I'll take the "Survivor" moniker. While going through the chemo I envisioned myself later in life having gotten through its interruption, leaving only a bad memory. Now at five years out, I am dealing with the treatment effects more than keeping cancer at bay... arthritis, osteopenia. Cancer has fundamentally and forever changed who I am.

Sent by Mary | 11:35 AM ET | 01-09-2007

Leroy,

I think we should go with "warrior". How better to describe our journey?

I echo the sentiments of all who have applauded your incredible ability to help us unite as a family and speak the unspeakable.

My continued prayers for you!

Sent by Lorraine Powell | 11:37 AM ET | 01-09-2007

Technically, all of us diagnosed at least once are "survivors." All of us that have or have had cancer are survivors. It means the calculation for that statistic has increased by one. It also means the statistic for... um... that other number has NOT increased by one. Survivor, warrior, fighter, patient whatever, we are ALIVE right now! Perhaps in varying stages of physical and mental health, but we are ALIVE.

God Bless.

Sent by Carol | 11:42 AM ET | 01-09-2007

"Words and Labels" — "They Need to Know"

This and the January 5 blog are the Yin and Yang of a dialog that conveys understanding, trust, and empathy. It builds common ground.

I want to relate better to my friend who is seriously ill. What does she say about herself... what do I say about her? How much do I talk about my life... how much do I ask about hers?

Last week, I was making New Year's resolutions. Taking a fresh view, my first resolution is to be her best friend. At least, I will try to exemplify that ideal. This process builds on mutual understanding.

The dialog is like a dance. You want to arrive at the best performance, without stepping on your partner's toes. So we choose our words and what we say, in order to be a better friend... to empathize... to share the load.

Sent by Emile Bellott | 11:48 AM ET | 01-09-2007

I think "patient" is an apt description. Think about how patient we have to be, as we wait in doctors' waiting rooms, wait in radiation treatment waiting rooms, wait for the chemo treatments, wait for the treatments to do their thing, wait for the nausea to pass, wait for our hair to grow back in, wait for the results of tests.

And now that I am passed all that waiting, I have to be patient with myself, with my family and with the disease.

Sent by Stephanie Dornbrook | 11:51 AM ET | 01-09-2007

I just call myself brave. Even through my daily tears.

Sent by Cheryl McDowell | 11:53 AM ET | 01-09-2007

Dearest Leroy and to all my cancer blog friends,

May today there be peace within.

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let His presence settle into your bones and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love!

I do not feel like a victim nor do I feel like a patient or even a survivor (yet)... I do feel like a warrior... I am in battle for my life and I have never had to fight a battle like this before nor do I hope to be in battle again! One time and one time only!

I also wish to acknowledge all the regular bloggers on this sight. Your words have meant as much to myself and my husband as Leroy's words have... without your guidance and words of support, encouragement, I would feel much more alone in my battle. You are warriors in your own space sharing with me. Thank you all from the deepest part of my fighting soul.

Sent by Marianne Dalton | 12:45 PM ET | 01-09-2007

The people left behind can be thought of as "Cancer Survivors" too, in that they are the ones mentioned in every obituary: "...Cynthia is survived by her husband, four children, three sisters, three brothers and her stepfather..." for example. I realized that when my wife was given weeks to live in July of 2005. She died 10 September of that year from colon cancer. Perhaps we who have lost loved ones this way are cancer survivors the same way that those who were not killed by the ravages of Katrina, or an earthquake, or a tsunami or similar catastrophe are survivors... they would, I suppose, suffer from post-traumatic stress of various sorts, but would have to go on with the rest of life. Perhaps, while healing is ongoing, one is still a survivor— but when (if ever) it is finished, one has survived and would be truly done with it...

I've been following your Weblog since you started it, after I heard the first broadcast. Most of the time, I can't read or listen to any of it without remembering Cynthia, and what she endured... but thank you for offering a perspective that has made me think about what I recall, and make sense of some of it.

