Merry Christmas, Leroy. You've touched my life through this blog. Now how many folks can say that? Cheers for a new year with the old us, loosing weight be damned!

Sent by Amy | 10:23 AM ET | 12-26-2006

Dear Leroy,

I too have been dancing with cancer this year as well, third stage breast cancer.

I want to tell you to live and know you're healing and well-being is more in your hands than you know.

Give your mind, body and soul all it needs to be whole and filled with well-being. Be in that place of health and completeness, that place of peace and joy and know you have much yet to do and stay here and play with.

You say oh but it is not that simple so many people want to live and die and so many this and that.

I say, it is your choice and your thoughts and feelings that will bring you your life and well-being.

Give your immune system everything it asks for so that it can be oh so powerful to deal with any unwanted intrusions. Give your soul all it yearns for so that it can bring your body all it calls for and let your mind know YOU will call the shots, the thoughts that serve you and ignore the thoughts and patterns that brought you into the vulnerable places of the past.

You have a say in all that is your life — much more than you know.

Blessings in all that you are and that is so much more than any of us know.

God does not make junk.

Sent by Zippporah Stein | 10:26 AM ET | 12-26-2006

Leroy,

What beautiful sentiments in your closing parapagraph. It reminded me of the classic Frank Sinatra song I Did It My Way.

Happy New Year.

Sent by L. | 10:30 AM ET | 12-26-2006

I snuck out of bed early this morning so I could enjoy the quiet and peaceful house all by myself before mayhem takes over again. With four excited kids waiting to get at new toys, and four grandparents visiting who think that I can't do anything on my own because of surgery to remove my tumor in October. I just needed a moment to myself to drink my coffee and visit with you, Leroy. I missed you over the weekend! Your sane voice is an antidote to a lot of the hoopla right now. Thank you.

My younger children have told me that their resolution is that I will walk "right" again this year. (I currently use a crutch). I don't have the heart to tell them that that's not how resolutions work. If that's what they want to resolve, then I will resolve along with them. With that in mind, I resolve that all of your resolutions will come true, too, Leroy.

Sent by Jennifer Haan | 10:32 AM ET | 12-26-2006

Just yesterday I myself was reflecting on the past year, and looking forward to the new one. I am in an uncomfortable situation myself, one that lends my choices of entertainment to the radio dial. As a long time NPR listener the choice was clear. In the course of the last two weeks I have received an education envious to most. But it wasn't until I heard Leroy Sievers that I jumped out of bed, ran to the computer e-mailed, and printed out Unanswered Questions and New Year Hopes. Extremely powerful, well articulated and something every American should hear.

Sent by BaNar Singleton | 10:36 AM ET | 12-26-2006

Leroy,

Thanks for another great and insightful blog posting. None of know with any degree of certainty what the future holds. We all need to remember to use our time wisely, because whether we have cancer or not, our time on earth is finite. It is important to live each day, and as you said, find things even on the tougher days to make it possible to enjoy part of those days.

I certainly hope that your cancer does not take a turn for the worse, but I do believe that if it does, you will indeed meet that challenge with courage and dignity.

My hopes are that you will have a happy 2007 and a return to full health — plus lose that weight, too!

Sent by Art Ritter | 10:38 AM ET | 12-26-2006

I listen to your commentary with admiration and pain. I heard those words about my mother on the morning of October 20, 1988, and — well, there's so much, or nothing to say. I wanted to tell you I have found chewing ginger to be a real help with nausea. The candied ginger is pretty good just on its own. If I believed in prayer you would be in mine. But, when I make my sacrificial offering to the fish, I do include you.

Sent by Kathleen Helbing | 11:10 AM ET | 12-26-2006

Dear Leroy,

You have touched my heart and my life more than you will ever know, even though I have only posted once or twice before now. I have sent many links to your blog to other folks. Today's commentary will be taped to as many surfaces as I can find to remind me, when I am feeling down, the importance of "a life not easy." While I know that the challenges, defeats, and pain are important, I often forget that in the day to day. All of it makes a life.

