I agree, Leroy. Mary may be hurting those she loves, rather than protecting them. I would be very hurt if someone I loved cut me out when he/she was very sick or at the end of their life. And Mary should treat herself well. Isolation is cruel. Certainly she would never do that to someone else, she shouldn't do it to herself, either.

Sent by Cathy Wilder | 9:13 AM ET | 09-20-2006

To accept the love and help of others is, in my opinion, part of the circle of life. It's the life energy flowing in a circular movement... you give to me when I need help and support, and there have been times when I've helped you, or others. To refuse love and assistance, especially in a dire time like during cancer diagnosis and treatment puts our lives and the lives of those around us out of balance. It denies our friends and family the opportunity to grow, and to experience the satisfaction of having done something material to make a bad situation better. It helps if we give them specific ways that they can help in ways that we need. Have the friend who is the "town crier" be the one who calls others with updates. Ask those with cars and time to spare to take you to appointments, allow those who cook to help with meals, and let them know what foods appeal to you during treatment, and what ones don't. This is a time that can bring you and your loved ones much closer together if you allow it.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 9:19 AM ET | 09-20-2006

I completely understand Mary. When I was diagnosed, I not only kept it a secret from my mom, I lied and told her I'd had an ovarian cyst removed. I have a couple chronic health problems that are prevalent on her side of the family. I've always joked they were all her fault. I was afraid she would think my cancer was her fault, too. Not telling her right away that I had ovarian cancer may be the most hurtful insult I have ever dealt her.

About six weeks later when I was going to need my second surgery I finally told my dad the truth and begged him to tell Mom. Dad pretty much read me the riot act, marched me into the kitchen and made me tell her. Never insult your family and friends by underestimating their love or their emotional strength.

Sent by Joan Marie | 12:32 PM ET | 09-20-2006

My closest friend pushed me away when she realized she was going to have to have the chemotherapy. During the initial diagnosis and surgery part, there was no problem, we were together all of the time.

Now, I have to see her suffering, and I can't say a word. She told me not to ask, and she wasn't going to tell me any of her personal information. It has been 4 months, and this has been by far the most painful time in my life.

I always believed we would stick together during difficult times, and just when I feel we should be closest, I was pushed away. It is like losing her over and over every day, first to the illness, and now to each day that we are apart.

I love her dearly, and she says she still loves me, but it's hard to know what love means when I can't be by her side when the chips are down. I've never had a feeling like this before and I don't understand it.

It is a kind of heartbreak that is different from any other heartbreak that I have had. I think it may be because this is something that is unnatural. Illness may be part of nature and part of our lives, but being pushed away because of it seems to go against the nature of the heart. The heart says stay close to the people you love. And with time moving so fast, we don't have much life left. All of this is a loss on top of the loss of health and dreams. This is very, very painful. It hurts. And it bursts my heart.

Sent by Mary | 12:39 PM ET | 09-20-2006

Hi Leroy,

I wanted to let you know that I have been on Avastin for breast cancer since April 28. I had recurrence immediately following initial treatment (chemo (A/C/T, surgery and radiation) and the prognosis did not look good. I had a CT scan on Monday and there is no evidence of disease. Hope you get the same results!

Sent by Karen | 3:23 PM ET | 09-20-2006

Dear Leroy,

I totally agree with you even though I can understand Mary's concerns. My most favorite uncle who was a non-smoker died of lung cancer just six months after the diagnosis. I helped my aunt taking care of him in his last three months in the hospital. He could not talk in the last period of time but he always squeezed my hand as acknowledge of me standing by him. I was so grateful that he did not shut me off. It was indeed very painful to see him suffered but actually, in return, it was a healing to me as well after he passed away. I will always miss him but I won't miss him with regret of doing nothing for him when he needed most. It is more painful if your care and love won't be accepted. I think Mary wants to protect the ones she loves but it will only hurt them more.

I read your blog every day and keep you in my thought. Heartily wish all the best for you.

Sent by Annie Cheng | 11:28 AM ET | 09-21-2006

It's such a coincidence that you brought up this topic today. I had been struggling for a week weather I should tell my sister about my genetic disease (fatal, but not cancer) or not. Finally, I broke down and told her. I don't know if I did the right thing or not. My logical part says I shouldn't have because she can't help me. I find it much harder to tell people that are closer to me.

The thought of leaving my wife behind keeps me up at night. I wake up in the middle of the night and look at her and can't go to sleep for hours.

I think I agree with Mary that this is the time of our life that pushing people away may be the right thing to do. I think I regret telling my sister. I still have not told my mother and other family. They will figure out soon enough and until then there is no need to make their life miserable.

Sent by N.S.M. | 11:54 AM ET | 09-21-2006

Leroy,

A couple of years ago, a mate died of cancer. He had a large support network of family and friends who visited him, and came to the hospice in his last few weeks on the planet. It was hard watching him die, but it was inspiring to see the courage and love of his family, in particular, as they gathered around his bedside. Mary should know that we got as much out of the experience as he did. He felt the love emanating from his bedside, and he often smiled and laughed through his pain. I felt privileged to be there. And we all felt closer as a result. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, except at the very end. But even then, when he regained consciousness and recognized someone, we all felt a bit better. Mary, let them love you. And Leroy, hang in there.

