Good News Comes in Shades of Gray

 
“I have to admit that I am in a place I never expected to be. I am a long, long way from being cured, and that probably is still not in the cards. But this is the first good news in ten months. That counts.”
 
 

I finally got the call I was waiting for late Monday night. You all know what that waiting is like. The football game was OK, not great. Nothing else really on TV to take my mind off of it — no way I could concentrate enough to read a book. Even a couple of glasses of wine didn't help. Well, that may not be true.

Then my doctor called. He said the results were a mixed bag. As much as we might want everything to be black and white, the cancer world is made up of grays. The tumors in my lungs have shrunk — at least a couple of them have. That's good news. The tumor on my spine appeared to have grown, although just a tiny bit. That was the mixed news, color it gray. Did that growth happen before the Avastin and the drugs kicked in? Or is something else going on?

I have to admit, I really didn't know how to react to this news. I should have been happy. It's the kind of news I never expected to hear. But for some reason, I was sort of emotionally blank. Maybe it was the prospect of staying on chemo for the foreseeable future, with maybe radiation for the spinal tumor. Maybe I was just tired and afraid to get too excited. After all, there's been so much bad news.

But I had another conversation with my doctor Tuesday afternoon. After he and other specialists looked at the scans, they think there are signs that my spine may actually be healing. That would mean that the tumor has been affected in some way by the chemo. So all in all, I did pretty good.

What does this mean? We're going to keep doing what we've been doing — more Avastin, more chemo — and hope that this trend continues. The more I think about this now, I have to admit that I am in a place I never expected to be. I am a long, long way from being cured, and that probably is still not in the cards. But this is the first good news in ten months. That counts.

More than anything else, I want to thank all of you who wrote in with good wishes, and all of you who kept me in your thoughts and prayers. I think that I owe much of this good news to all of you. And by extension, I know that we are keeping each other, the entire cancer world, in our thoughts. For those of you out there fighting this same battle, don't give up, because we haven't given up on you.

 

Comments (Send a comment)

I am so happy for your news Leroy. The results of your scans sound very promising. Will continue to hold you up in prayer.

Sent by Tracy | 10:48 AM ET | 10-25-2006

Hooray! I choose to believe very good news for you.

Sent by Susan S. | 10:50 AM ET | 10-25-2006

Leroy - Breathing a big sigh of relief -so happy for you. You are perfectly right about keeping each other in our thoughts - and your blog helps us feel the power of that circle.

Sent by Leigh Hough | 6:18 PM ET | 10-25-2006

Leroy-

All that h-ll of chemo and Avastin is paying off. Thank God for the Science mind's that are making progress in the field of cancer. You're tough, keep on keeping on. We're all going to make it a good day, with such great news. I'll still keep my 20s crossed for the next hurdle.

Sent by Laura | 11:03 AM ET | 10-26-2006

Yahoo! As long as you have fight in you keep giving back to the cancer! I cried today when I read your report. Thank you for sharing with us. I know those waits are brutal and I tend to turn into Queen Meany while I wait but you made it through.

Sent by Julie Pietras | 11:04 AM ET | 10-26-2006

I was afraid to open your blog today, but this sounds like good news to me. The gray is very hard to interpret. When I would convey information to my siblings during my mothers treatment for ovarian cancer, some of them would respond angrily (at me) when the answers were not black or white. They just did not get how ambiguous results could be.

I am thinking about you. I cannot thank you enough for sharing your journey with all of us. You are helping so many.

Sent by Mary Sullivan | 11:06 AM ET | 10-26-2006

Dear Leroy,

Such news! To not slip backwards in the cancer war is to move forward. And it sounds as though you have moved forward, real progress. I am happy for you. It will probably continue thus until it doesn't, but each day is a victory. Mazel Tov!

Sent by Stephanie | 12:02 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Leroy,

This is great news! I'll continue praying for you.

