Well, when the time comes, I'm certain that you'll have a wham-bang of a send off, and that there'll be plenty of good stories. You HAVE made a difference, and I know that you've been told that a lot in here.

It's good to know that one has done that. Ive been lucky to have the sort of job that makes a difference in peoples lives when done right. Being a nurse is an opportunity to have a real impact for the better, and Ive been blessed to have a number of people tell me that what I did for them or their family members truly helped. Even if no one comes to my funeral when I die, I know already that my being here made a difference. That makes all of the rest a little easier to cope with.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 12:43 PM ET | 02-05-2007

Mr. Sievers, I know the people closest to you are the most important, but you might consider that for every empty seat at your funeral, no matter how far in the future, there will be thousands sitting in front of a computer, tears on the keyboard, attesting to the difference you made with your candor and courage.

Sent by Peggy Gigstad | 2:08 PM ET | 02-05-2007

You know, it's okay to think about the future—especially death since its where were all going to end up. My grandmother, well into her 90s when her cancer recurred, would say "You all know that I'm prepared to meet the Lord, I just don't want to be on the first bus out!" Keep your sense of humor.

Sent by S. Carrier MD | 2:10 PM ET | 02-05-2007

Dear Leroy:

You wonder aloud how people will remember you. I have an instant reaction to your soft query. You are regarded right now as a true leader in "our" cancer world. You will always be remembered that way, I hazard. You will have made a big difference.

The key word here is "authenticity". You have made such a difference for those of us (and more) who live in the world of colorectal cancer. Your willingness to be authentic, to be real, to be human is such a real inspiration. You've not hidden the words "colorectal, cancer, death, pain" behind the words "undisclosed, unknown, and miracle cure"- something that a few other celebrities who've recently been diagnosed with "our" disease have done so disappointingly. You're displaying authenticity, courage, strength, compassion, and, yes, humanity to those of us "out there" who are so lucky as to be able to share your journey with you. Thank you!!

Yes, people will always remember you for your authenticity - which helps all the rest of us so much. I wish that more would follow your very compassionate lead.

Sent by Erika Hanson Brown | 2:24 PM ET | 02-05-2007

What a difference you have made in my life by writing this blog. Your words have comforted me and made me think, and think hard. The fact that when I read your pieces each day I feel much less alone, much less like what I am feeling/thinking is somehow not right or proper. You have given me permission, by writing this blog, to be me - in whatever way I need to - and that is the best gift. I wish I could express this clearly. How thankful I am that you are here.

Sent by Clarke | 2:29 PM ET | 02-05-2007

My world is different because you are here. Thanks Leroy.

Sent by Debbie R. | 2:33 PM ET | 02-05-2007

As usual, you expressed in a most eloquent manner something of concern to all of us. I don't have cancer, that I know of, and Ive about given up on doing something really noteworthy in my life, but I do try to be a good person.

Thanks for the reminder.

All the best to you.

Sent by Jane Weldon | 2:35 PM ET | 02-05-2007

I know it is true in your case, and hope it to be true in mine. More importantly than what my friends say, I want God to be able to say, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

Sent by Denise Meeks | 2:41 PM ET | 02-05-2007

I've only had my diagnosis for 1 1/2 weeks and listening to you made me realize what I have been missing. A friend with cancer. My friends are supportive in their own ways. It's refreshing to know someone has had the same thoughts I have. I look forward to your words, paving the path for me. Thank you.

Sent by Lisa Austin | 2:57 PM ET | 02-05-2007

I was reading your past blogs and it's funny about drinking the MRI contrast. My brother used to make the same complaint in 2002. Seems they have not made any improvement there.

Sent by John Verhas | 3:45 PM ET | 02-05-2007

Oh, Mr. Sievers, you have made a difference already and we can all be grateful for that! I found your blog after a dear friend of ours passed away from cancer on June 18, 2006. In life this man taught us how to live and in his death, he showed us how to die. I remember at the very end ... he said ... it really isn't about how we die but how we live that matters. That will stick with me always. And you are yet another one who is showing us how to live. I wish you peace in your journey. You have a good heart and that's what matters! Thank You Sir

Sent by Suzanne German | 3:48 PM ET | 02-05-2007

Leroy,

First of all, thank you for Friday's commentary, it was well put. I e-mailed it to my husband who has valiantly cared for me throughout surgery and treatments. I too saw that episode of House and had a similar reaction. Thanks, again, for articulating so fluently your and our reactions and feelings :)

Sent by Sherri Eggleston | 3:49 PM ET | 02-05-2007

Leroy,

I know you did not write this column to receive accolades, but if you did nothing else before you had cancer (and I know you did plenty), you must know that "something is different" because you were here in the writing of this column!!!

