Leroy, I have noticed, like others, a change in your tone in the last three posts, and I am worried about you.

You have provided a unique and amazing forum to the community of cancer patients, their loved ones and their health-care providers with this blog and your thoughtful, honest "reports from the frontline." However, I am wondering, because this medium is interactive, whether it must be difficult and sometimes overwhelming for you to read through all the heart-rendering responses, describing so many other people's cancer struggles, as inspiring as they are, without your own energy getting zapped. Although we offer support and hope and prayers for you, in a way, we ask the same from you and each other, by sharing our stories.

My husband, who had pancreatic cancer, and I once attended a cancer support group for patients who were parents and wanted advice about how to parent and support their children through their cancer experience. There was a young woman present, with metastatic melanoma, who had three young children. Even though we knew that my husband's cancer was terminal, we also knew that this woman's prognosis wasn't good either. We left that meeting feeling heartbroken for her and her family because her situation seemed so much worse off than ours.

Is it possible, Leroy, that you are suffering from "compassion fatigue"? Maybe, its time to take a break and go on that trip to Hawaii. Conserve your energy for what's vital.

Sent by Marilyn | 10:57 AM ET | 01-18-2007

Saw some quotes on a calendar and thought of you: Each life needs its own quiet place. It's the little moments that make life big. Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live. I take nothing for granted; I now have good days or great days. It isn't the load that breaks us down, it's the way we carry it.

And finally, don't ask for an easier life ask to be a stronger person.

God Bless.

Sent by Pam Pace | 12:05 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Courage is needed only when there is fear. Fear is present only when there is a lack of faith.

Its not "bad" to have fear its is quite human. But for me, I don't reach down deep inside to overcome. I reach out.

If you see life as a struggle, if you "endure" life, you have completely missed the point. I've completely missed the point too. I'm not trying to say that I'm different or I've found the golden way. Im only saying that life is quite grand. If you don't see it that way, as I very often do, then you are focused inward and not outward.

So how do I have faith?

The first step is to just give myself permission to be human, to be afraid, to think I'm alone, that I need to endure, that I need to figure it out by myself, that I'm not loved.

When I notice myself going down this road, I try and sit and with as much love and care as I can, ask myself, "What exactly are you afraid of" — with the image of me talking to my self. The question "what" and not "why" is key. What specifically am I afraid of?

Often a flood of emotions and thoughts comes back. Most of the time they are confused and disjointed. But I try to listen to my self — understand what my self is trying to tell me.

Gently, I acknowledge the situation and then try to clarify. Sometimes making a list of all the current fears helps. Sometimes writing a note sketching my fears helps. But the effort is to understand my self. Usually just a dialog between me and myself is all that is really needed.

Usually, not much actually occurs. I don't come up with some grand plan for the next step I should take. In fact, often it is just the opposite. I acknowledge that I'm lost. But... the act of doing this, of treating my self in this way, shows that at least one person, me, loves my self. And my self loves me.

Through this process, a calm settles in. Even if all my fears come true, I will still be ok. Why? Because I'm loved. And almost in an instant, I cant help but acknowledge that Jim, and Joe, and Ted, and countless other people in my life love me too. And then there is a feeling of coming home to realize that, there is a God and God really does love me. And that is all that matters.

It's not logical. I can't prove it. But I sure can feel it.

I don't see this process as courage. I see it as honesty.

Sent by Perry Smith | 12:43 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Hi, Leroy!

I've been wanting to send you a note. I found your blog on Christmas day while my husband was still sleeping and I was waiting for my 7 y.o. son to open his presents. I was able to read all your blogs.

I wanted to tell you many things. First of all, THANK YOU for letting us be a part of your journey. I am a clergy sexual abuse survivor and I see some parallels in what you are going through with what I have been going through these past three years. I've been thinking of writing my own blog regarding my "journey". And your blog has provided me with many ways to structure mine.

Second, like you I've been told that I show strength and courage in dealing with my trauma. However, I don't see it as strength or courage at all. It's just plain determination to free myself from the chains or grip of the trauma and shame and guilt that came with it. I want to "live" a full life. I want to be fully present to my son and my family and friends.

Finally, I wish you many good days.

