The Interviews Were Going to Air After My Death

 
“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.

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I can't wait to watch. You've said you look at pictures as before and after. I know just what you mean. Thanks for being so brave getting up in front of all of us. It's on my calendar and no other show will take it's place. You've helped me tremendously Leroy.

Sent by Lisa | 7:19 AM ET | 04-26-2007

Leroy,
I remember ten years ago when I was told I had a year to live. The doctors gave me the statics and kept pressing me "Did I understand". Yes, I got it, folks, and I was devastated and petrified. I still had a young child with cerebral palsy to raise. One day my dad sat me down and told me to listen the dr. out but never, ever take it into my body; never let it permiate; that I was not a number. Never let their numbers control my life. My dad had been sick on and off his whole life with big illnesses like cancer, heart disease, lungs,stroke etc. but he never let the numbers in. He held on to life. He was more than his illnesses. He lived until 70. When I was diagnosed it broke his heart. He let go and said he would go ahead of me and push me back. And he has. Now looking back at those pics., Leroy, you know that you're not a number and the doctors do their best but they're lousey at predicting(thank god). You are on your road to living, writing and sharing in a way that's never been presented to you before. What a wonderful opportunity. You are pure gift to yourself and to all of us, so set the rest aside and go for it. I too will look forward to seeing your TV debut.
Kate

Sent by Kate Sullivan Fuehrer | 8:55 AM ET | 04-26-2007

Thank you for all you do, Leroy. Thanks for letting us in on this journey. You've taken away a lot of fear and shown me that life can be savored even under the ugliest circumstances. I'm looking forward to the Discovery Channel program because I feel like I will be able to "meet you" in some way after only reading your words for so long.

After the doctors re-read your last scan and changed their minds about what they saw, I was beaming from ear to ear. I was so relieved and happy that I told a co-worker, who thought it was a little odd for me to be so excited about a complete stranger's diagnosis. But you're not a complete stranger. You may not know me, but you've shared your life, your thoughts and your feelings and you have connected a lot of people. She's been fortunate enough not to join the Cancer Club, so I don't think she understands that a victory for one cancer patient is a victory for us all. And every new treatment offers us all hope. We're all fighting the beast and we love to hear that other people have beaten it back, if only for a while.

Thank you. Best wishes.

Sent by K. Ives, Duluth MN | 9:28 AM ET | 04-26-2007

Hello Leroy! Wow! For me, your blog was a very powerful one today. Your blogs put into words so many of my everyday thoughts and feelings. However, this one in particular hit me squarely in an emotionally similar and familiar place. I think, because I too frequently think about my life; all that I've done and experienced since birth; the impacts I've had on people, particularly my loved ones; and ultimately, my death - most likely from this disease I have called cancer. As you said, I too feel like I know so much more now. Not just about the nuts and bolts of having cancer, but about myself and life. Thanks for your thoughts!

Sent by Jeffrey Beach | 9:56 AM ET | 04-26-2007

Leroy:

You being on the other side of the camera must be a bit unnerving, but the candidness that you share brings out only shows your 'true colors'.

I will be at the townhall meeting that day, and look forward to finally meeting you in person. I personally want to say thank you.. for all that you have done for everyone, and me.

Sent by Krupali Tejura MD | 9:58 AM ET | 04-26-2007

We anxiously await this sunday's showing! As a "retired" dancer, I too dislike viewing myself on video. I am always happy as time passes and I can look back onto past videos , it is only then that I understand where I was then and how far I have come now! It's a nice feeling , one that you will experience too!

Sent by marianne dalton | 9:58 AM ET | 04-26-2007

Hi Leroy and all,

Since October my identity has been unconditionally tied up with my cancer and my status as one whose diagnosis is probably terminal. In some ways this has been an advantage. I have been listened to as never before and had deeper conversations with many friends and colleagues than I have ever had. I hope I am making a meaningful contribution to the ongoing dialogue and plan to continue as long as I can. If this is the "new normal" and the new identity, bring it on!