I do not have cancer, but I have a very serious, sometimes fatal, rare autoimmune disease called Wegeners granulomatosis. It is incurable (at least as it stands now), but for those lucky enough to make it to diagnosis before major organ damage, can be managed through a variety of medicines resembling low-dose chemo. I have lived for the last three years with a new "normal."

So even though I do not have cancer, I can relate to and benefit from your daily messages and those of your correspondents. For me, your forum has been most helpful and therapeutic. Your forum has made a difference in people's lives.

Thank you for sharing your journey!

Sent by Annette Deming | 3:54 PM ET | 02-05-2007

Leroy,

I too have thought about this subject. Did my life make a difference? And the answer is yes. All I have to do is look at my sons to see that I contributed something of great value to this planet.

I'm proud of how they turned out and the reason is that my husband and I did our job of parenting well. If everyone focused on that primary responsibility this world would be a much better place.

Its as simple at that, you don't have to join Greenpeace, PETA, or even Kiwanis or the local church to make a difference. Just focus on your own footprint on this planet.

Sent by Cindy | 5:17 PM ET | 02-05-2007

Leroy Sievers essays always stop me in my tracks and make me appreciate what I have. I am not ill today, but anybody could be tomorrow - including me - he is facing his trials with such dignity and many times his ironic words make me laugh. Blessings to Leroy Sievers.

Sent by Becky Clontz | 5:20 PM ET | 02-05-2007

As a doctor of thirty years, and a former combat soldier in Viet Nam, I loved the boost on the way to work very early this morning. The guy who dug the ditches around our house made a difference, certainly in our lives, and I'll call him tomorrow to let him know.

As we said in the Rangers Mr. Sievers, "DRIVE ON." Tomorrow ain't gonna be no tougher than today, cause tomorrow you'll know more than you did this morning. Just drop and do that one more push-up!

Respectfully,

Bill Gould, M.D.

Sent by William S. Gould, MD | 3:56 PM ET | 02-06-2007

Leroy,

Well, as others have said above, you have certainly made a difference and one of the ways you have made a difference in other people's lives is through this blog.

As important as making a difference is—and it is—I want to suggest that another question that is of interest to a person facing their own mortality is the question of ultimate destiny—i. e., where will I spend eternity?

Barbara Walters did a special back in December, I believe (although it had originally run a year ago) on the issue of "Heaven and Who Goes There?" The thing I noticed several times with various people she interviewed was the number of people who were anxious to assure her—although she hadn't asked—that, in heaven, you could eat all you wanted, and never get fat! I don't know why several people felt the need to reassure her of this unasked question!

In all seriousness, however, the question is a good one, although at the end of the program, no definite answer was given. This question, however, I submit, must be on the minds of those who seriously consider their own mortality.

Thankfully, God's Word, the Bible, doesn't leave us to guess about this matter of ultimate importance. It clearly tells us how to get to spend eternity with God in heaven.

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes [i.e., trusts] in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.

"For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.

"He who believes in Him is not judged he who does not believe has been judged already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God." (Gospel of John 3:16-18)

Sent by Greg Sheryl | 3:59 PM ET | 02-06-2007

Leroy,

One of the first things I do when I turn on the computer is read your column, and realize what an extraordinary person you are. For two years now my oldest and youngest sisters are battling cancer. I am forever a changed person, if I am not with them trying my best to help as much as I can, I am at home thinking about them, dreaming about them and crying for them (or me)! The youngest one has battled cancer for two years now with two major operations. Right now she is doing chemo once a month and the only change we can see is she is getting worse. As much as I try I can not imagine what it is like to be in constant pain 24 hours a day, she is a real trooper. The oldest one was not only born deformed with several other diseases, but now was cursed with cancer. For anyone out there that is battling this dreadful disease may God be with you, and for you Leroy thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you do for us.

Sent by Linda | 4:26 PM ET | 02-06-2007

Obviously, the world is a far better place because you are here, Leroy. Just this blog alone has been of tremendous value to many, many people. But when I examine my own life honestly, I cant say the world is different (better) because I was here. I do have children who are wonderful, but I think their accomplishments in life are theirs, not mine. So — you've given me one more reason to hang onto life! I need to find ways to make a positive difference in this world before checking out.

By the way, one reader commented that her children were great because she and her husband had made such an effort to be good parents (unlike some people). Hmmm...haven't we all learned with cancer that life isn't always fair, that people don't necessarily get what they deserve or deserve what they get? We made great efforts to be good parents, too, yet our kids had serious problems....Thats just the way life is.

