I wish that you could get your old life back, too. It would be really nice! I wish that you and I could have a few minutes each day when we did not think about our cancers. What a relief that would be.

Sent by Sandra Locus | 9:57 AM ET | 10-03-2006

Once I read a letter from a woman with some disabilities that were affecting her every waking moment. She was writing in a newspaper from Combermere House in Canada. She was so closely associated with the part of her body that wasn't doing what she wanted it to that she had to find a way out of constant misery. Through prayer she began to feel and see that her body was like a pottery mug with a big crack in it. The crack represented, for her, her painful disability. She saw that she was the mug, perfect and wonderous still. For so long, had she been associating with the flawed and painful part of herself that she needed to meditate on the facts: "I am NOT the crack, that is only part of me. I am the mug, an open vessel, pure and perfect. I am NOT THE CRACK." It seemed so simple when I read it. At that time I was agoraphobic. One day, immersed in being agoraphobic, suffering greatly and feeling very stupid and depressed because I was afraid to do all the things in the world other people did so very easily, like go shopping for a loaf of bread or drive a car to town and get my hair cut, one day that woman's discovery hit me on the head. I am NOT agoraphobia , NOT the stupidity and insecurity I feel when confronted with agoraphobia — that is the crack. I am the mug ... and I AM NOT THE CRACK. And a mug is an open vessel, and you can fill it with whatever you chose to fill it.

It changed my life. That view has stayed with me through advanced cancer years and years later. I am NOT the cancer nor do I want to identify too closely with the chemo side effects. They are only a crack. It helps me to minimize those side effects even when they are horrible and to put my energy into being the cup, the open vessel.

Sent by Nancy Oliveri | 9:59 AM ET | 10-03-2006

Dear Leroy, As I write this, I am preparing to leave for my bi-monthly chemo treatment. I have colon cancer and metastatic disease in the liver, kidneys, etc. Your comment this morning about the psychology of taking chemo drugs into our bodies prompted me to write. I believe nausea often is brought on by a psychological flash of recall and the torment of "imaginary horribles." I assume you are taking Kytril, Zaflon, or some other anti-nausea drug. These I also hate. I am a university literature teacher, and while I tell myself I am more mentally prepared than most to cope with this disease, the cancer has made life both more intense and much more difficult. Like you, I would like a reurn to normalcy, whatever that was, but at least I have learned how to spell diarrhea. I wish you the best as we take this penultimate journey.

Sent by Walter J. Hickey | 10:04 AM ET | 10-03-2006

I am a cancer victim three times over to agent orange. I find your NPR reports distasteful and self-indulgent, and because of the focus on yourself without any social benefit such as raising cancer consciousness. Why not have another patient describe how they take rectal specimens? Why not no past or future but how you lived in the present today, grateful for today, just today, and describe what small blessing came your way today? Please take the focus off yourself — it gives me nausea. Pray in some fashion for the Amish parents who lost their children yesterday, and be responsible for the fact that you chose chemo and you have the choice to discontinue it.

Sent by Robert Morehouse | 10:07 AM ET | 10-03-2006

I have a question for Leroy. I am wondering what your diagnosis is and what the new chemotherapy is. I have a fairly unusual cancer — neuroendocrine pancreatic — which has produced a large tumor. I am supervised by a specialist at the DANA-FARBER Cancer Center in Boston, but I am naturally always on the lookout myself for possible treatments. Thanks so much.

Sent by Steve Huntington | 10:10 AM ET | 10-03-2006

My wife and I met a woman who had a large dog that was diagnosed with massive cancer throughout his body in Carolina Beach, NC. She put the dog on the Johanna Budwig cancer diet, and the dog is doing fine — five years later. The NC State Veterinarion school did not know what to make of it. Budwig was controversial in her lifetime, being sued two or three times. All suits were dismissed. Its a simple diet/cleansing.

Dr. Budwig had some unkind things to say about the cancer cures in place today. Her book has recently been translated from German to English.

The book is a good heuristic argument on curing cancer. It makes good reading for anyone who has cancer. It can also save a lot of pain. Do a Google search for Johanna Budwig for more information.

