I wish you the best with your fight aganist cancer, and hope you have much love and suppot.

Sent by Judana Bennett | 12:05 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Leroy,

Congratulations! I hope you have more days like today.

Sent by Jerome Frank | 12:10 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Have a normal cancerless day Leroy!

Sent by Leah Wellman | 12:13 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Good for you! I don't think it's necessary for you to have to try to come up with something particularly "profound." I enjoy reading your blog everyday, just before I start my workday, no matter what you say. Just glad that you are doing it!

Sent by Karen R. | 12:18 PM ET | 09-14-2006

I liked your column today! Just a normal day is good.

I have a tip. Look up! We all spend too much time on our backs in doctor's offices so I amuse myself by critiquing ceilings. I have had three PET scans since Jan. 2005 and the same dead cricket is stuck in their light fixture. Is that possible? I was at a baseball game with my husband and our best friends and they were looking down from the bleachers at what was being played on the field while I was looking up... intense blue sky that day with enormous white clouds. I was walking through the parking lot at work the other day and the acrid asphalt smell prompted me to look up... pale blue sky with pink, streaky clouds. Beautiful! I am going to pass this tip on to my doctors. Both my oncologist and radiologist look at their shoes when they walk down the hall (I am quite the observer) — I hope I don't offend them but you see some amazing things when you look up.

Sent by Ellen Macaulay | 12:45 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Leroy, that's great! Have a non-cancer day!

Sent by Cathy Wilder | 12:47 PM ET | 09-14-2006

I surely hope that you will gather all your "My Cancer" essays into a book. Each one is a gem!

Sent by Gail Perkins | 12:49 PM ET | 09-14-2006

I think your blog today was a GREAT follow up to yesterday's blog. Maybe saying what you said yesterday and reading all of the comments sunk deep into your mind and your body. Then today you woke up and had nothing to say about cancer because today you have this life to live! What a gift you've given all of your followers and yourself. Enjoy your day!

Sent by Missy | 12:51 PM ET | 09-14-2006

I hope your days just keep getting better.

Sent by Mary Scruggs | 12:52 PM ET | 09-14-2006

I have being following the blog since August. I have matestic breast cancer DX. My husband died in October 2005 after 37 years of marriage. It's like what else? I don't want to feel sorry for myself because there are so many awful things going on in the world right now! I wish you love and peace. I want to get to the space where I don't dwell on the cancer there also is no cure for me. I'm rambling. Stay strong — the struggle continues.

Sent by Paulette Webb | 12:56 PM ET | 09-14-2006

You know Leroy, it is a good thing that sometimes cancer doesn't dominate all your deep thinking. Remember when you were first diagnosed? Sometimes you would wake up in the morning stretch move around and precious minutes would go by when you forgot "I have cancer." Cancer then began its insidious movement into every aspect of my life...

I remember the day when I took the donor sticker off my driver's license, no one would use my organs.

I remember when I approached my having cancer as my own personal episode of CSI Cheries Cancer... where, why, when, how?

I remember realizing no one would ever fully understand my experience as I had never understood it until I had cancer.

There are so many things cancer has changed forever about my life but I learned that the large and small moments of pleasure and love, those very present moments, redeem us in the end.

So dont dwell on cancer today... we will always have time for it tomorrow.

Sent by Cherie Brown | 1:03 PM ET | 09-14-2006

It's very hard to compartmentalize cancer, because it sure can affect everything we do and think about. But if you can put it in a bucket, then you can have a good day like you're having today, Leroy, and live life like we used to, pre-cancer.

My chemo nurse, who is sassy and wonderful, found me in the dumps one day, playing the victim and whining. She looked me in the eye, leaned over and shouted right in my face, "SHUT UP!"

We both laughed our heads off.

And now when Mr. Doom and Gloom creeps into my thoughts, I make a conscious effort to put it in a bucket, put a lid on it, shut it up, and get on with life. Ain't always easy, but what is?

Sent by David Larsen | 1:07 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Mr. Sievers,

It made my day to hear that the cancer had to take a backseat to other issues for you today! Hang in there, and always keep in mind youre an inspiration to so many people.

Sent by Bill Combs | 1:08 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Normal rules! Go play today! You make me smile.

Sent by Marsha Goldberg | 1:38 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Leroy,

I'm glad to read todays post where youre just having a normal day. I take that as great news and was a joy to read. I hope you have more days like today.