Sent by Doris | 5:10 PM ET | 02-06-2007

Leroy,

Some folks think the rituals and belief system will be Gods judgment. I hope God is much more pragmatic than that, for I believe we are judged by our actions and words. Your blog has made me more aware of my deeds, to leave this world a better place than I found it. I have always sent the get well card, the brighter day (hope) card, to people I might not be to fond of, just because I know those simple things mean so much. You've lived the "Golden Rule" out by bringing together a community on this board. You're appreciated and thought of fondly. That's more than most take with them at 103 years old.

Sent by Laura | 5:12 PM ET | 02-06-2007

Leroy,

It is so interesting to hear your words reflecting your feelings and observations. When we face what might be the end of our visit to this beautiful realm, maybe that is where the rubber meets the road. Perhaps we consider whether we have made a difference , impacted the lives of someone in a good way, and hope to leave something good behind. Now I'm thinking, has this life and the magic of this existence left me with something profound.

Am I looking, searching, longing for a practical connection to the kind and generous one who gave me this gift. Have I been looking for the love of my life from within and said thank you enough times. We all will one day go. I believe that the one who has always held us dear will not forsake us, regardless of how harshly we may judge ourselves. Maybe judgment is the invention of man, and not of the one who loves his children. Maybe the question becomes, have I recognized the miracle of my existence and can I trust that it will continue. Thank you for your kindness and your courage. When one soul is uplifted and uplifting, all of mankind is enriched. You help me see the Royalty in the Crown of Creation, the courageous Heart of the Human Being.

Sent by Dave M | 5:17 PM ET | 02-06-2007

Leroy,

I'm sure well never meet, but thank you for the very intimate thoughts that you've shared. Those compelling words helped me put my whole life in perspective. Oh, I think on those lines now and then, but to hear them and read them aloud was such good therapy. See??? You've made a difference in even more peoples lives by writing this blog. Thank you!!

And peace to you.

Sent by Sylvia Smith | 5:19 PM ET | 02-06-2007

Leroy, you have hit yet another chord in your entry. When I wrote my best friend's obituary at her request, I emphasized her attributes for fearless entertaining and zest for life. I keep a copy of it in my recipe box. She would have liked that a lot.

Sent by Pat | 9:57 AM ET | 02-07-2007

Leroy, you the man!

Sent by Brian Aldrich | 9:58 AM ET | 02-07-2007

I hesitate to respond, because I'm not sure I can adequately describe what I want to say. Your thoughts and words help me to feel what my dear husband did not, or could not say as he was living and dying with cancer. I don't know if it was denial as his way of coping with the cancer, he was a 30-year Marine who just toughed it out the way he always had. It surely was also the deadly cells that invaded his brain. Sometimes he "forgot" he had cancer or that his brain had just been radiated. As I listen to you, I remember our last months together and hope that my responses and actions to him, even when he could not say so, were what he needed most. Thanks.

Sent by Mary Wise | 11:36 AM ET | 02-07-2007

Leroy, Having had (have?) cancer, I can never stop being aware of how fleeting life is. It has made me too aware of my mortality and asking questions as you said, "Have I made a difference?" Oh yes, I ask myself that also, but I hate wasting what precious time I have left in torturing self analysis. Can I change anything in the past? I go back over the good things in my life, and do not contemplate my funeral. THAT I want to get over quietly and just go to sleep without causing any fuss and as you said, "People saying all those nice things." I could care less how many are there. Let them not focus on how I died, but how I lived and what part we played in others lives. For myself, I think I have done my best with what I had to work with. Each day is precious and allows me to make new and wonderful memories to leave behind!

Sent by Jeanne C. Rakowski | 11:43 AM ET | 02-07-2007

Leroy, you are guaranteed of a great sendoff. As will Nancy Clark.

For those who have not as yet tried to make a difference, here is your wake-up call! You may not have the impact of Leroy or Nancy, but every little bit helps.

Sent by Don Winslow | 11:44 AM ET | 02-07-2007

Leroy,

Your last statement made me smile by prompting a memory of having done just such a thing. Over 20 years ago, a large gathering of family and friends (myself included) gathered to celebrate the life of someone who died too soon and too young from pancreatic cancer. The man in question (a filmmaker of some reknown — Jim Blue) made a remarkable difference in the lives of many people. Plus, he made us laugh. If I do any good in my lifetime, it will have something to do with continuing the wonderful, personal legacy he left.

Best of luck to you Leroy, you've got it right!

Sent by H.M.D. | 11:46 AM ET | 02-07-2007

There was a local person who passed last week with cancer, he wrote his own obit, that made a lot of us wish we'd know him. He shared his life, family and the even his doctors. Seems that the time effort he invested was a sort of healing time for him and for us who have lost friends and family to cancer.