Sent by Darrel Brown | 10:12 AM ET | 10-03-2006

Driving home from dropping my daughter at school this morning, I heard your piece on NPR. As a full-time critical care nurse, it takes quite a bit these days in the realm of human struggle to affect me with any sort of visceral and emotional immediacy (to do what I do, it is unfortunately necessary to differentiate caring compassion from my own personal emotive life ... the technical expertise and quick thinking needed at all times necessitates placing strictly emotional caring for patients and their families into appropriate times and spaces — like a martial artist that cannot fight when clouded with anger). But sitting in my car at the stoplight, I cried. Not with pity. Not truly even in sadness. I cried for the fact that another human being can face what must be the most isolating and terrifying episode in our human life with such forthright strength, humor, and honesty — well, let's just say I am in awe. You may think you're simply doing what you need to do to get through the day, but you are a quiet hero. My best hopes for you, sir. You have a strength many humans (I include myself), within their many stories, never find.

Sent by Emilie Savas | 10:15 AM ET | 10-03-2006

How old is Leroy? I'm new to the blog and have no idea. Age is important to know when someone is fighting off death.

Sent by Gene Russell | 10:20 AM ET | 10-03-2006

Dear Mr. Sievers,

I heard your commentary this morning, early. I had woken up thinking about someone in my family who has been diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. She just finished treatment for colon cancer, which apparently worked. The doctors say this liver cancer is far worse, and far more difficult to treat. Your thoughts, your willingness to make the effort to share all of this with other people — it is a remarkable thing. Thank you.

Sent by Fletcher Newton | 10:27 AM ET | 10-03-2006

As I listen to your words and read your blog entries, I can only feel one emotion. Sorrow. I am sorry for your situation, but at the same time I am grateful. I appreciate the strength you have speaking to the world about your bout with cancer. It gives me immediate appreciation for the life I have and others that are important to me.

I heard another story on NPR sometime last year, and this feeling was described after the attacks on September 11th as the 9/11 effect (or something like that). In short, what they were saying is that for a short time, we were kinder and gentler to strangers than we would be otherwise.

What I want is to develop into a person that can feel kindness and gentleness for those I love and for those I don?t even know. Even as I race down the highway late for work, pressed for time, and someone cuts me off. I want to be able to smile and think, ?They must be more in a hurry than I.? I am not sure how to attain this everlasting feeling of euphoria, but this is the closet I?ve come. So, thank you for your strength and best wishes to you and your loved ones.

Sent by Wayne White | 10:30 AM ET | 10-03-2006

My cancer was found early. After two surgeries, my oncologist gave me the choice of chemo or no chemo. In his opinion, reoccurrence would be a 50/50 chance with or without chemo. I researched the heck out of chemo side effects and said no chemo. In the end, my decision was influenced more by the experiences of other cancer patients undergoing chemo than by all that research or my oncologist's advice. Just the cancer alone was an overwhelming assault on my health. I don't know that I'd have handled chemo with as much grace as you have. Like the t-shirt says, chemo sucks.

Sent by Joan Marie | 10:37 AM ET | 10-03-2006

Dear Mr. Seivers,

Let me tell you I love you. I have a lot to write about when I can get it put together properly. I just heard you on the radio for the 2nd time and had to tell you, instantly, that I love you.

Sent by Polly E. Jones | 10:39 AM ET | 10-03-2006

Dear Leroy,

Your commentary has been inspiring. Finally, you are sounding human too. I was such a baby when I went through chemo and I only had four treatments three weeks apart. (I have breast cancer and completed treatment in June.) I can't imagine what you've been going through all these months. I really admire people who continue to work through chemo. There was one week of my three I just could not have done what you are doing, and I think people who do continue to work every day must be super human. (Thank God, I'm retired and didn't have to face that challenge.)

Even though I listen to Morning Edition frequently, I first heard your commentary several months ago and have been following you online since. You are amazingly positive for all youve gone through. Your commentary helped keep my spirits up when things were the worst.

