I am not a "would've, should've" kind of gal... I do like to take my poison "head on" so to speak, if that what is takes to put the "finger into the whole." I just took my last round of chemo this afternoon and I am still whoozie from the drugs in my system. I want someone to turn me upside down and shake it out of me so I can feel normal... normal... what the heck is normal when you have cancer???? Will I ever feel normal? Will I ever feel like I have beat this cancer out of my body? Will I ever not worry about the cancer coming back???? Time will tell and like my husband likes to remind me, "Baby, you are the poster child for will and determination, and I am so proud of you." Now that said, that was the best thing that has been said to me in a while and I will go forward on that statement alone!!!! We all will Leroy, cancer or no, we are warriors in a long, long weary battle, and we are Americans, we never give up!!!! God bless you Leroy and all my fellow cancer bloggers!

Sent by Marianne Dalton | 5:24 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Leroy, I cannot tell you how valuable your posts are to us. You are leading the way down an unknown path. It is reassuring to know someone that is traveling this road and here is how they are feeling and coping. I don't have cancer (to my knowledge), but I know openness diffuses some fear, the unspeakable can be spoken. Thank you, thank you!

Sent by Helene Lipke | 5:49 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Your post reminds me of how each person's health issues really are so unique. In 98/99 when my husband was fighting pancreatic/liver cancer, it was about fighting with full guns blazing. It did not work and was in some ways doomed by the very nature of the particulars of his illness. Sadly it was never about managing life, but more about fighting illness and death. Now, nearly 8 years after his death, I find myself with 3 close friends who have various forms of cancer, have various approaches, various treatments and various attitudes. But the view is more akin to what you describe, keeping the disease under control. This is a new way of thinking for me, for many of us, who grew up in a win/loose framework. And yet, as I look around me, I see folks who live with cancer, who live with various health concerns, who manage to keep the beasties at bay, who model for me a way of living with cancer, rather than defining oneself as a victim of cancer. Thanks for that framework.

Sent by Cynthia | 5:50 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Leroy, life does take on that "waiting for the other shoe to drop" quality. Godspeed on you next ablation and hope that our collective intentions and prayers are creating a positive element for you. Come back and share whatever news you receive on your CT scans. And another lung tumor bits the dust.

Sent by Pat Z. | 5:55 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Good luck today, Leroy. I hope there are no new tumors for you and you can continue to enjoy this reprieve.

Sent by Susanna | 6:03 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Leroy, I'm glad you've had a long enough break that a visit at the hospital feels like catching up with dear, old friends rather than the people you live with every day.

Best Wishes with the 2nd RFA! I like your overall approach. I think the best strategy is to mix up the therapies. Use all the tools in your toolbox.

And, good luck with the scans. I've got my fingers crossed. Here's hoping for no new news!

Sent by Marilyn | 6:06 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Are we ever prepared? I had a liver resection and had a recurrence with the first scan. I was totally devastated. I tell myself I will never again be that shocked, but will I? Lately, all my news has been good so I'm feeling sucked in again wanting everything to continue for at least a little while. My hope is you get to enjoy this whack a mole time as long as possible.

Sent by Dona | 6:08 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Dear Leroy:

When John Maynard Keynes was asked, at the end of his life, if he had any regrets? He said, I wished I had drunk more champagne!

So after the RFA today, go wild. Drink that special bottle of red wine you have been holding on to for years, order oysters for an appetizer, and have a feast. Eat two deserts. We don't care about your weight or you hair. But we do want you to have a great time today and every day thereafter.

Sent by Jacqueline Roose | 6:11 PM ET | 02-20-2007

I am starting a week of waiting as well. I am going to have a CT scan this weekend, the first in over 6 months. I am pretty cool now... but I will be really stressed by the end of the week... but you all know the drill. It's times like this I wish I could still drink.

Well, it is only time, and it will pass.

Sent by Brit | 6:25 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Leroy, the stamina that all of this takes mentally and physically is apparent in your words. There is great power in intention, and I know that you've created a very powerful ally in your treatment by creating this community of souls who commune with you, and care about what happens to you. That thousands will be keeping your treatment in their minds tomorrow, and intending for the best possible outcome is something wonderful. I hope that your treatment, your loved ones, you and your blog family can powerfully intend a long space of tumor stability and the best possible quality of life for you. Consider yourself hugged.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 6:26 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Leroy,

I'm glad you are back online. I was worried when you took President's Day off. I hope the scans show nothing new and that the tumor zapper works well.

Your blog has had an interesting effect on me. I have re-evaluated my life priorities and gotten rid of a lot of clutter, like cleaning out the attic. I tend to hang onto things longer than its reasonable. I've kissed a lot of baggage goodbye since I found your site. I don't sweat the small stuff as much. I feel lighter, somehow.

