Each and every day I read what's on your mind, Mr. Sievers, and in turn the responses that your thoughts awaken in your readers. For at least a few moments every day, my thoughts also turn to my own cancer... all those "what if" questions about what the future holds, analyzing those nagging "has it come back?" concerns every time I feel a new twinge, or worrying about what the next scan might reveal. At the same time, I try to consciously take part in small daily celebrations of life like enjoying a beautiful cloudscape, or marveling at how the human body heals itself, or laughing with my husband and kids over the morning comics. Part of my daily rituals now also includes thinking about you and Ruth and all the others out there and wishing you well every single day. I've never met any of you but I feel your lives, through these words we share, are forever entwined with mine.

Sent by Peggy | 10:09 AM ET | 02-16-2007

Leroy,

I have been a part of this community for some time now — just by reading your blog and all the responses that come in. I have been praying for all the people who write in and tell us about their impending procedures and treatments. I thank you all for the insight and sometimes the info that are imparted through your responses.

Leroy, I want to know how the RFA was for you. My doctor and I are planning the same procedure. I am scheduled for a PET-CT scan on Monday (19th) and if there are only a few tumors in my liver (I have metastatic colon cancer), then he thinks we can do the RFA. How many tumors at a time is/are zapped? How was the recovery? I am sure that someone out there is also contemplating on this procedure, so as much info as you can give from your own personal experience would be so greatly appreciated. I continue to pray and hope for the best for all of us in this "club."

Sent by G. Smith | 10:11 AM ET | 02-16-2007

We may not know where you live, but we're there with you nevertheless.

...to all of you who are recovering or are about to have a procedure or are just fighting that daily battle, I will say again: You're not alone. We're all in this together, and for that I am forever grateful.

My partner was admitted to inpatient hospice last Friday and is being kept sedated until the end comes, which we actually thought would be sooner, but he's still hanging in, and no one knows why. Eight days so far without food or water.

I'm telling you this because the past week, being alone in an empty house for the first time in nearly two decades, I've felt the presence of all of you at various points in my sadness. People I've never met in person, but know from various online communities, have phoned. I've got hundreds of people "out there" who care, all over the planet. That's pretty amazing to consider.

Thank you all.

Oh, and tonight, when you get home, hug your loved one while they're still able to know how you feel.

Sent by Bruce C. | 10:14 AM ET | 02-16-2007

While I'm not part of your club, I am a part of the cheering section, the club for the family member with cancer. I never asked to be a part of that club, either. I have been reading this blog for several weeks now, and cannot tell you how inspirational it has been to me, in understanding what my grandfather is going through, and in a way what my father went through. Although my father never got a chance to fight the cancer, he passed away weeks after his diagnosis, but I like to think that he would fight the cancer as hard as you have. While I have nothing inspirational to say, I just wanted to let you know that you have put into words what so many people think and feel, and for that I thank you. On the one-year anniversary of my father's death, thank you for reminding me that none of us goes through this alone.

Sent by Meghan | 10:16 AM ET | 02-16-2007

"We worry about all of you out there we don't know" brought tears to my eyes and I felt like I did when standing in front of our giant box of a radio back in 1949 listening to someone, I forget his name but he had a regular radio show, who seemed to reach into our room and see my brother and me with x-ray vision. He said something about children leaving and winter sledding and we had just been doing that so we thought he'd seen us, personally.

I've just had a medium crummy week with a strong reaction to a chemo drug I've recently begun, (this is my fifth new "regime" in seven years.)

I always read this wonderful blog and am just always touched by everyone. All of it.

Next week I have a laparoscopy to look at mets in my liver to see if we can do liver resection. I will be very fortunate if I can. It would be an incredible chance for me to stop chemo for a while. We all have these events: surgeries and chemo regimes that work and some that fail and tumor markers and radiation, etc, etc. It is good to hear the hearts beating behind all these letters, and think of all of us as being supportive of and connected to the rest. Thanks to Mr. Sievers!

Sent by Nancy | 10:25 AM ET | 02-16-2007

As we have been gearing up for our next procedure (ready to begin on Monday), we both agree the "club" has served as an embracing group. It took two years filled with pancreatic cancer episodes for us to find this place where the sharing is genuine, informative, and relevant. We jump into the readings seeking comments that apply to us, soothe our worries and strengthen our hope. I am so glad the club is alive!