On the other hand, I refuse to be identified entirely as my disease and have made that clear on the two occasions (so far) that I have been invited to speak publicly because of it. Ironic, huh? But I have had more than 62 years of life before getting diagnosed and increasing amounts of pretty intense life afterwards, and that should count for something as far as my identity is concerned. I am John as well as John-with-cancer. I am getting used to the idea of both coexisting simultaneously.

I have also gotten used to the idea of dying of my cancer. Like all of y'all I just have no idea when. Six minutes? Six months? Six years? Is this "the new normal"? If so, frankly, it sucks. But there it is and, I believe it will always be.

Normalcy. I don't need your stinkin' normalcy! Never have, as my wife and friends will attest. I've never been normal ... not since I began working for things like civil rights and nuclear disarmament as a pre-teen more than 50 years ago. That too, and what has developed from it, such as concerns for health disparities, human rights and the environment are part of my identity and "normalcy." I also have to admit to looking and acting pretty much like any other middle-class church-going shaved headed American. So II gues I'm both normal and not-so-normal at the same time.

But I am also concerned about what I see as the general implied definition of "the new normal" as quiet and complacent "adjustment" to increasing debilitation. To me this means calmly accepting an unacceptable situation. Would we recommend that Iraqis and American soldiers adjust to daily car bombings and IEDs? Or Darfur refugees adjust to rapes, raids and killings? I think not. I may have to accommodate to the limitations imposed by cancer, but I will never adjust to them as a "new normal."
Nor will I adjust to the way many of us are treated by the medical-pharmaceutical-insurance complex ... as distinct from our doctors and other medical professionals who are doing, in general, magnificently, inside a broken and dysfunctional system.

All the best to all of you

John Shippee, Atlanta, Georgia

Sent by John Shippee | 10:16 AM ET | 04-26-2007


Leroy,

It's wonderful to be a "name" because of the many ways you can use it for good. Demystifying cancer is a very good way to use your good name, in my opinion. I'm looking forward to seeing the program.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 11:06 AM ET | 04-26-2007

I know what you mean. I look at old pictures of me and I don't even know that guy. Not that it is so bad. He had nicer hair, but he was a bit clueless.

Sent by Brit | 11:08 AM ET | 04-26-2007

I cannot wait to see the program and I think the message that your blog and other media sends is simply hope. How amazing is it that the special will air when you are still with us. If you really stop to reflect on that, it is an extraordinary milestone. The community we have formed here is special and shows that in challenging circumstances that no one would choose, great things can blossom.

Sent by Andrea Clay, Information Specialist, Colon Cancer Alliance | 11:19 AM ET | 04-26-2007

Dear Leroy,
I had to chuckle when I read your blog entry this morning. When I
first got the call from Elissa about being on the program, my co-workers asked me when it would air. In my slightly macabre sense of humor, I said,
"Probably after Leroy and I are both dead." Given your prognosis and
mine, both, that was not too far from the expectations. And look at
the two of us now! I went to my oncologist last week and he basically
feels that if I can make it for the next three years, he will consider
me free and clear. This would put me in a very small minority.
Stephanie

Sent by Stephanie Dornbrook | 11:33 AM ET | 04-26-2007

Hi Leroy-- I took a look at the clips-- your ability to express your thoughts is an incredible gift.
Thanks for all that you have done to provide a format for those of us whose lives have been affected by cancer. Your blog, your radio and now television allows us to have the words to express our fears, frustration, challenges and yes-- the opportunity to grow in the face of cancer.
Unfortunately, I don't have cable television for the Sunday program. I note that the Discovery Channel does have some programs available on DVD. Would you please ask them to make your program available for purchase so that those of us without cable can watch the interview.

