I haven't had to undergo chemotherapy or radiation, and have not had to bear those side effects. I have, however had a lot of surgery for breast cancer, reconstruction, lung biopsy, and other things, and my debility has been from the complications related to surgery, and a great deal of fibrosis (scar) internally that is analogous to having a lead belt around my waist. It's tiring to sit in the "wrong" chair, walk very much, or do anything on a humid day when the fibrosis tends to get tighter. From the outside, I look completely normal. Go figure. Well, its just cancer....the gift that keeps on giving.

I'm doing what I can to ameliorate it... taking water aerobics, for example, and stretching on a physio-ball, but I'm sure that it is here for the duration and that I just need to keep at it, and try not to whine! I HATE this expression, but it's the "new normal."

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 10:02 AM ET | 09-22-2006

Dear Leroy, I have read your blog every day and I had to write today. I have held the hand of many friends and family from the beginning of their diagnosis to the very end. But today, what struck me is I have a similar experience — not cancer but I have more titanium in my spine than in my golf clubs! (After spinal fusion surgery) And, while I sometimes walk funny, and the pain is always there — I feel the need to explain it to strangers! Why I can't bend over or, while at 45 years old, I walk like I'm 80. Keep the faith and I'll keep reading your blog. Thank you for taking us on your journey.

Sent by A.J. Sherrill | 10:14 AM ET | 09-22-2006

Okay here's one that I wonder if anyone else ever thinks about. I have recently joined a couple of new work groups and boards. As I begin to form relationships with these new groups of people I sometimes wonder will they feel like they have to come to my funeral. I'm one of the lucky ones that stops by for chemo and has few side effects so not everyone knows my diagnosis and prognosis. My friends know and I have a wonderful support system but it is the more casual relationships I worry about.

Sent by Dona | 10:17 AM ET | 09-22-2006

I'm sure I blurt out my "secret" at times that aren't appropriate. Beyond that, I feel the need to explain myself in order to make sense of it. I think it's a misguided attempt to assure myself that my life matters. Somehow it's become important to me that I've made some sort of positive difference by being here.

Sent by Patricia Buchanan | 11:07 AM ET | 09-22-2006

Leroy,

I'm so glad that you are shouting and telling everyone.. I deeply believe that "anonymity" does not serve us. I know too well — as a recent chemo patient — that I don't ever want to feel separated from the rest of the "well" world. (I get furious when I hear verbal expressions of that well-intentioned, population-separating pity I know that I'm in the land of the living, not the land of the dying!)

So, I say: Tell everyone, share the story, help someone else know the symptoms, tell them what its like to experience this — this is the way we fulfill our own promise of our lives. Sharing our story with everyone is one very big way we can help and, too, to be personally realized!

Your blog each day is just wonderful. Please do not hold back.

Sent by Erika Hanson Brown | 11:24 AM ET | 09-22-2006

Thank you for the insight. My parents need their place painted, it's been 14 years. I was going to let my Parkinson's dad sit out the paint job (I am doing it myself), but you made me realize he needs to feel useful. He feels withdrawn and helpless enough.

Sent by Laura | 11:28 AM ET | 09-22-2006

I know that after the first time I had chemo, when my hair came back it was beautifully curly, as I had always wished I could have. Sometimes, people would complement me on my hair, and I would simply thank them. Other times, I told them they were "chemo curls." Maybe I was just trying to put a good spin on chemotherapy. Maybe I just couldn't shut up.

I am going through chemo again. I am due for my ninth of six scheduled treatments. The drug was doing its job, just not as fast as we had hoped. I don't know what will happen after the next PET scan, but I hope I can take a break from chemo and maybe get some more chemo curls. I want my hair and toes back, but I also want to live long enough to play with my, as yet unborn, grandchildren.

Sent by Ruth | 11:31 AM ET | 09-22-2006

Leroy,

Your comment that youre weaker and sicker stuck out today. One of the things that amaze me as I read this blog each day is the strength that you show. I know you commented that writing this each day puts it in front of you (as if it wouldn't be anyway), but it strikes me as strength to handle it as well as you do and to offer so much to others as you live your days and as you write the blog.

I continue to pray for you and I hope you beat this thing.

Sent by Geoff | 11:38 AM ET | 09-22-2006

And I worry about letting new people in my life and forming new relationships. I feel like my illness is inflicting enough pain on too many people already, but that may just be my over-inflated sense of self-importance. Again, seeing through the lens of cancer. It doesn't stop affecting our lives and choices.

Sent by Stephanie | 11:40 AM ET | 09-22-2006

Wow. You really struck home, again, with this one. I go back and forth. Some days I feel like I want to wear a sign that reads "I have cancer. Be nice to me today." Other days, I want to forget. I ran into an old friend in Starbucks the other day, and she asked about my kids, but not how I was doing, so I never mentioned the cancer. Leaving, I realized that it felt good to have a conversation that didn't include trying to explain my cancer diagnosis, and why I look so good in the moment.