You are a remarkable man who has touched and taught scores of folks. Your story and your generous sharing of that story really exemplify the power of one.

I am grateful to know you through this.

Sent by Mary Sullivan | 11:12 AM ET | 12-26-2006

I want to thank Leroy for showing me his way of taking life in a wise way. His words are telling me that one of the very few things that matter is how much of your life you spend building or help others building their self-esteem, appreciation for life and caring for others. In the end, we've come to realize that life is brief and we have to go through it as worthily as we can.

Sent by Roberto Meza | 11:15 AM ET | 12-26-2006

Another "right on" posting that manages to articulate what so many of us are thinking: survival, priorities, quality of life — with the additional caveat to keep our eyes "on the road" since you never know what may be bearing on you from behind!

I add my grateful thanks to so many others for your wise honesty. I'm halfway through chemo and radiation, then its continuing to work, with significant trips scattered over the next few months. That's my top New Years resolution!

A blessed New Year to you and yours!

Sent by Alan Beauregard | 11:16 AM ET | 12-26-2006

Merry Christmas Leroy:

I start out each year asking that same question, "Will I be here next year?" But, at 77, that would be a normal question for me, even if I didn't have Cancer.

Actually, everyone should live their lives as though each day is their last. That way, everything that needed to be said would be said, you'd be reading those books, listening to that music, etc.

This is one of the few good gifts that Cancer gives us — a wake up call to do those precious things that will enrich our lives and the lives of those around us.

Sent by Don Winslow | 11:19 AM ET | 12-26-2006

Your essay speaks as to how we should live each and every day whether or not we are living with cancer and how like a minor traffic accident to remind us of how random life is. Now, instead of having your life ruled by the appointments, tests and treatments of cancer, you'll have to deal with the insurance companies and body shops of car repair. Neither option is a lot of fun.

Sent by Chris | 11:20 AM ET | 12-26-2006

Dear Leroy,

Be careful what you wish for! That whole weight loss thing? Often that is one of the last thing we cancer patients do.

Sent by Stephanie | 11:21 AM ET | 12-26-2006

You are a lovely man, Leroy.

Sent by Nancy | 1:28 PM ET | 12-26-2006

Just wanted to say thanks. You're a beautiful shining soul. I look forward to reading your blog every day... it helps me to focus my attention on the important things in life. Be well.

Sent by Nichole | 1:31 PM ET | 12-26-2006

Thank you, Leroy — I am a fellow colon cancer survivor, and appreciate your words and work. Just came across these quotes from Sogyal Rinpoche and Stephan Levine, Buddhist teachers, and wanted to say that you, and so many readers, are wonderful examples of compassion in action — the best of humanity!

"Compassion is a far greater and nobler thing than pity. Pity has its roots in fear and carries a sense of arrogance and condescension, sometimes even a smug feeling of "I'm glad it's not me." As Stephen Levine says: "When your fear touches someone's pain it becomes pity. When your love touches someone's pain, it becomes compassion." To train in compassion is to know that all beings are the same and suffer in similar ways, to honor all those who suffer, and to know that you are neither separate from nor superior to anyone."

Here's to a new year awakening to compassion for all, taking all obstacles as opportunity to benefit all — and enjoying the richness of each moment — eat, make merry, and leave worries about weight for later!

Sent by Susan Ross | 1:26 PM ET | 12-27-2006

I am a cancer doctor and I see many patients going through the ups and downs of cancer treatment. Some of these patients will be cured and others not. When I hear your comments, and those of my patients, it always make me happy for what I have and think less of what I think I need and don't have. It also makes me wonder how I am going to handle myself if I am ever in your shoes. All I can do is imagine and hope. Hope that I can be as strong, dignified, caring, and giving as you are. Good luck Leroy. I wish you the best in your struggle. And thank you for what you give to us all. Hope.

Sent by David Weems | 1:34 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Two days after my father was diagnosed with cancer, he woke up at six and yelled "Wer'e going to the beach to get cinnamon buns." I thought the man was going crazy.