It does matter you have come this way; you have touched all of us.

Sent by Ervin | 11:52 AM ET | 02-07-2007

Your words today affected me greatly. I believe that it is true that all we want to know is that we have made some type of difference during our lives. I am a teacher and on those days when I am tired, or when the students don't seem to appreciate anything, I will try to think about what you have said. I will remember your words because they will help me get through my day. I watched that House episode, too, and reflected about it. I hope that your new treatments are a success. I am going to incorporate your message today into my curriculum and my high school seniors will be discussing today's writing. How would they like to leave a mark on our world?

Sent by J. Ballard | 11:53 AM ET | 02-07-2007

Mr. Sievers,

Rest assured, something is different because you are here. I am 34 years old, I lost my mother to cancer and my father was a survivor who had his bladder removed because of cancer. The doctor replaced Dad's bladder, which finally failed in early December of last year after 13 years of serving well.

I listen to your story and laugh because it is a story along side of which I've lived. Mom, who was dynamic, who loved and worked well with Dad to raise three children in the best house they could, was an amazing woman. She was a chef in her own right, a master painter in her off-time, crafted my sister's formal gowns for formal events by hand, and I even have the rocking chair Dad and I were rocked to she in as children flawlessly reupholstered in oxblood leather by Mom.

Mom found out about the cancer in October 2000 when my daughter was 7 months old and passed in January. Mom made sure she showed my girl the same loved she showed my siblings and I in those short 10 months. In the 3 months Mom had reprinted all the family photos to build the volumes for all her children, wrote down all the secret family recipes, and ensured she had set us up for life without her at the end of the phone line.

My sister and I are both in the military and travel quite a bit, but Mom was always ready to help us prepare our comfort foods as we held the phone between our ear and shoulder to make sure we got it right. She taught us a lot about life, she was always there to help us through tough times. She helped me develop my own style of painting, cooking, and artisanship. She was a wise woman who loved life, her family, and her friends who tried to encourage all around her to be the best they could be at any endeavor.

On 10 January 2001, I was painting when the phone rang it was my sister telling me I needed to come home, that Mom had passed away in the night. The painting I was working on was nearly finished and as I cried I finished it, she had taught my how and encouraged my painting and I felt that she'd have been disappointed had I stopped. That piece hangs as a reminder to me and as a tribute to Mom with teardrops slightly hidden still today in my living room.

Now, back to why I wrote. I could never have told Mom how I felt, I didn't have the time. However, I can tell you that when I listen to your commentaries I think back to Mom and how she helped us through the toughest days, how she was at peace with death, how she didn't want us to hurt. She used her last months to solidify her influence in our lives. When I listen to your commentaries I laugh that pained laugh of remembrance, I smile with tears and know something is different because you and she are here.

Respectfully...

Sent by Martin Zachry | 12:39 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Dear Leroy,

Even those of us that aren't stricken with cancer, many of us have been planning the details of our funerals. Perhaps it's the perfectionist nature within us, or maybe just a selfless act to not burden our loved ones with yet more decisions & details after were gone.

Within your funeral planning decisions, I hope there is a way technology will allow us to attend yours, if even remotely. For we, too, are your loved ones, spread all across the world that want to be a part of remembering one that has made a difference and has touched so many of our lives. It's not morbidity, but love that allows us to think of others even when were gone. It has no relevance to think it might be soon, just a date in the future that we each will be transformed, from this world into our next.

Keep the faith, Leroy, your writings help us to keep and share ours.

Sending you love.

Sent by Sheron | 12:42 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Dear Leroy,

Thanks once again for going where many are afraid to go. I've come up with a bunch of different funeral plans, myself, but the party and celebration always remains. Our time on the planet has been a gift, which can be shared both before and after we leave it.

Peace to you.

Sent by Betsey Kuzia | 12:43 PM ET | 02-07-2007

When my father was in hospice I wrote a short bio about him and tacked it along with a photo of him in his prime on the wall. He was an amazing guy and I just wanted the doctors and nurses to know that. He feigned embarrassment, but I think he was happy that it was there. I think we all care how well be remembered, and strive to be the best people we can be through this great challenge called cancer.

Sent by Patricia | 12:46 PM ET | 02-07-2007

I appreciated your thoughts so very much and want to encourage you to keep your focus on the quality of your life so far.

