Loved your comments today. I try to claim as much of my old life as possible. Everytime Im at a meeting and we are looking at scheduling a follow up and they look at Friday afternoons (chemo time) I get frustrated. Im leaving on a trip to Greece for ten days and some people have asked, "Why do you want to go so far away? What if "something" should happen?" Traveling has been a main part of my life for the last few years and being able to make this trip reclaims a little of that normalcy. I am a cell phone call away from my doctors, which is the same as when Im home. I am trying to get my Pet Scan results before I leave but dont think I will. Im sure if it is bad news they think, why upset her before she leaves? Personally, bad news would just be permission to party harder and make the most of my time remaining! Good news would be cause for celebration so it really is a win/win but not knowing is the most difficult. So, if you have the opportunity to go to Afganhanistan go for it!

Sent by Dona | 9:04 AM ET | 11-02-2006

I also used to be the person who waas committed to not letting cancer beat me. I worked full-time (teaching) two weeks after my first mastectomy, through hard chemo and seven weeks of radiation. I continued on weekly Herceptin and planned four additional surgeries. Then my daughter got pregnant and my priorities started to change. I decided that I had proven for a year that I could beat cancer. Now it is time for recovery. I decided to go on disability in June since I no longer had the stamina to do a good job. Since I am single, this is a decision not to be taken lightly. I went 3 months with no income so I pulled some retirement funds out. This second 3 months has me covered by a short-term disability policy giving me 2/3 of my last years income. I am waiting for the SSAs decision and the teachers retirement systems decision on long term disability.

I dont look at my situation as giving up. I look at this time as a gift to fully work on my recovery to allow me to get back in the game in a year or two. Not many people get this chance.

Just remember that your job is not who you are....it is something you do. Job 1 is healing and recovery. Best of luck with your decisions.

Sent by Robin | 9:05 AM ET | 11-02-2006

I say if you are up to it physically and it does not interfere with your treatment go for it! If this trip will make you feel better emotionally, take it. Your emotional well being is so important in your recovery process and it sounds to me as if you have your heart set on it. On the other hand if you wont be able to continue this blog while on this job you cant go, we would all miss you too much.

Sent by Sherri | 9:07 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Thank you for giving us your perspective. It helps me understand the challenges my mother faces with her cancer. Because of your blog, it helps me recognize how she may feel.

With all the time and energy it has taken for her to go through chemo, she has decided to take up smoking again. As hard as this is for me, I know how important her free will and her ability to control her own life is. But it is difficult for me to watch.

So I understand your doctors point of view, but also the importance of you continuing to make your own decisions, and not let cancer rule your life.

Sent by Linda Keane | 9:11 AM ET | 11-02-2006

"I used to be the guy who went out there. I prided myself in going where most people wouldnt want to. That wasnt just what I did — it was who I am. Or I guess who I was."

Be proud, you are still that person- your daily blog proves it! Best wishes!

Sent by K Forman | 9:12 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Getting your life back—As a 2 year survivor of breast cancer, Ive heard that so many times. I worked from home while recovering from lumpectomy, then a mastectomy since the first surgery didnt get it all. I was tired, hurting, and I know that I made mistakes in some of my work. But I felt like so much of my life was given over to scans, bloodwork, doctor visits, and hospital. I wanted to do something that was related to the life I had before the word "malignant" came to dominate my life. I did not have a defined tumor, but rather diffuse carcinoma in my breast tissue that needed to be removed completely (DCIS). I had a form of cancer that was very early stage and surgery removed it (as far as they can tell). It was hard to give my body time to heal I didnt "look sick" other than immediately after surgery. No chemo, no radiation so on the outside (wearing clothes anyway with my prosthetic breast) I looked the same. I had one friend who kept saying that she didnt understand why I worried, the surgery had cured me. No one says CURED any more. I found a support group Gildas Club here in North Texas to be able to talk about cancer and its aftereffects. As noted by others in your blogs, after a certain point if you dont look sick or are not in current treatment, others are - as one friend of 20 years so eloquently put it - glad you can find others to talk with about it, because they are over it. Cancer steals our peace of mind, health, family and other relationships, and not by choice. We are forever changed we understand the ephemeral nature of control in our lives. Being able to go overseas to cover the war means that you have wrested some portion of that back from the doctors, the poisons (and chemo is a poison, just a targeted one), and the beast trying to take over your cells. But remember that you are a journalist covering a battlefield here, too - one that takes more lives than the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan every day. I hope that you keep fighting it here. You have a voice worth listening to - my family wishes you strength on your journey and an audience that is more than willing to hear what you have to say. You are just going through boot camp a little longer than you had hoped.