Sent by William Hensel | 1:25 PM ET | 01-09-2007

While I have been clear for almost 2 years, I am still a "cancer patient"... I still deal with the repercussions of having had chemo, and radiation, and I still see my doctors. My battle is still active, although on a more relaxed pace... so I am a patient... the stark reality of life is none of us survive it... and there are no winners... so being a patient is a better choice then victim.

Sent by Brit | 1:32 PM ET | 01-09-2007

You know, the term that immediately comes to mind is "sufferah" the way Bob Marley used it. It embodies besiegement and subsequent determined struggle against the attacker, which cancer certainly seems to be.

Sent by Anneliese | 1:34 PM ET | 01-09-2007

My Dear Brothers & Sisters,

As I earlier referred to having/had cancer in a previous post, it is like membership to a club that no one wants to belong to. Something like the draft during the '60s. Oh, I'm 62 and cashed my third S.S. check, and my mind is set to receive many more.

As to what to call folks who belong to our special club, just call me Jerome. Its feels good to still be recognized just as Jerome.

One last thing, this is my second go around from 15 years ago. Go figure.

Every best wish to all.

Sent by Jerome Magid | 1:37 PM ET | 01-09-2007

Your first paragraph completely defines my feeling about having had cancer. I don't feel like a survivor, but I don't feel like a victim, either. I had the disease and now I don't, but, real life and experience tells me that may not last.

I cherish each day, good or bad, when I can make my own schedule and live it as I want to, without any cancer designation other than former cancer patient.

Sent by Chris | 1:40 PM ET | 01-09-2007

Sent by Maggie | 1:48 PM ET | 01-09-2007

Hello Leroy (and other Leroy blog fans),

Like you, I'm uncomfortable with the label cancer survivor. In today's cancer culture it seems like a term often used to describe people that have "made it" or been cured and denotes the end of a chapter in their life. But for many of us cancer is a chronic condition that will keep us company for the rest of our lives.

Life experiences give us loads of labels in which to describe ourselves and I refuse to let one event (i.e. cancer) put me in a category that doesn't even come close to describing who I really am.

I'm just me, there really isn't anything more to say?

Sent by Molly | 1:55 PM ET | 01-09-2007

Leroy,

How about journalist doing critical research for blog? Cancer doesn't define any of us.

Sent by Marcia | 1:57 PM ET | 01-09-2007

If I may, I think I would use the label "living examples." I've been following your blog for quite some time now. One of the common themes of readers' comments seems to be a deep appreciation or gratitude for your open views on life with cancer. Because of your thought-provoking words, we look deep inside ourselves, take everything into perspective, and figure out what really matters. To us readers, you and the other cancer fighters in our lives represent courage, stamina, grace, and strength... you are living examples for which words of thanks just aren't enough.

Sent by M. Niemczyk | 2:12 PM ET | 01-09-2007

I'm not comfortable with the label "survivor" partly because I'm superstitious. It always seems as if I should tack on the words "so far" or cross my fingers or knock on wood.

Maybe we need to create a new word! A person with asthma is labeled asthmatic. One who deals with the recurring aches and pains of arthritis is arthritic. If the chronic disease is diabetes, one is said to be diabetic. So — what are we? Canceritic? Carcinomic? (Is that already a word?)

Sent by Doris | 2:14 PM ET | 01-09-2007

I tend to think that you are Leroy who happens to have cancer. If the word "cancer" is part of your self-definition, then I think it has more power than I have sensed you want it to from reading your blog.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 2:16 PM ET | 01-09-2007

Sent by Mary McDowell | 7:20 PM ET | 01-09-2007

I've had issues with this one, too. I agree with the "survivor" tag... it seems a bit far-fetched when ones been diagnosed w/ st 4 of a disease that no ones figured out how to cure at that stage yet. It feels kinda silly to announce that I'm a three-year survivor just because I had my first of many cancer-related surgeries three years ago.

