Since being diagnosed July 7, 2006, with stage three breast cancer I have been like an obsessive complusive, seeking out every ounce of information I could find. Then last night after my "breakthrough" chemo day I was finally able to return to work, my passion and my life. Even though my energy level is nothing like it used to be, I am a former professional ballerina now giving back to students. It was in getting back into the world of students that has kept me going the most. I can walk into my class and it's as though there is nothing unusual about a bald, breastless, woman... we are just all here to dance. This ride is truly humbling and how will I ever look at simple things the same? I already know how much I have been changed forever.

Sent by Marianne Dalton | 10:28 AM ET | 12-08-2006

I resemble your remarks! We are not a disease, were dealing with one.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 10:30 AM ET | 12-08-2006

One of the things that cancer has provided to me is an extra measure of blessings. Life is full of many wonderful things, my faith, my marriage, our children, precious friends and all of these are so much more acutely felt and appreciated now. I firmly believe God has given me a second chance and, for that, I will be forever grateful.

Sent by Peggy Goode | 10:31 AM ET | 12-08-2006

During my oncology experience in 2002, I was in the chemo room 16 out of every 20 work days from June through November. Once football season started, every Monday morning involved a football discussion with one of the nurses, she being a Steelers fan and me being an Eagles fan. We were both transplants to Redskins country. We always did some Monday morning quarterbacking and dreamed of an all-Pennsylvania Super Bowl. Alas, it was not to be!

But anyhow, I agree with you Leroy — even when one has cancer, there are plenty of other things to talk about, think about, dream about, and discuss. It is a big, amazing world out there, after all.

Enjoy the day!

Sent by Art Ritter | 10:33 AM ET | 12-08-2006

Cancer has not made everything else seem unimportant, overall. Instead, it has made all of the great things that I didn't appreciate enough even more valuable to me. Also, there are things that I worried about before I got sick that I look back on now and think, "Why did I waste my time and energy on that?" It is the trivial worries or stresses in other people that although I don't want to minimize them, I wish they could have the hindsight that I have now, without cancer serving as the instigator. Instead of "more complicated," as your title suggests, my life is less complicated, because it is easier to see through the fog of everyday life and focus on the truly important aspects of life.

Sent by Sarah B. | 10:36 AM ET | 12-08-2006

Just read A Life More Complicated, But Not Overtaken.

It mirrored my own thoughts, as many of your postings have, Leroy. Our families and friends can't imagine how it is to be living with cancer the shifts in our attitudes toward our lives, or why we make the decisions we do, especially, perhaps, those about quality versus quantity of life.

Thank you for blogging through it all,Leroy, even when you feel lousy. That you write the blog in even your lowest moments inspires me to take the first step toward doing something life-enhancing when chemo makes me feel like curling up and waiting for "it to go away."

Something I do daily, even in my lowest moments, (as when throwing up!), is to take into my heart all of us who might be throwing up at the same time or experiencing other nasty side effects... all of us who are dealing with our own fear and the fear in our loved ones eyes... all of us in this little boat on the big sea of uncertainty. And I wish us all many precious moments of living inspite of the bumpiness of this wild ride.

Sent by Anne Coulter | 10:38 AM ET | 12-08-2006

I have enjoyed reading your blog since I came upon it a few weeks ago. I'm not a cancer patient, survivor or relative of one but there's something about what you say that resonates deeply with me and I suspect many others who aren't battling health problems. It may be hard to put clearly, but it's this: we never know how long we have left. We never when we will be the one getting a cancer diagnosis. We just assume because were young and healthy that we have a long time left, but that's never more than an assumption. It can and will change in an instant (even if that instant happens when were 80) for most of us, just like it did for you. So why are we waiting for a cancer diagnosis to make the changes were afraid to make? Thanks for posting your experiences, and may you have a wonderful long life.

Sent by Mac | 11:55 AM ET | 12-08-2006

Within a month of my cancer diagnosis last February, my wife and I determined that it was important to continue living as normal a life as possible. That includes having people to dinner, going downtown, (Bend, OR is a small town) seeing friends, regular exercise, and continuing volunteer activities. What if I beat the damned Thing and don't have a continuing, normal life? I have to be ready to ski this winter and win some money on the golf course next summer.

Sent by Tim Andersen | 12:45 PM ET | 12-08-2006

Since my breast cancer diagnosis, some things not necessarily important before, became more so. When my kids respond to how was school today with ok, I keep going because I really want to know what is going on their lives. When I get into a political discussion, I am probably more passionate because I value hearing others points of view. Once you're diagnosed, cancer is always in the back of your mind but I do not let it take over my life. I find I just pay more attention to what I value and less to what is really not important (like traffic, rude people and waiting in lines). Best to you.

Sent by Jenene Koegel | 12:47 PM ET | 12-08-2006

I am an oncology nurse and I have worked in various areas of that field. I have done out-patient care, surgical care and now hospice. I am continually amazed at the ability of so many people who have cancer (fighters/survivors/victims) to treat the disease and its entry into their life as just that- a part of their life.

Compazine, Ativan and Senekot are as familiar as a good set of spices in the kitchen cabinet. (They don't always need them, but it sure is nice to know they are there.) The language of cancer is evident in their life: debunking, steriotatic radiation, mucousitis, neutropenia and remission. Cancer becomes a part of their history. And it takes a place in their lives. It is always with them. Always.

One of the most important lessons I have learned from the people I have cared for, is that they are more than cancer, a bald head or a retching stomach.

They are not cancer patients.

They are people with cancer.

