Sorry that the vacation and its respite are coming to an end. Recharging the mind, body and spirit is always good whether or not it is at a vacation spot. Glad your spot was Hawaii.

Thank you for continuing your blog from there. I hope that you have drawn strength from all of the posts to know what a difference you are making in people's lives. Not many people get a chance or choose to make such a difference.

You are our Pied Piper! Continue to lead and we will follow!! Have a safe trip home. Continued prayers and blessings to you and yours!

Sent by Al Cato | 7:28 AM ET | 05-18-2007

So very happy for you that you were able to have this vacation and enjoy it. I think we all enjoyed it with you. Thank you again for writing while you were on "vacation". I am about to start a new job working 8 hrs./day and continuing to see a home care patient. I am scared that I will not have the stamina to do a good job. Once I get through the first two weeks of training, I should be fine. I will have a "normal schedule" and a life that is more like other people outside cancer world. I'm not feeling sorry for myself as there are others a lot worse off than me and I am happy about this job - just a little scared. Can I do it? I'm different now! My husband doesn't understand my fears at all. I still hurt from my scars, am facing another cat scan in June and have a mediport in me that's why I am still scared. THanks for listening.

Sent by Vicki (FL) | 7:37 AM ET | 05-18-2007

I'm so glad that you had a good trip. Bring back a little sand, some ocean water a shell and maybe an umbrella from a mixed drink. That way, you'll always have a little bit of Hawaii with you wherever you are and that's so important now, isn't it?

Sent by Heidi | 7:53 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Wow! You have hit it on the head here! the window into your pre-cancer life-it's great to see it/feel it and embrace it. those fleeting moments that sustain you and your family. the best gift is the moments of a memory come to life. my husband has stage IV colon cancer too. we took our children(adult college) with us on a holiday cruise and truely "had the best time". It was a small ship and so we got to know the rest of the folks and crew -it was great because cancer wasn't part of our story. it was time to be together-have fun and make memories. My husband had another surgery in feb and is now mending-but those pictures/stories memories are the best medicine and sustinence when the news isn't good or we are tired or frightened. thank you for your story Leroy-it helps so much.

Sent by Robbie Cripe | 7:57 AM ET | 05-18-2007

leroy, you have a way of putting a smile on my face! thanks for sharing.!

Sent by marianne dalton | 8:17 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Man the time limit thing, that is a bummer, of all the things you have to deal with for cancer treatment that is the one factor that looms over everything else. Why keep doing this to yourself (chemo?) Because it gives me longer to live. It gives me a tool to fight the beast.

I have stage 4 colon cancer. Doc said I wouldn't make it past this past January. So I went to the New Orleans Saints/Chicago Bears playoff game. I thought, well, this will be an historic game for our team (I'm from New Orleans). I came back with no frostbite and a renewed sense to fight. Now the doc says August. I am beginning to enjoy the deadlines, I like beating them.

Still, some days you have real philosophical thoughts or discussions about your limited time on the planet. People tell me "you never know" and "you could be hit by a bus tomorrow, anyone could". I hear that bus analogy a lot. Where are all these rampaging buses located? Apparently there is a derelict fleet of buses running over people all the time somewhere....

So some days I think about the things I may miss, birthdays and weddings and other life celebrations. Other days I wonder if I am going to outlive my cell phone plan.

All I know is that doc said August. I will beat those odds. Preseason NFL football starts in August, hurricane season is in full force, there is just too much excitement to give up the fight now.

ok- keep up the good work. I like the blog, very good pace and well-written. Good luck in your fight.

Sent by Brian Bordelon | 8:40 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Hi Leroy,
I enjoy reading you whenever there is a posting on your site. It is interesting to be able to share your life as you go through this life changing condition. My life hasn't been the easiest being married to someone trying to keep seisures under control.

Anyway, just wanted to drop a line to ask you to take in the Hawaiian air for me here in Texas. I grew up on Oahu and move to Texas in 1992 and haven't had a chance to get back yet. I wish I were there, just long enough to take in the sights, sounds and smells of home . . . and remember. Then, like you, come home, my new home, again, refreshed. Thanks for sharing your life.

Sent by Geary | 8:43 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy, So glad you made it to Hawaii. Our 34-year old son loves to travel but hasn't since being diagnosed with melanoma almost a year ago. He was plannng a safari but that went out the window. He did go with my husband/his father to Las Vegas for a Nascar event - first time they have ever done that. Now he is undergoing radiation. He doesn't share thoughts about loneliness and/or fear. Imagine he just wants to live. I can understand your wanting to continue the blog on your vacation. This connection to people is wonderful. Thanks so much for your blog.

Sent by Maureen Patton | 8:45 AM ET | 05-18-2007

LeRoy, It sounds like you had a wonderful trip! I too am taking a trip and am hopeful it will have a similar effect on me that yours did on you. I'm not going to Hawaii, I'm going to the Buffalo River as I love to fish and camp and just plain relax and try to forget, even for a while, that I have cancer.

Sent by Tom DuBois | 8:53 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy

You do indeed sound a bit more relaxed and rejuvinated and that is a GOOD thing! Who the hell cares about a couple extra pounds! :-)

It is true you never "completely stop thinking about your cancer"... and as a 32 year survivor I can attest to that.. but it also gets to a point where it does not consume your thoughts! It would seem you have had just a bit of that these past couple of weeks.

