Leroy I cannot imagine being in your position today. You are an inspiration to everyone who reads your blog. Our prayers are with you. And I must add, if you do decide to go with the chemo, and you do lose your hair... well, I for one believe that it would be a badge of courage. God Bless.

Sent by Karen | 11:04 AM ET | 01-30-2007

I think it multiplies when you leave it alone. Not spontaneous generation, exactly, but... Anyway, I would ask the oncologist to explain some more about the life cycle or spread cycle of your type of cancer. It may be convincing in the direction of chemo, at some level. When my husband first had colon cancer 7 years ago, he had straight surgury, no "adjuvenant" chemo to kill any invisible little cancer-ites Then two years ago, he had recurrence. Surgery, and started the adjuvenant chemo. In our infinite wisdom, we halted it, and I now think wrongly. Cancer came back 6 months from the surgery. Long way of saying, I now believe in the invisible, not-yet-detectable stuff and the importance of stifling it in its cradle. Not to say I know anything about strengths of chemo, but I am a believer in the preemptive strike.

Sent by Teri | 11:08 AM ET | 01-30-2007

Your entry today is filled with excellent questions for your oncologist. Are these questions that you've already asked? If so, did he have answers, or was it all just his best guess? If it were me in your position now, I'd be asking those questions until I got more definitive information, assuming that it was there to get. It's a crossroads, and from what you say, a particularly hard decision for you to make. My advice (unasked) would be to ask all of your questions again, then be still, go inside, and ask yourself what to do. You'll get your answer. Blessings.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 11:10 AM ET | 01-30-2007

GO LEROY!!! It's a BIG decision, but your doctors have NOT let you down yet. My husband is at the fuzzy hair time — hair growing back for now, remember — that is a FUN time! So go FUZZY HEAD, GO! You Are one STRONG Man!

Sent by Joan | 11:15 AM ET | 01-30-2007

Good luck with this latest kill!!!! I'm off in a few hours for a colostomy (non-cancer related). I read your blog every day and consider myself very lucky. Diag. 3 years ago yesterday and given a year. So far so good. Prayers.

Sent by Sheila J. Moore | 1:27 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Hi Leroy,

I have just started my second round of chemo after a four-year remission from stage IV breast cancer with mets to the bones. I don't currently have any visible tumors anywhere in my body, but those tumor markers just kept creeping up. I figure I will get the chemo now just to hit those cancer buggers while they're down! Maybe I'll be lucky enough to enjoy another remission, and maybe you will too!

As for the hair loss, well... I've had just about every side effect from chemo possible — nausea, vomiting, anemia, neutropenia, neuropathy, rashes, mouth sores, aches and pains, etc. By far the worst, though, was the hair loss! I know it may sound vain to most, but it is just as you described, the one unmistakable clue that we are cancer patients. I wish I had some sage advice for you to overcome that feeling, but I don't. But knowing you Leroy, if you decide to go ahead with the chemo, I know you will find the strength to wear your bald head with honor!

I wish you all the best with whatever decision you make. I know it will be the right one for you. Be well, Leroy. You do so much for so many of us!

Sent by Karen | 1:30 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Go for it — don't hold back on the big guns when you've got your cancer on the run. And about the hair — forget it — indulge in ass kicking hats and remember that a bald man is cool! I miss my eyebrows the most — depending upon my steadiness, somedays I look like Groucho Marx or the cashier at the five and dime!! Lead on Leroy!

Sent by Jessie | 1:33 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy, Tough decisions. Good luck with them. Can you get a second opinion or would that take too long?

When I had chemo, I lost about all of my hair except for my ear hair! Thank goodness, because I don't think I could have coped had I lost that, too — a man can only take so much. I took it as God having a really great sense of humor.

Sent by Art Ritter | 1:35 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy, I know you will make the decision that is right for you, but... I can't help but weigh in with my opinion. I would be afraid of letting the cancer get an edge, any edge at all. It sounds like this chemo is strong! Doesn't it make sense to throw everything at it while the cancer is down? Using the RFA is a bit like putting out hot spots in a forest fire. I mean, it's better than nothing, but if you have the opportunity to really strike a blow at the cancer and douse it for a while, doesn't that make sense?