We got to the shore (N.J.) around 6:40 a.m. There was no one there. Me, my mom, my dad — we got warm, melt-in-your-mouth sticky buns and sat and ate them on the beach.

I remember thinking "I think my father has totally lost it... " But he didn't. He wanted something, he realized life is finite, and it was the moment to get cinnamon buns.

I hope your new year is sweet, Leroy. Best wishes.

Sent by Mel (NPR staff) | 1:38 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Dear Leroy,

I read your 12/26 post and weep remembering this time a few years ago when my husband and I were new to the life cancer brings into a family. He is gone now, but that time of learning to focus on what is important, to meet the adventure of life with full energy rather than running away remains. The gift that his illness gave me was to focus on the important, present things and to be very clear about using the time we have wisely. I appreciate that you are writing with such love to all of us. In return I will read/listen carefully and share what I learn from your words. Thank you for this gift on Saint Stephens Day. None of us has all the time in the world, so it is wise for each of us to see what we value and put our thoughts into action, our love into motion, our loving kindness then is made visible to us. May you be inscribed in the book of life for this coming year with health and love.

Sent by Cynthia | 1:41 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Wow, thank you for expressing so simply yet powerfully what I cannot put easily into words. Your entries are always touching but this one is a keeper. I printed it out to share with friends and loved ones.

Sent by Marcia Greer | 1:44 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Dear Leroy,

I heard your comments this morning on the way to work, and I was touched by your humanity, and the care and compassion you feel for others as well as for yourself. I surely hope you have another year ahead, a great year, and maybe more, although I see your comment about being at peace with life. May we all be a little more concerned for others than we are for ourselves.

I hope that I can carry that burden which I have been given, and not feel sorry for myself as I do at times. And especially that I might revel in the gifts that life brings, of friends and books and music and loved ones. Your post made me think "Will I have another year and how will I spend it?" (And I don't have cancer!).

Leroy, I am hoping to borrow your thoughts, your reflections, to share with some others who are important to me. Would you mind?

Thank you again.

Sent by Eric Nelson | 1:57 PM ET | 12-27-2006

"Here I am worrying about cancer when I should be watching the car behind me."

Leroy, that line just made me laugh and remember to live in the moment. I have three more chemos to go and then I start radiation myself. When I read those words I thought, "Yeah, I think I've got problems, but at least I didn't rear-end a cancer patient!" Thank you so much—laughter feels really, really good under the circumstances.

Sent by Ginny | 2:15 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Thank you. Your hope and faith and joy in life are constant. I have never been one to say how much my terminal cancer has taught me or that it has its plusses, but it does cut away so much that is not important and helps you see everything you love.

You also wrote something that I would give anything to be able to do - to help those around me find some measure of peace with this as I have.

Your constant, reasoned yet exuberant support are invaluable to your readers as well as all those touched by cancer.

May your reports continue to be good.

Sent by Paula Polk | 2:16 PM ET | 12-27-2006

I caught your program this morning and the effect on me was outstanding. Without getting into details at this time, we may well be in parallel stage of disease.

But I was most interested in your acceptance and how you got there. I, too, have achieved such a state (with much hard work) but no so many who are still on the journey. I will share this site with them and compliment you on your professional skills, but your emotional skills are and life skills are what are truly impressive.

Thank you so much.

Sent by Janet Hyder | 2:18 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Leroy, your message today was very powerful. I have taken it all in and admire you so much for your fortitude. I do try to have an adventure each day. I love to be with people and laugh with good friends. I had a wonderful Christmas Eve Day and evening. I spent Christmas afternoon and evening alone. It's an adjustment, but I am healthy and appreciate it. I loved your line, this is the burden I've been given to carry. You are a spectacular writer. I wish you peace and contentment for 2007. I also wish your family and friends the same. Thank for sharing your thoughts through a tough battle. You are helping so many people.