My cancer has always been in the back of my mind. I will admit early on (like for the first 10 years or so)... I was not so much affraid of dying... I was affraid of having to go back through treatments!

I truly believed for many many years I could NOT go through that ever again... but have since come to realize.. we do what we have to do and I would get through it again if I HAD to do so....

For many years and still today, I rather believe I will indeed die from cancer one day... there was even a time in my life when I did not pay too much attention to "taking care of myself as I knew I was going to die from cancer anyway"... I now know better than to think or do such things and pay better attention to my physical body etc...

I am very glad you have enjoyed your time away!!

I will also agree.. that is one VERRRRY LONG flight!! I will be making it early next year as my son graduates from college there!! :-)

Have a SAFE trip home Leroy!!

Sent by Ronald K. Bye | 9:00 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Thank God for moments.....some say you can never go back. Ha. Apparently they have never taken a moment away from the medical frenzy of cancer. Sometimes I can recapture a "BC" moment just sitting in my front yard's swing, eyes closed, soaking in the sounds, the smells, the feeling of Florida's sun.....I am thrilled you were able to go back in time, Leroy. Here's to moments...have a safe flight home.

Sent by Kay | 9:45 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Dear Leroy, have a safe trip home. So very happy that you had a great time in Hawaii. Thank you for taking the time while on vacation to share your thoughts and remain in our hearts. Love, Sasha and Hubby. Welcome home!

Sent by sasha | 9:50 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy,

Glad you came down with a case of polynesian paralysis. What a great place to just sit and do nothing while the waves roll in. Our next visit to the islands is in January. Can't wait! Safe trip home, buddy.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 10:03 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Glad for your two weeks of polynesian paralysis. Glad you could give the cancer thing a rest. Hope you aren't required to pay much attention to it for a very long time. Safe trip back!

Sent by Diana Kitch | 10:05 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Sounds like you got just what you needed, when you needed it. Recharging the batteries is so very important.

Sent by Brit | 10:21 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy~ don't you hate the end of a vacation? I always do, back to reality. But hopefully you are energized and ready for anything that comes your way. Hope you took lots of good photos. Have a safe trip home!

Sent by DiAnn | 10:22 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy, I am happy that you got to take a vacation from your cancer. I am actually envious for those of us in the cancer club always have those wishes..the wish to get away, the wish for a good ct scan and the wish that you were not a part of the cancer club. While you have been on vacation, I have learned that my cancer has become unresponsive to the current chemo and it will be changed up and I will go back on CHOP plus Rituxan. The news came at a time when my daughter is graduating from lawschool this weekend and has begun studying for the BAR. So I have kept my news hidden inside to protect the happiness of her life and not distract her. If only my wish that my news came at a different time had been granted. If only I was not a member of the cancer club.....

Sent by Miriam | 11:43 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Dear Leroy,

I also 'adore' Hawaii & I could live there. I'm sure you have friends who do live there. Truly Paradise. I love Oahu - things to do - AND the North Shore. As I mentioned the other day, I had a free trip & bot a ticket for my son (throat cancer w/great results @ U of Chgo), but at the time he didn't want to go. I thought he might as well recoup there, but I made the mistake of being too optimistic w/one month planned. When he didn't go, I felt I could not either. Anytime you want a companion w/you/family - I simply would simply love having a drink or dinner w/you - probably along w/a friend who lived there for 10 yrs. & also is hell bent on getting there again.

Much good luck to you.

Joan P

Sent by Joan | 12:24 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy,

I imagine you are going through an incredible decompression right now. Plus, the flight East is always harder than the flight West. Returning to the sameness of the house, friends and mundane tasks is going to be difficult. Over the last months you have created a hydra whose ending was once inevitable but now has taken on a life of its own. While I thank you deeply for that, I'm wondering, as I'm pretty sure you are, what's next?

The blog has taken on an intensely personal nature for many, by virtue of your willingness to expose yourself. Resulting posts have changed, on both sides, as many cancer patients and caregivers have found this a safe place to come. Ted Koppel added to that change with your shared, wonderful documentary. You are now something you never started out to be. Of course, you never started out to be a cancer patient, either. If it all ended now with an NPR announcement "Leroy is in remission, has concluded his Hawaiian vacation and has returned to normal life . Thank you for your contributions.", just where would we all be?

I hope that announcement never comes, but I'm not stupid, either. And I wonder, now that chemo and radiation and RFA are over, what comes next. I'm betting that you are thinking that too. We all got here with the drama (and all news is drama or we wouldn't turn on the set) and the remaining drama is in what you will return to.

It's about the brave people, like you, who showed up here and on the documentary, exposing thier guts for the nation to see. It's in the quiet individuals like anonymous who wonders if she can ever just choose a headstone with her husband; like Sherri Eggelston and her daughters who kept dad's shirt because it smelled like him; like Jolyn who wrote to say that, for the first time since diagnosis, she could cry.

I retrospect, I suppose we will call it, "a career changing moment". Leroy has left the horrors of Afghanistan and Iraq, has bravely endured the horrors of cancer and is now safe at home writing a blog for NPR on living with cancer. Truth is, you have yet to leave the killing fields.