Sent by Geoff | 2:48 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Leroy,

I wish you more days like today! I am fortunate not to have illness in my life but I wish you much luck with your struggle. I will continue to follow your blogs with your progress. Although I do not know you, I feel it is a way to offer some support. Take Care.

Sent by Jenna Stewart | 2:54 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Three years after having (most of) a malignant brain tumor removed and extensive chemo, I'm still around at 55, teaching and writing and the MRIs show no growth in the remains of the tumor. This is quite the adventure —not what I'd ever expected pre-brain tumor, but interesting to be sure.

A brief poem (trusting the formatting holds up).

RE: Cancer

Many do not know what to say

to those who live with cancer.

Thankfully, most say nothing

(unlike the man who said to a survivor,

"I'm so proud of you!")

Others plunge into this horror story or that:

"My sister was in so much pain."

"The radiation went bad for him."

"Etta had your kind of tumor... and lasted 3 weeks."

And those who don't flinch, who ask,

"How can I help?"

without knowing how they will,

though this will come.

Sent by G. Staley | 2:59 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Leroy — hang tuff.

I'm a physician assistant who works in bone marrow transplant. I have seen a lot of joy and pain. I know about the roller coaster ride you are experiencing because I have "initiated" that ride in my patients. I'm not sure if you're still on Avastin... I have a friend who works for Genentech (makes Avastin) who was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer. She was treated with Avastin and nine months later she is cancer free. I wish you the best.

Sent by Tanya Helms | 3:01 PM ET | 09-14-2006

My breast cancer was found and removed in October 2005. We caught it early and all of it was removed. I was feeling really good about it. Then the oncologist got hold of me and tried to give me treatment (chemo) which was not called for in this case. I went online and found that I did not need chemo and changed doctors. The new doctor said I did not need chemo, but she kept telling me that if the cancer comes back I will die. She gets in my face with it every time I see her. I don't even want to see her any more as she drags me down with her "you will die" speech. On top of that they have collapsed my veins in the only arm they can draw blood from. I keep telling them they don't need to test my blood every month and every month we argue about it. It is my body and I will say what they do with it while I am alive. Please respect my decisions. The doctors don't like to be told "no" and act like I am crazy when I tell them no. Only time will tell what happens from here.

Sent by Karen Grosheim | 3:03 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Awesome! Cancer takes a back seat. Enjoy.

Sent by Sandra Yudilevich | 3:13 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Leroy — Just echoing — it was great to read your ordinary day blog. I consider those minutes, hours or days a real gift. Feel free to write whatever is coming across your desk, your mind or your heart — many of us just feel privileged to be along for the journey.

Sent by Leigh | 4:36 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Maybe you should go buy some pants.

Sent by Chris | 5:45 PM ET | 09-14-2006

Wow... just not a cancer day. I love the concept. I'm going to go for more of those and I hope you will too. You've been such a gift to those of us who are "fellow travelers," but I've worried about you having to confront the subject of cancer daily. I just bought expensive blades for my figure skates. I'm a 64 year old, Stage 1V breast cancer patient... that's optimism on several fronts!

Sent by Susan Edwards | 2:07 PM ET | 09-15-2006

It is a surprise when you realize that cancer although still a part of your life is not on center stage. It is even better when you have days when it is not even in the same theatre house.

I used to liken those days to finding a sunny spot in the forest. Now I know it is not just spot we are back on the path, sometimes there are thorny bushes but more and more these days we are enjoying the lush bushes, great trees, the sunny skies and all the other beauties we experience on this trip through life. My husband is just about 5 yrs out with a stage 4 diagnosis...they were not optimistic...it does appear he beat the odds. I wish you well.

Sent by Terry | 2:17 PM ET | 09-15-2006

Dear Leroy,

I applaud you on this magnificent column on your cancer, it has put a sense of humanity to it, for those of us that do not have it, but know members in our families that do. I read your "my cancer" on this NPR site as often as I can. Thank you so much for sharing this will each of us.

Sent by Barry | 2:27 PM ET | 09-15-2006

To have a day not be a cancer day is great! I think it was you who reminded us that one gets tired of being the person with cancer, that life goes on and cancer does not change that. So to have a day where the cancer is not the main thing is my hope for every cancer patient and survivor. You are all lots more than the cancer. I am glad that today you could be that.

Sent by Naomi | 5:34 PM ET | 09-18-2006