As I listened to your story this morning I was reminded of my father's own story. As my father encountered the inevitable last battle with his cancer we decided to throw him a party while he was well enough to participate. We thought we shouldn't wait until he was gone to offer those who loved him a chance to speak about the difference he made because he was here. We asked that each guest write a story about him. It became an opportunity for people to share how their lives had been enhanced because of his friendship with them. The party was a celebration his favorite keg of beer was tapped and flowing, fine catering was provided, wonderful live music was played, and happy people gathered around to offer support and love. He didn't have to miss the kind thoughts of those who loved him for their varied reasons. He was able to hear first-hand, read and reread the love stories that the people wrote and know with assuredness that he had made a difference. There were no empty seats.

Sent by Diane Dawson Immethun | 12:49 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Dear Leroy,

You have definitely made a difference. Your column is like therapy to me. I looked forward to reading it everyday and wonder how you are on weekends when you are not writing. Believe me, like the comment from Peggy, there will be hundreds of us out there crying in front of our computers. Thank you for sharing your journey. All the best to you.

Sent by Grace Kritzer | 12:53 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Hi Leroy, I watched House, too. He refused pain medicine, because he wanted to feel the pain, not like everyone else, he wanted to be different. He wanted to be remembered as the patient that refused pain medication even though he was in severe pain. That is so sad really. I wish I knew how to make peace. Leaving my husband alone scares me, his dying before me scares me worse. My surgery is coming up very soon, Leroy, I need your support. Take care.

Sent by Ruth White | 1:01 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Mr. Sievers:

You touched my life and made a difference to me this morning your words were poignant, soft, honest and heartfelt.

I am a Nurse, I am a Nursing Professor in Nevada... I deal with life and death of patients, I help students become R(eal)N(urses), RNs... they will appreciate this humanistic sharing of how fragile life is and how each moment is significant. Nurses can and do make a difference in the lives of those people they touch. They will remember how you have touched them.

Fondly...

Sent by Lorraine | 1:03 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Leroy,

I have just recently read about the drug dichloroacetate (DCA) that has been found to be extremely good at killing almost all cancers by switching off their "immortality." Andy Coghlan has an article on this in a recent issue of New Scientist Magazine, called "Cheap, Safe Drug Kills Most Cancers." It sounds like definitely something you may want to consider checking out.

Best wishes.

Sent by Martha Chambers | 1:14 PM ET | 02-07-2007

I am a cancer survivor. That is, I don't currently know if my cancer is currently active or not. Nonetheless, the questions that are being asked about how one will be remembered are certainly ones I have found myself preoccupied with during the last year or so. I have no particular belief in a deity, so for me, the remembrances of family and friends becomes particularly significant. This will be my only legacy. I hope that the memories will contain a good deal of humor at my expense, as does Mr. Sievers. I also hope that my children remember me with love and fondness, and that my friends valued me for my loyalty, honesty, and sense of fairness. And music, lots of music...

Sent by Nora Barth | 1:16 PM ET | 02-07-2007

First of all, I wish you the very best in your fight against cancer. My wife succumbed to the disease in Dec. 2006. She had a stem cell transplant to treat her AML in Oct. 2004. She was doing well until graft vs. host disease reared its ugly head in Sept. 06. The doctors tried to reverse the g v. h., but did not succeed. I was listening to your commentary on my way to work Monday, Feb 5th. when you mentioned how you wanted to be remembered: As a person who did the best he could. When you said that, I froze. You see, when my wife was admitted to the hospital a few days before her death, she was starting to become comatose. The doctors were trying to evaluate her condition and kept asking her questions, and she tried to respond. After one such question and answer session, the doctor was just about to leave the room when my wife called to him and said "I'm trying to do the best I can." Your words that morning brought back that memory and I became emotional remembering her last hours. Yes, we all want to be remembered as doing the best we could under very trying circumstances. Thank you for reading this. I will keep you in my prayers. God bless.

Sent by Joseph Randazzo | 1:18 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Hello Leroy,

I heard your story on NPR this morning and had to come to the site to read the other articles you have written. You have made me laugh and you made me cry. My husband had pancreatic cancer and many of the thoughts you have written are identical to how Jeff was feeling. Jeff was very pessimistic in life, but when he was diagnosed with cancer he turned optimistic. He fought the battle with his typical energy and his new found optimism so sure that he would be in the 1% to survive this disease.

I am different because Jeff was here as are many members of his family, friends and co-workers. He showed us all how to face a terminal illness with eternal hope and unbelievable energy even when the chemo was kickin' his butt! He let me know, as you mentioned in one of your stories that my love, support and care giving made fighting this beast that much more bearable. I always told him that he was my hero because he displayed such strength and grace even during the times when he was suffering such indignities!