Michael Lewis
Seattle

Sent by Michael Lewis | 1:05 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Hi Leroy, So glad your vacation was all you hoped for. The getting away part, I wish we really could do that, get away from this cancer. One way that I dupe myself into that is to keep incredibly busy, but then I am slammed back into reality when I can 't do all I want because of the cancer. Fatigue is probably my biggest enemy. It is invisible and it is not like standard fatigue. Everyone says they are tired, but cancer tired is qualitatively different. I often feel like my plug was pulled out. I haven't figured out the knack of vacations, I have tried to do a couple of spa vacations, and enjoy them for the first few days, but then the anxiety sets in, how can I handle it when I get back, blah, blah, blah, a similiar feeling to when I was in elementary school and watching the Jerry Lewish telethon, knowing that the next day we had to go to school. I loved school, but always had this sense of dread that I couldn't handle it, I would have forgotten everything over the summer. Leroy, your trip to Hawaii gives me a good insight, I can take the cancer with me and still get away from it all. Safe travels, Estelle

Sent by Estelle | 1:25 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy, It always ends too soon. The whales should stay longer, the water should stay warmer, and the greens should stay softer, not that I can play golf at this point. Hawaii is such a healing place, glad you made the trip. Wish you could stay longer, what's waiting on the East Coast will be no fun at all. It is, however, what we must do. Fighting is the only option, the Bears fan may see another playoff game, or wedding, birthday, etc. You fight for your family and friends, and of course yourself, after all none of us wants to leave. So glad you had a good time, outside of this world for a little while. Best of luck with "the rest of the story". Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 1:26 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Last Friday, I spent the day at an amusement park riding roller coasters. I know that it isn't everyone's idea of fun, but I have always loved the thrill of the speed, and the rush from being upside down (yes, I particularly like the ones that go in loops). It was a pleasant surprise at the end of the day when I realized I had barely thought about my cancer at all. It wasn't for very long, but like you said today, Leroy, it sure was nice to have a quick peek at life BC.

Sent by Gretchen Hoag | 2:25 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Brian Bordelon - your post absolutely cracked me up. I love the bus analogy. I was laughing sitting here at my office reading your post. I usually cry more than I laugh when I read these. You seem to have a great sense of humor. I hope to read more of your posts on here in the future.

Tess from KY - you made my day! Now I know for sure that I have at least been able to help one person. I swear I would write every day from now until eternity if I knew that eventually it would help one person. I owe it. Hopefully I will never stop paying back.

When I read these posts it makes me feel very fortunate. I know so many of you guys are in such pain and all the news seems to be bad. But know that there is hope. I was the most scared person in the world entering my battle. I thought that my life would never again be worth living. I was 100% wrong. I am healthy (at least right now) and can do anything I want (except scuba dive...not really a problem). It can happen to you. Try not to give up hope. I don't know if I'm a miracle or just the result of medical science or just good luck. Just know that the ending isn't always with the bad guy winning.

Sent by Dave U. | 4:42 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Sorry your vacation is ending Leroy and thank you for keeping up with all of us here while on vacation.

Estelle - you described that fatigue perfectly - about the plug being pulled.

Today my husband went with me to take our 5 year old grandson for a Dr ckup - we did a few errands but had one more stop we had planned on making and I said "I just can't - I'm gone." I know he doesn't understand and I sense his impatience over things like that, but to his credit, he didn't make any comments - just drove me home. So then I planned on napping, but I couldn't until I checked the blog!!

Sent by Vicky (NY) | 4:52 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy, I have read all your blogs and watched the TV special. I had lung cancer and surgery last June 16, 1/3 of my left lung was remove, small cell-non-smokers' cancer. I did my chemo, last one 10/6/06, had an x-ray in Feb. of '07 and things "looked' good. Went for my first cat scan this past Thrusday,ysterday, went to my wonderful oncologist today...
news not what we expected. Three small spots on the right lung. Very small at this time. I will go back to my lung specialist next Friday to see what he thinks or what we can do now. I am feeling great and work part time a couple of days a week and will be going to Poland on June 11. The doc says go and live your life as before today. Enjoy it! He can't say that my cancer is back until they biopsy. I am a believer in Jesus Christ and I feel very forunate that it has been caught at this early stage. So, I am gald you have enjoyed your vacation and that you rode the roller coaster and I love them!
Thank you for sharing your thoughts, they are the same as many of us. I received a letter the other day to "Cancer Surviors" to attend a special event on June 3, but I may have to wait to see if I qualify. Again, thank you!!! Pat

Sent by Pat Meyer | 8:08 PM ET | 05-18-2007

I followed this story with interest when it broke a few weeks ago, but this is my first opportunity to respond. My sister died of ALS in October, but upon her diagnosis decided to use her time as a gift and in a courageous manner embarked on a great exploration. One extraordinary result of this was the ultimate creation of a website openly discussing living and dying. It is uplifting, humorous and blatantly truthful; a collaborative effort. For those who care to explore living and dying where no one has gone before try: www.consciousliving-leaving.com

Sent by Janet Kouzel | 8:31 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Hi, Leroy. I'm a new admirer and blog reader. I met you via Ted Koppel's show, which I taped, fortunately. While I'm reallllly hoping (after chemo, radiation, a huge surgery, 26 more days in the hospital for complications from infection and now, currently, more chemo) that I continue to get clean CTs and can say in 10 years that I'm truly "cured," I'm also a realist. So, it comforts me to know that I have the tape and can watch it any time I need inspiration. I do so admire your putting yourself out there for those of us who are all alone. I could tell by watching that you weren't very comfortable being in the spotlight, but you did it anyway -- because it was the right thing to do.

