Last night I did my fav class workout..kickboxing!!! For the first time since july 06 I finally felt human...not that I was able to keep the same pace that I did a year ago but I was there, I was kickin and it felt damn good! It can only get better Leroy..keep the faith ...now if I had listened to my drs ..they would have me doing a simple walk,"listen to your body"...kind of thing...well, to be quite frank...my doctors really do not have a clue as to who I am! Thank goodness, I do know who I am!

Sent by Marianne Dalton | 1:01 PM ET | 03-15-2007

It is amazing what we are willing to put our bodies through for the possibility of a cure or even a few extra months. Surgery, side effects from chemo, etc all become a way of life in the cancer world. Any day we have hope is a great day regardless of how we may feel. Before I was diagnosed I had long dark hair (okay so I dyed it.) I had it cut and let it go natural, which of course was white. When I changed drugs it finally all fell out and I have a grey wig. I still run into people who do a real double take with the drastic changes. This is something else I've learned to live with. Once again thanks for the forum and raising the issues that we live with and others rarely speak of.

Sent by Dona | 1:03 PM ET | 03-15-2007

Mr. Sievers,

I'm so happy for you and wish you a speedy recovery. I've appreciated learning about the cancer world through you ever since my friend Maria was diagnosed with ovarian cancer last fall. I found out last night that she died early this week. She was only 34. I had told her about your blog and podcast but I'm not sure if she followed it. I hope she did. The funeral is today. I've been up since 0430 thinking of her. Up also in order to sooth my 8 month old daughter, thinking about how much it must hurt Maria's parents to have lost her so young. Again, thanks for sharing your journey and helping someone on the outside to try to understand what someone with cancer goes through.

Sent by Bryan Wright | 1:05 PM ET | 03-15-2007

It seems fantastic what they have done for you Leroy! Yes, you have been through a terrible ordeal, but it seems to be working to kill the beasts and now we shall see how your body can re-coupe and get its strength back. May you now have some "quality time" in your life!

By the way, St Patty's Day, on Saturday, will mark the 24th anniversary of my "C" operation. See — Great Surgeons and Chemo really do work!

Sent by J. C. Rakowski | 1:06 PM ET | 03-15-2007

WOW, I am so very happy for you.

You do need to listen to your body and give it some time to heal, but you also have to push it a little.

I have never had cancer, but I did break my back and was told I would probably not walk again, and I have to say I not only walk, I run and bike and do many other things. Your body will set the pace, but sometimes we allow ourselves to fall into the void we did not fall into while we had to fight for survival. You have to keep on going as if you were still fighting. Start meditation, tai chi, something that will allow your body to build back strength while allowing it time to heal.

If you allow yourself too much time to wander and think back on what you have gone thru, it is too easy to start feeling sorry for yourself and want sympathy, and that is the worst thing one can do.

Best wishes for you and all of those who are still fighting with everything they've got. Keep on fighting. You are all in my prayers.

Sent by David Abad | 1:08 PM ET | 03-15-2007

Boy Leroy, can I relate to what you're talking about today. I went through 5 1/2 weeks of radiation 5 times a week, with chemo once a week. This was following a positive lymph node that was found in my pelvis during a radical hysterectomy for cervical cancer in the fall.

I had my last treatment for radiation and chemotherapy on Fri. Jan. 19. By the weekend following that one, I felt so much better than I had my last couple weeks of radiation. Things moved forward from there as my appetite continued to improve, though I still had to be careful what I ate.

Since last Friday evening, though, I've had a setback. I've been experiencing persistent diarrhea. At first I thought it was due to some raw onions I ate with lunch on Thursday. But it just hasn't gone away. I am presently eating clear liquids plus bread and crackers. At bfast this morning, I decided to try adding some yoghurt, which can be good for diarrhea. After three bites, I threw it up.