Well, enough about us. You are an inspiration to everyone going through the cancer battles. I applaud your decision to stop the chemo for now. I agree that you should make decisions and never look back because you will never know the outcome if you chose differently. Enjoy your days and nights with the deeper appreciation of someone who knows that we truly don't live forever.

Know that you have touched many lives and "something is already different because you have been here."

Be good to yourself and thanks for sharing your story.

Sent by Karen Polhemus | 1:20 PM ET | 02-07-2007

I really wish that before we die that we could have the opportunity to meet you in person... that would make a part of my life different, knowing that you, live and in person, stood before me.

Sent by Marianne Dalton | 1:22 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Leroy, I'm here to say — you made a difference in my life — as I live the cancer life through my daughter who is almost 9 (11 days to go, she would tell you) and is undergoing her own treatment for her brain tumor, somehow one of the things that brings me peace is reading your post every night. I rarely miss it — and then I just catch it up the next day. You make me smile and cry and just feel better — I am not exactly sure I can put my finger on what your post does for me, but it is an important part of my day, every day — I do miss it on weekends — (I guess even you need a little break) — so know that you have made a difference to me.

Thank you.

Sent by Alice Williams | 1:30 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Rest assured you have made a difference. I read the blog daily and have recently introduced my mother to it. A thyroid-cancer "survivor" herself she relates to so much of what you say. Friday's blog made her cry. I relate to it from a "loved-ones" point of view and now, your advice/insight/knowledge/experience is helping us through my aunts fight with stage-4 lung cancer. I think, no matter who the person, they can be laid to rest that everyone has made a difference for someone. Whether they are a mother, sister, brother, or just someone's friend. Just being there, for someone at any given means you made a difference in someone's life.

I hope, that WHEN you're gone (let's not count you out yet), that NPR gets together with a publishing company and puts your blog writings into a book: "My Cancer," even just a year's worth of the blog... though the whole thing would be best. It is something that, unfortunately, too many people can relate to. You have made a profound difference YOU help people every day! Please, while you have a say in it, work on compiling "My Cancer" and turning it into a book. I said yesterday that no word (in my vocabulary) can resonate as much fear, worry, confusion, and pain as "CANCER"... you help make some of the "unknown becomings" just that much easier.

Sent by Samantha | 1:35 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Leroy,

I don't have cancer, but I have thought about how I want to be remembered for YEARS. Far from being morbid, it has guided my decisions since I was capable of deciding... at about age 30. I'm 65 now and it is probably true that whatever big difference I am going to make has already been made. Nevertheless, there are ways — every day — when awareness of mortality can alter what I do and how I do it. Thanks for being so articulate. I think I'll have what you're having!

Sent by Diana Kitch | 1:40 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Yeah, me too. I wrote about the same thing on my blog in a piece I titled "Was I Here at All?" on January 5, 2007. If anybody's interested, they can find it here: http://mylungcancerstory.blogspot.com/

Like you, I want, and have told my wife and friends that I want, an Irish wake at an Irish bar. I've even began working on the music I want played.

Sent by Tom Clarke | 1:42 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Leroy,

My deepest thanks and appreciation to you for stating a universal principle that goes to the heart of the matter of why we are here. You quoted a man that said: "I want to know that something is different because I was here." I heard you read your blog October 5th and today my heart whispered a silent "Yes" in reply. In a busy, corporate, materially oriented world, even a silent "Yes" is enough to lift me up out of the doldrums of everyday routines. By asking that question in so simple words, you opened up a door. There is a gratitude of the heart words cannot express. Thank you is not enough, but please accept it for your great kindness. Certainly this column is part of how you have made a difference in me, and undoubtedly many others.

I have heard religionists, mystics, blue collared workmen, secretaries (now administrative assistants,) and people of all ages and backgrounds express through words, actions, or that haunting look in their eyes, that same question: Is life on earth "different because I was here?"

I have searched for a lifetime, sometimes "in all the wrong places." This simple reason for being, "I want to know that something is different because I was here," says more than any sage could elaborate in an entire book.

I see parents and friends reaching that time to die, either through sickness or old age. They are all asking in their silence if they made a difference. It is never too late to begin. We cannot single-handedly stop wars, climate change, political conditions and many other things, but we can make a difference. I often think that somehow of all I have written through the years, someone has found it makes a difference.

I wrote a line: "Only when one gives up fearing the appearance of death can one really begin to live." I can only be sure this is true in my experience. I don't know what death will bring, but somehow knowing that in some way, I made a difference, death does lose its sting. Thanks, Leroy, for making a difference in my life.

The poet Rumi says when we find that peace of mind and heart, even death is a celebration where "we drink wine not made from grapes, in glasses not made of glass" [paraphrased]. I hope that when all these earthly matters are settled, that we can share some of this wine together. Cheers!

