The mental gymnastics that we go through along this road are worthy of Cirque de Soleil or the Ice Capades. I was going through my own version of the mental triple lutz two months ago waiting for the results of my latest CAT scan after a horrible previous many months of many tests trying to rule out possible bone, liver or lymphangetic mets. So... here I was, seeing my oncologist for my latest follow up with my latest set of chest CT scans. Would the remaining two lung nodules be gone? Would I be in remission? I was so distracted that I left the films in my car, and had to go back out for them, making me not in the exam room when my doc was ready for me, pissing him off. Such drama. It almost made him confirming that I was in remission anticlimactic. I am in remission though, and thanks to one of the newer drugs available to breast cancer patients, instead of dying, which is what at least one of my docs expected me to have done, Im in remission, and trying not to think too often "How long will it last?" Good luck next week Leroy. We're all pulling for you.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 11:11 AM ET | 10-17-2006

In my opinion, confronting ones mortality would not fall into the category of "good news." In addition, hearing terms and phrases like "terminal," "no chance of remission," and "buying time" only add to what has already become — as my old college buddies would say — a buzz kill.

However, there is one thing that cannot kill a buzz: hope! Hope, Leroy, is what keeps all of us going. If it weren't for hope, and the infinite love of my family and friends (I was oblivious to both hope and love prior to my diagnosis), I'm not sure if even "buying time" would be worth it.

We put ourselves through the torture of cancer treatments because we have hope and love for the people in our lives, and ultimately, ourselves.

Hope is what keeps me — and my buzz — alive, regardless of "the news."

For whatever it's worth, I have a good feeling about your response to Avastin. I think good news is finally forthcoming.

I'm sending good vibes your way.

Sent by Michael Everett | 11:15 AM ET | 10-17-2006

It's the unknown that scares most of us the most, when it comes to medical outcomes. I just went through a tumor ordeal myself. Take it one day at a time, and mix hope with other peoples Avastin success stories. Something tells me it bought you time. God, I hope so.

Sent by Laura | 12:20 PM ET | 10-17-2006

Good luck with your test. I hope you hear good news.

Sent by Marilyn Tanaka | 12:22 PM ET | 10-17-2006

Good morning Leroy,

I sincerely hope that you scans next week will have the results that you hope for. I know how very difficult the waiting is. For me, the waiting was the worst part of cancer. I have just been reading over your recent blog postings and I would like to reply to your entry on 10/11. That day was my 26th wedding anniversary and I was giving a PowerPoint presentation to the nurses here at UAB on cancer from a patient's prospective. I closed my presentation with how I have changed in the past two years. I never put off tomorrow, what I want to do today. I have little patience for minutiae. I try to spend time each day either outside or watching my birds at the birdfeeder. I don't allow people or things to bother me; it is just not worth the energy. I visit my parent more often.

Sent by Cathy Sewell | 12:24 PM ET | 10-17-2006

Oh my goodness... good luck. You are a part of our cancer family. This strange grouping of people who have been brought together (even remotely) for strength, support, and just for love of our fellow humans. Avastin is amazing as is the story behind the physician (Dr. Judah Folkman) who accidentally found this possible new way to a cure cancer.

Anyway I ramble "chemobrain," you are in my thoughts and prayers and the waiting is so stressful, hang in there. We are all waiting anxiously for your news.

Sent by Cherie Brown | 12:25 PM ET | 10-17-2006

Leroy,

You say, "I'm not sure why but I'm having trouble believing there could be some good news." Well, after getting hit over and over with such terrible news, it's only natural to be self-protective. I don't know about you, but I have this superstitious thing: if you expect the worst, maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised! But if you get your hopes up too high, any bad news will feel even more crushing. Still, your daring to have hope gives me hope, too. I'll be "holding you in my heart" with fingers crossed as you get the results of those tests.

Sent by Doris | 12:27 PM ET | 10-17-2006

I am as addicted to your daily blogs on cancer as I was to your daily e-mails about the Nightline shows. I am selfish when I say I can not imagine not starting a day without reading something from you. It makes all the little things seem trivial - like caught in traffic! We all are praying for you and hope for the best! Positive vibes are critical I think to the process. Keep positive!

Sent by Laurie | 3:11 PM ET | 10-17-2006

Remember, Pandora closed the box with hope still inside.

May your wait seem brief.

Sent by Brit | 3:13 PM ET | 10-17-2006

I just love you. Thanks for sharing so beautifully and so candidly. My Brother in law has Brain Cancer (GBM) we found out last month and he starts radiation and Treamador today. Reading your commentary helps so much in ways I don't even want to try and articulate right now. I just want to say THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU and God Speed (GO Avastin GO!)