My GI Dr. ordered some lab work to rule out bad bacteria. On the way to dropping off a sample this morning, I was trying to describe to God why I felt frustrated about my current state. It's one thing to have survived cancer and successfully completed the treatments. But, my expectation now has been to get well. I'm needing to eat to put on the weight I lost, not output the calories I am putting in. I want to regain my strength and be able to eat a balanced diet, including fruits and vegetables. But the fact is, what I've been through has possibly made me more vulnerable to sickness. Would chronic sickness have to become part of my identity too? I don't want that.

It seems there are different levels of acceptance with this thing than I would have guessed. May God grant you and me both, patience.

Sent by Bernadette | 8:29 PM ET | 03-15-2007

Leroy, I am so overjoyed at your last RFA and pray it will be your last. You have so eloquently written many of my personal thoughts about fighting the beast I thank you for that. Congratulations and many years of health for you and everyone that reads this blog.

Exhaustion isn't just physical. It affects us mentally and emotionally, as well. You're probably just tired of all this! A little more patience, Leroy...spring is almost here, and you WILL feel better soon! Put a chair in the back yard and concentrate on the songs of birds and the beauty of the changing seasons while listening to music that moves you.

Anyhow, exercise isn't all its cracked up to be.

Sent by Freida Jones-Dewey | 10:36 AM ET | 03-16-2007

Leroy, I know just how you feel. I just had to start doing something before even finishing radiation. So I lost weight, joined a gym, and restarted my brisk two mile walks (with weights now). I just found the sheet they gave me on my last day of radiation three weeks ago, it said "avoid exertion" for the first month. Oops.

Good luck with everything. I'm so happy for you.

Sent by Marcia | 11:02 AM ET | 03-16-2007

I understand how very badly you want to get back. When I "finished" treatment, I wanted to go back to the way I was before. Realistically, you never go back, just forward. Cancer is a life-altering experience. With that said, though, it sure feels good to feel good again!

Sent by Jean L. | 1:43 PM ET | 03-16-2007

You might discover new pleasures in the interim before you resume rigorous and familiar ones. For me, Svaroopa yoga (very supported yoga using stacked and rolled blankets for support)and Reiki energy work have been the most deeply nourishing gifts during and after rounds of cancer — along with excellent books, plays, music, visual art — but you will find your OWN favorites as you go. You are so clearly an adventurous soul, so I hope you'll share whatever you end up enjoying with the group. And in the meantime, I hope you are not just empathizing with all your body and whole self have just come through, but thanking all your aspects for hanging in there so gamely, and cheering them on as they mend. Visualization of that happening on a cellular and macro level both can be very strong messages of support for our healing selves. May or not turn out to be your way, but it has gotten me through chemo, radiation, surgery, scary procedures, etc. In this part of your journey as all the others, you will make wise choices that are right for you, and may discover fresh and surprising new favorites in the process. All the gentle best to you!

Sent by Sarah | 5:57 PM ET | 03-19-2007

There's a Vince Lombardi quote I've revisited time and again in the past five years. "The good Lord gave you a body that can stand most anything. It's your mind you have to convince!" When my body wont do what I want, when I don't feel normal I use this quote to remind myself to be patient. I have to give my body time to heal or I have to accept this new "normal." Taking it slow is hard for me too. Patience does not come easy.

Sent by Joan Marie | 6:01 PM ET | 03-19-2007

Leroy,

Once again, I have not had cancer (yet), but one of my best friends did have it. I watched her go through everything you are going through emotionally. She took the position that she was going to do what she could each day. Sometimes that wasn't much, sometimes she could be in her beloved garden playing in the dirt, sometimes she could even take a trip somewhere with her husband. I thought that position was positive and graceful, doing the best she could with where she found herself. Maybe this will help your angst about not being where you used to be, maybe not. I just offer it up.