Sent by Carol | 2:28 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Leroy,

I heard your weekly essay for the first time this morning as my husband and I drove to the after-Christmas sales. It has been a roller-coaster holiday season for me...my mother, Ann, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in June of this year. Surgery, chemo, more chemo with a clinical trial, the possibility of additional trials...a familiar regimen of unanswered questions, confusion, fear, acceptance, sorrow, pain, and hardest fight of her life. And the re-orienting of her life — of all of our lives — around her aggressive late-stage cancer. She lost the fight and died the morning after Thanksgiving, and the leftover jigsaw pieces of the lives of my stepfather and the rest of our family do not yet seem put back together.

I can't tell you how much it meant to me to hear you on the radio this morning and later tonight, to read your blog from the beginning. You and the community you have helped to create somehow added a solid foundation of meaning around me, in the midst of the chaos of life and, more specifically, a life affected by cancer. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself here — both your fight with cancer and all of the other pieces of who you are, which remind each of us what this crazy, mixed-up, beautiful life is all about...and how precious it is.

I wish you all the best... keep fighting, and hoping, and living. Happy New Year!

Sent by Sherren | 2:32 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Ever since I was a little girl I always reflected on New Years Eve wondering where I would be the next year. As I look over the years, I have been for the most part pretty happy about where I was. Now this year I must say, I am trying to dig down deep and ask all the right questions so that I can get that good ole feeling in the gut of my stomach that I used to have when I was innocent, well you know, innocent, before cancer struck our bodies. Now, I truly do not know where I will be next year or how I will feel. I have learned with cancer that I don't have that same kind of control of my destination that I thought all along that I did. How naive I was in the past. I feel so much wiser now. I will carry that new knowledge with me as I enter into 2007. I already know I am a better person because of it. I will embrace this new found knowledge of myself! I know you will too! OK, Leroy, where is that group hug? I need it!

Sent by Marianne Dalton | 2:37 PM ET | 12-27-2006

I appreciated what you said in your blog today. At times, I share one of your daily blogs with my brother — who doesn't have cancer, but Parkinson's disease — and others. Your blog today was one that I shared with my brother and a friend of mine.

(By the way, I wouldn't beat yourself up about not noticing the car that rear-ended you. That was HIS fault, not yours!)

I hope that the rest of 2006 and 2007 will be good years for you.

Sent by Greg Sheryl | 2:38 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Dear Leroy,

I thank you for writing about your journey with cancer. You are teaching us more about life and about what is really important. May you have continued peace, comfort,and love. We are with you in spirit an prayer.

Sent by Elizabeth Sunzeri | 2:39 PM ET | 12-27-2006

As always, I am faithfully following your blog and wish you well as we contemplate the approach of 2007. I will be in Milan for New Years, and you can count on a toast to your health, in addition to my prayers.

Sent by Maris | 2:41 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Leroy,

Best wishes for the best possible New Year.

You are very eloquent. I think part of this column could be excerpted to be put up on the walls of doctor's offices, patient care centers, and the walls of those fighting and surviving cancer. What a great reminder of the things we can still choose, every day, even when it may be a difficult choice.

Sent by M.J. | 3:26 PM ET | 12-27-2006

Dear Leroy,

I've been following your story off and on when I have an opportunity and I must admit your journey with cancer wouldn't hit my radar if I didn't have a family member going through with cancer. My father-in-law have been living with cancer for the past four years and every Christmas, my wife and I wonder if it's going to be his last. We got our answer this past Thursday when we received a call, 5 a.m. from MD Andersen Cancer Center that a family meeting is needed later in the day. No, he hasn't passed away from cancer yet, but we had an idea what the topic was going to be. You see, chemo no long works on his cancer and we're at a stopping point now. So the meeting was to arrange his departure from the hospital to home and what to expect from here on. We're happy that he is home for Christmas but sad that it's going to be his last. Our gift to him is our three-year-old son, his first grandchild, the only person that can bring true joy to his heart at this time. I expect to read your blog again this time next year Leroy.

