It takes a TRULY special person to find that strength that we are all given at birth... we are challenged by how deep we want to dig into ourselves and whether or not we CHOOSE to find that inner strength! Bring on those challenges. I choose to DIG and dig DEEP!

Sent by Marianne Dalton | 10:01 AM ET | 01-17-2007

And this will sound strange to some, but I am glad I was challenged (by my cancer) as my life has changed. I have a much sharper focus and am able to see many facets now instead of my previous limited view of this world. And where I feared to try something new before, I am now able to try it and even succeed. I pray God will only give me more time to put to good use my new sight — and strength.

Sent by Clarke | 10:46 AM ET | 01-17-2007

Dear Leroy, My name is Linda. I am an adoptee who found my birth family in 2003. My half-sister was diagnosed with brain cancer last August. She lives in N.M. and I am in Pennsylvania. We had been able to establish some relationship, though I can't say we have had the chance to really get to know each other. Now, of course, she is battling her cancer and all of its side effects full-time. Lately it has been very rough for her. I have offered to come and help but have been given the impression that I would be more of a visitor and its "just family right now." I have been reading your column for a while and wanted you to know that it gives me an idea of what my sister must be going through. I wish I could be someone for her to lean on. I wish you and your loved ones the best. I pray for you and my sister to feel well, to feel peace, and to know that there are a lot of people out here who love you.

Sent by Linda Eastep | 12:11 PM ET | 01-17-2007

Thank you so much for your comments on strength. I do not have cancer and am a relatively healthy wife and mother of a wonderful 6-year-old boy. I found the strength I needed to become a parent, all the amazing and unknown changes and challenges parenting brings.

Now I struggle with depression and some days I really don't know how to find the strength. I think about those who rely on me, how hurt they would be if I wasn't here, but that doesn't seem to help much. As horrendous as it is, your cancer seems a more concrete foe. This depression is so elusive and I feel ridiculous with all my self-pity, and yet the feelings are still there throughout the counseling, the different medications, exercise, diet, meditation, etc.

But reading about the real, concrete battle that you fight every day with its emotions, physical trauma and unknowns much worse than mine helps me to find the strength I need, especially on bad days. Even if you don't see yourself as stronger than anyone else, your great strength in turn creates more strength and hope out here in the great ethos. Thank you for your courage and generosity in sharing your life with all of us.

Sent by Monique Cohen | 1:06 PM ET | 01-17-2007

Dear Leroy-

I am finally getting off my duff and dropping you a note. I have been reading your blog for months and often find myself nodding along to what you write. I was Dx with stage 3C breast cancer in Dec of 05. I have had surgeries, 6 months of chemo, more surgery and then radiation. I finished active treatment in November of last year. Now I'm trying to learn how to live each day without worrying about what tomorrow will bring. No doctor will call me cured, but they will say that, right now, they can't find any evidence of cancer in my body. Though I think they are mincing words, I will take it :)

I'm not going to tell you how brave you are, or how strong you are.I hate it when people flood me with platitudes like that, but I will tell you that it has been enlightening and strangely calming for me to read your words all these months. Connecting with people, both in person and online has been one of the few blessings this crappy disease has given me. When I seek out people who really "get it," I often find myself clicking on your site.

Today I am going to go spend some time with yet another friend who has been diagnosed with breast cancer. I'm going to hug her and help her interpret the gobbelty-gook that is in her pathology report. Today I'm going to go be the cancer expert. I will bring her a couple of books and a prayer shawl I crocheted for her while she was in surgery. I will hold her hand; in all likelihood, I will cry. I will also come armed with a list of Web sites she can visit at 2:00 in the morning when she is awake and scared. Your site will be on the list.

I want you to know that the work you are dong every day has great meaning. I will continue to read you words and nod along.

You are in my prayers.

Sent by Debbie C. | 1:09 PM ET | 01-17-2007

I came across your blog a few months back when my mother got the news that her colon cancer had returned. When the biopsy came back they discovered it was not the same cancer but a fast growing tumor, Stage III. She just ended her chemo in November and has the same anxious feelings that others have written about. I just wanted to thank you for helping me understand just a little of what is going through her mind. I hate this disease it has taken several of my uncles and an aunt. Because of the family history I have to go every few years and be checked myself. I hope they find a cure soon.

You are in my prayers.