Victim is the old terminology. I don't care for that, because it makes one sound passive, and well, like a victim. Victims have no say-so in their fates, and are doomed in stories.

I'm a cancer patient. I have regular tests for spread, take medication, and see an oncologist regularly, as well as other doctors to manage a disease now in remission. I'm not defined by the disease either, but it certainly has a continual impact upon my life.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 7:35 PM ET | 01-09-2007

I didn't want to talk about my mother's passing because I thought it would be too sensitive for some. She passed October 3, 2006. I was at her side for several months without ever leaving her. She had pancreatic cancer. The doctors don't tell you very much because they want the patient and family to remain positive. However in my mind and I'm sure my mother knew how it was going to end. We talked about keeping positive, but she kept asking if she had been a good mother and that I must remain strong. We talked about dying and we just couldn't do anything but cry.

She lived through the bombings in Japan as a child as she cared for her sisters and worked for food; she was only 9. There just wasn't anything we could do to make it easier. I tried to prepare myself emotionally for the end, but I'm still crying when I'm alone. There just isn't enough time for anyone to prepare for the end. She left such a permanent impression that I will pass on the kindness, charity, toughness, and love she taught and lived. Her legacy will be taught to my children. The dying process is just that — a process — not an end. I'm content that I cry — I loved her and she did everything for me... what can I do in return? I'm not sure, but if I could respect and follow through with her requests, that will be a beginning for me and the next generation.

Sent by Richard Williams | 7:44 PM ET | 01-09-2007

Cancer has changed my life, and the after affects of the terrible chemo are hitting hard today. I think your words of how we deal with cancer are true, I take courage from your writing and hearing others experiences. Living in the moment with joy and tolerance for the daily "crud" !

Sent by Karil | 7:54 PM ET | 01-09-2007

Dear Leroy and fellow survivors, victims, warriors, cancer people and people who also have cancer:

Thanks for the labels and consider my own. I am just a person who was "humbled" by cancer. It woke me up! True, I am fighting back (warrior). Cancer did attack (thus, I am a victim), yet I am still alive and well today (I realize today is very short, term yet I am still a survivor.

If I am to think about a label for myself, I choose to be a "seizer" and I want you people who happen to be "with cancer" to consider my label. A "seizer" is pretty busy, yet anyone at any stage of cancer can seize.

I seize moments in the day, along with new and old relationships, new and old books. I seize new treatments, and getting medical help outside of my own oncology group. I seize ANY hopes, dreams. I have seized nature on walks... and music by stopping to genuinely hear and feel and YUP, often for the first time. I KNOW I am not surviving a damn thing because I, along with you, will one day die.

I am damn sure I am not a victim (that word is not in my vocabulary). I am a person with cancer ready to seize everything I can before cancer or whatever else seizes life from me. I feel very good about my label. I wonder, Leroy, what you think?

Sent by Susan Paprocki | 11:47 AM ET | 01-10-2007

Dear Leroy,

I believe that who we are as individuals are defined by what we do and our roles we play in the lives of people around as. I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a girlfriend, a colleague, a mortgage banker, a sailor and an amateur photographer. Fighting cancer is just an addition to my nine lives. I feel that it does not define me as a person, but it is now part of who I am.

Each of us has an individual life and we play various roles. This is who are. I believe that the totality of what we represent and what we do is that which defines us.

Sent by Myrna | 11:49 AM ET | 01-10-2007

I've been fortunate: the word survivor applies more than victim. But I don't use those terms.

I took off my yellow LiveStrong bracelet the other day. It was a symbol that never fit quite right, even though I had the disease. Actually, I didn't take it off. It came off when I pulled off a mitten, and I just let it stay where it landed.

