Adjusting to Newfound Hope

 
“Hope is a new sensation. I don't want to overdo it. I think cancer patients build up a defensive posture. We put up walls to shield us from all the bad news we get.”
 
 

The following is a commentary from Morning Edition, Oct. 30, 2006:

Hope is an amazing thing. I wrote this sitting looking out my window into a backyard filled with trees. All the leaves have changed colors — reds, yellows, oranges. It's truly my favorite time of year. Maybe because I grew up in Southern Calif., where the seasons are pretty much nonexistent. As children, we knew it was fall because we drew colored leaves in art class even though we didn't see the real things outside. Don't get me wrong, I love summer on the beach. But a cold crisp fall day is truly something to be savored.

I'm not just stalling here. I'll get to my point shortly. I've been thinking a lot about this fall, trying to make sure I take the time to enjoy it, because my doctors had said it wasn't entirely certain I'd live to see another one. That's a strange idea to face. How could I not be around next year? Are they serious? Well, yes, they were. But those predictions, or fears, more accurately, are based on averages, not specific cases.

And my case has taken a turn now. After a couple of setbacks, I had new scans last week that were good. The tumors in my lungs have shrunk, and there's some evidence that the tumor on my spine is healing. All good signs.

It's taken me a couple of days to truly understand this. I'm not sure why. Hope is a new sensation. I don't want to overdo it. I think cancer patients build up a defensive posture. We put up walls to shield us from all the bad news we get. I'm a little scared to think that there may come a time when I'm essentially cancer-free, even for a little while. Is that really possible? I push that thought out of my mind.

The positive results have certainly bought me more time, and that's something I hadn't really expected. I have to admit that Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. We used to have a huge Halloween party every year. It was a big deal — it took weeks to get ready for it. We're not having it this year for obvious reasons. I'm just not up to the work involved. I probably shouldn't admit this, but if we did have the party this year, I think I would have come as a tumor. After all, what's scarier than that? And I've always believed that good taste has no place when it comes to picking a costume.

But next year? I think maybe we'll have the party. In the meantime, I'm just going to sit here for a little while and enjoy the leaves. And my newfound hope.

 

Comments (Send a comment)

I am SOOOO happy for you — ever since I heard your first broadcast on this situation - you have been on my prayer list every day. I'm so happy that you have some relief. God bless you and keep you.

Sent by Pat Sheehan | 10:38 AM ET | 10-30-2006

I have been following your "posted" life for a while now and am very happy for you. It is exciting news and I hope that this is just the beginning of a trend of good news! Enjoy the beauty of autumn!

Sent by Swapna Chakrabarti | 10:41 AM ET | 10-30-2006

Don't always believe those doctors and their averages, Leroy. They didn't give me much chance in 1995 with stage 4 melanoma of the head and neck. I've always been positive even then when I dropped to 179 lbs. from 230 because of the ton of radiation treatments I underwent. Fall is my favorite time of year too, I grew up, and still live in Northern Illinois. I've got a lot of trees here but I love raking those leaves. Know what I mean?

Sent by Fred Nutting | 10:55 AM ET | 10-30-2006

Just got out of bed, 3:52 a.m. to write to you. I'm a lung cancer survivor, six years now. I'm working with a group called Lung Cancer Partnership, which is involved in research of lung cancer and the differences in men and women with lung cncer. There are some striking differences and they should be explored. But, and here is my point, I can't find a lung cancer survivors suppport group here in Hollywood which is where I want to start. I'm in the acting business and I want to create the same kind of recognition for lung cance tht breast cancer gets. It seems no one will come forward to say they've had lung cancer. My next step is to creat a Web site. I'll send it along after I create it. Hope all this gets through because only part of the typed stuff is visible on this screen. Any suggestions are welcome.

Sent by Kathryn Joosten | 10:58 AM ET | 10-30-2006

I'm in a slightly similar position... getting used to remission of stage four breast cancer with lung mets. It's a celebration, of course, but back in my mind is the "when will it come back?" and "what will happen if/when it does?" I guess that the thing that I'm trying to do is what you are, enjoy now as much as possible. After all, it's all we truly have.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 12:23 PM ET | 10-30-2006

Thank you. Your piece was something that I really needed. My nine year old is having biopsies this morning on two tumors and you passed on hope to this concerned mother.