Sent by Erik Bowling | 12:11 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Leroy,

Hooray for your encouraging news!! I have been keeping you and wishes for your positive outcomes in my thoughts every day as I read your courageous entries, especially since I am a fellow traveler on the chemo-Avastin path. I hope I can offer some anecdotal encouragement by way of my own current treatment. Since April of this year, I've been on a clinical trial combination to treat advanced ovarian cancer and, more recently, Avastin alone for the next year. I, too, had initial CT and PET scan indications of "activity" in two spinal areas, and nodes that could not be surgically removed. When my oncologists at Dana Farber discussed the post-surgery CT radiology report in combination with earlier PET and MRI scans, they commented that spinal indications can be tricky to interpret, as other non-threatening injury may present similarly in the scan. Well, six months into this treatment plan, there are no CT indications of spinal tumors, and my remaining nodes/tumors have either disappeared or significantly diminished. My blood tumor markers look good, too. Similar to you, "cure" is not likely to be in my vocabulary — but buying time to live the best life that I am able, every single day, with family and friends, is a wonderful substitute at this point. This year, the New England fall has been particularly glorious and fair-weathered, and it has been a real treat to walk, garden and just gaze out on nearly every single sunny day, even during the down days.

Thank you again for producing such an engaging forum to share your story and those of so many others. You have all become so real and special to me, and a source of strength.

Sent by Sheara | 12:13 PM ET | 10-26-2006

I had been hoping and praying that there would be some improvement in your battle. I'm glad to hear the chemo has been worth it. Please keep writing and keep us posted.

Sent by Chris | 12:16 PM ET | 10-26-2006

That is wonderful news ... a commodity in short supply in our world. Hope is a sustaining power, and in a life of cancer, hope is often all we have. My wife had to skip treatment because she was just too sick. Scary in that we don't want any more growth ... but it's so nice to have that time off to at least try to be normal. Our thoughts are with you.

Sent by Dave | 12:19 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Leroy,

You have been in my thoughts and prayers, and I am so happy for you and your family. It is so hard to hope and wait for the phone call. Your words brought back so many memories of waiting for results for my daughter. Please remember that your honesty and courage surrounds you with another whole "family" now who really is pulling for you. Here's to a glorious today!

Sent by Patricia Meszaros | 12:21 PM ET | 10-26-2006

I held my breath as I opened this link, Leroy - - I have been waiting, and hoping, and thinking of you as often and with as much care and concern as if you were a member of my family or a dear friend. Isn't it amazing how we can become an extended support network on the Internet? I am old enough (and I am not all that old!) to recall the days when nobody spoke the word "cancer", and certainly people didn't talk about having it. Can you imagine how lonely and sad it must have been to be going through a cancer journey in that way?

I am so happy to hear your news, and completely understand the sense of "emotional blankness." It's probably the defense mechanism that we all adapt, to a certain degree, to cope with all the ups and downs of this road were on. If we really "engaged" emotionally with every bit of news, every change, every side effect, every story about someone else we knew who died of cancer — I don't know how we - - or I, at least - - would be able to put one foot in front of the other and get through the day.

Be well. And go have a cheesesteak to celebrate!

Sent by Suzanne | 12:37 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Yee haw!!!

Sent by Ann | 12:43 PM ET | 10-26-2006

I think it's good news. At least, it's not bad news! Good luck with whatever you decide to do next. Eat another cheesesteak. (I went to school in Philadelphia and ate too many of them!)

Sent by Marilyn Tanaka | 12:46 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Congratulations on your good news.

Sent by Kristina | 12:54 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Hi Leroy,

You have been much in my thoughts as I commence my 6th cycle of chemo. This cancer game never appears clear cut to me, as well — like you say, lots of gray. Oncology as a clinical practice has a great deal of science, but a lot of art as well.

Thanks, as always, for your articulation of the many of the things I experience.

Sent by Julian | 12:55 PM ET | 10-26-2006

A home run! Maybe the chemo won't be so bad now that you know it's working!

Sent by Sara | 2:12 PM ET | 10-26-2006

I'm so very happy for your good news. I've been reading your blog since its inception and have been impressed with your courage and honesty regarding your cancer and your treatment. As you said, it's not a cure but it is one very good step in your life's journey. Stay strong and God Bless.

Sent by Alleen Thornton | 4:30 PM ET | 10-26-2006

YEAH!

Sent by Chris | 4:31 PM ET | 10-26-2006

You are so generous and brave to share the emotions of what this cancer experience does to all of us. Your description of the anticipation, the waiting and the uncertainty of even how to respond to the results is so apt — at least it is to my own experiences. I will go into my next CT scan with the knowledge that I am not alone and that I take all of my fellow sojourners with me - even if they don't know it!

Your results are good my daughter and I always joke that what we want the results of my CT scans to be is for the radiologist to run out of the little dark room next to the scan yelling "Where did it go?" This hasn't happened yet... but lack of progression is almost as good. Hang in there, Leroy. God bless us all!