It is your body and you have to decide how much you can take. The treatment can feel worse than the disease but the disease will kill you, the treatment can extend your life. My heart and thoughts are with you as you make this decision. Good luck with your process.

Sent by Stephanie Dornbrook | 1:46 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy,

With all the dozens of nasty procedures my wife has had to endure, along with all of the terrible news she had to hear, losing her hair was about the worst thing that ever happened to her. Suddenly everyone thought she was going to die, or they wanted to touch her wig, or they told her that losing her hair would be convenient. In spite of all that she never said no to the latest torture.

Good Luck.

Sent by Art | 1:47 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Hi Leroy,

Tough, tough decision to make and my prayers are with you. I don't know if this will help with your decision but I detect a flaw in your logic.

Recently, I watched a lecture on the latest cancer research findings. What blew me away is that cancer and treating it is similar to shooting darts. Let's hope we hit a bulls-eye! But, from that lecture, one aspect of cancer behavior hit home and it was this: You can't let cancer find a home in your body. If that happens, it will take root like a bad weed. So, as we all know, the problem lies in the fact that by the time the cancer or its recurrence is detected, there is no way of knowing if it has taken root, not to mention the possibility of an increased number of rogue cells or their location. Given this condition, I can understand why the oncologist wants to get started. It would seem you're in a good place to set your entire body on "Kill Cancer."

Lastly, if this is the final chemo regimen, what about the possibility of participating in a future research study? Since were shooting darts here, you could hit the bulls-eye.

Sent by Kathy B. | 1:50 PM ET | 01-30-2007

I was relatively lucky in that most of the decisions were made for me by my doctors... I didn't have much choice. With stage 3 inflammatory breast cancer, it was chemo first, followed by mastectomy, more chemo and then radiation. I suppose I could have said no but that never crossed my mind.

Oddly enough, losing my hair was actually sort of an adventure. I was curious about how I would look without hair. I thought I resembled a slightly feminine version of Bruce Willis. This is more of a girl thing, but I enjoyed not having to use blow dryers or curling irons. I have kept it very short since it came back and still don't mess with it. The thing that bothered me the most was losing my eyelashes. That happened near the end of my chemo treatment, however, and they grew back before my hair even started.

Keep up the good fight!

Sent by Ellen Macaulay | 1:58 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Hi Mr. Sievers, You ask some great questions, as usual. I don't know for sure what I would do if I were in your exact situation. I think that I would be tempted to consider trying an intense diet of organic veggies and fruits along with exercise and meditation/visualization as a way to help my body fight free floating cancer cells for a while. I would switch to the chemo as needed if/when new tumors appear. I recognize that it's a tough, tough decision though because on the other hand, it would be logical to take the advice of conventional medicine and your doctors. After all, they have taken excellent care of you so far and have a lot of experience fighting this disease.

One thing I'm pretty certain of is that I would not feel comfortable doing nothing at all. I'm not sure who originally said this but it rang true to me and I've never forgotten it... Cancer, like rust, never sleeps.

You'll make the right decision for you...and once you do, I hope you don't waste any time looking back! You are in my prayers every night.

Sent by N. | 2:00 PM ET | 01-30-2007

It's not an easy one to answer, not for one who is not in your shoes. My guess is they want to clobber the beast while it's at its weakest in months, neuter those cancer cells floating around while they are pretty much out of tumors and other generating points.

In my case, kidney cancer, stage IV, with bone metastasis, the doctor was pretty clear about treatment: It is incurable, we are buying time. Time that can mean a cure will be found, time that, for God only knows what reason, can mean the beast will die on its own, as has been seen before (not that anyone understands why).

There isn't any clean and simple answer, because cancer isn't a clean and simple beast to kill.

Sent by Benoit Bisson | 2:14 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Listen to your doctor.

Sent by David Larsen | 2:15 PM ET | 01-30-2007

My personal vote would be to do the chemo if it wouldn't interfere with the ablation therapy. Your hair will grow back — it's a badge of honor for your courage, not a stigma. The only hair I lost was where no one but my husband and I could see, a strange look for a 49-year-old woman. Keep on trucking.

