Leroy, you really sound optimistic today. We are with you. You are fighting our fight. You are our Man of La Mancha!

"This is my quest, to follow that star,No matter how hopeless, no matter how far,To fight for the rightWithout question or pause, To be willing to march into hellFor a heavenly cause!And I know, if I'll only be trueTo this glorious Quest,That my heart will lie peaceful and calmWhen I'm laid to my rest.And the world will be better for this,That one man, scorned and covered with scars,Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,To reach the unreachable stars!"

Sent by Don Winslow | 9:53 AM ET | 01-26-2007

I hope you come through this surgery with flying colors and no collapsed lung. As always, I will be following your blog and wishing you well... from afar (Belgium). May your lung tumors be history today, and here's to a rapid convalescence!

Sent by Maris | 9:54 AM ET | 01-26-2007

My thoughts and prayers are with you today and everyday, Leroy. I, too am in the midst of the side effects of chemo — taxol, to be specific. My body feels like an 85-year-old woman as I attempt to climb the stairs — intense bone pain, a lovely side effect of taxol. But like we say... if it kills those damn cancer cells in my body , then what the heck... a few days every other week of feeling like I am 85 , so be it! I really don't have time for cancer!

Sent by Marianne Dalton | 9:58 AM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy,

I was struck by your comments today. As the spouse of a cancer patient, one of the things that I find difficult is the waiting. The time in between treatments where you can see what the radiation and chemo have done to his outward appearance but have no clue what those unhappy little cancer cells are doing inside. Thank you for reminding me that today is here to be experienced and tomorrow can wait.

In the words of another fellow blogger, "Leroy, you rock!"

Thanks.

Sent by M. Francis | 12:28 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Prayers and positive thoughts with you today. I woke up thinking about you and have a good feeling about this procedure.

Sent by Janis | 12:30 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy,

One more voice to say: may your procedure today destroy those cancer cells!! I have read your story since the summer and followed your journey along with all of your other supporters. I don't have cancer (that I know of). But my very dear friend was diagnosed with a gallbladder cancer in May 2006, and she started a blog (http://www.dahlborg.blogspot.com/) and told me about yours.

As an advanced practice nurse in primary care, I've always had a strong interest in chronic illness. I also teach graduate nursing students in the NP program at UMass Dartmouth. One of their reading assignments this term will be this blog. It is so important that caregivers understand the "lived experience." Who can teach us better than you? Your insights and the comments from your readers are invaluable to bringing this perspective to light. Thank you for teaching us. Thank you for talking to us each day, even when you don't feel like it. Many are listening and learning. And we are indeed grateful.

On January 18, the entry "True Courage" had a beautiful definition of the term. I'd like to add another written by Mary Anne Radmacher: "Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'" Best wishes as you go forward in your journey and face those tough decisions.

Sent by Sandy | 12:37 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Good luck, Leroy. I have really enjoyed reading your blog these last few weeks. My grandmother died of liver cancer a few years ago. They found it too late so she never had a chance to fight back. She passed within a week of being diagnosed. It is uplifting to read your blog and see some hope in the fight against cancer. I'm pulling for you.

Sent by Bill | 12:44 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy, I've been following your blog for quite a while now and it has helped me so much as I fight my own battles. I'm hoping for you that this procedure is totally effective and there are no complications and you rest and heal quickly from it.

Sent by N.R. | 12:47 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Good luck Leroy. I share your pain with the hospital gowns... we ADULT-sized humans are often placed in this position. My suggestion: Let 'em fly. Strap a knife to your leg and call it a kilt — Go Braveheart on them.

Sent by Brit | 12:49 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy,

You're the best. You are helping so many people with your blog. Good luck today. I know you are going to do great.

Sent by Art Johnston | 12:53 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy,

My thoughts and prayers are with you. Best Wishes and Good Luck!

Sent by Sherri | 12:54 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy,

I really hope this works for you! Even though I've written only once before, and even though I have never had cancer (but it does run in my family), I read your blog every day. I think of this as checking up on a friend. I would love it if you could return to your former life.

Sent by Jane | 12:56 PM ET | 01-26-2007

GO get 'em, Leroy!!!

Sent by Sandi | 12:57 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy, Tell those doctors to give those tumors hell! And your last sentence is right: you ARE NOT going anywhere. You are going to keep fighting and beat this. I know you might not being looking forward to the new regime but remember how far you have come — and you have all of us in your corner. Don't ever give up. You are going to come out victorious!

Sent by Hunter | 1:02 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy,

Been thinking about your procedure and you all week. Also thinking of a fellow BDC patient from another chat room. I began a new chemo last week and sure know the feelings of dread of a new one. So far, if I didn't know what side effects of chemo felt like I'd said I'd had none. I do know better now, but it wasn't as awful as I thought. Long story short, I hope that procedure does the trick and the new chemo will offer you few side effects. What made my day this week, was on the drive home from school I had to slow down for a male turkey in full plumage in the middle of the road ushering his flock across Rt 4 in Goshen. He was glorious. We can be, too. Best wishes.

Sent by Cheryl M. | 1:06 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy,

I'll be thinking of you today. Hope your lung inflates like a balloon. As long as you have a fighting spirit, I think you should fight. We are all different, but I believe each of us knows when its time to say "no more." You don't seem to be even close to that point.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 4:01 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Smash 'em!