Sent by Allan Stocker | 5:12 PM ET | 02-07-2007

Working out grief for a life that made difference:

Eleven years ago, my grandpa, Vernon O. Drake, Sr., died of a losing battle with prostate cancer... on my birthday.

I saw him the Christmas holiday before (my Jan birthday) and knew it would be the last time I would see him alive.

Through it all he was such a lovely, beautiful soul even though the long fight with his disease made him seem very pale and lose a lot of weight. He was still my wonderful Grandpa who still called me "Peanut" well into my late twenties.

I am usually an emotional person and I was devastated when he passed away on my birthday, but for some weird reason I couldn't cry at all in my grief of losing him.

We attended a memorial service and so many folks at his church stood up and told a story about how my Grandpa touched their lives in some big or small way. I knew how amazing he was, but I didn't know what everyone else thought! It was such a beautiful way to celebrate a life.

A few weeks later, I had a dream that I was with my Grandpa and we seemed to talk for quite a while. I woke up happy and refreshed, recalling most of the conversation. He basically let me know that he was okay. I had such a sense of calm at peace at that moment and then proceeded to cry my eyes out for about a half of an hour.

I don't know if my mind just made that up or if he was really with me (I prefer to believe the latter), but he made a difference on this earth merely in how he conducted his life. He was a thoughtful person without really thinking about it.

I just wanted you to know that you have made a difference with your journal and how much awareness you facilitate to the public. I've been following it on NPR and I never miss it.

It probably doesn't matter that I am telling you that you made a difference, I'm just a stranger to you, but I just wanted you to know that you have made a difference by spreading cancer awareness through sharing your own experiences. We are all the better for it and it keeps us grounded and human.

Thank you.

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

I am not accustomed to revealing my feelings about the personal side of my cancer. The article about planning my own funeral is not on my radar screen, perhaps, only, because my cancer occurred over seven years ago. I do however, have daily reminders. When I shower I must clean the left side of my torso, and rub the long scar that is just above my rib cage. When they removed my lower left lobe of my left lung, the doctor apparently needed to separate the last two ribs to get at the portion of my lung needing removal. To this day, when I am still and thinking about it, I can feel the numbness (not pain) of these two ribs. They feel exactly the same way that they have year after year, since my surgery on July 9, 1999, 11 days after my 50th birthday. My surgeon was truly the best I could have hoped for. He was a man of very few words. I only once saw a glimpse of a smile. That was when I asked him how my surgery went. He said " Perfectly."

That was really my hopes of recovery being buoyed up in my stomach, heart and head. I am personally glad I went through chemotherapy. I looked at that choice as my opportunity to pay for a little life insurance policy. So far, (and I'm knocking on wood), my check-ups have been excellent. My health is great for a 57 year old, paunchy ex-basketball and ex-football player. I consider myself a young person, but have no doubts about my limitations. I can jump up only high enough to get over a rolled up newspaper, and the 10-foot basketball rim is well beyond my reach. I love sports, and fancy myself as a very active, action sports enthusiast. Not many people my age, saving John Kerry, are able to fly across the water on a windsurfer. I am now taking up kite-boarding, but need much more practice. Losing 20 or 30 pounds would also be a good idea, especially for my arthritic knees and marginally high blood pressure.

As far as funerals go, my plans do not include thinking about mine. I enjoy my family and plan to harass and kid them for several more decades, I hope. There is enough life insurance (before my diagnosis) to take care of them.

I was a lucky one. I am a survivor. God gave me a second chance. The surgeon was able to get it early enough to keep it from spreading. I took out the chemo life insurance policy. I've already seen too many funerals of loved ones and will live my life to the fullest I can each day.

Sent by Sam Mason | 5:19 PM ET | 02-07-2007

I am a 36-year-old cancer survivor. I was moved my Mr. Sievers' commentary on my local NPR station. I was diagnosed with Grade 4 malignancy of the brain. After the diagnosis in 2004, I was given 6 months survival and the recurrence is not a matter of if but rather when. I have a 5-year-old boy and married to the love of my life. It was shocking and depressing when I heard the diagnosis. I was at the prime of my life and this dreaded disease is about to cut my life short. However, I realized that I am not willing to give up so easily. I was willing to fight till the end and have hope. I also realized that hope is the only thing that will keep me alive. I was fortunate enough to read Lance Armstrong's book "It's Not About the Bike." That book alone made me realize the power of human spirit and faith. Yes I do have cancer and it is scary indeed. But I also know that I am strong and that god put me on this planet for a higher purpose. Life goes and I will live to see my son grow. I will enjoy my time with grandkids. Hey cancer, you are no match for human spirit and faith.