Sent by Pam | 3:15 PM ET | 01-17-2007

Leroy,

Let me tell you what your cancer and the battle you are fighting is doing for me and others who are fighting this equal opportunity disease or caring for a stricken loved one. You give insights, strength and courage to us. I could have used you four years ago when my husband fought a losing battle to colon cancer. To read your thoughts and feelings about your fight would have helped me understand Jim. He couldn't share; it was too painful to know he was leaving me and his three sons too soon. Pam hasn't had this experience yet, but she will someday and she'll need your words. Please publish your essays for those Pams of the world. It's a reference guide for the ages.

Sent by Helen Drab | 3:18 PM ET | 01-17-2007

I've been reading your blog regularly for about a month. I just want to let you know how much I appreciate your insight and honesty. Although I am an RN, I have very limited experience with cancer patients. I am currently in my 3rd year of graduate school. In future years I will be doing cancer screenings, and, inevitably will someday have to share with my client that she has cancer. Your blog is helping mold me into a better practitioner.

Also, I just want to share that our nephew (age 28) got married on Dec. 10th to a beautiful young lady (age 23) who has liver cancer that has spread to her intestine, stomach, lungs, esophagus, and throat. They got married at Joslyn Castle in Omaha, Neb., which was beautiful. I am happy that they get to spend the little time she has left together as a couple. However, I also grieve for them, knowing that cancer and impending death robs them of the innocence of young adulthood. My heart aches for them.

Anyway, thank you for your blog, your honesty and courage.

Sent by Alice May | 3:21 PM ET | 01-17-2007

Hi Leroy - Here is an idea for a column. I'm not sure every cancer patient will admit it, but I think most of us have mentally written our own obituary. I am doing well for now but everyone knows how that can change! Anyway, when I look at the obituaries in the newspaper, I am primarily struck by how many folks die of cancer but also by the 99% who refer to their death as a "valiant battle with cancer." It's kind of become a bit of a catch phrase that minimizes the whole struggle. I don't see my experiences with chemo, surgery (double mastectomy) and radiation as "valiant" but I really don't have a word for it. Do you?

Sent by Ellen Macaulay | 5:36 PM ET | 01-17-2007

For me, that "strength" meant learning and using patience. Patience with my body and its ability to recover from the poisons and the burning radiation, patience with the doctors methods, patiently waiting for test results, patient with my emotions when I am sad or frustrated with cancer treatment, patient with others who may or may not understand, patient with something my own body has created but now must fight off. A year ago, would I have believed this self I've become BECAUSE of the cancer?? Definitely not. But enough about me.

Leroy, in the last couple of days I have sensed more melancholy than previously. Or maybe it's just your way of going with the flow of what's happening to you right now. I wish I could e-mail some strength to you, I wish I could take away some of the pain. Your daily sharing is so important to me and I feel I've come to know you. Thanks for creating this forum for expression. I am with you across the miles.

Sent by Sherri Eggleston | 5:37 PM ET | 01-17-2007

Racial profiling and Medicine: I would like to point your attention to lentinan, which has the potential to extend survival and improve the quality of life of some cancer patients (gastric and prostate in particular). The Memorial Sloan-Kettering web site provides a very positive review of lentinan. However, because the research on Lentinan was done on Japanese, my grandfather was told by his doctors not to take lentinan. "If you were one-half or a quarter Japanese we would advise you take lentinan. But you are white." I was outraged by their comment. It was not backed by evidence that shows that the T-helper cell function that lentinan enhances is significantly different among Japanese and Caucasians. Doctors have considerable power over patients. It is unfortunate when they draw on racist rhetoric.

Sent by Aviv | 5:46 PM ET | 01-17-2007

A little more than a year ago, I was diagnosed with a Stage 4 cholangiocarcinoma — a relatively rare but typically terminal cancer. As you have described so eloquently, the journey into and through the world of cancer is difficult.

The word "fortunate" does not juxtapose well with cancer, but I wonder if perhaps my own experiences have been somewhat more benign than yours, particularly with respect to the side effects of chemotherapy. Essentially, I am on a permanent course of therapy: two weeks on followed by one week off, with occasional opportunities for a longer "drug holiday." My primary side effects have been a dry cough, upset stomach and fatigue, annoying to be sure but tolerable. Life goes on, but awareness of death has resulted in a dramatic restructuring of how my wife and I spend our time. This restructuring has in most ways been very positive for us both.

As you have reported about your struggles, I am wondering if you have found anything salutary to have emerged from your struggles. In other words, can the reality of a terminal cancer spawn any gifts?

Sent by Andy Halpern | 10:03 AM ET | 01-18-2007

Before I got my cancer diagnosis, I thought I didn't have the strength to endure such difficult treatments with such discouraging statistics. But now I find that I can live one day at a time, enjoying all the good things I experience. I appreciate my family and my friends in ways I didn't before.