Sent by N. Harris | 3:17 PM ET | 10-17-2006

Leroy — I'm the same boat as you. I just scheduled my PET scan for next Monday. It will be the first opportunity to see just how effective the Avastin has been. My tumor markers have come way down since I started taking it, but we haven't done a PET scan until now to verify what I hope will be good results to match the markers. I hope its good news for both of us, although Im always aware of that 800-pound gorilla that's always been in the room since I was diagnosed. That gorilla is the one that says you still might die anyway. I hope that some day, I can tell that gorilla that he no longer has a reason to be in the room and go elsewhere.

Good luck with your scans.

I'm glad it's not just me with "chemo-brain."

Sent by Bob 'Chemosabe' Maimone | 10:26 AM ET | 10-18-2006

Hi. I am now following your blog from Antwerp. Can I please add my very positive European vibes to the growing pile?

Sent by Maris | 10:32 AM ET | 10-18-2006

Praying you get good news!

Sent by Karen | 10:33 AM ET | 10-18-2006

Leroy, I don't mean to be crass when all the other responders have been comforting, but please, wake up and realize that you have already been given good news, by me and by several others who have written to tell you that there is more to fighting cancer than surgery, chemo, and radiation.

Apparently you have not acted on any of these suggestions regarding alternative/complementary treatments; at least your column has not alluded to that.

I'm sorry, but I am feeling it increasingly difficult to identify or sympathize with you and your emotions, all of which are predicated upon some inexorable fate which is held in the hands of your doctor and not in your own hands.

Take control, man! Stop being the victim!

Go do some outside-the-box reading. There are many good resources available. I can't list them all but here's just one that you will find to be extremely readable, factual, and helpful as a starting point: Outsmart Your Cancer by Tanya Harter Pierce.

Just do it. You'll be glad you did. And then maybe you can affect the 100,000 other people who are reading your column with the message of health, hope, and survival rather than the grim uncertainties you see in front of you today.

Sent by David Hahn | 10:35 AM ET | 10-18-2006

It really would be nice to get some good news. I've battling Stage IV non small cell lung cancer and test after test shows slow, steady progression of the disease. My oncologist has mentioned the possibility of going onto Avastin and so Im excited at the somewhat positive response you have had to this drug. I really hope you continue to benefit from this treatment.

Sent by Mark McNally | 10:37 AM ET | 10-18-2006

Leroy,

Thanks so much for your Blog. You always seem to touch on subjects that I too have been ruminating about. I have been struggling with this issue of hope. It just seems at every turn my hope runs into this brick wall of bad news. It gets harder and harder to pick yourself up again and face that brick wall. I applaud your ability to continue hoping and to write it down with such elegance. Good Luck

Sent by Dave | 10:38 AM ET | 10-18-2006

Leroy,

Stay present. That's what my friends always tell me. My mind can be a horrible neighborhood. So I have to stay out of it. For me, my scans came back, OK I guess. The nurse called to tell me so if she leaves the message then all is good. This is our life, today. Stay centered and know that you are taken care of. Look around you and see all of us... who cares about you? And because of you, we are all connected. Ben and Jerry's anyone?

Sent by Meredith P. | 11:32 AM ET | 10-18-2006

Best of luck on the scans. It's really hard to get through them every six months. For me but it is such a relief when I get an all clear. Hope yours is some positive news. In my chemo center, we have several people on the same meds and all seem to be doing pretty well.

Sent by Jenene Koegel | 11:53 AM ET | 10-18-2006

This isn't quite on point with today's discussion - - or maybe it actually is. I am a seven and a half year breast cancer survivor, reading this from home today because I am sick with something that feels like the flu. My head aches, my back aches, my neck aches, etc etc. And I just realized that I said to myself, in my head, "thank goodness I have a sore throat and a stuffed nose, otherwise I would be convinced I had metastatic disease." Only a cancer survivor would think that way. My husband thinks I am nuts when I say things like this, but I am sure you all will understand!

Thank you for sharing your life and your journey with us, Leroy. I have been reading your daily missives for a couple of months now and doing so is one of the highlights of my day.

Sent by Suzanne | 3:49 PM ET | 10-18-2006

Hey NPR —

Censorship is not high on my agenda but would you please edit the negative rants that are judgemental and seem to blame cancer patient (me included) for not taking his advice. Sometimes the answer is just No, thanks.

Sent by Robin | 3:52 PM ET | 10-18-2006