Sent by Dottie Nauer | 10:41 AM ET | 10-03-2006

I woke to your voice this morning, Leroy. It helped to take my mind away from my surgery tomorrow. I have been on chemo since Aug. 2005. At first it was every two weeks (dose dense), then every week. Fortunately the weekly med is easier on my system. You are so right when you opine about going back week after week to be poisoned, the challenge of eating for your meds, and the occasionally the insanity of it all. I will admit to using "herbs" to resolve the nausea and appetite issues. They work. I am a teacher with 18 years in the classroom but I knew I needed help. I tried all of the side effect meds offered for the nausea and nothing worked as well. However you mention your fingers and feet. I had a similar side effect from Taxol. To this date it continues even though it was stopped Nov. 2005! The only med that worked was Lyrica. If you are able to take it, the trade off is the tingling may be hiding pain. I have been able to handle the pain more easily than the damn numbness. God bless you, Leroy. You are putting a voice to all of our suffering (and healing).

Sent by Robin | 1:46 PM ET | 10-03-2006

Dear Mr. Sievers,

I am humbled by your journey as a cancer patient. When my Mother was 71 she was diagnosed with stage 4 colorectal cancer that had metastisized to her liver. It was devastating, as she was the very soul and strength of our family. Despite the diagnosis, which was incredibly grim from a sheer medical perspective, she picked up her sword and fought back for 3 years. She endured countless rounds of radiation and chemo, endless bouts of nausea and other ill effects of the treatment and underwent 6 surgeries. In the spring of 2005 she died, but not without sharing her journey with me. I cared for her over those years learning more about life and human strength than I could ever imagine.

Since her death I changed the direction of my own life I now oversee fundraising efforts for an organization that raises money for cancer research. It is the only way I know how to pick up her sword and continue her fight.

I wonder if you might consider collaborating with me on your journey with every journal entry you write, I could write the perspective of the caregiver.

I sincerely appreciate your candid portrait of your struggle and illness I wonder where you find the strength and then I remember my Mom.

Thank you for sharing.

Sent by Stephanie Witte | 2:09 PM ET | 10-03-2006

Leroy — reading your blog (or catching the on-air commentary) is the high point of my day. Your day sounds like mine and probably many other chemo patients. My feet are tingling and I can barely type this because the Oxaliplatin is making my fingers feel like they've been pierced with pins. Somehow, I still manage to make it to work every day and try to carry on like "normal." I try to put in as productive a day as possible, although there are times I feel like the cancer zombie that cant seem to find his old body and brain as I wander around my office. I wonder if other people see me that way too. I take a nap when I get home from work, and wake up when my teenage daughter gets home from school. I know that it worries her that her father does nothing but sleep, but we do manage to have a little quality time together before I nod off again. She's nicknamed me "Chemosabe." I wake up for dinner and help with the homework, but soon its time to nod off again, only to wake up the next morning and start over again. It's like the movie "Groundhog Day" — the same day relived over and over (except for occasionally having a different side effect manifest itself - nosebleeds, mouth sores, nausea, rashes). I'm still waiting for that happy ending to this movie when I get to break free of this cycle. Maybe it's a few more treatments away, but for now, I'll just soldier on and do the best I can.

Good luck with the Avastin — I started with a CEA tumor marker of 176, and it dropped to 58 with only two treatments. I hope that it does the same for you.

Sent by Bob Maimone | 2:12 PM ET | 10-03-2006

I was touched by your commentary.

Sent by Bruce Allen | 3:32 PM ET | 10-03-2006

Cancer is very frightening. Anyone who has watched a loved one die from this disease is wounded for life.

I watched my father die not from his cancer but from his cancer treatment... chemotherapy. The goal of chemotherapy is to poison the host hoping the cancer will be killed before the person.

I watched my friend's sister die due to the physicians giving her a dose of radiation so large it put her into a coma from which she never recovered.

I've discussed this with medical professionals over the years and the one response I will never forget after I commented that patients die of the treatment not the cancer. The RN replied "Of course, but it's a much more humane death." To this date, I don't know what that means.

There are other cancer treatment options. Some FDA approved such as hyperthermic (heat) therapy and some not FDA approved such as ozone therapy.

These options work while increasing the individuals well-being rather than eroding it.

Our immune system is what keeps us well. Without it we can not survive. Yet chemotherapy and radiation suppress our immune system. Does that make sense?