Sent by Jean | 11:46 AM ET | 04-26-2007

Leroy,
I remember Ted Koppel's announcement of your leaving Nightline, His admiration and affection were apparent: "...doesn't begin to match the size of his talent or his heart". I remember that iconic Nightline show, "The Fallen", which was as moving in its way as the Vietnam Memorial, and the courage it took to air that in the middle of the presidential campaign.I remember the recent Talk of the Nation program, and especially your deep voice, resounding laughter, and articulaion of this unwieldy reality of cancer.
Although I don't have cancer I follow this blog every morning because it affects me deeply "where the meanings are". It keeps me real and connected....and it is true.
John and I were your realtors years ago in Maryland. We have since moved to southwest WA...20 minutes from Portland.
You and this blog are important - life-changing to me.

Cathi

Sent by Cathi | 12:02 PM ET | 04-26-2007

No Death is Meaningless:

Americans throw away tons of "good" uneaten food every day because they would rather eat something else like a Big Mac, a milkshake, and fries. If your parents are too old for you to take care of them, no problem. Conveniently throw them into a nursing home or assisted living facility. If you bought an 11 miles per gallon Hummer and you want to "show it off" by breezing by other cars on the highway, just do it. Never mind that your gasoline bill will be outrageous!

I went to Europe last fall. Most people I saw there drove compact cars, walked, or biked to their place of employment, especially in the urban areas. Can you imagine a painting of fat American people riding their bikes to work on a freeway? How Salvador Dali is that?!!!!

Bottom line: Americans have become so desensitized to death that someone other than a family member or close friend isn't important. Once again, our present day "it's all about me" pop culture mentality has reared its ugly head. If someone suffered while experiencing cancer and eventually died? So what? I didn't know them personally. Wah!

So long as we have the right to bear arms with no gun control laws, that is the same, in my opinion, as the right to go around and shoot 32 innocent people and then be declared "insane" for doing it, whether you're dead or alive afterwards. Hostess Twinkie, anyone?

Sent by Larry Hamm | 12:53 PM ET | 04-26-2007

A few weeks ago there was a discussion about 'fighting cancer.' There was an open discussion about what words to use when cancer is in your life. There was one concern that if one is 'fighting' cancer and you die then you have lost. For me I prefer to say 'I am standing up to cancer.'Even when you stand up against something that is bigger or more powerful than you; yes, you can be beaten down, but your 'victory' is find not in whether you win or lose, but in the fact that you stood up to cancer. It is not about strength or weakness, but about moral courage. To stand for what is right and just; to stand up for yourself even if you're doing it from your knees. You can stand up to cancer even if you are flat on our back in bed. Like the character in the movie 'Cool Hand Luke' played by Paul Newman. There is the fight scene where a guy, a much bigger guy is beating the tar out of Luke,knocking Luke down time after time.There is no way he can win physically, but Luke wins because he continues to stand up. Refuse to stay down that is my mantra. Like Luke I have been knocked on my butt a couple of times, but I continue to stand up against cancer. I will go toe to toe, face top face with cancer refusing to yield. Eventually cancer will kill me but it will never defeat me.

Sent by John Reilly | 1:00 PM ET | 04-26-2007

my friend has had colon cancer stage 4 spread to lungs and liver. This was 5 years ago. She still has the liver and lung spots, but being on Avastin and 5FU (Xeloda) has stopped them from growing. She has been on both of these medications since her diagnosis. She works and does quite well. I have colon cancer stage 4 and it had spread to my liver and lymph nodes. I had the liver spot removed with clear margins, the nodes were removed-they were positive therefore I had 28 daily radiation treatments and am now on oral Xeloda (5fu)2 times a day for 14 days then off a week--then continued). I am doing pretty well on this. Minor side effects. Good luck to you!

Sent by sue | 4:13 PM ET | 04-26-2007

When I heard the words "The lab report came back and you have breast cancer", I tried to put my life on hold. Convinced that I had six months to live, I numbly went through the motions of keeping the doctor appointments and treatment appointments but emotionally I struggled trying to stop the march of time. I desperately wanted to pick up where I had left off before hearing the C-word. And then I began to notice that people around me didn't stop in their tracks. Life kept going and I remember the frustration I felt. I remember thinking to myself, "Will you people stop? I can't keep up with you." Finally, while talking with a very good friend, this friend had the audacity to say to me, "Well you know, Costco now sells coffins. You could get one at a good price." I stopped talking and started laughing hysterically and then decided to rejoin the process of life. Since then, I have come a long way and continue to learn with each day and with each situation. It's comforting to look back and see the progress.