Sent by Tom Krause | 12:58 PM ET | 09-21-2006

Thank you for the sage advice you gave to Mary. She will hurt her friends and family more by pushing them away than be letting them share the pain. I hope she has many friends and that they will stay by her side. When I was sick and having chemo for ovarian cancer there was only my partner and me to deal with it. Our friends would call, but they didn't want to "be a bother" so they hardly every came in person. We both would have benefited from visits, but they didn't understand that. Fortunately, I am doing well three years later but if it recurs I do so hope people will not be afraid to come and be with us.

Sent by Sondra Scott | 1:12 PM ET | 09-21-2006

My mother has cancer. Obviously, I hate this and it pains me greatly. However, that said, I have also grown and learnt so much for having gone through the emotions of it all.

This may sound sick and twisted, but additionally, I appreciate having the fore-knowledge of my mother's death. It has been the end of my days of blissful ignorance about mortality, and I think that is good. I have a friend who went home for her sisters wedding and the next day their father died of a heart attack. That suddenness, without warning, is so heart-wrenching. My mother's death will, of course also devastate me, but I've been able to discuss this extensively with her (without her brushing me aside as morbid). This is true not only for my mother, but I now have a different view on how to treat my friends and family - something not right between us? Speak up now, as one may turn out to not have tomorrow.

All I can say is that I would find it much more hurtful if she tried to keep this from us or go it alone. The cancer might hurt me, but you - no, being a part of your life doesn't hurt.

Sent by Mara | 1:23 PM ET | 09-21-2006

I have a friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer several years ago. Another good friend and I gave her all the support we could during her treatment. When I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, they both gave me a lot of support and it sure helped me get through the long weeks. It's funny how people think everyone is uncomfortable talking about having cancer — I had acquaintances ask my good friends (rather than me directly) how I was, what was going on. People really want to be able to support you when you are ill they usually don't know how. Just knowing that they are concerned and care about you takes away just a bit of your fear when you are the one who is ill. Letting someone who is coping with illness know that you care takes away a bit of your fear for them. You and the vast majority of the others who have commented are right please, please don't push people away. Don't underestimate the strength of your friends and family. A burden shared really is lighter. I hope, Leroy, that your blog (and our responses) helps you as much as it seems to help us readers.

Sent by Kitty J. | 5:04 PM ET | 09-21-2006

Thank you for your perfect answer to Mary. My son and my friends are my greatest joy and at times I even believe that if it were not for my bad prognosis, I may have not realized that as fully as I do now.

I at first tried to protect my son, and a very wise man advised me that to do so would be the equivalent of telling him that I did not think he could handle it. I began to share more about my cancer — without being dramatically emotional — and he responded by giving me more of himself.

Thank you for you blog — a word which does not really seem worthy of the content.

Sent by Carolyn Torrente | 5:24 PM ET | 09-21-2006

I guess on the flip side of this discussion, I would encourage those of you who know or will know someone with a diagnosis of a terminal illness, to try to put aside your own pain and join your loved one in their journey through their disease. Shortly after my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer he moved in with me and my children. My husband of 22 years had just moved out. My mother decided she couldn't "handle it" and moved out of the area. My nieces and nephews who loved my dad "so much" never came around. My sister was always unavailable. I had one aunt who was able to cope with what was going on-she made us some meals and went to some of the doctor visits with us. My dad told me not to judge any of them harshly. And I have tried not to. However, as much as it hurt me to be so alone in my efforts to care for my dad during chemo, two rounds of radiation and middle of the night trips to the ER, I have often wondered how he felt to see his family walk away. Especially when they were so quick to come back once he was in remission. I hear regrets from them now. Too little too late. He needed the love from all of his family. And I guess I needed to know that he knew he was loved by all of us. As much as I could do for him, it wasn't the same. I couldn't make up for the absence of my mother or my sister. I still hurt when I remember how much he missed them-particularly my mom. My father was always a gentleman who was patient and forgiving of others. I have tried to follow his example. However, it still makes me angry that they abandoned him. He deserved better. I wished I could have done more. Together with the rest of my family, WE could have done more for him. It wasn't all misery and pain. Dad and I and my kids had lots of wonderful times together. Laughter and joy. Long conversations and good debates. They missed the good stuff too. Step up to the plate, folks. If a person confronting this kind of illness is welcoming, don't turn and walk away.

Sent by Robin Jenkins | 5:31 PM ET | 09-21-2006

My mother died of cancer when I was 18. I was never told by her that she was sick. We all knew it, but she did not want us acting like she was, even when she was going bald and throwing up, and no longer made supper or went to the store. I wish she had. I wanted so much to sit down with her and tell her I loved her and did not want her to be sick. But I was not allowed, because, between us, the sickness was not allowed. SO, let them in, they need it, and you need them...

Sent by Pam Dembowski | 5:51 PM ET | 09-26-2006