Sent by Chris | 2:21 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy,

I watched a best friend face these same decisions as they came at her. I can't make your choice. I can't even imagine what my own choice would be if I were in your shoes. All I have to offer is that whatever you decide will be the right choice for you, even though it might not be the same choice someone else would make. Since nothing here is clear-cut, the only weight is the weight of what you feel is the right thing for you to do. Go for it, whatever it is, and know that because you have decided to share your journey with all of us, there are probably thousands of us in your cheering section, ready to support in any way we can. In my experience hard decisions can be damned difficult until I get finished thinking them through. Then it seems to be easier.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 2:26 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy,

Think of Arlen Spector: what a great head of hair he has now (to say nothing of his vitality)!

Sent by Cathi | 2:27 PM ET | 01-30-2007

I understand about the hair thing. When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I knew I would have chemo and lose my hair, so I put on a brave front and told myself that hey, it wasn't that big a deal, and gosh why did people make so much about it, it's just hair, it'll grow back. Then — I lost my hair and suddenly I understood why it was a bigger deal than I thought. Like you said, I hated that I now looked like a cancer patient, when I was trying so hard to keep my life as "normal" as possible. It drove me nuts that being bald bummed me out, but I couldn't really change how I felt about it.

But now it's growing back, and like you said, in the greater scheme of things, it's pretty small, and I imagine that is what many people will tell you. Still — I think you are allowed to be bothered, pissed off, annoyed, whatever, about losing your hair. Because, as a cancer patient, you are entitled to feel however you want to!

Sent by Gretchen Hoag | 2:29 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Good luck with your decision. It's difficult either way, but it is good that you have the ability to make the decision for yourself rather than have someone else make it for you. The more information that you can get from your doctors, the more informed your decision will be. Trust your instinct you've unfortunately been involved long enough in this process to have an intuitive sense. I know that we've all talked about this before in this blog, but make a decision that won't have you second-guessing, looking back or saying "what if" down the road.

I started a very aggressive chemo almost 2 years ago, and lost all of my hair. That was tough for me (a female), because as you say it shows everyone that you are going through chemo, plus I had very lovely hair. I wore funky bandanas and crazy wigs, though the purple one I reserved for days when I had the energy to deal with people's curiosity. I was able to entertain myself with that (not that I am suggesting you go that route). Now a year-and-a-half out of chemo, I have shoulder-length, wildly curly hair. It's really fun.

Sent by Leslie | 2:31 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Do the doctors say anything about getting your teeth cleaned or giving/saving blood for yourself before starting chemo? Just curious.

For fun — how about a hat like this one?

Then shave your head enough to keep your hair out of your food, some cool shades and just a touch of a stylish strut when you walk, sort of a Blues Brothers thing.

Wishing you and your family the best with the hard decisions.

Sent by Irene | 2:33 PM ET | 01-30-2007

I wanted you to know that while in Hawaii this weekend, not only did I cross my fingers and drink a mai tai of good wishes on Friday when I knew you were having the procedure done, but I also thought of you while in the beautiful Byodo-In Temple and sent a few ecumenical thoughts your way. It seemed like the right thing to do. Good luck!

Sent by Linda | 2:35 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy,

I had open-heart surgery to replace a valve several years ago. There was plenty to be scared of when faced with a major surgery like that, but I had my meltdown one day thinking about the scar I would have and how I wouldn't be able to wear low-cut things anymore. Of course, the scar is barely noticeable, and I had completely overreacted. Now I have lots of scars on my chest.

I know that a lot of women have trouble with the hair loss from chemo, but I have found it somewhat liberating. The day I went to pick out my wig, there was another lady who was completely bald, no eyebrows or eyelashes. I almost broke down (I had no idea that you lose ALL your hair). Now, I have a great wig, false eyelashes, and penciled-on eyebrows that I wear when I go out. I'm with you that I don't like to look "sick." But most of the time I just go around bald. I don't spend all day in front of the mirror, so it just doesn't bother me. You may look pretty good bald — a lot of guys (and ladies!) do. It's just one of those things that seems awful from the outside but really doesn't matter at all. I'm glad I had the experience with the first scar to remind myself of that.