Sent by Ann Benetti Blesz | 5:30 PM ET | 12-08-2006

I found your site a few weeks and read it as often as I can. It is generally very uplifting for me. I think I learn something every day I read it. Thank you for posting it and everyone else that adds their thoughts

Sent by Mark Kain | 5:31 PM ET | 12-08-2006

Leroy, I read your e-mail every day and always go back and read your blogs. As I've written before, you are an inspiration for life. I don't have cancer but have loss close family members from cancer. I truly appreciate each sunrise and sunset. My life is not perfect and I have endured many disappointments. As a grandmother I just spent two days taking care of a sick granddaughter and appreciate the fact that I am able to do this. Thank you for your blogs. It must be difficult to write when you don't feel well. Just remember, you are helping so many people. I pray for you every day.

Sent by Carol | 11:44 AM ET | 12-11-2006

From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for this blog. I enjoy reading it daily and can't begin to tell you what an impact it has made in my life. I've been dealing with cancer since July 2006 and haven't gotten a good grip on it yet but I won't give up! Your words, thoughts and visions are all so true and never could I understand what life could be like with cancer. So true are your statements about what is important in life now. Listening to friends complain about issues that at one time were really, really important are now really, really not important. Funny, right now, I find more important time spent with family, friends, laughing from a great joke, admiring a beautiful sunrise and sunset, rooting for my favorite teams and just getting a hug. I never admired the simple things in life before, nor did I ever look at the big picture as I do now. Cancer opens your eyes on many levels. Life will never be the same.

Sent by Peggy | 11:56 AM ET | 12-11-2006

I think it's the little things in life that keep us going even when cancer becomes the big thing. The normality of paying bills, taking the kids to activities, buying groceries and doing all the mindless errands that need doing lets us remember the time before diagnosis and the hope that those things will again become the main things in ones life. I don't think they ever again become as important as they were before, but if you spent every minute obsessing about your cancer, then the disease has won whether or not you survive. When you go on with living even when you may be dying, you have triumphed over it.

Sent by Chris | 12:23 PM ET | 12-11-2006

Despite my family's attempts to keep our life as normal as possible, I find that cancer is much like a sniper in a war. Just when I think I am doing OK emotionally, a bullet of thought hits me, sometimes so hard it spoils everything else. I am the caregiver, and unlike so many patients, I haven't reached the point of acceptance. I don't think that I ever will, but for the sake of my husband, I carry on, day by day, ever fearful of the future, but holding on to each moment we have together.

Sent by Nikki | 12:25 PM ET | 12-11-2006

After a six year fight with stage four prostate cancer, I think the best gift out of facing death squarely in the eye more than once, is the calm of finally deciding my own philosphy about a higher power and feeling like an intimate part of the cycles of nature.

Sent by Michael Johnstone | 12:28 PM ET | 12-11-2006

A friend recently sent me an email from Germany "whining" about mundane things that were occurring in her life, and then later she apologized for even writing the e-mail and bothering me with her complaints when I am dealing with so much. I wrote back that I need to hear about her and other folks issues about normal everyday life, because I haven't checked out just because I have ovarian cancer. It actually the opposite, I feel I am more attuned to the mundane things that we all deal with daily. And I mention "normal" because one of the things my husband and I are doing, after 24 years of marriage, is trying to find our new "normal" now that we have a cancer diagnosis to factor in. It does radically change everything, makes us face fears and unknowns with strength we didn't know we had, and we talk more about day-to-day things and also cancer related topics with openness and candor. We probably take care of each more in little ways too, both talking and not talking about those fears and "what ifs" we don't want to face yet. At 58 he just got his (first) tattoo — would he have done that had I not gotten cancer? I don't know, but he's pretty proud of himself and I'm quite amazed that he did it! He could have done it 40 years ago when he finished jump school in the army but decided this week was the right time. You never know what opportunities will present themselves when you decide that time is of the essence!! I have no plans for a tattoo — I've been poked and prodded enough this year to last me a lifetime and I know I'm not done yet!

Sent by Nuala Kernan | 1:02 PM ET | 12-11-2006

To Ms. Ann Blesz, Oncology Nurse (Poster),

I had the utmost respect for your chosen profession. You reflect the good character and dedication of so many in the field.

Sent by Laura | 1:13 PM ET | 12-11-2006

I'm wondering how you can have cancer and not be consumed by it every minute. People go to the emergency room when they just cut themselves and bleed heavily. How can cancer, which is constantly life threatening not have you running to the emergency room every minute because you don't know what's going on inside your body? How can you possibly relax and not get panic attacks every minute with the terrible things that can happen from cancer at any time? Aren't you constantly worried about throwing up or getting nauseous every minute? I don't know how your life can possibly go on when you literally have to expect excruciating pain and frightful symptoms from moment to moment. Obviously having cancer eliminates any possibility of being classified a hypochondriac. You must be expecting the worst literally every second and it's never psychosomatic.

Sent by Jeff Bergstein | 1:14 PM ET | 12-11-2006

Hi, Leroy

My son Tommy had medulloblastoma (brain tumors) from age six until he passed at age 10 and a half.

He was, like you say here, still very interested in the things that make up a little boy's life. And for myself, I did the best I could to keep my own interests alive as a way of coping with his illness.

Parenthood doesn't come with a manual, but as the parent of a sick kid, I felt like it was a double-whammy. Tommy might survive, and so must be taught to walk in the world. He might not survive, so I had to help him live a full life quickly.

I found I wanted normalcy more than anything else. And, you're right, chemo and MRIs and blood work and admissions to the hospital for fever and neutopenia, became so routine as to be normal. But I still wanted him to be a kid. I think overall we succeeded.

Sent by Karen Mallette | 1:17 PM ET | 12-11-2006