Sent by DBC | 4:33 PM ET | 10-26-2006

You see, Leroy, all that studying helped improve your grade. This is wonderfully fabulous news. We'll all keep fighting the good one together.

Sent by Robin Schneider | 4:37 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Leroy,

It is our pleasure to have you among us. A voice, someone who can articulate the many, many grays we have learned to live with in our journey.

I am glad to hear your news, these grays although not a jump up and down "you're cured" statement say you are moving in the right direction. You have been given more time... more time for them to come up with something, anything! Most importantly more time to live! Oh I am so relieved, it is good news Leroy... life is lived in the grays.

Sent by Cherie Brown | 4:41 PM ET | 10-26-2006

You know, this sounds pretty good. But you have to do something for your readers. When you are cured, you have to promise not to do anymore combat coverage. We can't invest this much positive energy into your cure, just to have you waste it.

Seriously, this is good news. Keep the faith.

Sent by Brit | 4:44 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Wonderful news!

Hang in there!

Sent by David Larsen | 4:46 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Yeehaw! Every little bit... go get that triple scoop of Ben and Jerry's... enjoy the damn moment... that's all we have my friend!!!

Sent by Meredith P. | 4:48 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Leroy my friend, I have been reading your posts for two months now. Even when we worked together at Berkeley you were a good writer, but now I must say your prose is excellent and very moving. Even though I do not have cancer (to my knowledge), I appreciate your thoughts on life and death, on acting and waiting, on what it means to be alive. Although today you seem numb about the results of your tests, I view them very positively. I don't know how much more time you have (none of us does, do we?) but I know that I am not alone when I say, selfishly, that I want you to keep blogging for a long time. Thanks for your insights into the human condition, and smile: good news often comes in strange packages.

Sent by Joe Robertson | 4:50 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Leroy,

I lost my mother to ovarian cancer well over a year ago. I remember her waiting... waiting... waiting... for news that her CA 125 blood levels were dropping with the excruciating chemo treatment she was on. But each time the CA 125 numbers either stayed the same or continued to climb. The horrible treatment did not result in any good outcome for her.

My sense is that when we shut our eyes and dream, we dream that the chemo and other treatments miraculously make the tumors vanish and our bodies are whole once again. The reality of course is quite different — it is really quite a slow process to halt the growth of the cancer cells and shrink the tumors.

I think that your have been given a gift with your treatment and recent results. The horrible chemo treatment and Avastin is being offset by the fact that there is now some renewed hope and optimism. This is really great news.

Sent by Shari Harris-Dunning | 4:52 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Great news, Leroy! I was almost convinced that today would be a negative blog, but am very happy and will continue good thoughts and prayers for your continued progress.

Sent by Joe Regan | 5:41 PM ET | 10-26-2006

Congrats! Any positives are always welcome. Keep on fighting!

Sent by Jenene Koegel | 11:44 AM ET | 10-27-2006

You take good news were you can get it. Hallelujah! You got some. October 10th my mother's news seemed not to be good, tumor growing again. After more testing, turned out not to be. Who knew the phrase "no evidence of non-thoracic metastatic disease" could be so poetic? I felt like I was floating. I wish that feeling for you and yours, very much.

Sent by Dianna | 11:48 AM ET | 10-27-2006

Way to go Leroy. I knew you could do it! Stay strong, live strong and fight that cancer!

Sent by Lisa Majors | 11:51 AM ET | 10-27-2006

On the other side of the world, quite far from cancer but fighting problems pretending that they don't exist, people are happy for all the good that happens to you. And that is the next good thing today! I believe in all the best things that can happen next.

Sent by Anna | 11:52 AM ET | 10-27-2006

Celebrate the good news and I think all of us who live with cancer in our lives understand it can take a while for good news to sink in. And while you are a long way from a cure, you have great reason to hope you have moved closer to it.

Sent by Andrea Clay | 12:08 PM ET | 10-27-2006

Good news definitely does count! And I know of the waiting. I've read your entries for some months as I have been going through my own breast cancer diagnosis, surgery and am currently in the chemo mode. Many times your words leave me with a sad understanding, though your cancer journey is much more arduous than mine. Today you made me smile. Thank you Leroy! To your health.

Sent by Rosemary Griggs | 12:16 PM ET | 10-27-2006

Absolutely, good news counts! It is fabulous to hear. Hope is a scary thing, no? Almost as scary as cancer itself. Hang in there, think good thoughts and I'll hope as hard as I can that more and more good news is headed your way.