Sent by Rowie Quimson | 12:46 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Leroy, bloggers and especially Debbie who posted yesterday:

I'm a 7-year breast cancer survivor, and can relate to what Debbie was saying in her post about bringing books and knowledge to another friend recently diagnosed. I do that myself. Only now, I will include another book. Have any of you read, The China Study by T. Colin Campbell, Ph.D.? It is VERY compelling information, and I only wish the book was out when I was diagnosed. It is relevant to all cancers and many other health disorders. I think I am still in shock (in a good way).

Sent by Carol | 12:56 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Leroy,

Marilyn said it so well. Take a vacation and regroup. As we all know, we all want to fix the pain of others, let alone deal with our own. Take Marilyn's advice.

Sent by Laura | 12:58 PM ET | 01-18-2007

What's happening with the Discovery Channel segment airing in February?

Sent by Ruth White | 1:05 PM ET | 01-18-2007

If anyone is going to be in the New York area on Thursday, January 18th, the Dr. Keith Ablow show is having a show called "Hugs for JC"/Help Save a Life. They will discuss issues related to and about cancer patients.

It tapes from 2:30-4:00PM in the NBC Studios at 30 Rockefeller Plaza.

Hope to see you all there!

Sent by Danielle Smith | 1:21 PM ET | 01-18-2007

You are so right about finding your inner strength when you need it. Within 6 months my mother found out she had cervical cancer, a week later my younger brother found out he had adenoid cystic carcinoma and my husband of 16 years died suddenly of a heart attack while on vacation in Idaho. I had never suffered such a loss like this before or even a sudden illness. My good friend told me a few months later that she admired me because I was really a strong person. I remember thinking that to me I didn't feel so strong that I was just trying to make it from one day to the next, putting one foot in front of the other, I had no idea anyone would see me as strong. I was barely coping. But I realized that I really didn't have much of a choice in the matter, I had to go to work and my family needed me.

My mother recovered and my brother, God bless him, is still fighting cancer after 6 years. They had to remove his nose, teeth, and palate and now he has a tumor in his lung and in the lining of his brain. The chemo & radiation saps his energy too but he still works and lives his life just like before. Everyone says how strong he is and what courage he has, but really he just wants to be treated no differently than anyone else in the world, like before he had the cancer. He just wants to live, like you and me and everyone else in the world. God bless you.

Sent by Emily J. Saxton | 1:30 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Leroy: I'm curious to know how you feel — from your perspective as a cancer patient — about the recent news reports about cancer deaths being down for the second year in a row and scientists and medical professionals possibly turning a corner on the disease, possibly turning cancer a "chronic" condition.

Thanks.

Sent by Rachael Seravalli | 1:34 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Sir Leroy — I love your thoughts. I read them daily. Yes, my brother has terminal cancer, but what you have to say is much broader than that. They are timeless lessons of life. And some sense or order to what happens. So simply thank you. Keep writing. Please, don't stop. This is a true gift to many of us who read your words religiously and keep making that moment, that next step happen. I wonder how many you are helping. Thank you.

Sent by Anne Rowe | 1:36 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Leroy, like many people, I look forward to reading your blog every morning with my cup of coffee. You give me strength with your grace. I really got upset last Friday when "Pam" wrote you questioning your choices. I figured she must feel pretty bad about herself to strike out at you. Please know that the NPR readers and listeners care about you. I hope you feel the strength we send.

Sent by Jill Jamieson | 1:39 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Leroy,

I am a long time reader and admirer, first-time commenter. When reading your thoughts about the burdens of living this prayer came to mind. I have kept a copy of this on my refrigerator for many years:

Prayer of St. Francis de Sales

Be at peace. Do not look forward in fear to the changes of life rather look to them with full hope as they arise. God, whose very own you are, will deliver you from out of them. He has kept you hitherto, and He will lead you safely through all things and when you cannot stand it, God will bury you in His arms.

Do not fear what may happen tomorrow the same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you then and every day. He will either shield you from suffering, or will give you unfailing strength to bear it.

Be at peace, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imagination.

St. Francis de Sales

1567 - 1622

Keep up the fight, fellow traveler.

Sent by Allen Hamilton | 1:41 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Dear Leroy,

One step at the time is what any of us can take. Best of luck to you. I am a two-year breast cancer survivor and I try to cherish every day. I wake up in the morning and I wonder — what adventure is awaiting for me today?

Carol, I would like to respond to your question about the book, The China Study. I read it a few months ago and was profoundly affected by it. I have decided to become a vegan as a result. I feel that trying to do something good for myself gives me a feeling of control, a feeling of strength.

Very best to all.