Sent by Kathy B. | 4:30 PM ET | 04-26-2007

Dear Steve and all Friends,

I love this blog, thank you.
I've grown to care so much for you and all of you.
I'm, so far, a breast cancer survivor and my husband now has pancreatic cancer.

Leroy, your comment about looking and your feet and wondering about how and where they have taken you is so human and deeply affectionate. I've thought the same thing about my feet! How we have grown to care for you!! Please, be OK.
Warm Regards,
penny and don

Sent by penny and don | 8:50 PM ET | 04-26-2007

Well, wherever you go, there you are.

I'm looking forward to seeing the program. I have it on my calander. thank goodness I'll be on semester break, since I missed the your appearance on Talk of the Nation a few weeks ago.

Life. It's a lovely view from this side of the fence.

Sent by Teri Thomas | 10:23 PM ET | 04-26-2007

I have always said that things happen for a reason. My experiences, good and bad, have made me who I am. A lot had been learned from these experiences. I look at pictures of a younger, healthier me and realize that I like who I am now. There are days when I long to be the healthier me. I still have control over my body to be a healthier version of me.

Sent by Betty in Germany | 1:15 AM ET | 04-27-2007

hey, leroy....can't wait to see the discovery channel show next week. I did get a chance to preview the segments online...by the way..I blink alot too! godspeed!!

Sent by karen | 3:23 AM ET | 04-27-2007

Hi Leroy,

I hope your scan results are positive. Like you, I am going back to "cancer resister" mode. My next MRI is Monday. It will be the second since surgery ... therefore the first in which the presence or absence of new growth can be determined. It's followed very shortly by a visit to a Doc who can interpret it ... so no waiting by the phone. Grace (God's) strikes again.

I can't say that I'm very anxious. It may be a delusion, but my functioning remains stable and pretty good, which I understand is grounds for optimism. I have no idea what my emotional response will be if the news is good, bad or ambiguous.

Anyway, it's good to have this group available. I am learning a lot. I wonder if we and other cancer survivors (or whatever we are) don't know a few things that it would be good to spread more widely around the general population. There are certainly enough of us.

Thanks again,

You are all in my thoughts and prayers.

John Shippee, Atlanta Georgia

Sent by John Shippee | 10:35 AM ET | 04-27-2007

Leroy ~ all I can say is that having met you in person at the NPR studio a few weeks ago, it must be true that TV makes you look heavier. (Or it could be that through your whole ordeal, you have lost weight.) But you look much thinner now and in person.

I am a Stage III ovarian cancer patient with three surgeries behind me and two regiments of chemo and a reccurence staring me in the face. I just went through the waiting for the SCAN results ordeal and yes, there is disease and yes, it is progressing. I've started on a clinical trial at Johns Hopkins on a new drug that has shown promise with other cancers. I pray to God it works for me.

At NPR that day I met a man who told me about a website called ACOR where people with specific cancers can discuss issues. I've been having trouble accessing it. Does anyone else visit there?

I read and see with envy people with my stage and type of cancer who are still alive after many years. I'm very happy for them but can't help but be jealous.

Sent by Geneva | 10:20 PM ET | 04-28-2007

Hi Leroy,

A coworker came in today and asked me if I listen to NPR. I told hime that I havent for awhile and he then informed me about your on going blog and updates about your cancer fight. I am 38 years old and was told last week that my colon cancer I fought with last year has spread to my lungs. Of course there is the obligatory mentioning of the mortality statistics this news requires now that my stage 3 cancer has now upgraded to a stage 4. I am still in shock and in denial, angry, you know; all the normal feelings. It was very encouraging to read your blogs and also the replys from other "cancer fighters". Keep up the good work and thanks for the positive spin on such a negative subject. My take on it is that we are all going to the same place when we die, some are just going to get there a little sooner than others. I'll save you a seat if I get there first and we can catch up on things. I'll be the one wearing the "no fear' t-shirt and sipping the Mai Tai......Take care and God Bless.