With strangers, though, I think the "Be nice to me" sentiment reigns. It reminds me of your earlier post, Leroy, where you talked about feeling that sometimes things should just be easier for those of us with cancer. No traffic jams, no stress, no extra demands on our time and energy, no difficult days at work. So, with strangers, I try to notice and not give in to my impulse to tell all, to provide too much information, but with friends, I want them to know.

The next time I see my friend while getting coffee, I will tell her, or ask if she wants to go for a walk so that I have more than two minutes to explain the last four months. I do agree with your conclusion, Leroy, and that of so many others writing, that sharing about our illness, our feelings, and our needs with friends is essential and honors our connection with them.

Sent by Lynne Dahlborg | 2:36 PM ET | 09-22-2006

I often find myself "injecting" my thoughts on smoking into conversations. As a stage IV oral cancer survivor, I want anyone to know something. I don't want to judge you yet I want to give you some information that may catch your cancer before I stumbled on mine. Most people don't know that the mouth heals faster than many parts of the body and that a sore that lasts longer than two weeks needs to be checked by someone that is trained to look for the right signs. Dental professionals are being trained regularly now to spend five to seven minutes to see as many as 90 percent of oral cancers in the early stages. Remarkably, catching them early also is attributed to about an 85-90 percent chance of full recovery. Once the lymph nodes are involved, that goes down to 25-28 percent.

I am not telling you to stop smoking. I am saying be aware of your body and ask for a professional opinion.

I say this to some people and have even been threatened with a beating a couple of times. I will still work towards educating as many as I can because what I went through wasn't fun, other than the good results after the many scans I have had.

Sent by Ed Brown | 2:40 PM ET | 09-22-2006

I like this blog because I can read not only what you, Leroy, have to say, but also what others have to say, too. I am always impressed with the ladies, and especially Nancy K. Clark and Stephanie.

I did not tell anyone outside my immediate family about my cancer until I came home one day bald as a cue ball. That DID provoke a few questions, and of course the cat was out of the bag at that point. Looking back on that decision not to tell for as long as I could, I still think I did the right thing, but, that said, the help and love from friends and mere acquaintances since then has been very reassuring and strengthening.

We are all in this together in one way or another.

Sent by David Larsen | 3:32 PM ET | 09-22-2006

Your last sentence really hit home with me. I was so full of life and energy before all of this. I miss the old me and can't wait for this to be over. I have two more Folfox then 12 Avastin then maybe I can be me again with a bit of a twist!

Sent by Sheila | 4:48 PM ET | 09-22-2006

Leroy, again I want to thank you for educating all of us on the experience of cancer. This morning I leave for Florida to take care of my 81-year-old Mom who just this week was told she has pancreatic cancer and probably four months of her life left to live. This isnt my first posting. I found your blog this summer after my 19-year-old friend was diagnoised with stage 4 tongue cancer. Ed Brown's comment really hit home. I have spoken to a couple of people who had no idea you could get cancer of the tongue. Two of these people are heavy smokers. My 19-year-old friend has never been a smoker but he had this sore on his tongue for a few months. He even had a wisdom tooth removed during this time. No health care professional noticed it. Not many doctors look for cancer in such a young person. It is important that all of us are aware that this cancer thing can happen to anyone, at any age. I'm 48-years-old and this is the first time cancer has ever struck so close to home. I'm not sure if I should consider myself lucky or not. I'm going to miss your daily input. My Mom doesnt have a computer so Ill have to go to the local library to catch up. And to David Larsen, Thanks for reminding me that Im not alone in the struggle with this diease. My best wishes to all of you and your families in your struggle to survive. But I must be honest and tell you that I find myself wondering who will out live who. Will my Mom out live my friend Ben? Or will it be the other way around? Only time will tell. We like to think that a person who has lived a full life should go first. Let the young one live a life. But I know it isnt black and white. Sometimes what should happen doesnt. Well keep good thoughts temperd with serious ones for now. Stay as strong as you can for just today.