Sent by Liliana | 4:51 PM ET | 01-18-2007

I feel blessed if the words of a brother Marine could offer even one single moment of encouragement.

Remember our motto: Semper Fidels — Always Faithful.

Continue to fight the good fight Leroy.

Sent by Teena | 4:53 PM ET | 01-18-2007

Mr. Sievers,

I read your articles and found them very well written. I envy that I've tried repeatedly to write my story, and each time after reading it, thought I didn't say what I really wanted to. Then after two years of trying, realized it's because I change so much each day and the story changes also.

I think the things we all have in common is a story all different physically, but two things I can say without talking to everyone is we all have fear and anxiety but how we deal with that is individual and it should never be a contest. But with some it is at least that was something I found very disturbing. People didn't ask what had happened, but wanted to outdo my drama as they saw it. Because they didn't ask me anything about what was happening, they thought they already knew and these were people that weren't survivors. The survivors I found just wanted to talk about themselves no matter how long ago. It had been this was so frustrating. Because I had such a hard time I thought I did badly. Everyone else I'd met hadn't done anything like I had. I just listened. I felt even more isolated until someone finally did ask and then began to send me oodles of info on my disease and how in her opinion I truly was a miracle.

It was interesting to me how even during the worst things in life no matter how far we've come we still need affirmation and love above all. Yes, I received the best care money can by and had the best dr. I've ever met and wondered at first "Why me?" And now, 2 years healed. I know why: cuz GOD and my family really do love me and want me around and I'm glad I made the choices I did and even more grateful that someone else who crossed my path of healing made theirs.

Sent by Jenny Carter | 7:22 AM ET | 01-19-2007

Leroy, your picture should be in the dictionary beside the word courage — you have the courage of which you speak, the kind it takes to just get through one more day, the courage to make yourself vulnerable in this blog day after day, the courage to continue to find words to describe your trials and tribulations and victories in this journey- you are noting but courage itself!!!!

Thanks for your blog — it has helped me immensely in my journey as the mother of a brain tumor kid. We all have our own forms of courage — thank you for sharing yours.

Sent by Alice | 9:26 AM ET | 01-19-2007

This is an electronic transmission of a hug. (OK, undoubtedly some teenager has figured out a symbol for that, but I'm not IM literate.)

Let me echo the suggestion that you consider spending a few days on a nice warm beach, with a good book (I'm re-reading Harry Potter), a good friend, and a cool drink — somewhere far, far away from all of us and from all thought of cancer. I very much value your presence and insight, but even worker bees get a break now and then. You are our friend, not our captive.

Sent by L.D.P. | 9:34 AM ET | 01-19-2007

When the woman who is my soul mate of a best friend was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer a few months ago, I, of course, wanted to "do something!" For she, who has always been the one in her family, her circle, every one relied on for cheerleading, to fix everything — so she was determined to continue that role and not need anything on this journey.

Respecting her approach that she did not need anything, and knowing that I could not assume her physical burden (having lost three immediate family members to cancer — I tried, but know it can't be done), that I am thousands of miles away so could not bring meals, clean her bathrooms, do her laundry, or read to her to distract her from the symptoms of her latest treatment, I offered the only thing I could offer — I told her that when she has those moments/hours/days when she wants to say, to scream, to cry the thoughts and feelings she thinks no one else would understand. She could always call me and I would always answer her call (no matter what I was doing-without exception) and I would listen and not judge, I would just listen, no matter what. I would be her safe harbor for the most difficult moments when she felt alone - there would be at least one person to whom she could say ANYTHING. She has accepted my offer on a few occasions. It breaks my heart and I gladly offer it-what else can I do?

Mr. Sievers, I have listened to you on NPR for some time, but only recently accessed the blog. It seems that since you have created this "place" here on NPR, and trusted us with your struggle, that in return, those of us in this "place" can also offer safe harbor.

We reserve the right to care, worry, offer comfort, AND provocation-because stifling a dissonant voice is dangerous (what would be the state of medicine if not for unpopular thought). But in those moments when you want (and deserve) to be angry and tired and frustrated you can do so. You don't have to take care of us — let us take care of you.

Sent by J.M. Huston | 9:44 AM ET | 01-19-2007

I, too, have noticed a weary thread to your posts. Almost as if you are asking permission to break down or give in. Please don't think you have to "put on a brave face" for all of us. We truly appreciate your strength, as well as your feelings of fatigue. Take care of yourself. Go to Hawaii, the winter alone is enough to make a person want to lie down and give up. I tip my hat to you.