Sent by Jane Key | 12:26 PM ET | 10-30-2006

Having heard your voice on air a few minutes ago, I wanted to see more of your journal. What a different era this is from when my mother had lung cancer in the mid-1960s. Even her doctor didn't tell her the truth, and my father was told to withhold most of what he knew from my brother and me. It was supposed to sustain hope, but had the opposite effect. Thanks for your willingness to share your journey.

Sent by Stephen Voysey | 12:34 PM ET | 10-30-2006

Revel in it! It is such a sweet thought to savor. I still find that I live each day assuming I will never see this again, but hope is such a wonderful trip to take. Lucky you!

Sent by Stephanie | 12:36 PM ET | 10-30-2006

Thank you for your focus on the present and the good things life is giving you like autumn weather (my favorite too), your new house, and plans for next years Halloween party. This has encouraged me to do the same.

Sent by Robert Morehouse | 12:38 PM ET | 10-30-2006

Your news this morning was hope for me. My sister has breast cancer that is now in her lungs and spine. Could you please post what type or treatment you are currently undergoing?

FYI — my sister, an RN, first had breast cancer slightly over five years ago. She is currently fighting a re-occurrence.

Sent by Noah Barnette | 12:40 PM ET | 10-30-2006

Just the idea of the "tumor" costume, almost made me shower my monitor with fruity yogurt! That's so right and so WRONG all at the same time.

Sent by M. Goldberg | 2:55 PM ET | 10-30-2006

I was overjoyed to hear your good news this morning. I've been following your story on NPR during my treatment for cancer. I've just finished my treatment and I'm now in remission. I wish you the best and hope you will soon be in remission too.

Sent by Don Milgate | 2:56 PM ET | 10-30-2006

"Hope is the thing with feathers. That perches in the soul"

I think Emily Dickinson knew something about hope — it can flit away (no need to tell us about that!) but just as quickly it can return.

Hope and despair are the opposites we meet every day, and we just have to hold onto hope. We have to. It's really all we can bring to this cancer party.

I'll end with Willie Nelson:

"Youve got to

Accentuate the positive

And eliminate the negative

And dont mess with Mr. In Between."

Sent by David Larsen | 2:58 PM ET | 10-30-2006

Monday's (10-30-06) reading for the gospel talked about healing and then I heard your story. I believe there are no coincidences just small miracles that lead us in the direction where we need to be, just continue to believe in your healing and visualize that the tumors are shrinking to no bigger than a gnat. In the past year I had been diagnosed with cancer and went through chemo and radiation and with the 3-4 month check ups with scans the sense of relief is wonderful. It all seemed so surreal. Visualization is so empowering!

The thought of autumn and the leaves bring smiles to our hearts, we just need to continue to believe because everyday in everyway you become a better and better person. I too believe.

Sent by Maureen Plichta | 11:17 AM ET | 10-31-2006

Leroy,

I'm so happy to hear your news.

I was feeling pretty despairing last Monday when I heard that I'm positive for a breast cancer gene. But a week later, I'm feeling better.

I'm continuing to follow your lead and writing about it. That helps.

I'm thrilled to hear your good news!

Warmly,

Grace

Sent by Grace Talusan | 11:19 AM ET | 10-31-2006

Loved reading your piece today. Actually, it is the first I have heard of you. A friend passed along your site to me. Thanks for all your commentary, it helped my feeling of isolation dissolve some.

I had my scan today and will hear results on Wednesday. Tumor in the lung has responded, but not lymph nodes in trachea. It is like sitting on a pin right now.

Stage IIIA lung cancer in a 50-year-old woman that never smoked, diagnosed February 28, 2006. This sucks.

You know, it's true the awareness of my everyday moves are sharp. It's like you pay attention to every leaf turning color, every one dropping from the tree, the crunch of them under foot, and that earthy smell that only fall can bring. I love the fall and I am hanging on for another.

I am subscribed to your e-mail now, so be reading you soon.

Sent by Mary Landon | 11:21 AM ET | 10-31-2006

I, too, love the fall. However, the change of seasons depresses me a little since it makes me so conscious of the passage of time —something I probably don't have all that much of. That's not despair, just realistic optimism!

But if nothing else, I've learned to enjoy every day and not put things off. In that spirit we had our annual Halloween Party. It was the biggest (and best one) yet. We had over a hundred kids and their parents. I did most of the planning and cooking, my husband and 3 kids did the decorating and set up. Everyone pitched in to clean up. Yes it was exhausting (I was looking forward to chemo the next day so I could rest) but so worth it! Who knows if I'll be up to it again? It's my kids' favorite holiday and the party will be an everlasting memory for our family.