Sent by Bill and Gretchen | 10:27 AM ET | 02-16-2007

Thank you and to all the members of "our club." My life is richer because of it. This week was my 46th chemo in 2 and a half years for ovarian cancer and reading the blog and responses every day is something that I look forward to. Having my thoughts and emotions repeatedly affirmed means a great deal to me.

Sent by Tamara Engel | 10:34 AM ET | 02-16-2007

Today's discussion reminds me of the lyrics to a song done by artist Mike Cross called Uncle Josh:

"Livin' at its longest is just a short trip to the grave

So you might as well go ahead and enjoy

what you can along the way

Cuz if the doctor said you were goin' to die

wouldn't you do what you please?

Listen here brother life's just another

terminal disease."

Maybe life is a terminal disease, but as we've read in numerous posts over the past few months, it's not the endpoint that we focus on — it's the trip along the way and what you make of it.

I like Marylee's idea of a team T-shirt. Something tasteful with text something along the line of "My Cancer — Leroy Sievers, Team Captain". You get the idea. It would be better NPR pledge premium than the hundreds of coffee cups I have already.

Thanks, Captain.

Sent by Bob Maimone | 10:42 AM ET | 02-16-2007

Leroy,

My wife was diagnosed with colon cancer with liver mets 10 months ago. Two rounds of chemo and 2 rounds of liver directed radiation therapy later... we just entered hospice yesterday. I will miss my dear, sweet Pam when she dies but we have had 10 months to ponder our lives together and grow so much closer. So in that way, I have to look at this cancer as a gift, a gift that allowed us a lingering farewell as we struggled to cope together. There was no sudden departure that left so many things unsaid...and for that I am thankful. I will continue to hope the best for you and for all the other cancer warriors out there. Our pain and suffering, though not physical in the sense that our loved ones with cancer struggle with, is just as real... and sorrow filled... and painful.

Sent by Dave | 11:15 AM ET | 02-16-2007

To follow up my earlier reply: My partner of almost 20 years passed peacefully this morning at about 2:15 am.

Thank you all for your support.

Sent by Bruce C. | 11:29 AM ET | 02-16-2007

Leroy: Maybe when we are all free of this disease... you have had your tumors blasted :) You can write a book and include all the positive thoughts and love that you extrude from people. It is truly a wonderful place to go every day. When I wake up and I'm angry... I've blown the night before with too many negative thoughts... I turn to your daily, morning comforting "cup of tea." Everyone is so positive... so loving. If you think the world has slipped... read this blog and the notes from people who truly know the meaning of loving their fellow human beings.

Sent by Patti | 12:18 PM ET | 02-16-2007

I would like to know if you had cancer in the lymph nodes. My husband was diagnosed with colon cancer in Aug. He had it 30 years ago and it came back. He had chem with avasti. At Christmas, he had a scan that showed it was gone. That was a laugh. His new scan this week showed it has spread to the liver. Back on chem again. Leroy, did you have it in the lymph nodes? The dr. said because it has metastis that surgery is not feasible. I have read your blog since Aug. I keep the patient at lacks cancer center up to date on what's happening.

Sent by Georgia | 3:16 PM ET | 02-16-2007

As I like to tell folks... Cancer is a team sport, and I am so proud to be an active, energetic, thoroughly committed part of each of your teams. I am humbled to be a part of the team.

Ruth, you are in my thoughts...

Sent by Karen | 5:07 PM ET | 02-16-2007

Yep, it's one big extended family and I am thankful for your "conversations". Sometimes I just sit and nod my head as I am reading because it's like talking to you and having the same issues and thoughts. As much as I love my family and friends, it's easier to talk to the person next to me in the chemo room because they have been there. BIG thanks to you, I am sure there are times you just don't want to write anything. Best to you.

Sent by Jenene | 5:59 PM ET | 02-16-2007

Having read your blog for a while ... I still feel bad for saying this, but — everyone dies. The problem is that nobody is equipped to deal with this fact, and everyone tries to pretend it won't happen to them. As if somehow if they are good enough, healthy enough, they will escape the bad luck we have somehow brought upon ourselves. Like they will die eventually, someday, in never-neverland time ... because they did this or that.

It's probable, based on all the tumors I've had, have right now, as well as having Epstein-Barr, Fibromyalgia, a Choroidal Melanoma, etc., that I have some kind of cancer somewhere. I hope my experiences dealing with my other medical problems enables me to deal with what I hear so many cancer patients complain about, and that by then I'll have figured out how to respond to people who imply that my medical problems have been brought on/caused by myself in some way or another. I hope that others dealing with it now are able to turn a deaf war to those who point the finger at them as the reason for their current situation.

