Of course my life must go on, each and every day, sometimes at the expense of my illness and sometimes suffering from the effects of chemo. At any rate my life must go on. My dancing, my students need me. They are seeing the changes in my body as result of cancer everyday that I am able to be there. My three sons (all teenagers), how could they not see their once very vibrant mother changed at this point of treatment. For me, I have accepted these drastic physical changes and emotional changes as well. I have no other choice but to live my life as I have always done, to the fullest. I am passionate about what I do and I want my children and my students to be able to model that as well in their lives!

Sent by Marianne | 10:49 AM ET | 12-12-2006

You are so right in saying that "you give up your life" by giving in to the panic and the fears. It's almost like fighting two battles instead of one fighting Cancer is more than enough for one person! Just acknowledge that you're going to be anxious, it's normal, and store the worries on the shelf.

Sent by Don Winslow | 10:54 AM ET | 12-12-2006

Panic and constant fear take a lot of energy — emotional and physical. We burn up a lot of adrenaline being in panic. It's no way to be day to day, and oddly enough, it's not always warranted, even with advanced disease. We take our medicine, we go to treatment and some go to counseling or group therapy and learn coping skills. When our bodies are healed enough and well enough, we start doing more "normal" things as we can taking the dog for a walk, doing the grocery shopping, exercising, having a party for friends, going back to work. There is a treatment plan, and were doing all that we can to be as well as we can for as long as we can. What's there then to panic about? For those of us in stage four disease, even remission is a gift that we know will one day be taken back. So the trick is to enjoy the heck out of the gift while we have it, and when it's taken away, remember and glory in the gifts that we enjoy every day, sick or well.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 11:18 AM ET | 12-12-2006

Dear Leroy,

Thank you for your very personal reflections of your cancer life experience. I too was diagnosed with lung cancer approximately two years ago. My adventure has been surgery, adjunctive chemo, recurrence, radiation and final chemotherapy for a five to 10 percent chance of survival.

The most distressing dilemma has been to continue treatment with two subsequent episodes of bone marrow suppression, infection and hospitalization or to forego further treatment and have some quality of life and joy for the remaining time. Most days I have come to terms with my situation and relish the clarity that this cancer has given me, other days I do not fair as well in dealing with the finality of life. My prayers go out to you in your unique challenges with cancer.

Sent by Elise King | 11:38 AM ET | 12-12-2006

I laughed when I read your section on "hospital time" and waiting. Not the ha ha that is funny kind of laugh, but the oh so true kind of laugh. The waiting can be horrible. But I've found that those are the times I learn the most.

In a sense, even when we are done with treatment, we are still waiting. Waiting between check ups to hear the news. I'm still learning through those times. I listened to Matthew McConaughey this morning on GMA talk about making the movie We Are Marshall, and he talked about the lessons learned from this true story — to keep playing the game until the last whistle blows.

Sent by Kelley E. | 10:30 AM ET | 12-13-2006

I'm a nurse of 33 years, always in a hospital.

You are amazing and inspiring. I have wondered what the thought process was of an individual who was just given "bad news." Now in my family, I'm going through the process first hand. I like what you say. I have had conversations with the same words. I'm still me, yes I do have cancer. Now let's move ON! It has unpleasant consequentses and here I am. My family and friends will help me navigate through this. We move from life on this planet to another. Keep an upper lip and move forward.

Sent by Laura Jackson | 11:29 AM ET | 12-13-2006

I think you have lived as normal a life as possible, recognizing that there are inconveniences, like treatment. But there are people almost immobilized by other ailments. And I can play golf and hike. Three months after my dire diagnosis, three friends (we are mid 60s) died, two by heart attack, and one awful accident. At least I have a fighting chance. I am not interested in dying, but I sure am going to enjoy what is available to me, and I can make some of that happen through physical and mental fitness, and prayer.

Sent by Tim Andersen | 3:29 PM ET | 12-13-2006

Hang in there! Keep on fighting the good fight. Know that we all love you and pray the absolute best for you, you courageous bunch. Wishing you the most joyous holiday season ever.

Sent by Irene | 12:51 PM ET | 12-14-2006

I went back and re-read Jeff's comments. It is not clear if he has cancer or knows someone who does or is just thinking about it because it is in the news so much and always sounds so terrible.

My wife was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer three and a half years ago. There were several surgeries including a liver resection then several rounds of chemo. There was also one year of remission so we got to see what that was like too. At this point, her chemo protocol has been modified to minimize her white blood counts dropping to drastically, and she really only feels ill for about one day out of four weeks. The doctor, and the books we've read have been honest and she will be on chemo the rest of her life, but we don't know how long that is.

I trying to say that having had some time to see what we are facing we have learned to live with the now and not worry constantly about the future. Our lives are as good now as they probably would have been without cancer, and in some ways even better. I think having had the blessing of time has helped us to put cancer on the back burner and get on with our lives.

Sent by Chuck O. | 12:53 PM ET | 12-14-2006

A recent obituary in the local paper caught my eye since the photo showed a young woman whose death was due to breast cancer. She had obviously written her own obit and in it she stated that cancer did not take my life... it took my body. She described how the pace and activities of her life had had to change and she wrote of how she continued to spend time with family and friends and to be as active as was possible. The last two weeks of her life was spent on the Oregon coast with her three young children, her husband and other friends and family. There was a celebration of life even while the cancer was taking her body away.

Not everyone can be active and do the same as this woman... but I do like the idea of what she said about cancer not taking her life.

Sent by Leslie | 12:54 PM ET | 12-14-2006

Nice comments today from others dealing with cancer. It is a very ugly disease since there really no cure for it today (maybe tomorrow there will but not today). So today we live for a cure and make the best of our time we have. I had brain cancer with surgery in 6/06 followed by a round of heavy radiation. Everyone has been very supportive of me and my family. But still I hate to be pitied and given special treatment, but this is of course better than being kicked around or being ignored. I must have led a better life than I thought when I was living it. In any case, I have another MRI coming next Tuesday (6/19/06) which should give a little more reassurance that I am feeling better because the tumor is gone. I will be glad to have that test behind me.

Sent by Mark | 1:50 PM ET | 12-14-2006