And now I get a daily email note from you! Thank you for that, too. I'm so glad you had such a relaxing good time on your vacation. Reading about the mai tais and the tan made me smile.

If you read this and wouldn't mind telling me, I was wondering why they didn't do surgery for your lung tumor. Was it because you'd been on chemo so so long and your body was too weak? After having had the full monty procedure, I would urge anyone with a lung tumor to do everything in his/her power to avoid it.

Thanks again for your time and your caring.

Julie

Sent by Julie Chandler | 8:43 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy,

I am grateful that you are in good enough health to have been able to go to Hawaii for this vacation. You were meant to be there. It is so nice that you chose to bring us along with you in heart.

Sent by Beth | 8:51 PM ET | 05-18-2007

I lost my 87 year old grandmother today to cancer. I, personally, have been affected many different times from this disease. At the age of 29, I have lost several important people in my life to cancer and I do have to say it never does get easier. I may have found different ways to handle the losses and sadness, but easier is not something that comes to mind. My grandmother was a person who lived her life to the fullest, pretty much until the end. I only hope I can be half as strong as her someday. I come to this site faithfully because your words are comforting and your advice is wise. I come to you and everyone here for support and positivity and for so many other reasons. SO, I just wanted to say thank you to you, Leroy, and to everyone here, for helping me through this a hard time in my life. All the best.

Keep on keeping on :)

Sent by Katey | 11:33 PM ET | 05-18-2007

This is another response to our friend whose husband couldn't talk about her cancer. When my husband got cancer we learned so many amazing things. One of them was that people who love us often have surprising reactions. Some people who dearly loved him were frozen with fear. A few people avoided him and were unable to face the changes they saw and their fears of losing him. We tried to remember that it was their affection and fear, not a lack of caring, that paralyzed them. We could not have predicted before his illness which people in our lives would react this way. I know that they suffered with guilt for feeling like they deserted us. It hurt, but we forgave them for their inability to face their fears. We understood fear. There were so many who did come through for us that we never felt alone.
I hope that your husband finds a way to deal with your challenges and that you find strength from others in your life. My heart goes out to you. I know that he's the one you need, but remember that there are people here who understand and are ready to hear whatever you need to say.

Sent by Laura | 12:24 AM ET | 05-19-2007

Leroy,
Thank you for allowign me to come on this trip with you. I'm a colo-rectal cancer patient, dx'ed at age 34. I'm 40 now, and some days, I am still scared to death. My parents both died of cancer,(mom of breast, dad of colon)
My Mom made it to 6 years past diagnosis,, then it metastisized to her brain & bone.
Well, I am 6 years out.. and I havent been to an oncologist, or gastro , or anyone in 2 years. I can't bring myself to go. ( even though I feel like crud)
I had to laugh when you wrote about if you could live on the island.. I moved to Florida 2 years ago.. thinking of paradise, warm sand, and all that.
We got here.. year one was pretty good. Then my husband lost his job( he is a carpenter, and the buildign market tanked here!)Now we're losing our home to bankruptcy, so Paradise it isn't. I can't even afford health insurance.
I DREAM of being able to take a trip somewhere, ANYWHERE where I can just NOT have to think about my cancer for a few days.
You know, my biggest fear isn't that my cancer might of returned.. it's that I'll again have to endure the TORTURE of people telling me to be strong, be brave, be a fighter! When all I want is to scream "I AM AFRIAD TO DIE, AFRAID TO LEAVE MY HUSBAND AND CHILDREN HERE ON EARTH WITHOUT ME WITH THEM,I'M AFRAID IT'S SPREAD,i'M NOT BRAVE.. I'M ONLY 40..I WISH SOMEONE WOULD JUST ONCE SAY TO ME THAT THEY ARE LISTENING, THAT THEY KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE" ... sorry.. it's still after all these years, so new and raw, and all consuming. NOTHING... in my life is the same. I go thru the motions.. but its all different.
Nobody, unless they are a cancer patient/survivor/whatever you want to call yourself..knows what it is like to have cancer.
I wish I was sitting in Hawaii, watching that sunrise with you. Not only because i really need a vacation, but because you know exactly what I mean.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart, for continuing to write.

Sent by Patiann Brissette-Feeley | 12:33 AM ET | 05-19-2007

Hello Leroy and to everyone
I'm new to site I received my life altering news about 7 weeks ago.Since I've had surgery for tonsil cancer lost part of tongue and 24 lymphnodes 2 full of cancer.Now they say radiation and a drug called erbitux are in order,just would like to hear from anyone who has had this combo.Yes,I'm scared but reading this blog I don't feel as alone my wife is at my side but I'm trying not to over load her.I can see the fear in her eyes even though she is acting like my rock we are closer now than we have been in sometime.It's all just moving so fast.And good for you and the the time to reflect.....anyway thanks for the ear.

