You continue to amaze me. I have many of the people in my office reading your blog. Sometimes we talk about it and sometimes we don't. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving and a day off from your chemo.

Sent by Tim Louis Macaluso | 11:35 AM ET | 11-21-2006

Hi Leroy,

I was pointed at your blog about a month ago and have slowly been trying to read your history. I was finally able get caught up yesterday so I felt that it was time to add some comments.

First, I'll start with a little background. I was diagnosed with stage 4 rectal cancer in Mar 2002. The cancer had already spread to my liver at that time. Treatment started with chemo and radiation followed by surgery. It then continued with chemo for too many cycles. (Id have to check with the records to find out how many.) I started Avastin as soon as I could get it after it was approved by the FDA as an addition. In 2004, I had a fairly new procedure, radio frequency abelation, to remove a couple mets in the lung. Less than a year later, I needed a lobectomy to remove mets from the lung. Last week I had surgery to remove a met from the brain.

So many of the things that you have said match my personal feelings about life with cancer. The biggest is the will to live and keep on battling the cancer. I have tolerated my treatments better than you have. (Oxcaliplatin seems to have worse side effects than other options.) I have managed to work almost full time except for surgical recovery right through chemo.

I realized long ago that this cancer will eventually kill me, but that can't drive my life. On the other hand, I have two children that are still at home who can always use a father. Since my diagnosis, I have started a seven year course of daily study which I plan to complete. I plan to attend more milestones in my children's lives. At times, I have probably pushed myself too hard trying to ensure that my children have as normal of lives as possible.

Well, I could probably go on for hours, but I'll stop now.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving and don't forget to plan for your Halloween party for next year. Please keep up the fight as you definitely have the right attitude.

Sent by Jim Bloom | 11:38 AM ET | 11-21-2006

I've only just learned of your blog, Leroy, but already I am grateful you have taken the time to share your story. I'm a non-Hodgkin's lymphoma survivor, still under treatment. I relate to your fears about entering the chemo room. And I also understand what you mean about bravery. I appreciate that you recognized not only your own bravery, but also the bravery our wonderful caregivers exhibit in caring for people facing this horrible disease. It must be hard and until I read your blog, I hadn't considered how hard it must be for them. Thank-you for bringing this to light for me.

My thoughts are with you. In healing and in wellness, Samantha

Sent by Samantha Tengelitsch | 11:40 AM ET | 11-21-2006

Leroy,

I know exactly how you feel about your freedom days. They are so very precious, a touch of normalcy for at least a little while. I wanted to share with you my latest roller coaster ride. I feel closer to you now than I ever did. I am not having surgery now. Yesterday, two days before my scheduled surgery, my husband and I were told what my true options are by my chest surgeon. Inoperable, no guarantee, the risks far outweigh the benefits. It was my choice to either do surgery knowing all the risks involved, to do nothing the "wait and see" approach or to go back to aggressive chemo, since the tumor did respond to it. Deal or No Deal? Of course, I chose chemo. I never thought I'd be happy about going back on chemo, but I am. Life with cancer is such a roller coaster and everyday is a new drama. Leroy, have the best Thanksgiving ever, I'll think of you with my first bite.

Sent by Ruth White | 12:42 PM ET | 11-21-2006

Leroy — looking forward to your interview today. I have started a free blogging service for cancer survivors called Blog for a Cure in order to help people out. I think having someone who documents their journey is so helpful not only for the person writing it, but for others to read it. People are able to relate to others and find survivors who understand what they are going through. Keep on writing Leroy you are making a difference to a lot of people including me!

Sent by Jill | 3:26 PM ET | 11-21-2006

This is from a fellow cancer blogger:

"Here is the big important advice I have for you, no matter what stage, no matter what you have to lose... ready... here it is... GO IN LIKE PATTEN AND KILL THE ENEMY. That way you may live into your 80's if you want. All my love to you all and best wishes. Remember, you are not going crazy."

