depth of wisdom for which I am most grateful. Although I do not have cancer, I have had the challenge of illness my entire life. Regarding optimism, one of the most helpful things I ever came across, decades ago when I was lost in depression, was in a book I found lying on a window sill in someone's home (I wish I knew the book and the author!) It said (paraphrased) "When there is no will or energy to go on, wait for that which moves all things, that which moves the blade of grass to grow, to move you." Those words freed me from the effort to have to do or be anything other than what I was and to relax into and trust the wisdom of life itself.

Sent by Ruth Klein | 1:05 PM ET | 09-14-2006

I came across a phrase on my esophageal cancer list that I have taken to heart and want to share — "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." A friend gave me a framed version, and I look at it every day in my office, grateful that I am still able to come to an office and be here to look for those moments in my life.

Sent by Sandra | 1:34 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Well, I am a little ahead of this "challenge" because a few weeks ago, I did exactly that. I enrolled myself in college and started to study Psychology. I currently work as an art director. So to me it's a whole new thing to explorer and I intend to finish the semester, if not get a BA or even more... I have stage IV colon cancer, but I also have hope.

Sent by Imke | 1:41 PM ET | 09-14-2006

What have I done to be optimistic? I have always wanted a motorcycle. My husband wants me to wait until our son is out of high school, so I have two years to go. In the meantime, I took a motorcycle safety class two months out of chemo, and I am currently saving to buy a bike. I wore a Harley scarf during a lot of my chemo?to keep the dream alive. So I have big plans for the future!

Sent by Leslie | 2:52 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Leory,

Thank you for sharing. When you are in the middle of chemo, it is comforting to know that you are not alone dealing with the horror of it. Optimism is so important, too bad the doctors cannot order up a daily dose of it.

I am not the one in my family with cancer, my husband is. I am blogging for his family and friends who are all over the county, and I find it very therapeutic for me. Our blog is located here.

My husband and I both find the isolation of the disease/treatment difficult. Friends and family are not coping well with our realities and tend to stay away — fewer visits, cards, emails, calls. It's as if it was contagious.

My husband has mestastic melanoma. He had a cancerous mole in 1999, it was removed and he was pronounced cancer free in 2004. Is there such a thing?

At the moment my husband is in the middle of a bio-chemo therapy treatment. It's difficult as I think my chemo therapies are. Keeping optimistic and resisting the deep desire to chuck it all is the most difficult today. It was good to read your post. Thank you for posting. Keep up the good fight. You and others like you inspire me, and I will be sharing your blog with my husband.

Sent by Jean Langlais | 4:38 PM ET | 09-18-2006

I buy plants. Today, I bought plants for the inside of my house for the winter. Plants that will need to be watered and I'm the only one who remembers to do it in my household of four. I bought spring bulbs to plant in the yard this fall, to come up next spring, because I want to be here next spring to watch them come out of the ground and bloom.

When I first was diagnosed with gallbladder cancer last May, I wasn't sure I'd make it to fall. I still feel good, haven't needed to start chemo (which will be prescribed just to slow the progression of this cancer, not cure it), and I've decided to outlive the time suggested at first (only 2-6 months), and live at least a year, and I'm going for more!

You are right, Leroy, there are things that we can do to express our optimism about the future. For me, gardening, inside my home and outside, anticipating plants coming up in the future and surviving inside, is an act of hope and optimism. Thanks for reminding us all of how important that is.

Sent by Lynne Dahlborg | 5:14 PM ET | 09-18-2006