Sent by Robert | 12:46 AM ET | 05-19-2007

Leroy,

I am glad you enjoyed your vacation. It sounds like you also were able to do what you love in a beautiful place. When we go camping I take my sewing machine. I love to sew.

It is good that we do things other than think about our cancers. We were put here for a purpose after all. I do not think that it was to think about our cancer all the time.

Sent by Betty in Germany | 6:07 AM ET | 05-19-2007

Glad you had a great trip. I'm about to have one too - to Pennsylvania, where I met my husband. We are now officially grandparents to a baby girl. I always wanted grandchildren, but not children - so I got my wish! I can't get a tan there, but I'll have my good ole' Southern Comfort at the family's house. Stay well and happy!

Sent by Tammy | 8:38 AM ET | 05-19-2007

Leroy, Hawaii has sounded wonderful and I'm so glad you were able to get back some of that 'vacation' sensation.
When I was diagnosed (Stage IV rectal cancer), my oncologist was very cooperative about making sure that I was able to reschedule treatments to do the things I really wanted to do--present at a conference, travel with my friends on our annual camping vacation at a dog show, compete in the state fair. The expectation was that I wouldn't be around to do those things for much longer, so I should take the opportunities that came my way as long as I was strong enough.

Moments from that first Wine Country dog show 'vacation' in 2004, about five months after I'd started chemo, came back to me as I read your blog today. I'd had two small hemorrhagic strokes that year near Labor Day (from the blood thinner I was taking for my chemo port) and had missed a couple of treatments. Because of the strokes, I's been rejected as a possible surgical candidate, so even though it looked like the chemo was reducing my tumors, it didn't look like I would be able to have surgery--the next stage of treatment. Without surgery, things were looking pretty finite--I couldn't take much more chemo.

My friends, the women I've trained dogs with for more than 20 years, knew that this trip might be our last one together. Wine Country weekend in central NY--usually from Sept. 28 - Oct. 2--can be a gorgeous Indian summer experience. But when it's not, we can have snow, or monsoons, or both. That year was Indian summer...six sunny days with brilliant blue skies, nights with just enough chill to appreciate the roaring campfire. Good friends, good food, good conversations--it was a perfect vacation and a step, for a minute, out of cancer world.

There were meltdown moments, too--one night by the fire I got too chilled, and my friends had to cover me with sleeping bags, crawl under the blankets and hold me to get me warmed up enough to stop shaking. The seriousness of that moment took us all to tears, and back, as we realized how fragile I was, how dangerous it could be for me to step outside the safeguards and precautions of cancer world, even for a weekend.

I was too weak to show my dogs, so I hung out at the campsite by the lake--a vacation at a dog show, surrounded by my old friends. I met the people with whom I eventually placed my young gordon setter. I knew that he'd outlive me, and that placing him with Bruce and Monica was the right thing to do for all of us. I touched base with people I hadn't seen in months, people who'd just heard that I was sick. I even was able to see people who hadn't spoken to me in awhile--realizing that maybe there wouldn't be another chance.

As we cleaned up camp on the gorgeous Monday afternoon after the show, I hugged my friends and my dogs and sat looking out across Seneca Lake, realizing that whatever was ahead, I had enjoyed another series of beautiful moments and I could go forward. And I did...further forward than anyone expected I'd be able to go.

Since that 'last' camping weekend, my friends and I have enjoyed two more Wine Country dog show camping weekends. I am strong enough to show my dogs again--I am even sharing a new dog, and this fall I will show her at Wine Country. We now call the trip the "Pat Memorial Wine Country Weekend" and joke that I will never die as long as they've already created a memorial camping trip in my honor.

Of course, I know that just because I've been NED for a year (remission) doesn't mean that my cancer won't come back. Like you, I'm in a good news period; more chemo and liver resection removed the visible evidence of cancer from my body. But I know the cancer can still crop up at any time, and that the treatment resources I will have for the next go-round may be limited by what I've already experienced.

On the other hand, my personal resources have been enriched by the vacation moments, by knowing that I have a 'memorial' camping trip coming up that I don't want to miss.

In fact, I'd better reserve our favorite RV for that last weekend of September before someone else gets it!

By the time you read this, Leroy, you will have arrived home safely. So ease back into the real world, and savor the vacation moments whenever you can.

Sent by Pat | 9:31 AM ET | 05-19-2007

I chuckled out loud when I read Bruce's comment about the rampaging buses..what an image! When I told my sister of my stage 4 diagnosis, she said 'well, we're all going to die sometime'- I don't think she mentioned the buses, but the comment was dismissive and unfeeling nevertheless.
Leroy, as our 'pied piper', maybe there will be a rush on tickets to Hawaii (hopefully, the buses there have safe drivers)...thank you for your blog. It gives words to my thoughts and created quite the community. I feel I know the 'regulars'.
Welcome home.

Sent by em | 10:22 AM ET | 05-19-2007

Good Day Leroy. I am sorry your vacation is over as I was vicariously sitting there on a balcony looking out to the sea! I am glad, though, that you wrote to us each day. Life doesn't go back to the way it was BC, before cancer, does it? Nothing else has caused me to rebuild myself from the ground up as I have, to sift for the little gold bits among all the dirt of my ideas and values. Nothing else had succeeded in causing me to live with integrity, and to feel how very deep and eternal the Here and Now is. I stopped eating meat and wearing leather as I love animals - integrity. I could no longer live in a cubicle: I think of them as pens, or stalls in a stable. I'd rather be free and poor than well fed and in a cage. Even having no hair was a metaphor for what I was going through. "Pick a new name for yourself," Bernie Siegel said. It's really a kind of rebirth. Painful, traumatic, from a world of protected ideas and nonsensical magical thinking that I had any kind of control to the real world, alive and awake. Finally!