Sent by Melanie | 11:02 AM ET | 01-19-2007

Dear Leroy:

I, too, feel that you need a break from all of us. We not only treasure you and your thoughts but, in my view, have created a dependency upon you. We wait each day to see what you have to say. Our connection to you obliges you to write for us daily which, if it were me, would mean never having a few moments or hours when I'm not thinking of cancer, the present or the future.

So, I hope you will take a brief hiatus from the blog. If that is too difficult for you to do, then perhaps ask someone dear to you to write it for a few days, keeping those of us who love you up to date on how you're doing, but sparing you from doing it yourself.

I will share with you that for a period I stopped reading the blog because some of the reader comments tugged at my heart so badly I could not shake the sadness it aroused. I actually started to feel depressed.

The greatest gift you can give to your devoted readers is to put yourself first... be selfish... however you personally define that.

Our loving thoughts and support are always with you.

Sent by Harriet H. Liss | 11:04 AM ET | 01-19-2007

I've had prostate cancer 4 years ago and Hodgkin's 2 years ago. I finished chemo and radiation for the Hodgkin's a year ago. Last week I had a PET scan, which showed activity in or near my heart. I freaked out. I had made my peace with death during chemo but to look that way again after a year really brought anguish on a whole new scale. I had a CT and when I walked into the docs office for the results my blood pressure was out of site and I thought I would just drop right there. But the CT was clear so things are a little confused. I just know that I can do some really big damage to myself with my mind. It feels like it comes right from my body, right from my brain stem. I know you know it but we are with you out here as much as one can be there for another. Thanks so much for your work here.

Sent by Charlie DeMarco | 11:14 AM ET | 01-19-2007

Leroy,

Recently a friend sent these words of encouragement, which helped me through a few really tough days of those difficult decisions. "When I walk to the edge of all the light I have and take that step into the darkness of the unknown, I believe one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for me to stand on or I will be taught to fly." by S. Martin Edges

Whether you stand or fly... may your day today be meaningful and have moments of awe. Thank you for giving such intimate insights of yourself.

Sent by Jan Greene | 12:25 PM ET | 01-19-2007

Leroy, I read your blog every day & God bless you because you show courage each & every time you write. I'm sending this blog to my 32 y.o daughter. She lost her 39 y.o husband of two years on New Year's Eve to a pulmonary embolism & just don't believe she has the courage to go on. She does, but reading your blog will help show her how you and many other people live courageous lives every day by "endurance of one moment more." God Bless.

Sent by Alleen | 12:28 PM ET | 01-19-2007

I agree with several of the others who have written today: It is a large responsibility for you to daily think of what to write, to write it, and to absorb the comments made by your readers. While you receive a great sense of satisfaction by filling in the gap and providing something that is lacking for so many cancer patients and their families — honest communication and discussion about all aspects of cancer— this responsibility is taking its toll on you. You might need to spend more of your time and energy on yourself and your healing. Please consider taking a break or scaling back and writing once weekly and maybe sharing the daily blog with others with cancer.

Like all decisions in our lives and with the clarity that cancer brings see if this is the right thing for you to do at this time.

I'll be thinking of you and hoping you have the strength to do what's best for yourself.

Sent by Leslie | 1:40 PM ET | 01-19-2007

Leroy, I agree, it is time for a vacation. I have been reading your blog for sometime now, but this is the first time I have written. I am a stage IV breast cancer patient (it is now in my liver and kidney). It was 10 years in Nov. since the first time I was diagnosed. Just before Christmas I spent two weeks on the beach — one with friends and one alone. I read 5 books, ate a lot of fresh seafood and didn't think about the cancer. There were actually days I didn't think of the constant pain. It was a great relief. Thanks for writing. The blog expresses so well what we are all feeling but can't put into words.

Sent by Martha | 9:38 PM ET | 01-19-2007

I haven't written before, although I've been reading your blog for a few weeks and listening to your series on Morning Edition. Cancer has been a way of life for me since I was 18, and I just turned 50. In 1975 I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease, Stage IA, received three months of cobalt radiation. Voila! I had been a survivor for 30 years, until a regular mammogram in January 2006 showed a suspicious lump. Now, after a bilateral mastectomy in April 2006, I am recuperating at home from the first of my reconstructive surgeries. The doctors are pretty sure the breast cancer was caused by the cobalt radiation, which has also caused vascular and cardiac problems over the years.