I also wish for you the things you say you wish for yourself.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 9:21 AM ET | 03-20-2007

Leroy, I feel I can call you by your first name because I had cancer too, so we can be less formal than we normally would be if that's okay with you. The oddest thing for me right after diagnosis was that I became adept at saying "breast" to complete strangers - looked them in the eye as I answered their questions about my body. While I have always been open and friendly, speaking about my breast to strange men never usually came up so quickly in conversations.

For me, men pretty much lost their appeal for a while because I knew sooner or later, no matter how good looking they were, no matter how intelligent, no matter how humorous they were, MY BREAST would be the center of our conversations. Sometimes, I'd walk to my car in the grocery store parking lot or settle in my car after pumping gas and wonder if the cancer had somehow taken away my ability to NOT be forthcoming about anything that people asked me-something akin to an honesty gene gone mutant. I experienced the equivalent of being "felt up" constantly because so many people stared at my chest to see if they could guess which of the two was the cancer reservoir and if I indeed still had both of them. I thought I'd never have another conversation as long as I lived where anyone actually looked me in the face.

I have enjoyed listening to your story and have many times understood exactly how you felt-the weariness, leg pains, the chemo brain. For me every liquid except Celestial Seasonings Mandarin Orange Spice Tea tasted like oyster juice - even diet Coke. Oh, how I missed Southern sweet tea-almost as much as my...well, you know. Take Care and I'll be listening for you and your latest story.

Sent by Sherry | 10:20 AM ET | 03-20-2007

Ah, the waiting... Its not for nothing they call us "patients"!

I'm in remission from Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma, but going for scans every three months. I just had a round of tests last week... I sweated it out a bit, because I hadn't had a phone call from the doctors office, letting me know the results had come out OK. Turned out, the doc only got the results from the radiologist on the morning of my appointment, so he couldn't have had the nurse call me, anyway.

I'm going to have to get used to this, because Ill probably be going for periodic scans for a long time to come (I hope so, anyway the alternative is worse).

Leroy, may you have many years of scans ahead of you - hopefully without undue anxiety, but hey, there are worse things in life than anxiety!

Grace and peace.

Sent by Carl Wilton | 10:22 AM ET | 03-20-2007

Thank you so much for allowing me to gain some insight into my husband's battle with recurring cancer. He is currently undergoing radiation treatments while taking oral chemo as well. He doesn't want to talk about the cancer being back or about how the treatments are making him feel, so its nice to have a source to turn to that will allow me to understand where he is at physically and mentally. I am so happy that you do not have any tumors, and I pray that your body will be able to fully recover with no recurrence ever again. God bless you, Leroy!

Sent by Jamie | 10:32 AM ET | 03-20-2007

I totally understand your impatience. My oncologist told me, when I stopped chemo, to rest for a month and then go out there and lead my life. It was great advice. I really needed some time to recuperate because I was so incredibly worn out. But even though I was still tired after one month, I did take his advice to heart. My body always told me when to slow down or when I had overdone it, but after a short rest, I just kept on going for it and even tried all sorts of new things as my energy returned. I will tell you that the two or three months after chemo I was more exhausted than I was during chemo. But everyone is different.

Good luck! Pace yourself but don't hold yourself back.

Sent by Maggie | 10:34 AM ET | 03-20-2007

Leroy...

We are so very hard on ourselves and expect so much, don't we?! Your brain knows you need to give yourself time, but in your heart, you just want to be better. Keep reminding yourself of how well you are doing - each and every day - even when you are only able to rest. Remember that by resting your body you will allow it to improve more quickly. Take small steps...and if you don't mind a suggestion - consider a gentle yoga class when you are up for it. The breathing techniques might be very good for your lungs and the asanas (poses) are good for your body and mind (and for the anxiety that comes from having been through what you've been through). Be careful to look for a traditional and experienced teacher...none of that power yoga stuff!

Wishing you well...