Sent by Alycia Keating | 10:33 AM ET | 05-19-2007

Leroy,

Ahhhh, back to reality. I am intrigued by your thought of "my old life". Maybe I am naive, but I never could buy into it, at least for me. Maybe it's because I'm a NED, for now. Maybe it's because looking backward has never been a fruitful thing for me to do (when I do, I wind up tripping over something).

Here where the naivete comes in. I would like to think my cancer may have made me a better person. Not that I was ever a bad person, but I think I was careless and bit self-centered. Ok, a lot self-centered. Cancer did not transorm me into St. Teresa, but I think, I hope I paid enough attention to learn something along the way. Sometimes I think I learned to communicate more effectively, knowing I need to make every word count more. I hope I am more careful with people. Not always, but I think I do a better job at it that I did before. I don't know. I do indeed hope I am living in the moment, realizing each one is a gift.

To Dr. Tejura,

Could you let me know where you settle to practice? I am currently a radiologic technology student graduating next August with plans to enter the radiation therapy program at Washburn immediately afterward. I should complete their program by August, 2009. So on August 9th, 2009, I'll be 50 and looking for a job. I'd love to work with you. I've enjoyed your candor and intense desire to treat the whole patient and not just their pathology. In an enviornment your actions inspire is where I want to be. You can contact me at teri.thomas@mercycollege.edu.

Sent by Teri Thomas | 11:22 AM ET | 05-19-2007

Hello Leroy,

I have been reading your blog the last 10 minutes or so. I have lost relatives to cancer over the years but most passed away quickly because doctors and scientists did not have some of the options we have today.

Cancer has never hit me close to home like it's doing now. I learned late last year that my ex boyfriend had been diagnosed with cancer of the liver. I remember sometime in the fall waking up in the middle of the night and knowing something was wrong with him and I hadn't spoken to him in 3 months. So I called him. It took several weeks before his family finally told me he was in the hospital. I mailed a card to his house and waited for him to contact me. In February he finally talked to me and said he was about to undergo another round of chemo and that if things worked out ok, he'd like to see me. A couple of days ago he showed up at my door. He was about 40 pounds lighter but still very beautiful to me. When I hugged him I didn't realize how much I had missed him. We talked the afternoon away and had breakfast together the following day. He was fairly open about how he is coping with the disease and he told me that he was scared. I did little talking and much listening. He hasn't called since then. I want to hear his voice and know how he's doing but at the same time I don't want to put pressure on him in anyway.

Your blog has given me lots of insight and has showed me the daily struggles and thoughts of a person living with cancer.

I will wait for my guy to call because that's all I can do. I will hope that we can go back in time to rekindle the romance that should have never ended. I will hope that cancer has not robbed his esteem so much that he's embarrassed to come around me. I will hope that his next round of chemo will eradicate his tumor permanently. I will hope. Yes, I will hope.

Sent by Gloria Lovett | 2:21 PM ET | 05-19-2007

I love all your columns Leroy. But I love this one the best. Sweeter mai tais, moments of peace,a smile on your face. I am happy for your moments.

Spent the last four months since my diagnois January 16, stage four lung cancer, never smoked or been around a smoker, avid outdoor person, young, reading all this. I head into round six of chemo Monday. Taxol, Carboplatnim, Avastin and Tarceva.

I hate this new world.

I loved Michael Lewis's from Seattle's post. Nice writing!

I am in Seattle too. Swedish Cancer Institute rocks!

Joan McD.

Sent by Joan McDade | 3:25 PM ET | 05-19-2007

I am so glad you went to Hawaii, I think the one thing cancer teaches us that to live in the moment, take nothing for granted and try to do the things you long too..I am 5 years out from my breat cancer in 2001,chemo, radiation and some clinical trial drugs has got me cancer free so far... but as you say Leroy..we are all looking for the other shoe to drop. I read your blogs and they remind me to live life to the fullest... thank you for that.. take care..

Sent by Dana Porter | 3:40 PM ET | 05-19-2007

It is wonderful that you took "the break" I think some people won't even allow that. I mean it all goes along with the denial part for some people. I have wanted for the past two and a half years to take my daughters to Disney World (of course not something a single mom with cancer can't do) it just kept hitting me as something they would always remember. I had left my 40-60 percent chance of five year survival with the thought of needing a last vacation. Until yesterday; after a week of my oncologist, radiologist and my friends telling me I look amazing. I got up with what felt like menstrual cramps. I quickly dismissed them, as I had brought them up a few months ago and my oncologist said not to worry I had 0 estrogen. Well, I was convinced it was nothing, until I turned to see that I was bleeding. I began to scream and pace my entire house. Once I could speak I called my oncologist. After three hours of tests at the hospital, I will have a biopsy for Uterine Cancer Tuesday. If no cancer they will still do the Hysterectomy as I have three tumors in my Uterus. I HATE this part of the disease. It is SOOO invisible. You listen to people tell you not to worry and just when you really convince yourself that maybe everyone is right, you get the worst slap of all! Thinking you have a good chance of winning is hard to do at stage IIIB Breast Cancer, but finding out on the Friday of your daughter's 11th Birthday has left me tortured. I hate the waiting, I hate the surgeries, I hate not being able to be the mom my kids need. And now I hate that I can't take all of us to Disney World! I apologize to everyone who was diagnosed at stage 4, but somehow I think (for me at least) I would rather have known it would come back