Sent by Jill | 3:27 PM ET | 11-21-2006

I listened to you on NPR today. My story is a bit different. I am 52 and dx with ovarian cancer at the age of 33. I was very fortunate to have been encouraged by my partner to go to the doctor early. (Ovarian cancer is often "silent" Mine was hormone producing so I had a few symptoms.) I never had to have chemo or radiation but did end up losing both ovaries. My point though is the "rest of the story." My mother had essentially disowned me when I came out as gay at age 21. Up to the point of my cancer dx, it was a terribly painful relationship with my mom with her rejection. When I was diagnosed, she had such a change of heart...she said "nothing is more important to me than you live". She prayed very hard for me and lit many votive candles. Since that time, our relationship has transformed into one of true love, respect and even friendship. In a very quirky way, I owe a great deal of my happiness to having had cancer. It has of course, altered my view of living as long as I stay conscious of my experience. Miracles arent changing the circumstances of our lives but how we respond to them.

Sent by Toni Burger | 6:18 PM ET | 11-21-2006

Dear Leroy,

I had minor cancer in the late 80s (breast, possibly from the stupid parabens in deodorants — Google parabens cancer for more info), had slash/burn/poison treatment, as a result lost much memory (chemo) and suffer from heart irregularities (radiation — in the AARP mag recently, a reader wrote to say that her heart surgery was, according to her doctor, necessitated by her radiation treatments 20 years earlier). I'm not a mainstream medicine fan (as you can tell), so I looked for alternatives. I found a lot regarding herbs, supplements — and homeopathy. Among a lot of other things I've learned in my quest, I've learned to test to see if I need a certain substance — the testing is called muscle-testing/kinesiology (this can also be Googled). With homeopathy, remedies are often made from diseased cells, so there is a remedy called carcinosin (cancer), which I acquired (online) and use to muscle-test with periodically. According to muscle tests, I've had cancer recurrence several times in the last decades, have taken the remedy carcinosin, have retested and found I didn't need the remedy, i.e., the cancer had been eliminated. Cancer is a systemic disease (i.e., it can't be beaten by hacking off body parts), so recurrence is possible. Changes in diet and lifestyle can help the system become stronger, fight recurrence. Again, my cancer was minor, only in one breast. No guarantee that alternatives will do any better than standard care for wider-spread infection. But I'd be happy to tell you more about what I've done. All the best to all of us.

Sent by Margaret | 6:23 PM ET | 11-21-2006

I heard your interview on Talk of the Nation. I think it is a great service that you are creating a day by day description of your battle with cancer. When I was blessed with cancer I could find little to tell me what to expect. One feature stands out to me, the title of your blog, My Cancer. As a writer, you are well aware of the power of words. Over the last five years or so I have become aware of that power from a different perspective. That perspective is in line with the understanding that "to think is to create" or "thoughts are things." When you talk about your cancer, you are taking posession of it, you are giving it power. I believe that as long as you consider it your cancer, you will have it. My approach was that it was an invader and my goal was to get rid of it and get on with my life. It was never my cancer, it was the cancer, and getting rid of it did not require getting rid of me (it did result in getting rid of my thyroid gland). In your mind, see it defeated, see it gone, see yourself healthy and free of the scourge the invader is. I wish you well in your battle.

Sent by Mandell Winter | 12:33 PM ET | 11-22-2006

Hearing you today talking about what the families go through gave me some insight into what I may be facing in the future if my husband goes on chemo for prostate cancer. Thank you for including us. We are members of the club, too. My husband and I decided to make this holiday special by delivering Thanksgiving dinners prepared at a local church to the homebound. I will be thinking about you on my route.

Sent by Janice Kennedy | 3:52 PM ET | 11-22-2006

I was diagnosed with colon cancer two years ago at age 44. I started chemo with the FOLFOX treatment (oxaliplatin plus 5-FU), then switched to Xeloda, the pill form of 5-FU.