I had the worst of the chemo drugs for breast cancer. Some days were pretty hard. You may not be able to do a blog entry on those days, but you'll get through them. It sounds like your doctors want to put a major hurtin' on the cancer. It seems like they have hope, and that sounds pretty good to me.

Good luck with whatever you decide.

Sent by Marcia | 2:40 PM ET | 01-30-2007

When/if you lose your hair, you'll get the opportunity to blog about all the idiots who tell you that you have a nicely shaped head.

Good luck with your decision. I'm wishing you long-term NED. (I'm sure you won't mind dancing with a guy in this case.)

Sent by Jen | 2:43 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy, I wish you confidence in your decision. Trust your gut and your brain and your heart. It will be the right decision for you. I don't want you to have to suffer with chemo again because I read how bad it was. I made it through chemo once but don't know what I'd do facing the choice again. It takes courage just to make the decision. Then there's peace.

Sent by Ann | 2:51 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Dear Leroy,

If you do go with the chemo, I suggest cutting your hair very short or shaving it off yourself. My dad was bothered by all the hair on his pillow, so we cut his hair as short as the dull scissors the nurses gave us would allow.

Who knows, you may even like your new look.

Sent by Evelyn Cadman | 2:53 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Sounds like a Yogi Berra moment (He is alleged to have said, "When you get to the fork in the road, take it!"). I wish and pray you come to clarity and peace of mind in whatever choice you make, Leroy. Onward! With celebration!

Sent by Sarah | 3:42 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy,

We all appreciate your honesty in reporting your concerns and feelings. Just a thought, but if I knew I'd go bald from any chemo I would exercise my control by going to a barber and telling him to make me bald right away! That way I would not have to fear the slow loss of my hair over a period of time and I could say it's my choice to beat it to the punch. Whatever you do... best wishes!

Sent by Rich | 3:48 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy,

It's funny you mention your hair because before the chemo and radiation started my husband's main worry was losing his mustache. He has had it since he was in college (30 years) and feels like it is what keeps him from looking like Buddha. He hasn't lost his mustache, but even if he did he's lost enough weight — 130 lbs since the start of all this nonsense six months ago — that the Buddha look is out of the question.

It is easy for the rest of us to say, Fight now with all you have. It doesn't seem your nature to do anything less. Who knows, maybe you can start a marketing trend and use your bald head for ad space for drug companies or inspirational messages.

God bless you and good luck with your decisions.

Sent by M. Francis | 3:52 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Yes, the chemo poison sucks: rashes, acne, canker sores, nausea, indigestion, throwing up, bone pain, neutropenia, anemia, neuropathy, anxiety, fatigue, depression. But none of those made me sob like a little girl the way I did when my thick lustrous head of hair fell out. Then the eyebrows and lashes went and when I passed by a mirror there was always a freako double-take and I would wonder who let the alien in the house. But guess what? It's 3 mos. since end of chemo and everyone adores my new baby chick fuzzhead look. I've noticed that the hair has returned with a vengeance and now my hair is softer, thicker and curlier than before. If you can laugh about it, MOST of the time, it will be OK. Leroy, we just want you to continue suppressing and killing the little mutant cells, we want you to live a good long time. When the time comes, you will know what to do. We are all with you.

Sent by Sherri Eggleston | 3:54 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Hi Leroy,

I am guessing since you have done FolFox that you will be embarking on a regimen of Folfiri (most likely with Avastin and Erbitux). I was also told that I would lose my hair... but I didn't. The Erbutux rash is a different thing. The rash was very obvious and was the first "outward" sign that I was sick. The reaction from family and friends was interesting. Suddenly, "miracle cure" was on the lips of everyone. By the way, I had a very good response to the Folfiri, Avastin and Erbitux. I am currently in the process of enrolling in a clinical trial to keep the attack going.