Sent by Jenny | 10:35 AM ET | 03-20-2007

As a 16-year cancer survivor I can offer a little advice. First, take it easy for now at least. As you say, your body needs to rest and heal a bit. Listen to it. Take some time to absorb the victory you have achieved. And also prepare for your next life. That's what it felt like to me. Your experience will most likely be different than mine or anyone else's. But I suspect that once you're a little stronger and get out and enjoy a good meal and a glass or two of wine, it will be different than before, when you watch the sunset over the ocean, it will be different, when you hear our National Anthem at your favorite ballpark, it will be different, when you feel in your soul that you have won, it will be different than before. It will all be different, and in many ways better, than in your previous life. Get used to feeling well. Forget about "it" coming back. Face the future with hope, confidence and a knowledge that you have now joined a pretty large group—that of former cancer patients. Sit in the warm sun and reflect on that fact for a while. You'll soon be amazed at how good it feels to feel good! That time is closer than you might think right now. Best wishes for your new life!

Sent by Bill Herberts | 10:51 AM ET | 03-20-2007

Well Leroy today is my "ThatDay" day... well actually 1095 days AFTER "ThatDay." And I have to admit I am feeling a bit weird. I am glad I am still here, but I know the fight is long from being over. I hope and pray for another 1095 days (at least) but I take them as they come. Lets hope I'm still reading your story in about 10 years.

Sent by Brit | 10:56 AM ET | 03-20-2007

Leroy — I'm so glad to hear all your latest news. May this be a wonderful long interval bringing you a return to decent health.

I have a request for a future column. I wonder if you might devote some time to talk about dying with cancer. I am trying to support one of my family who has advanced cancer, with mets lung and liver. The oncologist is suggesting hospice, with another option being a new chemo drug. Questions: Is it possible to combine chemo and hospice? How does one move from fighting to live toward acceptance of death? What as a family member living out of state can I do to assist? The basics are already in place (good oncologist, health insurance, supportive spouse). I'm thinking about the emotional issues and the family issues.

Sent by BG | 11:06 AM ET | 03-20-2007

Hi Leroy! I've been reading your commentary for weeks now. It began as an attempt to better understand what my friend endured during his, and his late wife's fight with cancer. But strangely enough, I've gained so much more than that. "The door" that you mentioned, which only swings one way, applies to other life-altering situations. I equate it to a form of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. There is a level of innocence, naiivitee, that can never again be felt. The loss of that comfort is sad. But, your strength is comforting, so I suppose that you are accomplishing, through sharing with others, regaining some of that lost comfort, from a new source, one outside of yourself. Thanks.

Sent by Janet | 11:12 AM ET | 03-20-2007

A year ago today I was told I have cancer. After surgery and chemotherapy for stage four uteran cancer I am now a cancer survivor and happy to be on this side of it. I was amazed at how emotional I felt this morning when I awoke and looked in the mirror. My hair, eyebrows and eyelashes have grown back, the dark circles under my eyes have vanished and though my belly is a battlefield of surgery scars, I am so grateful to be here. I just cried. I remember so vividly how scared and frightened I was last year at this time. It was a long and arduous road to get my life back to some assemblence of normalcy. Now I'm back at work and I meet people everyday who don't even know what I've been through. I think about it everyday, and especially on this day of anniversary, I am so thankful. Life is a difficult, strange and somehow wonderful journey.

Sent by Sharon | 11:21 AM ET | 03-20-2007

Dear Leroy:

Good Going...No GREAT GOING...You have jumped a Huge Hurtle...and landed feet down...read to take the next Big Step! You don't want to turn the clocks back (as in today's blog).....Move Them Forward...(Time Machine not in reverse....but Forward)..push some of those green buttons....I want to see the " new" you. Are you different....after a good street fight....or you just the same ole You? How much of you is left?....and where do the new unfamiliar parts begin or take over ?

I hope it's a fun and rewarding future ride for you.... Just would like to know how the cancer experience has changed you.

Are you a better person now...than before the "attack"?

Thanks.

Sent by Jim M. | 12:20 PM ET | 03-20-2007