Sent by Helen | 9:14 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Stage IV colon cancer. Diagnosed 7/2004. On Avastin. Still have cancer, but may celebrate my 30th anniversary. Have traveled a lot, since my diagnosis. My attitude is—do what you really want to do (if you can). Your advantage is that you know life is short. Your disadvantage is that the cancer may limit what you can do.

Sent by Janice | 9:16 AM ET | 11-02-2006

I dont know Leroy, I guess I say do whatever makes you feel ALIVE. I have stage IV breast cancer and am presently in remission. So many times I hear my husband talking about getting a new house, vacations he wants us to take and planning for the future. Inside I hear myself saying, "For what? I probably wont be around that long". I feel like I have already buried myself. Those are the times when I am idle and have to much time to think about it. But then there are those times when I am out doing fun things or keeping active when I am able to forget the Cancer (for a few hours) and actually feel normal again. Cancer takes so much out of us and we with advanced cancer pretty well know the battle we have ahead of us. Why not go out and do the things that make you happy while you are battling. Life is short, we of all people know that. And frankly, if I am going to go, I'd rather be riding the waves in Florida than sitting in some hospital bed. (now I need to take my own advice).

Sent by Sherry G. | 9:17 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Since you asked me, I think you should go. If going alone makes you feel like your old self then do that. If taking your significant other would expose her to a part of your life she has not shared with you, take her. You have given all of us a unique window into your thinking as you wage this war that is so horribly personal. This travel could be your greasy cheeseburger! Thanks for helping us understand your victories and stand-offs with the evil tumors. Plan your trip so you have just had chemo and dont have to worry about missing a session BUT you have started to feel not horrible. Go soon. Bon voyage.

Sent by Eleanor Workman | 9:19 AM ET | 11-02-2006

I understand perfectly—you think about longterm plans, about going overseas on a project (in my case teaching and research) and then it hits you. Dare I? What if? What the hell, cant I just do it? Thats soon followed by more "what ifs". Its one of the worst aspects of late-stage cancer, the loss of peace of mind, of the gung-ho attitude about what we do. Making plans becomes an internal monologue that threatens to paralyze. Not being defined by disease, by "health issues," is a never-ending struggle. Id say, take adequate precautions, then if possible, go—but thats really easy for me to say, isnt it.

Sent by Sandra Haarsager | 9:21 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Even as a cancer patient, people want to be productive, to do "normal" things, to make a difference in something as regular and everyday as work (as opposed to making a medical difference such as living another 2 months on a certain drug). Joy is in short supply in many lives. As strange as it sounds, if it brings you joy in your life to go, then go. And yes, sometimes it is just a joyous freedom to have a choice, regardless of what is offered or allowed. May God be with you, Leroy, and grant you the joy of choices!

Sent by Sharon | 9:25 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Thanks for sharing your experiences and insights. You are an inspiration to my husband and me.

While I cant really offer any advice as to whether or not you should go to Afghanistan, I understand and agree with the sentiment you expressed. Ever since I was diagnosed with breast cancer in May, I have repeatedly told my husband: "I just want our life, back!" My idea of the "life" I want back is sipping red wine on my back patio, watching my dogs play, and listening to jazz while waiting for my husband to finish grilling our Sunday dinner. This idea represents my happy, innocent life before everything changed. Obviously, we cant set back time, but I think that doing (or at least trying to do) the things we used to do before we were diagnosed is the first step in getting our lives back.

In late September, I finished several months of chemo, and on a recent Sunday I was able to get my life back - at least for an afternoon. I hope you are able to do whatever you need to get there too.

Sent by Johanna Myers | 9:26 AM ET | 11-02-2006

Hello Leroy. I understand. It's about having options, it's about regaining control. You want to be able to have the choice you want to be able to make the decision as to whether or not you WANT to go. Not whether or not you "should" or "can" go.

Sent by Vira | 6:57 PM ET | 11-02-2006

No, you're not being silly. You're being yourself. Traveling and working in places that most people try to avoid is part of the fabric of your being — machismo has nothing to do with it.

While I've never covered wars for a living, I have spent a lot of time with UN officials around the world and have traveled extensively. I've probably blogged from 30 countries in the last few years, give or take. But this year is on track to being the first time in about a dozen years I haven't left the country, and it's eating me from the inside out.

I was supposed to go to Turkey, Armenia and India this year. Turkey got cancelled at the last minute because my mom's ovarian cancer had relapsed again and she needed my support. Then came the baby, a new job... Next thing I know, I'm suddenly staying very close to home. All for very good reasons, but that doesn't make it any easier.

For people that thrive on working overseas, it's hard to explain it to people who don't have the same bug. Whether it's cancer or another life-changing challenge, sometimes you just have to stay at home — and it's hard as hell. But if given the chance to get away without compromising your health, I think you should grab the opportunity and run with it. None of us can ever know how many other similar opportunities well have in the future.