Sent by Janet (Stage IV colorectal cancer) | 3:58 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy, Do the chemo and don't worry about your hair. I've lost mine 4 times now; I guess I'm immune to it. I have a couple of gorgeous wigs that look totally natural. No one can tell, really! At home I wear some terrycloth stretchy hats, I got from cancer Web site TLC. They are very soft and keep my head warm. At first I wore my wigs everywhere: work, grocery store, etc. Then I got a little braver and only wore the wigs to work. I noticed that when I wore my head coverings everyone was so nice and polite. They would even comment how cute my head covering was, etc. People were so compassionate towards me, the cancer patient — not when I wore my wigs, though — I was regular like everyone else. I kinda got a kick out of it. I could choose when I wanted to pose as a cancer patient or not. Losing my hair didn't bother me, what bothered me most about chemo was that lack of energy, always feeling weak and nothing tasted good. You'll get over the hair thing. Are you still taking those-anti chocolate/caffeine antibiotics? Take care, Leroy.

Sent by Ruth | 4:47 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy,

First and foremost, do what your heart tells you to do... but... that doesn't save you from hearing my opinion :-)

Go for the chemo. Go for the big dose. Go after that cancer like it didn't know what hit it. Don't let it get a foothold. Don't wait until it has blossomed.

Yes, you need to do this! You need to hit it hard right now even though the tumors are gone (or will be gone soon) and you can't see it.

Once you are done, you can grow your hair back, dust yourself off and go about your life.

What if it comes back? Then hit it again. There WILL be more options. You are not out of choices.

Muster up all the fight you can and hit it while it's down.

Sent by Karen (fighting cancer with all I have) | 4:55 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Dear Mr. Sievers,

Having lost several much loved family members to cancer, may I weigh in with a gut reaction and say:

Trust your doctors.

Do the chemo. Your hair, eyebrows and eyelashes will grow back.

Good luck with this next step. With the combination of your attitude and your excellent medical care, I feel very hopeful for you!

Sent by Janice J. | 4:58 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Dear Leroy,

I had to go through six months of chemo even though I had clear margins after a lumpectomy. My chemo regimen ended two weeks ago and I start radiation next week.

I almost decided against chemo because of the absence of active tumors, but today, I'm glad I did and it is all behind me. It is ultimately your decision and I wish you the best of luck.

Losing hair did not really bother me. I was told I will lose hair two weeks after my first chemo, and I did. But I was ready for it. I bought my wigs before the chemo started and had my hair shaved off when the first clump came out. It was more traumatic to see the hair come off when you pull it. I think the expectation and taking charge of the situation saved the day. It is easier for women because we have fabulous wigs to fall back on.

I am glad to hear about the progress and I will continue to root for you!

Sent by Myrna | 5:02 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Just found your blog... sounds very familiar. I began this journey almost four years ago. First, surgery to remove softball sized tumor, then chemo five days per week every four weeks for six months. Then 13 months of PET scans and the dreaded call it had metasticized to the liver and then RFA for five spots. Those were dead six weeks later after a new scan, but five more had taken their place. Then aggressive chemo using 5 FU, camptosar, and avastin and the scans are completely clear along with the CEA levels for the past seven months. I wish for you the same success. The doctors, science, medicine are all very necessary, but faith in God is the final element in the equation.

Sent by Fred | 5:05 PM ET | 01-30-2007

I empathize with you on this decision you need to make — you don't want to put yourself in the position of regret, down the road. The doctors have more knowledge then we do so my sense is to follow their lead. Maybe if it does not "work," there will be some other magic in their bag that you are unaware of.

As always, you are in my thoughts and prayers.

Sent by Jeri | 5:10 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Leroy:

You will make the right decision tomorrow. Remember that the important thing is that you can look in the mirror and believe in your own strength, hair or not.

Take care!

Sent by Janet | 5:12 PM ET | 01-30-2007

Dear Leroy:

Today's entry is so serious, as are most of the comments. I thought I would share with all of you my story of losing my hair. It turned out to be a remarkably uplifting day.

Three weeks after starting chemo the hairs started coming out. With lots of advice, I knew what to do — get it buzzed off rather than wait for it to come out entirely.

One morning I woke up and knew that today was the day I HAD to deal with this and get through it. I called several local hair salons to ask if they had a back room so I could get the procedure done hidden away from other customers gazes and sympathy. None did, though one nice person offered to open early the next morning for me, but, for me, it HAD to be today.

