by Leroy Sievers

I look at those clips and realize that when I was being filmed that day, I thought I was dying. Or more accurately, that I was going to die relatively soon.

I've spent virtually my entire adult life working in television. I have convinced thousands — maybe tens of thousands — of people to allow cameras to come into their homes or offices, and then to allow us to ask them questions. And for all of those years, I have always hated being on TV myself. I was on Nightline a couple of times, to talk about a story I was covering. When we did a tribute to the soldiers who had died in Iraq and Nightline was engulfed in controversy, I had to do more interviews. But for most of those years, I was able to escape the cameras.

And now there's Ted Koppel's documentary on the Discovery Channel on May 6. And it's about me, and it's about this blog and really all of you, too. There are a couple of clips on the Web site, and watching them, I remembered exactly why I hate being on TV. First of all, it's a little disconcerting to see yourself that way. It turns out that I blink a lot. I didn't realize I did that.

But this isn't just about my vanity. The clips that are up are from February of last year, from the first interview that Ted and I did, about three months after I was diagnosed. And I'm different. It may not be obvious to anyone else, but I see it. I look at those clips and realize that when I was being filmed that day, I thought I was dying. Or more accurately, that I was going to die relatively soon. I had been given a couple of prognoses, most of them measured in months, not years.

The original idea behind the interviews was that they would be aired after my death. But I can tell that I'm scared. Or maybe I just remember being scared. Back then, it was all new. My hair was just growing back after being shaved for the brain surgery. I had just been on chemo a short time. Spinal tumors, radiation, gamma knife on the brain, radio frequency ablation, all of that was still to come. And I realize that I know so much more now. Not just about the nuts and bolts of having cancer, but about myself and my life.

I still have a couple of pictures of me as a baby. There is a series of three, all taken at the same time. I seem totally happy and somewhat fascinated by my feet. I look at those and think about everything that has happened since they were taken. I look at that interview and think about everything that has happened since that was shot. And all I can do is shake my head and smile.