Sent by glorybug | 7:05 PM ET | 02-16-2007

The word that comes to my mind is "privilege." It's a privilege to be permitted to hear the personal intimate thoughts of people. The dark stuff and the happy stuff. I have found a great deal of openness and candor amongst the Cancer community — perhaps no longer fettered by some of the cultural norms that influence our behavior such as not to talking to strangers. And especially with an illness such as cancer where there are taboos against talking about the disease and about death. because like Leroy says ... if we don't talk about it, who will?

Sent by JJ | 7:20 PM ET | 02-16-2007

Although I am uncertain and wavering in my beliefs, I do know that prayer ? and visualization ? works. So each day when I'm out for a run, I spend a few miles picturing each one of my footsteps crushing the cancer of all My Cancer blog people. So, yeah, I'm behind you all every step of the way too. We're a team now. Maybe we should get T-shirts? All my best to you as always, Leroy, our captain, and to all of you.

Sent by Marylee | 7:23 PM ET | 02-16-2007

it is a strange environment , this internet blog and the incredible bonding i have felt since following not only you Leroy but all the other bloggers on a daily basis. not only do i look forward to waking up with all of you but i truly care about each and every one of the bloggers!!! for myself, i find that i can say exactly what i am feeling on this blog, unlike the "real" world where everyone around me is carrying on "business as usual" ... Leroy , you have "allowed" me to feel my truest emotions in this "club" and as strange as it may seem, you and all the other bloggers are right on the money for each and every day that this is written! The support cancer group that I was involved in, with "real, live and in person cancer patients" was actually too depressing for me and did not seem to follow an agenda that was positive and constructive. I find that this daily blog is so uplifting for my spirit and this incredible journey called cancer! thank you Leroy for having the courage to write daily.....you write it like my heart and soul wish to say it!!

Sent by marianne dalton | 7:24 PM ET | 02-16-2007

Thank you Leroy for saying so eloquently the feelings that need to be conveyed. I must have stumbled on your blog just after my diagnosis and I cannot tell you how it has sustained me since spiritually, emotionally and every other way that compassion can. I pray every day for the many faceless individuals like Ruth who in some miraculous way bear their burdens and at the same time seem to lighten mine. God bless those who care and watch over us. God bless us all.

Sent by Jessie | 7:26 PM ET | 02-16-2007

Hi Leroy,

I have been reading your blog for quite some time but have not responded until now. I just wanted to thank you for your candid thoughts on such a heavy subject. I am a leukemia survivor and am currently going through a number of other health issues. Your journal has provided me with a substantial amount of support and information.

Thank you for your work.

Sent by Karl | 7:27 PM ET | 02-16-2007

Leroy,

Thanks. We are all a little bit stronger when we have someone to lean on and a lot stronger when we have many. Thank you for being there for all of us.

Sent by Michael | 7:29 PM ET | 02-16-2007

Thanks for reminding me that we are all in this together and it is by reaching out that we are able to begin to heal ourselves. I wish for one and all a sunny joyful weekend.

Sent by Shirley Gossett | 7:30 PM ET | 02-16-2007

Leroy,

I wonder if there is some way that those of us who are open to further communication with members of this blog could voluntarily share their e-mails? I'd love to send Ruth a card, but don't know how to do that. Thanks for bringing these wonderful people together.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 7:31 PM ET | 02-16-2007

Diana said:

"I wonder if there is some way that those of us who are open to further communication with members of this blog could voluntarily share their e-mails?"

The first two ways that come to mind are through either a service like Yahoo! Groups or MySpace. They both mask the users real e-mail address while allowing messages to get through, letting the recipient decide if the contact is one they want to respond to.

Or perhaps this blog could be set up to link the users name to a semi-anonymous contact form.

Sent by Bruce C. | 10:39 AM ET | 02-17-2007

My wife had breast cancer 20 years ago, and, after a massec. It returned (last year) as bone cancer. Operation, radiology, and now chemo. Hopefully, it will be a few more years before we hit the wall. Just wanted to say thanks from both of us that you decided to write a daily journal and network yours and others thoughts. It helps a great deal!!!

You are a damned good, articulate, journalist and never doubt that you ARE making a contribution.

Best Regards.