I got into my car and began driving along the main street in my town, stopping at hair salons and barbershops to check if they had a private chair. None did ... and my spirits kept sinking.

I turned onto the Route 1 that seems to run through all of our towns and it led me to the adjacent city, a mostly tired and troubled former factory town. On the fringes were bodegas, used furniture stores, etc. I nearly passed a brown-paneled storefront that could have been a grocery store, but the sign said it was a beauty parlor. I parked and went it. There were 3 chairs and only one customer finishing up. I was told I could be next. I sat among the many houseplants and magazines and waited.

The young Hispanic woman told me I was next. She first misunderstood me when I said I wanted it all buzzed off and thought I just wanted a short haircut. Because of her heavy accent I was not sure how well I could make myself understood, so I said I was sick and my hair was going to fall out from the medicine. She got it and then wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. As she buzzed away, she continued to periodically embrace me and to offer prayers for me in Spanish. Though the tears were rolling down my cheeks (as they are now in the retelling) I felt incredibly loved and safe. When she was done, she kissed me again. I put on the hat I had brought along, paid her and left the shop somehow happy. Now, three years later, I still look back on that day with much fondness and warmth.

Sent by Harriet H. Liss | 1:47 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Dear Leroy,

When I became bald from chemo, my sister rubbed my scalp every day for good luck. I still laugh about it. Then I threw my hats in the bonfire we reserve for burning bread before the holiday of Passover. That was my highest expression of personal freedom.

So if you decide on chemo, find someone to rub your head and go for it!

All my prayers to you.

Sent by T. Stage III breast cancer, now healed | 1:50 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Thanks again for sharing your insights and feelings with us. I wish all medical schools made this required reading. These decisions are hard. You are the best expert on you, so choose and go forward. God Speed to you.

Sent by Elizabeth Hendrix | 1:52 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Leroy, I understand about the hair thing, but as my Dad used to say, "Grass doesn't grow on a busy street!"

Go for the chemo, while you can. You can back off later, if you need a break. Don't wait for new tumors to pop up. You already know that the cancer is systemic.

Best Wishes.

Sent by Marilyn | 2:02 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Boy, it'd be hard not to give advice here. And yet this is such a personal decision and none of us have been exactly in your particular cancer shoes, whether we've battled our own cancer or not.

So all I'll say is this. In deciding on how aggressively I wanted to go after my cancer, I asked myself how I'd feel if I had a recurrence (I realize for me this is an "if" and for you this is probably a "when") if I HADN'T used all the big guns I had when I was offered them. I concluded I didn't want to ever be feeling like I passed up a chance to get the cancer when I could simply because I was scared of side effects, etc.

Your conclusion is your business. I know I'll be reading your blog and supporting your decision either way.

Sent by N.R. | 2:18 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Leroy, about the hair... when my best friend finally had to ante up to her lost tresses, she allowed me to shave her head. It was perfectly shaped and, indeed, one of her best assets. Go for it! There is a new you emerging.

Sent by Pat Z. | 2:20 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Dear Leroy,

Please don't let details like losing your hair influence your decision to go through more chemo. As another reader said, as long as it won't interfere with the radio ablation of the last tumors... If the promise of being cancer-free is there, then maybe it's better to just do as your doctors suggest. That way you could be tumor-free and cancer cell-free at the same time, and know that you've hit it with everything.

With cancer, it's the cells you don't see that that can come back to haunt you. Chemo is hard, and losing your hair turns out to be pretty hard at the beginning, too, but it's a short-term loss for a long-term gain. Long-term is the goal.

I'm saying this even though I know that it would be very hard to make myself go through a grueling course of chemotherapy again. I just hope that if my chances are better than palliative, that my doctors would have the patience and caring go through another round of discussions with me. It feels a lot like being asked to do the 60-second trip at the Grand Canyon. But now, some time after taking that leap of faith into chemo, I am glad I did.

Take care.

Sent by Lilly T. | 2:24 PM ET | 01-31-2007

It is _so_ all about the hair. Really. (Besides the threat of death, that is.) Don't forget, though, you can have fun with baldness — you can even henna your head.