Sent by Ram Grandhi | 5:33 PM ET | 02-07-2007

In addition to you making a difference in so many lives by sharing your struggles, I have a suggestion on how you can make a difference in the life of others. I read at the beginning of your blog that you first found the cancer through a colonoscopy. As you may know, March is colon cancer awareness month.

You can make a difference by encouraging others to have a colonoscopy. This article based on American Cancer Society findings concludes that cancer deaths are down because of colonoscopies — but only half of those who need one get one!

In the interest of full disclosure, I work for a company that makes its living primarily in the delivery of GI procedures in outpatient settings. But I'm not going to tell you the name of that company, because I don't care where people get the screening — just do it! We see people all the time whose lives could have been saved with early detection.

Please encourage those who need a colonoscopy to get one!

Sent by Ashley Bampfield | 5:55 PM ET | 02-07-2007

I just found out that my past teacher, coach, and now my friend is battling cancer. It is hard to know the right thing to say. I just hope she knows that she did make a positive difference in this world. I question the why her, but she is a fighter and has lots of people around that love her. Thanks for putting yourself out there for us. You have made a positive difference — if for no one else but me. Thanks and Keep up the fight. Peace always.

Sent by Jennifer | 5:59 PM ET | 02-07-2007

I much appreciate reading your articles, as you continue to be so candid about your thoughts, feelings, struggles. I have chronic medical problems myself and have family members, friends, students, and clients who currently face serious medical issues. I find much of what you say, and how you say it, to be helpful for myself and in my trying to be helpful to others about whom I care. Thank you for all you are doing. Your efforts do make a huge difference in many lives. I know this firsthand.

Sent by Melodee | 12:22 PM ET | 02-08-2007

Leroy — YOU ROCK! What a great blog. Your thoughts give a voice to the many silent sufferers of this demon. I listen to you on "Morning Edition" and read the NPR Web site as well. I worked for a while at the U of M Cancer Center and got a brief insight into this almost sub-world. Courage to you, dear brother. Whatever the outcome, you are a better person for it.

Peace and all good, Nan

P.S. — We might be related! My grandmother's maiden name was Sievers. They came directly from Germany in the late 1800s to Iowa.

Sent by Nan | 12:24 PM ET | 02-09-2007

Leroy,

I appreciate, so much, this commentary about "doing your best." I am a tumorhead with brain cancer and I write that with the best intention of being clear and realistic and a sense of humor with that statement. It is not something I wear proudly or brag about and don't take seriously. But I must admit, I try my best to make as light of it as possible because it's so damn heavy. I am doing my best. I wave to you, like the person driving the same make of car you drive, knowing what you're driving. We just keep doing our best. Attitude is everything. Daily serving courage with laughter gets me through each day. I'm not happy, I'm just doing my best.

It's an odd life, being diagnosed with cancer. I am on a sort of "mystery journey" not knowing what to expect next. On the edge quite a bit, mostly fighting fear. Yet, realistically anything can happen to anyone at any time. Cancer or not. But with cancer things change in a huge way. People you never knew to pray start praying for you. Suddenly people refer you to mystics and healers, bandits who know in your greatest fear of fears you will dish our money you don't have for an overpriced, most expensive cure to stay alive longer. You begin to truly appreciate the precious things about life with the best attitude possible. You try to comfort yourself by making a list of things you wont miss about life... heartache, stress, disappointments, finances... you do a lot of pretending... like pretending you don't have cancer.

Sent by Sofia, Albuquerque, New Mexico | 1:22 PM ET | 02-09-2007

Sent by J. Ward | 3:34 PM ET | 02-09-2007

Hi Leroy,

A story in my local paper, the Hartford Courant, led me to your blog.

I have Stage IV breast cancer, which has a median survival of two years, which is how long I've had it. This has given me time to do what I think I exist for: to become the best person I can be, and help my fellow human beings along the way.

I am also fortunate in that I fell into a career as a disability advocate about ten years ago. My children and I are estranged, and I needed to help others in the way I could not help my son and daughter. My work has enabled me to make a concrete difference in people's lives for some time.

I'm not sure, though, that knowing one has made a difference is all that important to most people. Many I know seem not to have thought about it at all. Perhaps those of us to whom that matters are just the lucky ones.

May

Sent by May Terry | 8:51 PM ET | 03-27-2007

What a wonderful lesson...to know that those very simple words could mean so much. I will carry those with me...and yes, at the end of 'my day' I hope that those who are present can say, 'she made a difference'...thank you.

Sent by Aracelys Grady | 8:13 AM ET | 04-20-2007