Sent by Annette Bailey | 6:56 PM ET | 05-19-2007

Its Ellen and I've been posting about my friend with lung cancer. It never occurred to me until today when she and I were talking that she's got more similarities to you then just cancer: she was a classical music announcer for the local npr station and is beloved in the community via the soundwaves. Its amazing how the disease can bring people together. The whole town is pulling for her.

Sent by Ellen | 9:20 PM ET | 05-19-2007

Simply put...thank you and thank you all for saying so many tnings I think about. I suppose we all feel alone or isolate somewhat...cancer does that to the others. I find people just don't know what to say to me anymore. They didn't know what to say to me when my husband died of brain cancer rather young and they don't know what to say or do for me now...so they really just stay away. I really like to hear how everyone copes because all I know to do is to act "normal". But I'm not at least not the same anymore. My brain doesn't allow me to think about this cancer I can't shake off but my body lets me know everyday and I do resent it, a lot. Some it's really important to me to hear about your vacations, attitudes and coping mechanisms because it helps me with my "new" normal. Thanks to all of you for helping me so much when you are not even aware that you are. Thanks for putting into words how I feel so many times; it makes me feel sane and that perhaps I can speak with people who truly understand when you family can not and your friends are no longer there. The beach sounded wonderful and I felt I could smell the water and feel the sand beween my toes....I needed that vacation!

Sent by Shannon Morgan - Keithville Louisiana | 10:10 PM ET | 05-19-2007

Leroy,

The Big "C" never leaves you; it is like a bad cold. Waking you up in the middle of the night, you hesitate making plans in future, all the other things you have mentioned and many others here on this blog have expressed. But you have shown us all that to focus on the things we CAN do is truly "Living with Cancer".

I have serious pain every day and have allergies to narcotic meds. So I have to learn to deal with the pain - sucks big time but it could suck even more. I would spend a lot of energy being angry and pissed being dealt such a lousy hand in life. But like you I found I can spend the last of my life being angry or have the very best time I possibly can. Energy is such a very precious thing and having some choice on where to use it besides fighting cancer is a great gift.

There are times I wish for a "rogue" bus would hit me. No pain, no good-byes, no hosptials, just quick and simple. Except for the bus driver and those on the bus it would be ideal. But it is not a choice I get to make. So be it but if I cannot make that choice then I will milk life out of every day that I possibly can. Be bold and thumb your nose at death even if it is for one more day, hour, or minute.

Then, the way I believe, I will be promoted to a higher cause and my energy will be restored and will be off on to another great adventure.

Can't stop a good thing Leroy, and you are a good thing.

Hawaii is such a great energy recharger, suck in a big breath of that hawaiian air and carry it back with you to the "real" world, we are here waiting to hear more of what you have to share.

Talk to you soon, Carole Ehlers

Sent by Carole Ehlers | 5:01 AM ET | 05-20-2007

Leroy don't you wish sometimes you could put time in a bottle? If you could what time would it be? I'm sure it would be this trip. How about the day they said go and enjoy your life for now you are cancer free? I would definately put that one in my bottle. I guess I wish I had put other times before my cancer in a bottle. Time with the kids - time with my husband and time with my friends. I would even take time for my self. Now that I am back on chemo with an uncertain futer I will take this time too even though it makes me sick at times. It is time I will never get back, and with an uncertain future time is all I have.

Sent by cathy | 5:05 AM ET | 05-20-2007

Leroy: We have been away from your blog for awhile due to trips to the hospital. Glad you took a vacation...it's too late for my husband to go anywhere now as the last life saving surgery made it impossible for him to sit, only lay on his sides, stand, or walk.

Our journey is nearing it's end. We were told there wasn't any reason to return to Denver as they are out of drug options, radiation has already done it's damange, and Burge's health as reached a point he couldn't take the treatment.

He has also reached the stage were his old life doesn't matter to him anymore. He no longer reads his political things, we haven't watched a news broadcast in months, and he can hardly bring himself to eat anything.

But, there is a peace in his life right now, I just wish there was some in mine. I have successfully kept from thinking about life after he is gone, but recently, those thought have started creeping back in and I wonder how long it will be until everyone sees that I am not OK and that things are quietly slipping through the cracks. My old life is gone also...it is aready lonely, even with my love in the next room. I dread the day he is no longer there. Will I bear the burden? Yes, of course, but it is leaving it's mark and things will never be the same.