Sent by Ellen | 2:26 PM ET | 01-31-2007

It's odd how much that hair-loss thing matters. I agree that it's mostly just as you say — that cancer patient look. Denial is off the table. If I had it to do over (and I will) I would have a close-cropped-buzz cut one week after the first chemo. My hair started leaving two weeks after chemo — as my doctor predicted — suggestable? Maybe. Who knows? It didn't all fall out at once but took about three days and was just messy as hell. So — I'd go for the buzz. Oh, and it's awfully cold without hair. I kept a hat close by for the warmth mostly. Best to you Leroy.

Sent by Anna | 4:35 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Dear Leroy,

Hair loss is indicative of the stopping of rapid cell division. Cancer cells have generally higher rate of division, so hair loss during chemo is good.

Max chemo dose is preferred because while the cancer cells are on their own or in small clusters, that is the time to burn them all. If all are burned then no further cancer will arise from them. Your doctors may have a good match between this chemo and the cancer type you have. I looked good without hair, sort of pre-WW2 German expressionist painter look. I felt like I just made it through Iwo Jima.

Please be strong.

Sent by Joe Lyons | 4:43 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Leroy,

You may want to consider getting into a clinical trial that tests different kinds of chemo drugs that have not been approved by the FDA. I am currently in one at M. D. Anderson. I get three consecutive chemo drips on Fridays and then they run the usual MRIs, CTs, etc. to see if the chemo drugs are working. So far, so good. The tumor on the left side of my brain is shrinking. If the chemo drips aren't effective, then they will take you off that particular chemo drug and let you opt to try another one. Again, my oncologist once misdiagnosed a malignant tumor in my brain lining and my confidence in "expert doctors" plummeted. Now, I am taking the self, pro-active approach to living with cancer. My "rare" cancer is supposed to be incurable, but I really don't think my doctors know enough about it to back up that claim, so I just pretty much ignore them and get on with my life. Losing your hair? Try getting up in the morning and looking in the mirror without a nose on your face. There's a instant reminder you have cancer. Positive attitude, a holistic diet, and a deep spiritual faith will get you through. Good luck!

Sent by Larry Hamm | 5:11 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Two thoughts that might help:

First, your oncologists make their recommendations based on WHAT treatment administered WHEN give you the best chance of doing well. The same treatment often has a better chance of controlling or curing cancer when given earlier (when it has less cancer to attack) than later. "Saving" treatment for later, such as when the cancer is more obvious or more debilitating, may mean missing the window of opportunity when the treatment has the best chance of helping you significantly.

Second: You wrote that one of the reasons you wanted to hold off is because you feel it is your last option. It is comforting to feel you have some other cards in your back pocket. The prospect of playing your last card is scary — if this new treatment doesn't work, that's it. Leroy, even if this chemo is likely your last treatment option, it is not definitely so. If the chemo buys you time, even if it doesn't cure the cancer, new treatments may become available to you when you need them. This is not denying reality or putting a Pollyanna spin on a tough situation it happens often enough to enough patients to provide you real hope. The last six courses of treatment I've received were not even options when I was diagnosed in 1990. The newer treatments I've received have been less toxic and more effective than the early intensive chemotherapy. So, even if your new chemo regimen does not cure you, it may offer you your best chance of surviving to benefit from better treatments that come along.

The tough question when facing toxic treatments that might or might not work is this: "How much are you willing to endure for what percentage chance at longer life?" There is no one right answer, only a best answer for you.

And remember, you can always start the new treatment and see how you feel. If it's acceptable, then you can keep on. If you feel miserable, you can change your mind and choose to stop. Your team of doctors, nurses, family and friends can support you physically and emotionally as you make these ongoing decisions and deal with the challenges.

You might find it helpful to read the chapter on finding hope in tough situations in HAPPINESS IN A STORM.

Wishing you strength and hope as you make these decisions.

Sent by Wendy S. Harpham, M.D. | 5:13 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Hello again, Leroy. I am thinking of both you and my sister-in-law (stage IV lung cancer) as you fight your battles. Go for the chemo... listen to your doctor... trust the experts and let them help in your war against The Beast. Keep us all updated on how it goes. No, there are no guarantees, but take every chance available to you just like everything else in life.