Do I regret receiving the radiation? Absolutely not! In the intervening years I have lived a full life, got married, had a beautiful son, got divorced, raised my son, got married to a wonderful, supportive man who loves me even without breasts, found my life's work, and became the person I am today. Do I wish things could have happened differently? Yes, I sure wish I never got cancer! But my grandfather died of cancer, and my dad was a double-dipper who died of cancer. I have survived, by the grace of God and wonderful doctors, nurses, technicians, etc.

My biggest fear is that I won't live to see my son graduate from college, get married, have children (he is 18 and will graduate from high school this June), that I will not be able to share in his joys and sorrows. I fear that my husband will be left with a huge amount of debt because I cant get life insurance to help cover our expenses if I die. I wonder if I will ever really feel like a woman or a sexual being again, and whether my reconstructed breasts will ever feel like me and not like some foreign appendages. And I wonder if I will ever, ever be able to use paid time off at work for something fun, a real vacation, instead of using it for surgeries and doctor appointments and lab work and tests. Thank you for writing about your experiences, and for giving me the courage to write about mine.

Sent by Caren | 1:38 PM ET | 01-23-2007

Leroy, does writing bring you closer to understanding the cancer, understanding the emotional hit we take from cancer? Is it essential to you to report just as it becomes essential that we share our stories back with you? It must be part of the courage to endure for just one more minute. Thank you for your essays — they have been tremendously helpful to me since I started reading them last summer. My husband had a 3-year battle fighting bladder cancer MET to the liver and spine before he died in November. The cancer community envelops and strengthens all of us.

Sent by Ginger | 5:06 PM ET | 01-23-2007

Leroy, I commend you for your commitment to this blog and the inspiration, insight and honesty it offers to people, regardless of their role in this disease. I'm not sure I totally agree with Marilyn's post that you suffer from compassion fatigue, as each of us deals with things in a different way, and I know it's not my place to judge another's coping mechanisms. But what I WILL agree with is that you SHOULD take that trip — take it now, if you can — book it today. And if not, the first chance you get. It doesn't matter if it's the "ideal time" — even without cancer, it never is. And Marilyn's right, too, in saying that you need to put yourself first. You have such an amazingly positive impact on everyone who's read or heard what you have to say make sure you're having a positive impact on your own changing "norm." Because "normal" is what YOU make it, no matter what your circumstance.

I'd like to think that if I learned nothing more (which couldn't be further from the truth!) from my father who passed away almost a year ago from lung & brain cancer, it's that at the end of the day, it's about being true to ourselves.

If it helps in ANY way, he was 55 when he died, and traveled all the way up to the end — even when he shouldn't have often he came home much worse off than when he left, but I know he never regretted one moment of it. Even if he only got out of his hotel one day of a four day trip, he was glad he was somewhere else for awhile, and always told me that traveling had a way of changing your perspective.

For him, I know each trip challenged him to fight for another, and gave him something fun to look forward to as he said, he'd feel like crap at home anyway, so why not get a change of scenery. He would laughingly add that he knew his money was no good on the other side anyway, even though he never had immediate plans to find out.

Let us know what you decide, and know that you're always in my prayers. Thank you again for helping me understand more about how my dad may have felt during his battle. I feel closer to him reading your blog and keeping you in my prayers.

Sent by Tammy Reasoner | 5:11 PM ET | 01-23-2007

Hi Leroy,

My name is Jean. I have rectal cancer and it spread to my liver. I had radiation to shrink the tumor in my rectum but it did not. I have a colostomy. Right now on Valentines day this year the doctor told me it spread to my liver. He said it is treatable but not curable. So I am taking a day at a time. I am getting two types of chemotherapy every other week. I have not lost hope and I live every day.

Good Luck to you. I just finished watching the show Living with Cancer. It was very good.

It is good to talk about this disease. Because it scares me and the people I will leave behind.

Sent by Jean Serafino | 10:59 PM ET | 05-07-2007

Hi Leroy,

It really helped me to talk to you. I went back to get chemotherapy. My blood work was good. The cancer cell number dropped and the CAT Scan showed that the tumors on my liver are getting smaller. So there is hope and courage.

I feel good. It gives me the courage of what you went through and how you are dealing with it.

Good Luck and keeping you in my prayers.

Jean

Sent by Jean Serafino | 10:25 PM ET | 05-10-2007