I did think of going as Cancer Patient — bald, trailing an IV bag and pulling a little red wagon full of medication but opted for something more traditional!

Sent by Anna Michals | 11:24 AM ET | 10-31-2006

Your comments regarding your cancer was sent to me by a friend. Our youngest son has been diagnosed with lung cancer which went to 3 vertabrae in his back. He started radiation treatment this week and it will be followed with chemo. You gave me so much hope for him. Thank you.

Sent by Carol Lankston Lankston | 8:46 AM ET | 11-01-2006

Hi Leroy- I heard your latest commentary on NPR a couple of mornings ago while driving my kids to school. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, fears, and hopes with us. Your words inspired discussion and admiration. Children learn by example and I think it was important for my kids to hear you, facing your very difficult situation with grace, wit, and humanity. We are all pulling for you and we cant wait to see the pictures of next years tumor costume.

Sent by The Butterfield Family | 8:56 AM ET | 11-01-2006

OK, you just convinced me: I'm going to get up off my lazy duff right now, turn off the computer, and go for a walk to savor this glorious fall weather! It's my favorite season, too. Autumn used to seem melancholy, like a time of endings, but now I find it invigorating. Hmmm... what's that about, I wonder?

Your good news gives us all reason to hope, Leroy. But I know what you mean. To me, daring to hope means risking even greater disappointment and pain. But careful self protection (avoiding emotional risk) doesn't guarantee safety, obviously. It just robs whatever life remains of joy. I vote for exhilaration!

Sent by Doris | 2:41 PM ET | 11-01-2006

I was on driving to work this morning when you came on the air. Thank you for sharing your story with us. Your message and voice set the tone for the day: Live, Live Live. I'm a cancer survivor, and so is my little 9 year-old daughter. You will be too.

Sent by Jaime G. Perez | 2:43 PM ET | 11-01-2006

"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul..." Emily Dickinson. Two years ago I went to a conference for ovarian cancer survivors. One of the doctors presenting started with that quote. I changed oncologists and now he's my doc. There is no substitute for hope in the life of a cancer patient or cancer survivor. I'm glad hope has come back to you.

Sent by Joan Marie | 2:44 PM ET | 11-01-2006

Leroy,

Autumn is the shedding of the old leaves, to be replaced with new ones. In that sense, it's the cycle of a new season. You certainly have entered one. God Bless this great news.

And to Jane Key, the mother of the nine year old facing surgery this morning, you and your child are in our prayers and minds. Please keep us informed, and know a lot of us are there for you.

Sent by Laura | 2:46 PM ET | 11-01-2006

Leroy:

I caught your latest comments this morning while driving to work (I am a professor at Hope College in Holland, Mich.) they were spot on! Not just because of the season here in MI but my wife is fighting glioblastoma multiform brain cancer for a year since diagnosis, and has been on Avastin for six cycles. Also, I am about to start treatment for prostrate cancer. She now has developed steroid induced diabetes from the decadron therapy. When folks ask how we are doing, my answer is "We are still swimming!". As East Coasters who migrated to the Midwest we recall ocean swimming and believe Cancer is like that sometimes you have to swallow some salt water and other times you catch a wave and can see the shore. Your arms get tired and shore seems distant but you know you just got to keep on swimming cause the only thing certain is that if you stop swimming you will never get there. As I tell my students, there is HOPE at HOPE. My prayers and thoughts are with you and your family as well all of those who are out here swimming with us. You have made a contribution today to HOPE. Maybe the good thing from cancer is that it provides us with the opportunity to lead for those who will follow in our wake by giving them the message of hope. "Today was better than yesterday but not as good as tomorrow."

KEEP ON SWIMMING!

Sent by Jerry Mount | 2:54 PM ET | 11-01-2006

Right on! Glad to hear that hope has knocked on your door — ain't it sweet! I'm celebrating your good news tonight with some bubbly! Cheers!

Sent by Hector Montero | 2:56 PM ET | 11-01-2006

What wonderful news, Leroy! I'm glad to hear the tumors are having problems holding on to their "real estate!" I'm praying for them to be on the "foreclosure" list!

Sent by Molly | 2:57 PM ET | 11-01-2006

I am so happy to hear your good news. I keep up with your progress and keep you in my prayers. I was diagnosed with breast cancer last year and have passed my 1-year checkup. Hope is a wonderful thing that can get swept away with our tears of fear. Lift your hope high so it doesn't get wet! Enjoy your leaves — you'll see them next year.

