Leroy-

You are beginning to sound like a self absorbed, pity party, kind of guy. Why not focus on constructive proactive things, and stop the feeling sorry for yourself. I reached out to others constructively, not just in a pity party sort of way. Get over it. You're blog is boring.

Sent by Laura | 9:52 AM ET | 11-09-2006

I've never had to have chemotherapy, but I can relate to the diminution of strength and function. Four surgeries in 11 months have a way of doing that, especially with significant complications. Now, at not quite two years after the last major surgery, Ive noticed in the last few weeks that for the most part, I have my old walk back. Thanks to really vigorous water aerobics, I'm not really back to the pre-cancer me, but I'm a heck of a lot better than I was a year or two. One oft heard cancer term is the "new normal." I find that really annoying, but it's true nonetheless. One of my doctors who was the physiatrist who managed my rehabilitation from the effects of cancer has left my area to go to the Mayo Clinic to treat lucky patients there part time, and to do research on the quality of life issues that beset cancer patients after treatment, and how to help them. I'm glad that this is on the radar of a growning numbers of doctors. To paraphrase Hester Hill Schnipper from her book After Breast Cancer, cancer patients are like drowning people who are pulled from the lake, and left gasping on the dock. We need more than that.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 9:55 AM ET | 11-09-2006

Leroy and Laura,

Yes, positive feelings and thoughts are important, but so are admitting and talking about the reality of what's going on here and all the challenges, and feelings, negative and positive. I applaud you Leroy for sharing honestly what you're experiencing and the good reports, we'll hang on to the hope those bring. You're in my prayers.

Sent by Harve | 12:24 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Hang in there, Leroy. Your blog is about the good and the bad... and the bad is when you feel physically crummy and you can't remember where you left your keys because of chemo brain and you are just tired of being poked and prodded. Like you say, there are good days and bad days.

Sent by Kitty J. | 12:26 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Leroy,

They will come back strong — the platelets, I mean. I'm not a big strapping guy, rather, a small strapping gal. I was supposed to have my chemo-avastin combination for six to eight treatments, following up with Avastin only for the next year. By treatment five the combined regimen sufficiently depressed my WBC, RBC and platelets that the oncology team decreased my dosages. This was after having been given the shots to build up WBCs and RBCs since treatment three. By treatments six and seven, I had to wait the extra days. But, still, each treatment had a cumulative effect on the marrow. My oncology team was very upbeat about things, though. They explained that the combined treatment was a double insult (dont you just love "insult" as a medical term?) to the marrows function. And, I could expect to see things improve when the chemo portion ended. We decided to cancel treatment 8, as the recovery period would have been too long to allow me to continue on the avastin portion of the treatment plan, which is part of a clinical trial. Now, less than two months from my all time lows, I am completely back to the normal blood count ranges. And, my physical/ mental strengths seem to improve weekly. You will get there, too. Keep on writing what you feel... it's not boring, it's what you need to share to get you through each day.

Sent by Sheara | 12:33 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Well, I completely disagree with Laura: your blog is anything but boring, and you are hardly a self absorbed whiner.

Your blog today accurately says what all of us discover at one point or another during this medical adventure: we are human, not super-human, and our bodies and emotions are going to be tested as never before.

And Nancy K. Clark, as usual, gets it exactly right: the cancer community has to do more than leave us gasping on the dock. The Lance Armstrong Foundation focuses on surviving, but as Lance himself said, each person has to find his own way through this.

Hang in there. You're doing fine, and we need you.

Sent by David Larsen | 12:36 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Hey Leroy,

I was so angry when I first read Laura's response. But when I thought about it I came to the conclusion that she is just sharing her own frustrations. You are very brave to share all these emotions for any one who wants to listen. If she thinks your blog is boring then maybe she just needs another blog. Maybe she could read mine. I come to your blog because we share the same feelings. Because I hide so many of my feelings on my own blog. And the reason for that is people like Laura make me feel like I am on a pity party. And maybe I am. So I like to come to your party and know that I am not alone. It's my party and I'll cry if I want to. Cry if I want to. You would cry to if it happened to you. So Leroy let it all out. So many of us need you. This is an emotional rollercoaster and nobody likes to ride alone.

Sent by Karen | 12:38 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Leroy,

Thank you so much for your honesty. Please continue to be true to yourself and share with us what is in your heart. You will never know how many of us that you touch but I for one have been comforted many times and I thank you.

Sent by Michael | 12:43 PM ET | 11-09-2006

So, even if you were boring (which you're not), would it be such a sin? Leroy, you don't have to entertain me or anyone else. Cancer treatments, questions, side effects, implications, language ("new normal", etc,), the unrelieved unknowing about the future, those are relentless. Talk about boring! In the face of all that, your unique voice talks over the events of your days. You are rich, you are real, you are steadfast and you are generous. Tenderness towards you is a part of that mix. Thank you for the courage you show in your willingness to not appear "constructive" and "proactive" with every breath you take.

Sent by Ceese Stickles | 5:44 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Leroy,

There are times when I get really angry at feeling like I'm always supposed to be positive and courageous and upbeat. Sometimes I feel like slapping the next person who says cancer is a gift. I understand what they are saying but sometimes it's just not what I want to hear. I really try the best I can to keep a good attitude because I do believe that a positive outlook makes life easier and I also believe in a strong mind/body connection. I wish I could do it all the time, but staying positive all the time just isn't realistic for me. It was such a relief when I told my support group that I felt really shitty and I cried.