Wishing you continued health
Nikki

Sent by Nikki | 8:31 AM ET | 05-20-2007

Pattianne: I am so sad to read about your terror at visiting the MD to learn whether your cancer has returned. Making it even more difficult for you, I'm sure, is the fact that you have lost your insurance coverage (Grrrrr! I could go on and on about our health care system and its limitations and inequity!). I wish I could come with you to hold your hand while you go on that doctor visit. Maybe the cancer is NOT back and you are living in fear right now that is unnecessary. What a waste of your precious time on this earth! I hope you find enough courage and the financial resources to go. I'll be thinkng about you. God bless, Sandra

Sent by Sandra Shuler | 8:58 AM ET | 05-20-2007

Leroy, I've been with you and the fellow blog buddies for several months now. I'm glad you had the vacation you wanted and deserved. Did you collect another Hawaiian shirt? I want to give a shout out to "Anonymous". Please let us know how you are!

Sent by Jilly | 6:38 PM ET | 05-20-2007

Well Leroy, I owe you another Thank you. Today I woke up and sat on my back deck with a cup of Joe, My sunday paper and my husband. Just relaxing. We were just going to dink around the house today. And I thought why not drive up the hill to Lake Tahoe. So that is exactly what we did. Went to my favorite place up there. Steamers. Right on the beach. And yes I had myself a mai tai. After we ate we just kicked back on the beach with our feet in the sand and watched my son discovering all kinds of wonderful things..I feel so at peace. Funny how so many times we have wonderful places right around us, but tend to take them for granted.This summer I plan on including many trips up the hill.......Welcome home sunshine and again many thanks

Sent by Christine VanHoose | 7:22 PM ET | 05-20-2007

Hi Leroy/ Hi all........... At eight o'clock thistomorrow morning my husband gets his post-chemo scan. He is quite calm about it, or at least, appears that way. He in many ways is like " anonymous " husband who does not really like to speak about things and share his thoughts with her. The only difference between anonymous and myself is that the roles are reverse; but we are very much in the same situation. I am the "living with cancer" spouse, which to me is just as painful as if I were the one with the cancer. There are times I wish I could switch places with him. It would give me great solace if he would confide in me a little more. The only conversation we have is when I tell him about what I read in your blog and half of the time I think he listens with one ear because its seems as if our discussion ends before it really begins. In my last post I said that I was very optimistic about this upcoming CT scan; I LIED. I am scared to death. If I try to discuss with him about the possibility of getting more bad results he tells me not to worry, whatever will be will be and worrying wont change things. I know he is correct that worrying wont change the outcome but I cannot help the way I feel inside.

Thank you for listening. It feels very good to be able to express my feelings with those that understand. Again, thank you and "Welcome home Leroy"

Sent by sasha | 7:03 AM ET | 05-21-2007

Leroy, So glad you were able to go on vacation. I had planned all year to go to Florida to see my daughter last week. I had my cancerous prostate removed in February and I was doing so well and looking more and more forward to the trip. I was diagnosed the week before last with a Sarcoma on my right glute. I had to miss the vacation and tomorrow I go to The Washington Hospital Center for a consult to see what is next for me. What a hopeless feeling. I am still hoping to get through this and still get to Florida before the summer is over. Yes, Cancer sure does change one's life and like you say, things will never be the same.

Sent by Jerry Borror | 8:22 AM ET | 05-21-2007

Oh Nikki--my heart aches for you! I am often too consumed with my own thoughts that I don't truly consider my own husband's emotions and feelings. You have put a perspective on this subject that I have never seen nor heard. My hope for you is that you are surrounded by those you love, including your Burge, until your last moments together. I cannot imagine what it feels like to lose a spouse; I am too occupied with myself...I feel so awful. Your story has affected me forever and you will be in my prayers. I will pray for peace in your life right now, in this journey you have walked through, and in the months/years to come. Please know that I am praying for you and Burge...

Sent by Tess from KY | 8:39 AM ET | 05-21-2007

Hi Leroy,

I watched your Discovery special last night and was very moved. I am a 36-year-old, four-year testicular cancer survivor who went through chemotherapy and has been cancer free for three years.

You did an amazing job of conveying the thoughts and fears all survivors go through. The segment where you showed your six hour chemotherapy session was extremely poignant for me--it made me remember what it is like to sit in that chair for hours on end while the world went on without me.

I once read where a pediatric oncologist said kids are often easier to treat for cancer because they are not interested in the details of the disease--they just want to be made better so they can "go outside and play". If there was one overwhelming emotion I had while undergoing chemotherapy treatments as a relatively young man, it was that all my friends were outside "playing in the streets" and having a wonderful time yet for some reason I was not allowed to go out and play.

I am glad you had a great time in Hawaii, and got to go out and play for a while. I wish I had more eloquent things to say... however, I am thankful for all that you have shared and it is amazing the common bond of experience all cancer survivors have.

When I meet another survivor we often do not talk about individual experiences, sometimes there is just an almost telepathic 5 seconds or so where you look into each others eyes and just acknowledge each others understanding of the journey we both had to take.

Leroy, thank you for doing such a vivid job of verbalizing that journey for us all.

Kind Regards,

Darren

Sent by Darren Senior | 9:03 AM ET | 05-21-2007

Dear Nikki:
I just cried when I read your blog. It is just not fair!!!!!!!! I could scream it. Please know, I am praying that you and you husband have peace. This life of cancer is very hard on loved ones as well as the people who have it.

Prayers to you,

Beth Morrison

Sent by Beth Morrison | 11:19 PM ET | 05-21-2007