Sent by Andy Carvin, NPR | 7:02 PM ET | 11-02-2006

Despite the fact I'm only 42 years old, I don't dwell on the fact I can't do many things I used to enjoy. Instead, I remember them very fondly for being a phase of my life.

(This Lucid Moment)

Sent by Gypsy Girl | 7:04 PM ET | 11-02-2006

Assuredly, I am with you on those thoughts of travel to a foreign place. "I can go. I can return to Paris, Italy, and all those places I've been before." I also want to prove I can be the person I was before the tumors took over my "every" decision. Am I dreaming or should I throw caution to the winds and live life to the fullest in spite of what symptoms might pop up while away from home?

My husband's cousin had pancreatic cancer and in her last few months, she took a trip overseas to visit family. That was an inspiration to me.

But for now, the doctor has told me to take a month off after 19 sessions of chemo, so we are off on an RV trip which will have to do for now.

Whatever you have decide, enjoy it.

Sent by Deanna | 7:08 PM ET | 11-02-2006

Maybe the lure of the trip is another reason to consider a chemo break I've had two breaks. The first was after a mere three treatments when I went into hospice care for a couple of weeks when it didn't seem worth the struggle versus stage four lung cancer. But Dr. persuaded me to try again as the scan results were promising. After three more I took a planned break, and it was like I flipped a switch from "patient" back to "person." I started to read books again, to take walks, to go out to lunch with pals, to send out birthday cards. We went to the Maine coast for four days. I'm glad to have re-connected to at least a part of myself and my old life, as my break is over and I'll re-start chemo with Alimta on Tuesday. But now I know more of what to expect what I reasonably can expect to still do that the "cancer patient" is just a part of my life and that for now I still have some control over how much it defines me.

If you do decide on a break, with or without travel, take good are of yourself. Many of us can't imagine this journey without you!

Sent by Jan | 11:26 AM ET | 11-06-2006

I'd make every effort to make the trip to Afghanistan! Not only will be make you feel like you're old self, you'll remember it for the rest of your life. It is much better to try and possibly fail than to lay back and wish you would've tried.

I can tell you an example of the latter scenario. Before my "re-diagnosis", I planned on taking a motorcycle trip around Lake Superior as well as into deeper, isolated regions of Canada. I didn't do it. Now here in November I'm hoping I get a second chance next year to do it. I definitely will. I think about that trip about every day. While it's something to shoot for, I also hope it's not something that I regret not doing.

Sent by Mark Weissenborn | 11:37 AM ET | 11-06-2006

Ever since I heard one of your commentaries on NPR last February, I have thought frequently about your fight and the service you have done others during your own crisis. Listening to you that day enabled me an overdue opportunity to revisit my mother's untimely death and cry in the privacy of my car where my four children wouldn't look fearfully at me as they watched their mother crying yet again. Clearly, your interest lies in just getting your life back to normal. "Normal," for you, involves close proximity to warfare. How foreign your usual daily existence is for so many of us. Your desire for normalcy is completely understood. And yet, I see you completely as the "Guy Out There," sticking your neck out to reveal the truth to the masses about the unique and immensely complicated struggle life with cancer poses.

Sent by Maryanne | 11:40 AM ET | 11-06-2006

Sometimes we who can feel Death's breath on our necks forget that everyone is dying. We just happen to have a more acute awareness. And I recently read, but cant remember where (Rilke?) that "death is the holiest presence," which I take to mean that an awareness of our transience makes us value ourselves and others, and all forms of life, with a heightened awareness. And I think it informs our decisions about what we shall spend our time on in a way that we never did before. So I don't feel like my decisions now should be controlled by who I thought I was before cancer, but by who I feel myself to be today in light of my new awareness.

Sent by Carolyn Torrente | 11:56 AM ET | 11-06-2006

I am a fifty year old criminal defense lawyer. I was diagnosed this summer with stage four colon cancer. The chemo is working, but my doctors wont say that they can cure me. I cut back on work, but still go in every day and try cases. I miss feeling like a bad ass. There are just some jobs in which one must be an all-or-nothing maniac to be the best. I'm getting it back, but with some perspective. Work remains an oasis. I see so many of my own feelings reflected in your blog. You help me every day. This is journalism at its best.

Sent by Lee | 1:35 PM ET | 11-06-2006

Dear Leroy,

My opinion — go with your heart and soul and disregard the medical opinions as far as your travel/work plans. If you don't take the risk now, when will you be able to again? There's so much talk about quality of life. What does that mean? I have very simple pleasures. Many of them I have cut back or given up. There are, however, certain things I refuse to give up altogether. We all have things that are important to us, and now's the time to embrace them if at all possible. It makes life worth living.

Sent by Patricia | 2:39 PM ET | 11-06-2006