Sent by Jeff Young | 7:28 PM ET | 05-04-2007

Dear Leroy,
Being a very young listener of NPR (15 yrs), I had heard of your documentary. When I discovered this, I was sure to make sure I would watch it. So I set the date in my memory bank; and here I am, in front of the tv, writing to you. So far, your documentary is so interesting and helpful to me. My grandmother has breast cancer. Even though the cancer is in its very early stages it still scared me terribally. My grandmother chose to go through with surgery and then eventually radiation. Watching this documentary, it gives me hope, but then it gives me the sense of what my grandmother is/will go through. If her cancer worsens or comes back, now I will be able to understand what she is going to go through and what to expect. It will be hard for her, but also hard for me, her friends and family.
Thank you Mr.Sievers, and I wish you the best of luck

Sincerly,

Chelsea Reidies

Sent by Chelsea Reidies | 9:53 PM ET | 05-06-2007

Hello LeRoy & NPR
Only got to watch part of the Discovery presentation last evening. My question is: Can you tell me what hospital you went to for the Radio Frequency and is it available for other cancers and cancer survivors? And, in California? I really enjoyed the first part of the presentation and am sorry that I missed the last portion. Will it be aired again and if so soon? Thank You, Dori

Sent by Dori Guerreiro | 11:46 AM ET | 05-07-2007

I hate to take away your trip to the bakery, but perhaps you should look into the connection between wheat and cancer -- celiac disease. In Italy, land of pasta and great bread, doctors found a connection between gluten and cancer. They know the vast majority of people who are allergic to wheat actually crave it (I did until I got it out of my system). My father and all of his brothers died very young of cancer and I consider it public enemy number one. With great admiration and warmest wishes for your recovery,

Sent by Jan Seagrave | 8:19 PM ET | 05-09-2007

Leroy, I saw Ted Koppel's program and as a cancer survivor I thought it was great. I would really like to see it again. Do you know if it will be aired again anytime soon? Good Health, Grace

Sent by Grace King | 8:36 PM ET | 05-10-2007

I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer January 21st, 2005. 2 rounds of chemo, 33 radiation treatments, and 8 surgeries later, I am trying to move forward. While I understand the front end of cancer research; I have NO understanding of the "new life with cancer" end. This country is spending so much to save people, but then, people like me are left facing the worst. I am a single parent, and have managed restaurants most of my life. I can no longer do the hours, or the memory part of that profession. So now what? I think a lot of 40 and over, might just sit and collect disability. My point . . . We save lives, but now we are putting people on the government payroll for the rest of their lives. It seems to me there should be a protocol for long term illness, that evaluates a person coming out of ANY chronic disease of illness, and then if need be they pay for needed training or schooling to get each person back to work and off the government payroll. I just don't get it. How to we keep pumping the money into saving lives, but then sitting them outside on the porch to watch life pass by. I hate not working but, I can't even pay all my doctor bills, let alone, pay for an education for a new career path. Does this make sense to anyone? I hear from doctors, to check here or there for funding, but it shouldn't be this way. We are saving FAR too many lives each year to not have a system in place for those who need it, to become productive memebers of society again

Sent by Annette Bailey | 6:54 PM ET | 05-12-2007



   
   
   
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Leroy Sievers

Leroy Sievers

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Leroy Sievers in the Ted Koppel Documentary

A Ted Koppel documentary focuses on his friend Leroy Sievers' "My Cancer" blog and the response it evokes.

 
 
 

About 'My Cancer'

A journalist for more than 25 years, Leroy Sievers worked at CBS News, the Discovery Channel, and ABC News, where he was the executive producer of Nightline. He wrote this blog daily until his death in August.

 
 

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