I'm "religious" (whatever that means) and I don't think God gives us cancer or MS or stroke or ALS or famines or major earthquakes etc., to test us or to "teach us a lesson" as some people said regarding hurricane Katrina. I'm sure people's faith is tested in some ways though. And that if we who are "afflicted" don't learn lessons about caring and loving and compassion for others we have lost a good opportunity.

Sent by Nancy O. | 3:31 PM ET | 11-09-2006

I wonder if by trying to understand what is happening or why it is happening is more of a control issue than anything else. There is so little that you can control when you have cancer that you think if you can make sense of it somehow you will be back in control. The truth is that in addition to the obvious stress and distress, this disease causes one of the biggest things is the loss of control over your life. Not just physically because of all the things cancer and chemo do to your body and your mind, and how your life becomes one doctors appt after another and living from cat scan to cat scan, but the emotional and mental part of it as well. That is the part of this disease that I think has affected my husband more than anything. He can deal with the pain and the fatigue and the side effects. What he has the most trouble dealing with is the loss of control and the dependency he now has on me. I am very ok with it and I tell him that "he has been taking care of me for 26 years and now it is my turn." But he hates that part. He is trying to understand this disease as if it will put him back in control of his life if he can make sense of it. I tell him it doesn't matter how, why or when, but I think as long as he feels if he can try to understand it, it will give him back some control. I don't understand any of it nor do I care to. I only know I hate it!

Sent by Amy Wile | 3:36 PM ET | 11-09-2006

One of the things that has helped me through having cancer is the belief that it's not my job to answer the question "why." As I've probably said before here, I could come up with answers to that question, and they could all be wrong. The cancer is. We read all the time about factors in developing it... diet, genetics, obesity, environment, not environment. All of the scientists in the world haven't figured it all out yet, so how could I? My job is just to do the best that I can with what I'm dealing with, and perhaps to help others having to deal with it by sharing what I've learned. Just as you're doing Leroy.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 3:39 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Don't you think it's human nature? I do. We're naturally curious and we need to make sense of things. But I also think our society has to place blame for those same things. Believe me, I've thought and thought about this myself. My older sister died from breast cancer at 42, I was diagnosed at 44 and my younger sister was diagnosed this year at age 48. I thought, wow, for all of us to be under the age of 50 with the same disease, and at least with my younger sister one of the exact same types of breast cancer,we must have the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene, so off I went for genetic testing. It came back negative. I don't have the genetic mutation. Hmmm... environmental then? But Leroy, you are right. Maybe there isn't one answer. But I can't stop thinking about it.

Sent by Carol | 3:42 PM ET | 11-09-2006

The search for understanding of why we have cancer is in my opinion futile, it's impossible to know why me it just is, and that is a fact to accept, just like my eyes are brown. Other than making us intensely aware of our mortality and vulnerability, does cancer really change who we are? At the core, cancer cannot touch our inner being unless we allow it too.

Perhaps the understanding of cancer is for those close to us, to learn that life can be shorter than expected and full of the unexpected.

Leroy, thanks for your blog and lots of thought provoking questions.

Sent by Chrissie | 3:44 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Leroy,

I so appreciate your writing. You traverse the terrain from a perfect cheesesteak to "why does my cancer exist" in a sublime and graceful way.

I don't have an opinion on the perfect cheesesteak (not so big a deal in Boston) but during the moments I have questioned why my cancer exists, I have preferred to shift the question to, "What can I do with this? How has this changed me for the better?" How am I more sympathetic, now that I have seen parents tending to their children with brain tumors while Im waiting for my own radiation treatment? How lucky for me that it's not my child with the cancer, that it's me. How am I more patient, now that I'm stuck in bed, waiting to heal from surgery which excised my "medium-sized" tumor from my leg and required reconstructive surgery with a tissue and skin graft from my abdomen to rebuild my leg? How am I more appreciative, now that I'm still alive? How am I a better mom, better friend, better wife? I don't know why I got this cancer, and it's too late to really care, but I do know that it's made me a better person, a more sentient person, something to which I think most cancer patients and survivors can attest.

Thank you, Leroy, for bringing up the small questions and the big ones. You may have your days when you miss your old work but this new work of yours is pretty incredible.

Sent by Jennifer Haan | 3:47 PM ET | 11-09-2006

When I say I am just trying to understand what is happening to me, I really mean something much smaller than what you seem to be talking about. I want to understand what is going on in my body and what to expect next. I seem to be having trouble getting/finding that information. It may seem a bit morbid, but somehow if I know what to expect, it seems easier to live through.