Sent by Leah Wellman | 12:45 PM ET | 09-25-2006

Possibly you won't remember me we worked together for a short while at KTVU in Oakland when I was an intern, then a chyron operator and sometimes assignment desk person. I just heard about your blog from Gary Kauf who gave me the URL. It was a long time ago but I remember you very well because I really looked up to you (in more ways than one!) and wanted to be like you (although not so tall!). You always seemed to know what to do and never got stressed out when things were busy and when everyone else around you was stressing out. After reading your blog, I again really admire you and think it's wonderful that you're letting other people in on your feelings and thoughts, in turn allowing them to tune into their own feelings and thoughts about cancer. Seems to affect more and more people I know -? my sister, my father, my aunts, friends. I also had a scare a few years ago. But life keeps going on, some days better than others. I've spent the last 20 years here in Germany, own a post-production company which keeps getting smaller and smaller as the German economy continues to wither away. In the meantime I've married a German man who is even taller than you at 6'6" (I am 5'1") and much my junior (keeps me young!). And I've started writing -? I have a satirical column in an English language magazine here in Germany. For that magazine and for one in Sweden I write articles. And I've been working as a copywriter for big corporations and ad agencies. That's how I'm making my way through life. If you'd like to read my blog follow the link. It's all about living in Germany as a foreigner. But you have to read the first entry first, otherwise it doesn't make sense.

Would be great to hear from you in and I'll continue to read your blog!

Sent by Cheryl Martinez | 12:53 PM ET | 09-25-2006

I read your blog daily and feel so much comfort in what you tell and the comments of others. For me, the hardest part of being a breast cancer "survivor" (I HATE that term) is that I must assimilate this new me. Things I used to take for granted, I can no longer. Waking in the morning and jumping out of bed, ready to start the day, just doesn't happen any more. Its a struggle — my feet don't want to work, every bone and muscle aches, and it isn't until after I've had that first cup of espresso that I can face the day. There — I've given you too much information, but then...

Sent by Maya Brand | 12:56 PM ET | 09-25-2006

Again Leroy... thanks so much for your honesty. I for one have not told my 80-year-old mother or my brothers who live 2500 miles away. I'm not sure if it would be the best thing for them. For the past 10 years I have managed to find a great support of close friends and my hand-picked family.

Religiously reading your blogs I have been able to accept more than I had before, when will I get sick? And today you feel crappy. I pray those days are few and far between. Today I had a great day. How many of those can I have? No tellng.

Just finished reading When Bad Things Happen to Good People for the second time, slowly. I feel much better.

Sent by Meredith P. | 1:00 PM ET | 09-25-2006

A few weeks ago, I phoned my step-brother. After talking with him a while, he said, "A couple of months ago my doctor told me something that spoiled my whole day." He went on to say that he has cancer cells in his brain and in his lungs. Marvin lives on disability payments of just over $800 a month and has no health insurance, from what I understand. He will receive palliative care and that's all. He did tell his four offspring after I spoke with him and his two sons and two daughters are all spending this weekend with their dad. Im very glad he told them, and so pleased that they were all able to get to spend some time together.

Sent by Judith Newkirk | 1:29 PM ET | 09-25-2006

I tend to keep a lot to myself. Sure, people know about it because I blog about it. But, honestly, I feel like a fraud. I don't go through chemo or radiation. I have surgeries that remove the cancer from my body. My melanoma isn't like someone's breast, colon, or lung cancer. I don't go through the same things.

And I feel, sometimes, like I'm a fraud — being a cancer survivor — because it just isn't the same.

I have the emotional upheaval and the physical discomfort but so far (knock on wood) we have found it all early enough so that surgery has taken care of it.

So I don't talk about it. Mostly because, when reading or hearing other peoples stories, mine is so benign (pun intended).

Sent by Dawn | 1:31 PM ET | 09-25-2006

Leroy,

I have urged my partner to tell all he usually is a very private person. He was overwhelmed with the positive response from friends, relatives, and neighbors. He's not the same, and "the tell all" really added to his therapy. We don't know what the outcome will be here, but every chance I get, I let strangers know about his cancer the response has been tremendously positive too. We are beginning to have faith in the human the spirit. Again, thank you for the Leroy Sievers' Blog Family. You and everyone affected by this disease remain in my daily prayers.

Sent by Ron Perez | 1:35 PM ET | 09-25-2006

How can we encourage our health care professional to do cancer screening during regular visits to Drs and Dentists on all patients, young and old? Early detection might have saved my friend from losing his tongue and lymph nodes. And terrible effects from chemo and radiation. And maybe saved his life.

Sent by Leah Wellman | 1:37 PM ET | 09-25-2006

I have to admit that I spoke of my husband's diagnosis with stage IV colon cancer with so many people that it became "word vomit." It was as if I had memorized some speech for class.

His diagnosis came to us as such a shock and so many things went wrong so quickly. Even though we were living the experience it was still hard to believe. I thought the more I told of our situation the more it would sink in and the more real it would be. Does that make any sense?

I did wonder one time if maybe I was sharing too much when I saw one man grow visibly pale and swallow hard. I just didn't care at the time. That was my husband's reality and we certainly weren't being protected from the bad news. We had to deal with it and I figured all the other grown-ups should be able to also.

Sent by D.L.N. | 4:13 PM ET | 09-27-2006