Sent by Maureen Hafford | 10:58 AM ET | 11-02-2006

I love fall, too. I love hope even more! Everyone, not just cancer patients, tries to control their hope. We live long enough and have fallen prey to our hopes, only to have them dashed so often. My husband is undergoing tests for unexplained anemia, and he is worried. Today was his colonoscopy, and I didn't want to get his hopes up by being too positive, in case the news wasn't good. Thankfully, his colon is fine — the tests will continue and I'm committed to supporting his hopes that he is really fine and that there is nothing major to be worried about.

Sent by Elsie | 11:03 AM ET | 11-02-2006

HOPE is our 13-year-old daughter (cancer survivor) dressing up today [Halloween] like an old lady ... which I know one day she will actually be. Hope is laughing about the housedress and walker and brooches and gray wig with pink curlers ... and trusting that in time she will sport them all for real!! CLING TO HOPE FOR THE FUTURE, Leroy, it's the real deal!

Love you man!

Lovingly, Beth

Sent by Beth | 11:14 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Although yesterday was the first time that I heard one of your reports, I was delighted that you are now in a better place. There is a book I heartily recommend. The China Study, by T.C. Campbell. An incredible 10-year investigation on relationship of diet and health. A chapter, "Turning Off Cancer," describes the control and reversal of the disease. It might be helpful to you. The book is a summary of a monumental China-Cornell-Oxford Project. All the best!

Sent by Ina Tillman | 11:25 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Leroy,

Terrific news. If you can travel next year, come Down Under and I'll shout you a beer or two and an Aussie Rules match, as I promised you a few years ago. Fingers crossed.

Sent by Tom | 11:47 AM ET | 11-02-2006

I have been helped so much by reading all the comments and would like to express my thanks for a path set for me to go along in helping my husband. He was diagnosed with terminal cancer two months ago. This being that it originated in the lungs, doctors think, as he has emphysema diagnosed in 1998. He has had two doses of chemo with the drugs carboplatin and taxol. His white count went down, and he had very big red spots on his arms and face, so he stopped this for week and half, then has had three doses of chemo with taxotere. He only gets the treatments one day a week. My question is: Has anyone experienced severe hot spells of face, head, neck, etc. come on rapidly and last for a short time, which mainly start late in the day and into the night? It seems to be like or similar to a hot flash, but possibly more severe. Dealing with this problem and not sleeping night or day makes for a difficult situation. I would appreciate any comments that could help us.

Sent by Irene | 11:58 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Thank you so much for your inspiring, insightful commentary. I heard you on my way to work, and your thoughts buoyed me the entire day, and then some. I also shared your perspective with my friend (a fellow cancer survivor) and encouraged her to tune in online and hear you for herself.

Sent by Beverly Long | 12:19 PM ET | 11-02-2006

I appreciate the time and energy you put into this blog. I located your story through a search. I was looking for information to pass on to friends and family, to help them interact with my husband, Jerome. We just discovered on 10-26-06 that his pancreatic cancer tumor is inoperable. I've lost many family members to this horrible disease, so it's not a new fight. Both of us stand before this enemy seasoned with battle scars. I've saved you on "favorites" and will send up a prayer for you and your family each time I sit down here to read all that you're willing to share. God Bless!

Sent by Toni Thiele | 2:24 PM ET | 11-06-2006

Dear Leroy, I was SO happy to hear your voice this morning, although I was so sorry to hear about your illness. So glad you are doing well!

I was a subscriber to the daily Nightline emails, and I got to where I could recognize the ones you wrote. You really got to me with the one where you described your apprehension about stopping for gas on your way home that night because the Washington Sniper had not yet been captured. I was sorry when you left Nightline and I have often wondered what you moved on to. I know that you will continue to do well. Medical technology is an amazing thing. My father was a marine; fatally wounded in 1964 I have mixed feelings when I realize that, had he been wounded today, they likely could have saved him. Please keep fighting the good fight, keep writing, keep planning that party for next year, and I will keep you and your family in my prayers.

Sent by Angela Parks | 2:32 PM ET | 11-06-2006

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My Cancer will be updated Monday through Friday with posts and commentaries from Leroy Sievers. A journalist for more than 25 years, Leroy has worked at CBS News and ABC News, where he was the executive producer at Nightline. You can follow his story through this blog, his weekly podcast and his monthly series on Morning Edition.

 
 

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