The bottom line is money... cancer is a $51 billion industry. Why would we want to make a cure public?

Sent by Cheryl Kaster | 5:23 PM ET | 10-03-2006

Thank you so much for your commentaries and blog entries. They're very powerful and moving, and even though they make me feel sad, Im also happy that you are making it clear that you're still around, with your voice still being heard. Hang in there!

Sent by Elizabeth | 5:37 PM ET | 10-03-2006

Oh... you just made me cry... I'm sorry for all you've been through... I really hope and pray that one maybe one you'll get your life back, not for a few days but forever.

Sent by Sam | 5:45 PM ET | 10-03-2006

Dear Leroy,

I think that I can help.

I have been doing private research on why people get sick. My conclusions on why we get diabetes is as follows:

The American Diabetes Association article entitled, Stress, located on the Internet at http://www.diabetes.org/type-1-diabetes/stress.jsp states the following:

- Stress results when something causes your body to behave as if it were under attack.

- When stress occurs, the body prepares to take action.

- In people who have diabetes, the fight-or-fight response does not work well.

- Insulin is not always able to let the extra energy into the cells, so glucose piles up in the blood.

My hypothesis is that in diabetes, the body is indeed under attack; therefore, the body's stress response is quite appropriate.

Mammals share the same reproductive system, including the regulatory hypothalamic system that releases gonadotropin releasing hormone in pulses (legumes and cereals), the pituitary that secretes leteinizing hormone, follicle stimulating hormone and the sex hormones including estrogens and progesterone. Consequently, the phytoestrogens in pulses have a very strong possibility, given the right circumstances, to present a danger to the bodies of animals including humans. Some of these pulses have what scientists call lectins (I like to refer to them as "thorns") that initiate a very appropriate stress response from our immune system.

I have exhausted all of my funds in the pursuit of the cause of diabetes in specific and the cause of why people get sick in general. Hopefully and soon, maybe the notoriety of the solution to diabetes and other disease for which I have studied and have plausible theories will incent people to provide donations so that I can continue to pay the mortgage and do my research.

Diabetes is like the canary in the coal mine. After diabetes, comes cancer. Right now, I am planning to disclose the cause of cancer in an upcoming book.

Sent by Edward L. Floyd | 5:49 PM ET | 10-03-2006

Today is my birthday and I am one of the few women in the world that is happy about it! I was given 4 to 22 months in June of 2003. So HB to me!

I think we are on the same drug protocol. My savior has been the anti-nausea drugs Kytril and Emend. The Emend is wonderful and costs $300 for three pills!

I well remember the day I stood in the shower knowing that it was probably my last day of having a normal body. The next day I had a colostomy.

I long to be able to just go for a walk. Striding along with my head in the air with secure foot fall. It is the little things, isn't it?

Sent by Marilynn | 6:19 PM ET | 10-03-2006

Dear Leroy:

When I heard you, I realized that you know that death is part of living. I pray you do not lose your hope in living. Also, I read somewhere that if you take little pieces of cut-up ginger root and chew it, this may alleviate the nausea from the treatment. God be with you ...

Sent by Liliane Roy | 9:31 AM ET | 10-04-2006

I don't understand why and how doctors tell people they have "x" amount of time to live. What is the purpose? Most of the time they are wrong and just cause panic and heartache. I have advanced cancer, and my doctor has never mentioned a time limit. Does anyone know why a doctor needs to say such a thing??