Sent by David Larsen | 4:04 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Go get 'em. BTW, When the gown is brought for you to change into ALWAYS ask for a second one. Tie that one like a robe and you are covered on both sides. Prayers are with you.

Sent by Robin | 4:05 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Good Luck today. My thoughts and prayers are with you. One thing I do know: if attitude and intentionality count for anything (and I am a firm believer that they do) you should certainly do as well as possible.

Be well.

Sent by Sandra Yudilevich | 4:12 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy, You have really touched my heart from the first time I heard you on the radio. As a hospital social worker who tries very hard to make that little difference, I really applaud you. I have recommended your writings to many people — both patients and health care workers. Your honesty is amazing and inspiring. I hope all goes well today and that you are treated with extra loving care. Blessings and peace.

Sent by Nancy | 4:14 PM ET | 01-26-2007

I'll add my Good Luck to everyone else's (and an extra prayer). Ablation worked for my uncle's kidney tumor so I'm hoping it will work for your lung tumors, too. Looking forward to your after-treatment posts!

Sent by Joan Marie | 4:15 PM ET | 01-26-2007

GIVE 'EM HELL, LEROY!!!!

Sent by Michael | 4:17 PM ET | 01-26-2007

I am so smiling right now... "collapsed lung...no big deal..." You make me laugh, Leroy, and for that I'm grateful!

Enjoy your painkillers, and well see you next week!

Sent by JJ | 4:18 PM ET | 01-26-2007

You go kill those tumors!

On yesterday's entry you said you like to be realistic and keep your future dreams in check.

When I was a kid, I never thought I would live past 30. When I reached 31 it suddenly hit me that I had to make some sort of plans of what to do with the rest of my life and start reaching some goals (for however long it might be).

So you better make some plans for the future, just in case life gives you one back.

Optimism has been proved to help patients defeat terrible diseases. One never knows about the power of laughter.

Sent by Alfonso Gutierrez | 4:21 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Hi Leroy: I have had 3 RFAs done for my cancerous tumors post the initial huge surgery in 2002. I can so relate to your feelings about procedures, CT-scans and MRIs, all of which I have had too many of. I know that you will get through this, as you have with everything else, with humor and grace. I'm thinking of you.

Sent by Cathy Quon | 4:25 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Buena suerte. My prayers are with you!!! I am sure they will find a gown for you...

Sent by Blanca | 4:31 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Leroy,

I hope that the procedure went well — looking forward to hearing the results when they come in.

Pardon the lateness of this question (I got a bit behind in reading the blog) but have any of the readers had a reaction to the iodine contrast? After my son's CT scan, all of his skin has shed and we are trying to find out if it's a side effect of the iodine. Couldn't keep the barium down so it probably wasn't that.

Any insight would be really helpful.

Keep up your positive spirits! We are all pulling for you.

Sent by Marie | 4:34 PM ET | 01-26-2007

Mr. Sievers,

Since I stumbled on your articles about your cancer some time ago, I have traveled the road from "spectator" to someone deeply drawn to your experience by your own clear, open, candid account of your illness. I am humbled by your accounts and I find myself praying for you as though I knew you well. Perhaps I do, since our humanity binds us together. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

Sent by Lydia Stone | 4:45 PM ET | 01-26-2007

I can't wait to hear how your procedure went. Ill be thinking of you all weekend and eager you read your Monday post.

Sent by Rhonda | 11:50 AM ET | 01-28-2007

There are many people who are thinking of you and hoping you are getting through this OK. You are an inspiration of how to fight the good fight. No matter what the future brings, think good thoughts and know that you have a lot of people supporting you.

Sent by Laura | 11:55 AM ET | 01-29-2007

Leroy, thanks for keeping us up to date on how you are doing, and for giving those of us in this select group a place to learn and to provide support to each other, even as you provide support to us in ways and quantities you can't anticipate. I found the following two short poems in the Sept./Oct. 2006 issue of Coping Magazine while getting chemo, and thought maybe they'd have some meaning for you. I hope you don't mind my sending them with that hope. Jane Levin is a cancer survivor from Minnesota. Theresa Churchill is a survivor living in Long Beach, Calif.

I Am Becoming More Forgetfulby Jane Levin

I am becoming more forgetful.Friends laughtelling stories aboutmisplaced keys, forgotten names.A few gently ask if chemo did this to me. My doctor refers me for an MRI.

You don't understand.For just one moment,I forgot that IHaveHadMay havecancer.

I have become a magicianwatching in amazementas fear drops away.Sounds of audible delightas the faintoutline of hope materializes.

And as hope takes shape,Remembering begins.

Up Yours Cancerby Theresa Churchill

First my brother. Then my sister.And now because of youI have no breastsand no reproductive organs.But you'll get yours.You think you changed mebut I was a thankless, morose,belligerent, fed-up, pock-marked,bent-over, irate,unconscious, dribbling anarchistway before you tried to run me off the road.So give it up.It ain't workin.

And I'll see you in hell before it does.

Sent by Ginny | 12:54 PM ET | 01-29-2007

All the best from one NPR-er to another!

Sent by Susan M. | 1:12 PM ET | 01-29-2007