Sent by David | 11:52 AM ET | 01-10-2007

In the cancer world, I am the spoiled child — diagnosed with a cancer not ready for treatment I have lived for the last 12 years wondering whether I want to regain the blissful ignorance that was before. I am neither a survivor nor a victim, just evidence that cancer can be a chronic illness. If I had diabetes would I want to be known as a diabetic? Arthritis, an arthritic? Psychosis, a psychotic? We are not so easily defined. What you are and what I am are storytellers. Thank you for sharing yours.

Sent by Suri Friedman | 4:10 PM ET | 01-10-2007

Hey Leroy, I just found your link from my husband who heard you on NPR. I just got an email from a friend of a friend, and this friend was just diagnosed with his 4th kind of cancer. I think he's 26. His name is Casey Quinn, he lives in Mpls, and he's heading to TX to get a second opinion from his childhood oncologist who's no longer working at Mayo. Anyway, we sent Casey your link. There's a little more about him at his site. This latest cancer is in his brain. He lost his lower leg and has a prothesis from a bout when he was 17. We both believed he had somehow beat out the beast, but apparently not. I'm sure he'll appreciate your honest writings. He's awfully young still, don't ya think?

Sent by Janna Sundby | 4:31 PM ET | 01-10-2007

Hiya,

I'm from the UK. I was diagnosed almost 3 years ago.

I like how you wrote about the words we choose to use when we've been diagnosed. I've always struggled with the whole "I HAVE cancer," "I HAD cancer" thing. Depends how I feel on the day usually.

But, I'd like to say that for the most part I HAD cancer and it's up to me to an extent, I believe, to work towards reducing the likelihood of its reoccurrence. There are things I can do to help myself. Sorting my head out and acknowledging that WHATEVER I think and however I think - is totally fine.

There are so many crazy ways to think when you have had/still have? Cancer.

It's certainly an experience. Sometimes I feel it's been the best thing that happened to me, other times I feel so heartbroken that my life has changed forever.

I think I may feel differently again as time progresses without reoccurrence.

Now that's a whole other email!

Keep well.

Sent by Lisa Kelly | 4:41 PM ET | 01-10-2007

I used to think about the terms all the time, too. And I never liked the label that went with cancer, but like you all, I didn't quite know where to put my feet about it. Its funny, now that I don't look like a cancer patient anymore I don't tend to tell people — I don't really like dealing with the reaction, I guess, whether it be shock or pity. If it comes up with someone I've just met I just tell them I had a medical crisis... Not that I diminish the intensity of the experience, more like I'm ready to shed it like a worn out blanket.

Sent by Mindy Cardenas | 6:26 PM ET | 01-11-2007

To Pam, this I have to say:

I hope you realize how fortunate you are. You have the luxury of having a cup of coffee while you read the morning news and question the world's morality, or lack thereof.

If you never apologize to Leroy and his readers for your insensitive comment, I hope at least that you learned something valuable today.

Sent by Myrna | 7:43 PM ET | 01-16-2007

Reading back over the archive of your most recent columns, I was struck by your musings on the right label for yourself. "Survivor", "Cancer Patient", etc. As a mother of a child with a significant disability, I feel some parallels to your experience. For many years, I attempted to "solve" my son's problems. Fix the speech delay, conquer running, put those ABCs in the "done" pile. But after a long while, I finally learned one of the great lessons of my life. That this is not an experience to get through. It is a forever experience for my life. We will never be "survivors", and my son will always be a "patient." What I do is I cope. I am a "coper." And most days, my son and the goodness of the world around me help me cope well. I wish for you a "survivor" miracle, but in lieu of that may you cope well with your cancer. That, too, can be miraculous.

Sent by Alice Antonioli | 1:14 PM ET | 01-24-2007

Three-year so-called survivor here... all I can say is, no one will ever take that life deep down in my heart away... it's a fighter thing. I would go with the words, strength, hope and courage... without that my body might have lived but my heart would of died. Now... days are special to me regardless of stress. Life is very important to me. Thx, God bless everyone.

Sent by Jennifer, 28, Florida | 3:01 PM ET | 01-30-2007