Sent by Kaela | 12:20 PM ET | 10-27-2006

Hello Leroy,

Every bit of good news is good news... little good news... medium good news... big good news. I think of you with good thoughts. I am a two bout cancer survivor of 15 years and tomorrow I will be 62. May it continue for you. Life is good news.

Sent by Anne Hinterlong | 12:25 PM ET | 10-27-2006

Listening to your straight forward, thoughtful honest essays has made me so grateful for my mundane life. You pierce my heart Leroy Sievers and I follow your journey closely. You are in my prayers. Thank you for your honesty and courage.

Sent by Alix King | 12:26 PM ET | 10-27-2006

Leroy I say a prayer for you every day. I read your blogs and my e-mail. I haven't responded in awhile but I want you to know you are in my thoughts. Ever since I heard you on NPR several weeks ago, I think about you. This latest news is encouraging. Again I say you are doing a great service to so many people. Don't ever give up.

Sent by Carol OShea Haber | 12:29 PM ET | 10-27-2006

I am so glad for you and your family. This sure sounds like good news. I know it seems so long and so uncertain but what else can you do. You help me just keep on keeping on. I know you do this for many people. You are in our prayers.

Sent by Paula Polk | 12:40 PM ET | 10-27-2006

I'm so glad you got some positive news the waiting is awful. Good luck Im thinking good thoughts and praying for you.

Sent by Carole Bailey | 12:45 PM ET | 10-27-2006

What about dietary changes, such as getting rid of sugar of and sugar substitutes? What about a cleanser to clear out toxins in the body? Are these a part of the routine? Bodies can heal themselves. Certainly the chemo is a way to smack down those tumors so that the body can fight the illness on the other hand, it can also smack down the immune system, which the body needs to fight. So perhaps a few weeks off and attention to diet would keep the fight going.

Sent by Kay Hutton | 12:47 PM ET | 10-27-2006

That is the best news! I am so happy. You are always in my prayers.

Sent by Lynn Giudici | 12:52 PM ET | 10-27-2006

I've never been a joiner. My husband says I have an authority complex, so I've never liked all the titles that are commonly used to describe the struggles with cancer. I have Stage IV Melanoma. I currently am living life in 3-month increments, being two months into my first quarterly scan schedule following the completion of a regiment of High Dosage Interleukin-2 - nasty, a 96 hour drip with profound side-effects. That would be each session.

I do not call myself a Survivor because that term connotates a degree of victimization. I prefer to think of myself as a Cancer Combatant, I will fight this disease on my own terms. I call it My Cancer - because this battle is very personal.

Cancer has colored, and clarified, every aspect of my life (I do NOT call this Cancers Gift). What a wasted political opportunity to not unify the cancer perspective, more than 10,000,000 strong, I understand - only counting cancer patients, not including friends and family! Cancer has not "changed" me, I have not allowed cancer to change me. I am more adamantly the person I was before cancer. My obituary will not read "death by cancer" but instead, "she lived life her way."

Sent by Randy Mathey | 12:55 PM ET | 10-27-2006

I am so so happy for you. And for me as I need your blog to help in the healing of my heart following losing Joe to cancer last month.

Sent by Irene | 12:58 PM ET | 10-27-2006

Leroy, my husband and I can sympathize with being unsure about stopping for awhile. We have also been through that and Les gets very uneasy and even depressed to a degree when some kind of therapy isn't happening. But recently he went on an experimental chemo. It was really tough in terms of gastrointestinal problems. He thought he could gut it out (chemo joke) to give himself the best chance at the drug, but he wound up in the hospital with the linings of his intestines and colon burned out and in terrible pain. He almost died, but he has recovered. The lesson for us was that when the doctors say you should stop, there's a good reason for it. He'll listen better next time hopefully. Also listen to your body. Change can be a good thing. Our bodies adjust amazingly well and what worked earlier may not be as effective later on. Just worth considering.

Sent by Anne Palmer | 1:07 PM ET | 10-27-2006

HURRAY!

Sent by Ruth White | 11:38 AM ET | 11-01-2006

Dear Leroy,

"Hallelujah!" is how my sweet Mother would have greeted your good news, and it seems the only apt way to respond to your news today.

Sent by Sarah | 1:49 PM ET | 11-01-2006

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Leroy Sievers in the Ted Koppel Documentary

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About 'My Cancer'

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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