Sent by Ric Adkins | 1:12 PM ET | 02-19-2007

This club — I often refer to it as the club we never asked to be a part of, but a part we are, and we have grown because of it — if only the whole world could treat each other with the compassion that our club members show each other, this spiritually bereft world could be healed - you are showing the way Leroy, by virtue if this post - betcha didn't ever think you'd be the spiritual leader of a club like this, eh???

Love ya.

Sent by Alice Williams | 1:16 PM ET | 02-19-2007

Leroy, You continue to tell us the unspeakable with your compassionate, informed and articulate comments on your/our disease. Life is Terminal, for all of us, and you show that it's how we spend our lifetime that is important. Thank you.

Sent by Polly | 1:19 PM ET | 02-19-2007

Hello, your friend from Belgium is still following your Blog and all the attached comments. I lost a close friend last month to ovarian cancer and I wish she had been able to follow your articles. It would have made a tremendous difference, since there wasn't much I could offer her from so far away, apart from e-mails and occasional telephone calls. What a wonderful network of people you have put in touch with one another through the power of your words!

Sent by Maris Rabolini | 1:26 PM ET | 02-19-2007

Scientists & many spiritual paths express to us that time & space is but an illusion. Though many of us can't conceptualize that idea, a part of our heart is able to recognize the truth contained within that idea.

So whether Ruth is still with us in body form, the love and loving thoughts we send to her and she sends to us do transcend this physical plane. We are all connected.

So many of the words posted in this blog are symbols of the loving intent behind them and experienced by so very many of us. Thanks for this LoveFest, Leroy.

I send Love to you all.

Sent by Sheron | 1:32 PM ET | 02-19-2007

Tomorrow my husband and I go in to the doctor and have to sit in the office and pretend that we are there for just another visit. But tomorrow is one of the tough ones. Tomorrow we find out the results of the PET scan, the MRI on the brain, and the CAT scan. He has thymic carcinoma that has spread to his brain (surgically removed), lung (same), chest cavity, heart sac, and now liver. He has had gene matching and the latest chemo did not seem to do the job... at least not long enough. They want to keep putting these different drugs in him and prolong his life and I want his life prolonged too. I have been with him since I was in junior high school. Our lives are different now. He is different (good and sad). The depression is beginning because he just can't bear neuropathy as a possible side effect. He has been diabetic for 30 years and managed to keep that at bay and now because of this it it happening anyway. Crap! So yes, life goes on and he continues to fight and we continue to hear bad news and try to "get his life in order". He fights and loses a few steps and then fights some more. Your blog helps both of us. It helps our friends because we have referred them to your site to help them understand what is happening. Thanks.

Sent by Val | 1:29 PM ET | 02-20-2007

Dear Leroy and friends:

Reading this blog and traveling with you all as you fight your cancer battles, I am beginning for the first time to understand how we all reject death as an option. That, I guess, keeps us going even when we are dogged tired and fed up. Let's face it, most of us try chemo again at the eleventh hour even though it affects the quality of life. So many of us will go for a clinical trial even if it gives only a glimmer of hope. Life is all we know and so we hold onto it very dearly. It is the one thing I understand about us on this blog. We yearn to live and we battle death. The other day I saw a beautiful snowfall in my yard. The trees were glittering and lovely. I wanted to take a picture to "take with me" just in case I need to leave this earth. Just so I could always remember how beautiful this sight was. Of course, we don't carry our photographs with us into the next world, yet it seemed reasonable to save this memory at the time. I cannot imagine giving it all up, and how else do finite mortals keep life memories, except through photographs. I was stunned when I realized how naive I was to think I could carry a photograph of my moment in life to wherever I am going AFTERWARDS! Good luck to everyone!

Sent by Susan P. | 3:55 PM ET | 02-20-2007

I started reading this blog a couple of months ago. A good friend has cancer and is currently in remission. We are all grateful. Now another friend is in his second round and the outcome doesn't look as good. I appreciate the candor you bring to the subject. It is strangely comforting.

Sent by Claudia | 6:24 PM ET | 02-20-2007

I was sorry to read some comments that people believe cancer patients have somehow brought on this disease by their behavior. Poppycock! My 34-year-old son, who leads a quiet, clean life, has been diagnosed with melanoma eight months ago. Sometimes life just throws you a curve ball. Thanks, Leroy, for sharing your journey. It helps me cope. I fear our son's shortened future. Keep writing and you certainly do not deserve to have been hit with cancer.

Sent by Maureen | 1:11 PM ET | 02-22-2007