Sent by Stephanie | 3:49 PM ET | 11-09-2006

How do I understand what happened? I don't. 18 months ago I was diagnosed with a form of cancer that is very rare in this country — probably 200-300 cases a year. And most of those cases occur in men of Chinese ancestry. Unless my mother hid something from me, I am a woman of Irish and Scottish ancestry. There is evidently a strong link between the Epstein-Barr virus and my nasalpharyngeal cancer. Well, I never had mono and no one in my family did either. Go figure! The cancer was inoperable. The tumor was in my sphenoid sinus, next to the brain stem. So I went to Mass General Hospital in Boston and was treated with proton beam radiation (there are only three facilities in the U.S. who can provide this) concurrent with traditional photon radiation to the lymph nodes in my neck and chemotherapy. I was one sick dude, unable to swallow for months, nourished through a feeding tube and living in a tiny room in an outpatient living facility owned by the hospital.

I survived it all and actually have a cautiously optimistic prognosis now.

But the real kicker wasnt the cancer. My youngest child, my 25 year old daughter, went to Boston with me, stayed with me in that tiny room, got me to treatment each day, took care of me in every way. And became addicted to my pain meds.

I can't even think about my own health now. She escalated to worse drugs (heroin) and, now, my life is pretty much consumed with trying to help her recover. Talk about guilt and blame — I feel as though I should have just gone and died instead of seeking out special treatment. After all, I am 58 and she is 26. I've had a life, hers looks dubious right now. This disease really is a thief.

Sent by Kathy Keating | 4:00 PM ET | 11-09-2006

At St Jude Children's Research Hospital where my daughter has received all her cancer treatment, they have wonderful team of staff called "Child Life Specialists." Their purpose is to help the child (patient) with all that comprehending of what is taking place. They do tons of things... play therapy, i.e. using dolls to explain the next procedure and helping the child understand what is going to happen to her body next. They also just have fun with the kids... sometimes in the waiting rooms or just when they meet us in the hallway. They became my daughter's favorite people... and to this day we look for Angie when we return for check-ups. She helped us through some hard stuff. One wonderful memory is when Angie set up urinal bowling for the kids in the solid tumor waiting room. The kids wrote with markers on the plastic urinal bottles what they hated about cancer... things like "stinky heparin," "getting stuck," "losing my hair," etc. Then they set up the bottles like bowling and rolled balls to smash that cancer and give it a beating! Talk about therapy and lots of FUN! Maybe we need Life Specialists who could help us big people deal with all this pain and suffering of cancer! OR go bowling and VISUALIZE what youre knocking down with that heavy ball!! I would need bumper pads myself!

Love you Leroy... keep wondering and writing!

Sent by Beth | 4:08 PM ET | 11-09-2006

I agree with you about the randomness of these events. I don't believe that our creator wills for us to suffer. What I do think we are expected to do, however, is what we are expected to do with any life changing event: analyze our life and make decisions appropriate to where we are. I found with my cancer that I needed to focus more on my family and life outside work. Plus, I felt the need and desire to connect with my faith more. This has been two years now, and I have the same intense need to be a better person.

Sent by Greg Clark | 4:39 PM ET | 11-09-2006

No words of wisdom today. Just wanted you to know I do read your blog daily. I may not comment daily, but am here.

Sent by Jane | 5:01 PM ET | 11-09-2006

I don't know anymore about the how life and death and suffering and destiny work than anyone else, but this is what I believe. I think we all have a role to play. We all have opportunities to make a difference. Many people have long lives of shaping the world, but others have the most influence when their lives are short. Their leaving has a profound effect on others by making them stop and think about how short life can be and re-evaluating their own course. Suddenly a bright light is shown on who they are and how they've lived and how much we love them. We all stop and think about how to live and look closely at people we sometimes have taken for granted.

When were suffering or grieving, it's no help to have people say "someday you'll understand — there's a reason." You think nothing; nothing could be a reason that would explain this terrible pain. But I think it isn't one reason. Its a thousand. We all play our roles, like a tapestry thread that touches all the others. I do think there's another dimension after death, heaven...whatever. I think there's an awakening when we understand it all. And when we do, we see that it's much more complicated and simple than we ever could have imagined. That's what I think.

Sent by Laura | 5:35 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Leroy,

At first glance it may seem that knowing cause and effect would provide some relief. What if it was that mercury from the broken thermometer that you played with when you were 6, the pesticides that your oranges were sprayed with, that bad sushi you ate, or maybe your inherited a genetic predisposition to the ailment? It seems that knowing what caused it merely allows us to have a target for our guilt, blame, or regret.