Thank you for that gift.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 6:28 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Leroy: I wanted to pass this quote onto you — he must have met you in another life: "The merciful person is he who gives to others what he has received from God. Whether it be money, or food, or strength, a helpful word, a prayer, or anything else that he has, through which he can express his compassion for those in need. At the same time he considers himself indebted, since he has received more than he is asked to give." — St. Peter of Damasca.

Sent by Patti Greening | 6:33 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Leroy,

And may you fight to glorious victory.

I love your analogy of the puppy for Christmas. Spot on.

Sent by Jordis | 6:34 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Leroy,

I certainly understand your reluctance to go back on chemo. I hope it won't be necessary for you to make a choice about this right now.

Sent by Greg Sheryl | 6:35 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Leroy,

Your strength and positive attitude astounds me! Keep up the royal battle you hand out to your disease... for no matter how I look at it you come out the victor! Victory perhaps is not in whether or not new tumors have appeared needing treatment, but in the fact that you are not willing to allow them to win their attack against your life. You are an amazing man, I honor your stamina and your courageous stance as victor of an unseen war. Stay with the positive. By the way, wishing for a puppy anytime in life, returns our inner child magical thought processes lost along the way, which we all need to survive, and trust in the things uncertain!

Sent by Robin Waters | 3:30 PM ET | 02-21-2007

Leroy: We are ALL praying that your scans are clear and that you can have some well deserved "UP" time. God Bless.

And prayers are answered!

Sent by Joan | 6:36 PM ET | 02-21-2007

Leroy —

Best of luck man... I commented last week on that my 33-year-old wife had her CAT scan coming up and she was a wreck. Her news was good!... no liver or lung involvement. I hope the same for you. Keep us posted!

Sent by Tim O. | 6:44 PM ET | 02-21-2007

Good luck Leroy. I'm still at the beginning of my fight and becoming more used to being poked and scanned. Today I have a mug scan of my heart. Who came up with that name? I got the news on Monday that I need 8 rounds of chemo every two weeks. It wasn't as devastating to hear as I thought it would be but I attribute it to my not wishing for a puppy at Christmas. You captured that one. I only needed to be disappointed a couple of times before I started going to a scan or biopsy open minded. My last set of bone scans and Cts were clear. I cried. It was wonderful news. Two months ago before I was diagnosed with breast cancer I would have dreaded going those processes. Funny how doctors expect me to jump for joy finding out I'm only stage II and 5 year chance of being cured goes up with chemo. I'm supposed to be happy with that? Are they nuts? At Christmas my only worry was whether I had enough tape to wrap my presents. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to have a chance at a cure but it's so amazing how we bargain with life once we get the diagnosis. Obviously, I'm still angry but its not slowing me down. Off to look for a wig today. Thanks for your insight.

Sent by Lisa | 6:46 PM ET | 02-21-2007

It sounds like quite a difficult day psychologically, as you know what you will be facing physiologically with the RFA and seem quite accepting about that. In one sense, having a CT scan sounds pretty easy... lie there, maybe have some dye in your arm.... it sounds easier than risking a lung. But this fight isn't just about the physical challenges, the mental ones can be just as demanding and more. More because of what they might mean. More chemo. Losing feels OK again. Knowing the sneaky blighters have found a back door.

You sound to have a really good relation ship with your doctors, and would feel comfortable expressing your game plan to them.

For now, and at the huge risk of sounding terribly patronising, I hope you can find a way to live through today as a day-tight compartment and cross those other bridges when its time.

May mine and everyone else's very best wishes go with you today Leroy.

Take care.

Sent by JJ | 7:51 PM ET | 02-21-2007

Leroy, My thoughts and feelings are similar to yours as I head out this morning for yet another CT scan. Have had a wonderful reprieve from chemo. It was from your blog that I first heard of radio frequency ablation. Somehow, it gave me permission to mention how I am managing my cancer. In addition to chemo, I have been receiving acupuncture treatments, and, also consulting a naturopathic physician to boost my immune system and protect organs from the toxicity of chemo. It seems to be working for me, tho it may not work for others. The secondary tumors are gone (chemo?) and the primary had been stalled for 4 months.

I will probably die of cancer, but, like you, I want as much "good time" as possible to work on the following: "To be blessed in death one must learn to live. To be blessed in life, one must learn to die." (a quote from the book FINAL CROSSING by Scott Eberle.)

Wishes for many unexpected blessings.

Sent by Anne C. | 5:41 PM ET | 03-01-2007