After two cycles, I knew I could not make it six months without some relief from the misery. I found relief from delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol (delta-9-THC), otherwise known as TCH. The synthetic form of THC can be found in FDA approved prescription Marinol the natural form of TCH is found in Marijuana.

Without relief, my condition of misery was that I either would end chemo or end my life. With relief, my condition was one of tolerance, not feeling that bad. I finished the six months of treatment. Honestly, I was surprised how effective this drug is at relieving the miserable side effects of chemo. Some people might say, "It's just because you are high". Ok, even if that is so, it works. Whatever the mechanism of operation, it works. The dosage can be controlled to have the beneficial effect while minimizing the high.

I am a well-educated professional and not a druggie. This drug, TCH, is available to relieve some of the suffering caused by the chemo drugs (the poison). It ought to be more widely prescribed. When we are talking about treatments to save lives, the stigma of a drug that gets you high should not prevent its use.

I just discovered your blog today when I heard you on the radio. I have started reading it to catch up, but have not read it all yet. Sorry if you have already addressed this topic.

Sent by Mike | 5:07 PM ET | 11-22-2006

I know exactly what you mean about the extra time. I have had a two month break since my last chemo and I swear that I almost feel normal! I get my next chemo on Monday, so I too can have Thanksgiving without worry. Best wishes to you for your special day of Thanks tomorrow and thank YOU for all that you do.

Sent by Cindy H. | 5:09 PM ET | 11-22-2006

I was on my way to yet another test in my long journey and fight with two types of cancer appearing at the same time (rare lung and thyroid). I heard your interview and just stopped the car in a parking lot and cried without reserve.

I admire your courage and initiative. You expressed so many of my thoughts and

I will be following your journey.

I know how hard this is for our family and friends — unfortunately I have lost many because they are embarrassed to share their lives with me. This is the source of my greatest pain and I now make extreme efforts to keep those friends who have lingered.

Take care! Carpe Diem!

Sent by Lee | 12:43 PM ET | 11-27-2006

As a nurse that has given care to oncology patients for 22 years, I have to say I am humbled by the grace, intelligence, and honesty of these postings. I embrace the theory that illness/wellness is the unitary pattern of the individual and you all have articulated that so beautifully. My heart goes out to each of you as you take each day as it comes and find the essence of meaning in your lives. Someone posted that cancer is a blessing. I would perhaps phrase that cancer is an opportunity to see what is really important in life. Over the years my patients have been my best teachers and this is the lesson I can share with you. Until there is a cure, there is hope in the extended community. Reach out to each other, to complementary care, to your spirituality, to your caregivers, family, and friends. Take time to go deep inside as well with some type of meditative practice... this is where you can find the courage, strength, and endurance that you need to proceed through the cancer experience. Thank you for sharing.

Sent by Suzanne | 2:18 PM ET | 11-27-2006

Your Sievers name on my local NPR station caught my attention. My maiden name is Sievers. My grandfather Peter Sievers was born in l868 in Hohn, Germany. Are we by chance hanging on the same family tree?

Sent by Patricia Sievers Slaney | 4:46 PM ET | 11-28-2006

My husband is 42 years old, he never smoked, he rarely had a drink, he always worked long hours to provide for his family AND no family history of rectal cancer exsists. He was of normal weight and went to the gym daily before he went to work. WHY?????? why did he bother, it didn`t help him..... He just finished his 12th treatment of Oxaliplatin etc. What`s next? How long will he live? Our children are 12 and 14, I lost my 1st born Shawn to a man who decided to get behind the wheel of his vehicle drunk, it cost Shawn who was almost 4 months old his life. I can`t lose my husband too. Does anyone out there have any answers? any advise? I feel so lost and alone. Lost, alone and scared to death.
Darlene

Sent by Darlene | 4:05 AM ET | 07-13-2007