The best reason to ask "What caused it?" is because if the cause is known, then a cure can be found more quickly. Cancer is definitely not caused by a lack of radiation treatment or chemotherapy. So in our quest for the cause, let's blame the toxic environment we live in for poisoning us, and the modern food cultivation practices for providing us inadequate nutrition to allow our immune system to mount a proper defense. After all they are probably truly the culprits.

Every day, in each and every one of us, our immune system fights off may forms of attackers. A healthy immune system can detect and eliminate cancerous cells and does so every day. So the question to ask, when searching for a cure, is "How can I help my immune system to start working again?"

In the late 1800's William Coley discovered that inducing high fevers in cancer patients caused their cancers to improve. Coley achieved a cure rate of 20 percent on advanced inoperable sarcomas in the 1800's! The immune system was not understood at that time, so the mechanism for the cure (stimulated immune system due to strep bacteria) was believed to be unscientific and his treatment fell out of favor with the introduction of radiation therapy, even though radiation therapy (at the time) did not provide as good results.

Scurvy was an incurable disease until it was discovered that citrus fruits cured it! Then vitamin C was discovered and we now understand the mechanism. In the last 20 years the scientific community has made a vast number of advances in understanding what nutrition our body needs.

Science now tells us there are eight single cell sugars (monosaccharides) that the body needs to be able to function correctly. Every one of the trillions of cells in your body require these eight essential sugars in order to communicate properly with each other. These essential sugars are called glyconutrients.

About a month ago I went into a bookstore to purchase a copy of Sugars That Heal. The lady who assisted me showed me where the book was, and I asked her if they had any other books on glyconutrients, and she said no, but she told me that she was a cancer survivor and she took them during chemotherapy. She said they made a huge difference in her ability to bear the treatment, and that she bounced back much quicker after each treatment while taking the glyconutrients.

I hope that this motivates you to further investigation.

Sent by Hale Brownlee | 5:38 PM ET | 11-09-2006

I vote for "the larger question."

Sent by Doris | 5:41 PM ET | 11-09-2006

My husband has stage IV adenocarcinoma of the esophagus diagnosed in January of this year and has already beaten the odds. He has really gone down in the past few weeks and we found out last week that the cancer has advanced. The only good in that terrible news is that he was started on Avastin, not approved for this cancer yet, and we believe that he is doing better in the past few days. Now we just have to play big time catch up on nutrition.

In reading your blog on this day, I thought of a book that you might find interesting, and one that I find myself going to again and again for comfort and solace. It is called The Five Things We Cannot Change by David Richo.

Anyway, you remain in our thoughts and prayers. You have to know that you are helping many people by what you do, and I hope that you find some measure of comfort in that.

Sent by Cynthia Harbaugh | 5:45 PM ET | 11-09-2006

Hello, Leroy.

I glanced through some of the comments that people have already written you in response to this blog. I had to agree with a couple of the sentiments expressed. One woman, named Nancy, I believe, wrote that she didn't always comment, but that she constantly read your blogs. I could echo that.

Another person said that they thought your current work in recording your experience with cancer was pretty terrific, and I second that sentiment.

As for whether there is a reason: Yes, Leroy, there most assuredly IS a reason that people get cancer. That's the positive answer to your question.

The rest of the answer — which may leave you as frustrated as you were — is that that reason(s) is/are known to Almighty God, and He may or may not choose to reveal that to you. I certainly am not privy to the reason(s).

There really are no random occurrences of this nature. God is the master of the universe, and all things are subject to His sovereignty. Perhaps He has allowed this to happen to you that you might seek Him and find Him for whom and through whom all exists, whether or not He ever reveals the reason(s) to you in this life. For knowing Him who is the very author of each of our lives is of greater importance than knowing the answer to all the "Whys" of our individual lives.

How's that for an answer? Perhaps not as satisfying as you would wish and I certainly can understand and appreciate that. However, it is the truth.

Sent by Greg Sheryl | 11:22 AM ET | 11-10-2006

Hi Leroy,
I wish I had found you and your blog sooner, but I didn't know about you until last night and the TV documentary. I had surgery an chemo a year ago and so far am doing well, but you have said so eloquently what I've been trying to say to people. I won't say that I enjoyed the show as I do wished there would be no reason to have the show, but it echoed my thoughts in so many ways. I do wish you a wonderful life in whatever comes next. My prayers will be with you.

Sent by joane | 8:38 AM ET | 05-07-2007