I don't feel I am especially strong or brave, but as you say we are all capable of quite a lot. I have great hope I will be able to see my son grow up and for that reason I never consider that there is any choice other than to go forward and to endure whatever treatment I must endure.

Best of luck to you, and to all.

Sent by Bill | 11:02 AM ET | 01-18-2007

I think Anna Harmon said it best in her comment yesterday. We all have a "life instinct" that propels us forward and gives us strength. Whether dealing with cancer, surviving a hurricane or being a caregiver, we all need that "life instinct" to keep going.

Sent by Chuck | 11:06 AM ET | 01-18-2007

Hi, you are right about not knowing the strengths we have. I am a widower. My wife Michelle, died from breast cancer in July of 2004. She had more strength to go through this than I thought I ever had. I know that sounds strange, but it's true. It taught me to have strength. More than I ever thought I would need. I was always amazed at how she could get through the Chemo with a smile always chatting with people. It was and still is hard on us. I had two daughters at the time of her death one was 23 the other 17. She didn't get to see her baby graduate from high school, and that was hard on my daughter. We saw it through though with those strengths that we didn't know we had. A year and a half later, my youngest daughter died in a car crash. I need a lot of strength now, so does my remaining daughter... Good luck to you, I will be reading your story.

Sent by Daniel Friend | 11:10 AM ET | 01-18-2007

I have also felt uncomfortable with people telling me that they admire my bravery. I don't believe anyone would be less "brave" in the same situation. When I was first diagnosed, I stood in the shower every morning silently chanting my mantra, "I will hold it together today, tomorrow may be different, but today I will hold it together." Then, you get involved with surgeries, treatments, tests, and doctors appointments. Life, as it has become, goes on.

Now I'm waiting for the doctors to call and let me know about my upcoming biopsy for the 1-inch "something" in my liver seen on a CT scan. I may be dragging that mantra out again.

Leroy, thank you for your entries, I don't know how you've done it every day through all the chemo. And thank you for giving all of us a chance to respond and tell our own stories.

Sent by Marcia | 11:14 AM ET | 01-18-2007

I have lung CA — diagnosed 6 months ago. Continue to treat and continue to be optimistic. You are right-on. My grandmother used to say "God will never give you more than you can handle." Many times in my life, I have wondered but I also have been told my inner strength is something to be admired. I pray for you. You are an inspiration to all of us.

Sent by Anne | 11:27 AM ET | 01-18-2007

Dear Leroy:

You say what we in cancer world experience. There are those that enter and exit that world with Grace, and there are those who are too overwhelmed to experience Grace. I believe your posts and comments should be published, as they provide insight and poignancy into cancer world. I would have appreciated such a tome when I entered cancer world.

Love again from the tropics of St. Thomas?

Sent by Julie | 11:30 AM ET | 01-18-2007

Dear Leroy,

As a hospice volunteer, I have watched many people deal with illness and dying and it seems true to me that people go through illness and die pretty much the same way they have lived. If people have been hysterical all their lives, they will probably be ill and die that way. If they have been withdrawn, same thing. If they have been mature and strong, they'll go out like that. I've read enough to believe you are mature and courageous. I am learning a lot about you and about the people who respond to you. Thank you so very much for sharing your journey with all of us.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 11:33 AM ET | 01-18-2007

Thank you for sharing your experiences with the world. It helps those of us who have family members undergoing the same fight for their lives to read of your courage, strength, encouragement, and even different ways to look at things. It gives us a lot of hope. My brother-in-law was misdiagnosed and went for 3 months while the glioblastoma was growing in his brain. He has been having the treatments in Denver and is about halfway through. I am e-mailing these articles to my sister. Everybody is precious, no matter how long they have lived or what the quality of their life has been. Perhaps life is more precious to someone who has gone through these experiences with cancer. Keep up the good work.

Sent by Teresa Heneage | 1:32 PM ET | 01-18-2007

I just came across your blog tonight. I, too, have found peace and purpose in writing a daily blog for my friends, family and supporters so that we are all sharing the same information and they can all know how important they are to me as well as keep up with my progress. I was Diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer stage 4 in Nov 06 without ever having a single symptom or hint of any problem. It has been a significant shock and, of course, a certain change in our lives. I would be interested in how your blog took off and has so many readers. I feel very strong about sharing my thoughts especially with other men who are EC patients. My prayers are with you as well. My blog location is: http://www.marcoufamilyblog.blogspot.com/

Sent by Mike Marcou | 1:43 PM ET | 01-18-2007