Sent by Christian | 3:28 PM ET | 12-27-2006

A friend sent me the link to your blog. After reading yesterday's and today's posting, I got to say, I was shocked. It appears you and I are experiencing similar experiences in our cancer happenings. That's not so unusual. What is unusual is that we both are reflecting these experiences to others using the same methods, mixing humor with reality of cancer. It was like I was reading what I had just written to my friends and family. (They truly enjoyed my tattoo experience.) What's spooky is when I read someone expressing their experiences in the exact way that I do. Do we ever realize that there actually is someone else out there that has the same perspective as yourself? Anyway, I totally enjoy your postings. It's like reading my own story.

Sent by Ron | 12:27 PM ET | 12-28-2006

Your fine article definitely hit a cord with me. It is so thoughtful and meaningful for anyone with or without cancer. Thank you for your beautiful thoughts and great writings.

Sent by Dick Commer | 12:28 PM ET | 12-28-2006

God, you made me laugh! You hope you lose some weight this year? So what is life really all about? I started reading your column when my sister was diagnosed with colon cancer. I had just lost a dear friend to pancreatic cancer. I am an addict, but I still worry about my weight, too. But sunsets still blow me away.

Sent by Sky Song | 12:31 PM ET | 12-28-2006

Thank you for allowing me to accompany you on this impossible journey between hope and despair. I look forward to your weekly blogs. I smiled as you described being rear ended by a man on his way to the mall. (12/26) Last week, on my way to have a ct scan as preamble to radiation after chemo, I was side swiped by an over-wide taco delivery truck. While the driver pulled over, I thought about the irony of being hit as I was trying to be a very careful driver during this stressful period trying to control my destiny. As we have all experienced, I was obsessing upon my treatment options. Then, I was removed into the more ordinary world of dented fenders and finding time to bring the car to a body shop while negotiating too many medical appointments. Also, I worried about the other driver who had his own problems. The effort to keep a balance between these two worlds is becoming more difficult as I encounter more road blocks.

Today, I learned that the ct scan revealed two suspicious nodes on one lung. I have been struggling proactively to survive this pernicious disease, a rare and aggressive type of breast cancer. I've always accepted life's challenges. Maybe, in spite of medical advances, I have no more control over the course of this cancer than I do over the errant driver of a too wide delivery truck,

Again, thank you for sharing your experience with so much grace and eloquence. My thoughts are with you.

Sent by Ellen | 12:32 PM ET | 12-28-2006

Dear Leroy:

Your strength and courage in putting your life out there inspires me daily. I'm five years out from a bone marrow transplant and enjoying each day as I can. I had outpatient surgery yesterday to fix an after-effect of the treatment. Sitting here this morning, the last three paragraphs of your essay were what I needed to hear.

Like you I don't know how much time I have left. The doctors have given me a rough idea but Im not holding them to it.

Each day, I try to do the best I can, just in case I don't get another chance.

Thank you so much for what you are doing. It helps hundreds of people you will never know.

All the best for the New Year and get in that trip to Hawaii, even if you get to take another later!

Sent by Ben Timmons | 10:51 AM ET | 12-29-2006

Leroy, I haven't always agreed with you since I started reading these blogs in July. But your thoughts today remind me of something my Dad said before he died 13 years ago. It isn't the dying that's hard, it's the living. In the span of 7 months I've seen my daughters 19-yr-old boyfriend die, my 81-yr-old mother fading away {not so gracefully} from cancer of the pancreas, and my life partner be diagnosed with prostate cancer. {He will be seeking treatment in the coming year} It is very encouraging to me to hear your concern for those who love and will miss you most when you are not on this earth any longer.

Most of us will be here when others are gone. And those of us left will have to pick up the fragmented pieces of our lives and move on. My only wish at this point is that those with an illness that will almost certainly take them from the living in the near future, would have the courage you have shown to deal well with the illness. Let those you love know it. Do what you can to make the loss easier for those left to mourn the loss of you and your love. It may not be much comfort but I'll miss you if and when you're gone. You've made a name for yourself. You've touched my life and many others as this blog testifies to.

May you be in peace my friend.

Sent by Leah Wellman | 5:27 PM ET | 01-02-2007

Have a wonderful year!

Sent by Sandra Yudilevich | 5:29 PM ET | 01-02-2007