Sent by Lynn | 9:33 AM ET | 10-04-2006

Cancer resides in a body that is not alkaline and where cells are compromised. These conditions are caused by years of resident toxicity. I will not go into the causes of toxicity because our society produces it everywhere nonstop. Even your emotions cause toxicity. This is important. You must truly understand and have faith in your body because it is flawless in design. Your healing response is predicated on a couple of factors as a general rule. How much suppression is going on in your enviornment and in your daily choices that inhibit the natural capacity of your immune system for this is what will comprimise your cellular integrity. The second part is dependent on the number and quality of recources from which it has to draw on to create and maintain quality structure. As demostrated as if you cut your arm to the bone. Instantly, through no effort of your own, it will start to knit itself back to the way it was before you took the injury. The duration dependent on the afformentioned conditions. Your body is always trying to heal itself. You must do everything possible to fulfill your body's natural modality. That means leaving behind all forms of poison to uninhibit your body. You need to make the juicing of fresh pure organic fruit and vegetable juices a mainstay in your daily life. There are many recources that can be found on this subject. Stop eating all cooked food. It carries with it all the oxidised material that is the poison of the cellular structure. It is quite literally rust. Hence the term "anti-oxidants." Doing this will mass-infuse you with poison, removing matierial from which you can only be healed by removing the thing that poisons you. Likewise, you will receive what are called phytonutrients. These in large part are what determines the outside strength of your cells. Decrease toxicty and increase protection. Fasting should also be considered. It is the best form of purification. When you fast, you release metabolic enzymes into your blood that heal your body. I am incapable of telling you how many people I have seen that have cured themselves of terminal cancers in this way. A lot of times, people come in as a last resort when the doctors tell them there is no hope. If you know life, there is always hope. Those who invest their time and energy in their own selves and the quality of that of which they are made, including their mental and spirtual states, are the ones who usually make it. Your body is the book of deeds in which all things are written. Having an intimate understanding of what that means to you I believe will be your best opportunity. Peace be with you.

Sent by Daniel Belt | 9:36 AM ET | 10-04-2006

My first chemo treatment made me very ill. I thought I was going to die. I vomited, had severe nausea, suffered from never-ending diarrhea, gas pain, tingling and numbness of the extremities, felt out of my head and had the most intense pain I've ever experienced in my life.

My oncologist gave little to no help other to suggest I continue the regime of before-and-after care medications. The medications included steroids, anti-nausea, and sleeping pills.

After a full seven days of suffering, I began to take matters into my own hands. I decided not to take any of the before/after care drug regimens. I didn't tell my oncologist at first (hich I do not suggest), but I opted to experiment the drug-free method for myself.

The next chemo, three weeks later, would be my test for not using the before care drugs. I received my chemo without any major issues. The day after chemo I continued not to take the medications. I felt really good.

I researched my drugs (along with speaking to my doctor) and realized the steroids caused many of my issues. My doctor agreed that using these drugs to prevent nausea and sickness actually causes many of these issues in some people.

The day of chemo, I was also given Benadryl and Atavan in my IV. I started using only half doses of these drugs during the rest of my treatments. It helped me not feel as tired and way less nauseated.

I would highly suggest looking into each drug used in treatment. I didn't need all the medications the doctors prescribed. I felt better and I watched as other women in my chemo room (with the exact same diagnoses and treatment) suffered. Of course, they soon changed their drugs (ith doctors' approval) as they watched me do so well.

We have to be own advocates in this fight. I had to look outside the standard treatment to find out which method worked best for me.

Sent by Denise Nelson | 9:46 AM ET | 10-04-2006

Hear hear on the Emend. The best anti-nausea drug investment I have made.

Sent by Cherie | 9:35 AM ET | 10-05-2006

Dear Mr. Sievers,

I heard your story for the first time today. I have never known anyone close to me who has battled cancer (hard to believe, I know, but it's true). Listening to you describe a day in your life with cancer really put it in perspective for me. I cannot understand your feelings because I have no reference point, but I can see your pain, frustration, etc. for a life gone awry. You painted a very clear picture for me. Thank you.

Sent by Linda Eubank | 10:31 AM ET | 10-05-2006

I thought your piece this morning was excellent. It was ironic for me since it isn't typical NPR fare, and yet, now, as I have to deal with calcifications in my breast and whatever the heck that will lead to, cancer is in my face more than usual. I have spent years of my life dealing with cancer at sloan kettering, watching people die, watching people struggle, survive ... and I am ambivalent as to my response to cancer's knock. I do believe it is a huge industry and am not sure I want to support it financially. Best wishes to you.

Sent by Sabine von Aulock | 10:40 AM ET | 10-05-2006

Mr. Sievers, I just want to say good for you! You've taken something that's not so pleasant in your life and turned it into an issue that people can not only learn from, but also console in. I have a 20-year-old friend who is going through chemo right now, and I hope that she will find solace in your story. Stay strong! Best of luck — I wish you the best in this battle that you've been called upon to fight.