When I'm really depressed or scared, talking about these feeling out loud dispels a lot of their power. To me it's comforting to know someone else has had the same thoughts or feelings. It allows me to give myself a break and not be so hard on myself and when I hear someone share their human frailty with me, I don't feel quite so alone. When I see that person walk through their difficulty to the other side it gives me courage that I can do it too.

For me it's all a balancing act which, by the way, I never do very well. When the dark feelings come I try to acknowledge them, identify them and accept them as mine but not stay too long in the dark. I do my best to believe that everything is unfolding as it is supposed to. I know at some point I need to accept my situation and move forward into the light and find the positives. But there are times that I know what I need to do, I just can't do it. That's when I have to trust that acceptance comes in its own time and I just try to do the best I can until then.

I've made so many judgments about people in my life just to end up at a later date in their shoes and boy what an embarrassing revelation that is! I realize that I'm just as human as the next person. So keep writing whatever you feel, every last one of your feelings are valid. They are all part of our human condition.

Sent by Francine Fowler | 5:47 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Leroy,

Laura has no depth. Her cruelity is what is wrong with this world. She lacks compassion for her fellow man, has no understanding, no intelligence deeper than a surface overlay. She has no idea what having cancer does to a person. How one's life is toatally disrupted. Dealing with it, adjusting your life to it... How one gives this fight all they can, and yet still lacks the confidence to believe they can beat it. You do. You offer intense understanding in every angle to this puzzle. No other words can explain more perfectly than yours. Thank you, thank you.

Sent by Yvonne Kovits | 11:16 AM ET | 11-10-2006

Hi Leroy,

I just started reading your posts about a week ago. I heard you on the radio and found you on the internet.

I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease five weeks ago, at the same time I was diagnosed with a brain tumor...after the BIG brain surgery for what was perceived as a deep tumor, they found nothing. Now, five weeks later, they still don't know what is happening in my brain...or what happened. It looks better. Why? I don't know. The doctors don't know.

My story is somewhat outlined on www.carepages.com under my name (ginamariegambony) if you are interested in reading about other cancer stories! I am going to start chemo soon; I have been delayed because of this mystery brain problem. None of it makes sense, and I know the chemo won't make sense either...but you know, one thing I must admit is that the amazing fact that I am still alive after what has transpired, well, that makes no sense to me any more than my mysterious brain trauma or my no explanation Hodgkin's disease. The beauty of life, it is similarly random. I hope to retain this focus when chemo starts.

Sent by Gina Marie Gambony | 11:31 AM ET | 11-10-2006

Leroy,

I've listened intently as you've reported about your cancer on NPR and I've just started reading your blog. As you can see, there are not many who agree with Laura and her lack of compassion. Everyone deals with their situation in their own way, and I've appreciated the openness and honesty with which you've expressed yourself and your ongoing struggles with cancer. You may feel like your body is betraying you, but your spirit seems to stay strong, and that's the most important thing. You will always have people who support and honor you for sharing one of the toughest times of your life, and doing it with style and grace.

Sent by Tracey Lyman | 6:29 PM ET | 11-13-2006

Heard you on NRP today.

I remember the day my sister had her diagnosis of cancer. I felt so bad. I couldn't even imagine how bad she felt.

We worked together, helping her with diet changes and nutritional, as she endured the treatments.

She was declared cancer-free and then months later found it back in other parts of her body.

We selected the least harmful treatment.

Such great challenges.

Recently we were introduced to something from China — a part of their daily diet. Used for centuries in traditional Chinese Medicine.

My sister felt so good with it she stopped the treatments (hormonal) that had been making her miserable... Shes had great health improvements. Mood improvements and her tests are clean.

She was told shed need to stay on that drug forever.

I don't know if you're open to non Western Medicine. But if so, I'd be glad to share the information

If you're not, I wish you all the best.

Happy Thanksgiving and many more to come.

Sent by Pam Gecan | 12:31 PM ET | 11-27-2006

I had an eight pound ovarian cancer removed from me last year just this time. I was terrified, as was my whole family. I didn't want to leave them and my 16 year-old girl; I went through the surgery well, although they did have to cut my intestine into due to the sise of the tumor. Although the chemo was worse, I had a bad reaction to it, but after three weeks in the hospilal getting blood transfusions, blood clots, pneumonia, horrible fungus infection and had to be fed through my viens, lost all the skin on my hands and feet three times. My feet are now numb, hands partially numb and very painful, but all my wonderful friends and family and forum friends and wanting to live so bad. My tumor marker last week was zero. When I started my battle it was 100, I am blessed so. I admit when my next check comes around in four months I will be afraid again, but I pray for the best or you and I and all with this dreaded cancer.

Laura, I have never in my life witnessed such blatant hardness and lack of empathy let alone sympathy. I believe in Karma, I believe you will reach a point in your time you will see what a huge mistake you made talking to a person who was asking for help from others! Please come back Leroy, I will share some things that have made my journey down this so lonely and uncertain road easier. May God bless you and lay his healing hands on you hope to hear from you soon.

Sent by Phyllis | 5:51 PM ET | 11-27-2006