Best wishes.

Sent by Choux | 5:15 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Leroy, Years ago anyone who was bald looked like a cancer patient, but this is no longer the case. Nowadays, lots of men shave their heads as soon as their hair starts thinning.

I've often thought that as far as bald heads go, the men cancer patients have an advantage over the women cancer patients. See, there is a bright side.

Sent by Linda Hilsen | 5:30 PM ET | 01-31-2007

Leroy,

I have a friend who was a diabetic from about 18 months of age until just shy of 40, when he got a new pancreas and kidney. The entire time I've known him, he's had this killer sense of humor (according to him, they're second-hand organs). He's had his BIG UPS and HUGE DOWNS over the years, but after reading your blog, I noticed some of the same tone. He used to give verbal scores to any tech who drew his blood (most doctors were awful at it — don't get enough practice), kind of like the cards they hold up at Olympic diving events - "That one was an 8.2."

I want to say I appreciate how open you've been with your own ups and downs. It helps to know how other people deal with the question of "what do I say to someone who's expecting to die soon?", as well as what to say when things get better.

I'm glad to hear you're on an UP and I hope you stay there. I want to be reading your notes 20 years from now about how you fell out of the boat while fishing or some other "normal" crazy stunt. Hang in there!

Sent by Sue | 12:35 PM ET | 02-05-2007

I have Ovarian Cancer and am sending you something I wrote about why I want a cure for cancer... please read it and tell me why you want a cure.

Why I Want a Cure for cancer

(I refuse to capitalize the words cancer or chemo)

Gene and I were able to drive up to Auburn the day before Christmas to see our grandsons. On Christmas morning the family was opening packages, Christmas dinner was in preparation and folks were dropping by just to say hello. It was pretty much a mob scene.

Our 7-year-old grandson, Porter, was so happy when he opened a royal blue box with gold satin lining and he saw an exquisitely made magic wand worthy of Harry Potter. It was something he'd asked for and it surely looked powerful with a crystal lashed to one end and an amethyst to the other. He gave it a couple of waves then looked around to see if anything happened. Nothing did so he placed it carefully back in the box and opened other gifts including but not limited to an R2D2 robot, a video game, a new bathrobe, and an ant farm.

I watched later in the morning as he kept returning to the blue box and the magic wand. At one point he even said "Immobilarium," which I think is Harry Potter for "Freeze Sucker" and still the room remained in motion, time did not stand still, nothing happened. We were alone at one time and he brought the wand to me and said, "Nana, it doesn't work."

Trying my best I explained that the magic in the real world was different than what he knew from Harry Potter. I told him that the power that we have to make things appear in our lives by our creativity, inspiration and work or to solve problems is amazing, and yet most of us have wished for a magic wand to change our lives quickly. That perhaps this beautiful magic wand was just something that could remind him how powerful he was inside.

He was frankly not too thrilled with our conversation. He wanted it to work! Reluctantly he placed the wand back in the box and set it aside.

Dinner was fantastic, our son Jared and daughter-in-law Christina are both excellent cooks and other guests brought their specialties so we ate like kings and/or gluttons. Just after dinner Gene and I had to leave because I was scheduled for my fifth chemo at 8 a.m. in Fresno the next morning.

Our oldest grandson Max was there for goodbye hugs, but Porter ran to get the blue box, and taking the magic wand out of it he waved it in front of me and said, "Nana, I really want it to work this time because I want your cancer to go away."

You must know it broke my heart. He is such a sweet little kid and I'm so angry that at seven the word cancer is even part of his vocabulary.

So, yes I'm fighting this horrid disease in my body, and in the newspaper, on the Internet, and in the world. We have to find a cure.

Sent by Kay Mickel | 12:46 PM ET | 02-05-2007

Leroy, Shave your head like all those young stockbrokers, (and I'm not sure if NPR will let this through), otherwise, it could be a case of Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow. Sorry, that was an awful pun, but I hope it gave you a laugh. Go for broke, as you did when you were EP of Nightline. Cheers.

Sent by Tom | 4:55 PM ET | 02-05-2007