Sent by Elizabeth Baumy | 10:46 AM ET | 10-05-2006

Dear Leroy,

I listened to you this morning on NPR. How I wish you could have that week off from all you're going through ... or maybe an entire month. It just doesn't seem fair, and thats where my question begins ...

How hard is it not feel betrayed by life? How can illness possibly be part of a plan? You always hear people say "Everything happens for a reason." I just don't see the reasons ... perhaps you can share your thoughts.

I will keep you in my prayers.

Sent by Troy Donnerberg | 11:54 AM ET | 10-05-2006

Dear Mr. Sievers:

I so appreciated your article and then blog. Our 34-year-old son, Andrew, was diagnosed with melanoma in late June. He had surgery to remove it from his right thigh together with lymph glands because it was in his sentinel node. He has been told he has a 50/50 chance for the cancer to spread to his liver. He has decided not to go through with a one-year program of Interferon, which would only give him a 10% less chance of not having the cancer spread. We support this decision. I need to read your blog and I so appreciate your sharing this journey with us. I appreciate the truth rather than sugar-coating things. It is so sad not knowing the future and how long Andrew will be with us. Also, very sad contemplating his getting worse and seeing him suffer. You are making a difference with this blog. I have joined the reading list. Thank you.

Sent by Maureen Patton | 12:00 PM ET | 10-05-2006

I listened to Mr. Sievers' account of his daily regimen this morning as I prepared to go to work, taking for granted all the ease with which I was able to rush around my home doing my morning exercises, gathering lost keys and devouring a quick breakfast. Then his essay caused me to recall how my mother endured the trials of three debilitating rounds of intensive chemotherapy. She referred to "good days" and "bad days" in a way quite similar to Mr. Sievers' account. I think we should all pause to give thanks for the little things that we can do. These little things would be monumental achievements for people like my late mother and Mr. Seivers. We should also encourage them, and provide whatever comfort we can to them. From being a caregiver, I have learned that even the smallest gesture of compassion goes a long way to those who have lost, through no fault of their own, the physical abilities that they also took for granted.

Sent by Duke Morris | 12:08 PM ET | 10-05-2006

Fifteen years ago my husband was diagnosed with cancer that had advanced significantly. He also underwent chemo treatments. However, he did not ever experience nausea due to an experimental drug they placed him on. He was given the drug ondancitron. In fact he ate pizzas, ice cream and burgers in the middle of his treatment. We have since recommended this drug to others we know who have experienced severe nausea associated with their cancer treatment. They also had significant relief once they started to talk the medication. I hope this may provide you with some relief. Let me know if it works.

Sent by Angela Scott-Henderson | 12:37 PM ET | 10-05-2006

Perhaps this is a really terrible question, but a friend of mine just started chemo after having surgery for colon cancer which has spread. Her husband said they were pursuing any treatment and hoped to get it behind them fast and that he was just grateful that they had something to offer her even though it will be a terrible year ahead. So many cancer patients opt to go for horrendous treatments with no guarantee of outcomes. Does anyone ever elect to not undergo these very serious treatments ... preferring to live for a lesser amount of time but perhaps be more comfortable?

Sent by L. Middleton | 12:47 PM ET | 10-05-2006

I heard your comments today about your cancer. In August 2001 I had surgery for cancer of the breast. I went through 6 chemo treatments over 18 weeks. Yes, I know how you felt, and it is indiscribable to someone who hasn't experienced it. I have until next February to be cancer-free for 5 years.

Sent by Ann Martin | 12:51 PM ET | 10-05-2006

Dear Mr. Sievers,

I am "healthy" so far, 64, controlled high blood pressure, and arthritis, but I'm doing OK. You are a hero for doing this, in the vein of Katie Couric, who had a colonoscopy on TV. We are all dying. Some of us have a better idea of when than others. They get more choice in how they spend their last days.

You wrote that you wanted to "do" something. You are.

Sent by Mike Dietz | 12:56 PM ET | 10-05-2006