Your reply is so very well said Leroy. I would add that I was able to find peace with the help of a very talented cancer counselor, and with time.
I know that fear can be allayed with conciously attending to ones' breathing. When we're in fear, we tend to breathe in a shallow, fast way, and build up CO2 in our lungs, which doesn't allow for good oxygen levels. When we find ourselves feeling frightened, just sit or lie down, putting a hand on the abdomen, and conciously take slow, deep inhilations that cause the hand on the abdomen to rise, and breathe out twice as slowly. This will blow off the excess CO2, help make room for the oxygen, and just getting enough oxygen helps to calm us. I've talked to many "newbies" at the BC chat room who are in fear, taught them to do this with me, and just doing it for a couple of minutes has helped them to calm down. It's a good tool. Truly, a fear shared is a fear lessened. Talk to someone who can listen to you, and not try to minimize your feelings or talk you out of them. Ask where you're treating if they provide cancer counseling. Blessings.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 7:34 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Leroy, Christine & Phyllis

You are of course correct in that we do not have a choice necessarily of how/when we die... but we do have a choice of how we LIVE TODAY.. right NOW!

If someone allows it to.. the cancer will so totally consume them and destroy what life they may have left.. be that a day.. a year... a decade.....

I think that is the peace of which you speak... not allowing the cancer to consume you.. to go about doing the things you want as you can... to simply accept the love of your life next to you... to write that blog or comment... to share of yourself.. to help someone else get through their day.

Anger for our losses is a natural reaction... "why me!"... but it is a question you can not answer today... at some point in the future it will become apparent... but if you allow that anger to.. it will so totally consume your every thought and moment that it will destroy you and you will die miserable and but a shell!

I know it is hard to understand or believe... but believe me... some good will come of it! You will be changed which will allow you to do something you otherwise would not.. or someone around you will be changed to do something....

Yes it is a HUGE price to pay and perhaps totally unfair and unreasonable... but ultimately someone will be much better off because of it........

I am speaking as someone over 30 years out........... and yes it changed me and it definitely made a positive change in me and I WILL make a difference in someone else's life!!

~Ron

Sent by Ronald K. Bye | 7:49 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Leroy,
I am a 32 year old mother, wife and daughter. I have brain cancer. I watched the documentary Living With Cancer, as it was 3 days after my craniotomy, I must say that it gave me great hope. Hope to beat this thing, hope to face another day... Hope.

I know what you mean about peace. I start radiation and chemo next week, and I am at peace with that. Like you said, what other choice do we have? I once heard that when you wake up on the operating table after surgery, you have a completely different outlook on life. I have a different outlook on life now. I could waste my time being angry at God, or I can make the most of my time here on earth. I choose to make the most of my time.

Thank you for this blog. Thank you for telling your story. Thank you.

Heather George
http://www.especiallyheather.com

Sent by Heather | 7:51 AM ET | 05-25-2007

My dear Christine and others,

I am pretty fortunate of not having cancer. My husband died last month of brain cancer. They had given him 6 mos. to a year. In that time we traveled to Alaska, hired a contractor to renovate our house, invisioning a hydroponic greenhouse, wrap around porch, gardens and etc. Never in our year together did we stop dreaming...It kept us going forward and living. WE both new time was running out and at times we were at peace with it. I was always scare and I think Bill was also. There were times we cried about it and made the best of a terrible journey. Cancer sucks..there is other way for me to discribe it. I'm grateful for the time we spent together and I'm trying to be at peace with the cards that were dealt to us. It's hard without feeling scare and angry. People would tell me it gets more peaceful with time..and I'm counting on that. The one statement Phyllis referred to "afraid of leaving love ones behind...that was the one thing Bill was the most fearful of. So on that note , I have to be brave and show him I will carry on his dreams and his love of life. That is my way of showing him I will live on with our hopes and dreams.

Sent by gail hunsberger | 8:18 AM ET | 05-25-2007

When I was first diagnosed I couldn't quite come to grips with my feelings. Finally, I realized that I was just incredibly sad about giving up what I feel is a wonderful life. I have realized that I don't want to negatively impact what is left of that life so I keep the "cancer" in a separate place. It is not a denial of reality it is just not letting it impact everyday functioning. I do need to make time for chemo and scans, I do need to wear the stupid wig but the rest of the time it is be okay, almost normal. Many of my colleagues really don't talk or think much about these areas any more. This is the reality for them. It might be that they are in denial but for me it is taking advantage of whatever time I have left and making the most of it because it is a great life.

Sent by Dona | 8:30 AM ET | 05-25-2007

My mother died almost 4 years ago; 10 months after being diagnosed. She died a few days after her 69th birthday. She never made peace with her situation and lived the last months of her life bitter and angry. I'm also convinced that the anger and bitterness impacted the course of her disease. She just gave up and died sooner than expected. Also she never tied up loose ends or made peace with those around her (including me) which has left bittersweet memories and a void.

Now it's my turn. At age 46 and the mother of 3 young kids I am dying. Don't interpret this as giving up; it's not! I'm hopefully realistic given last weeks scan results. The year and a half since diagnosis have been a wild ride. I've outlived 2 prognoses, discovered that my husband of 20 years was not who I thought he was and can't seem to rise to the occassion.

Anyway... I made a conscious decision to be at peace. There is nothing I can do to change things so I'm trying to make the best of it. I'm trying to tie up loose ends and to leave a legacy for the kids. Despite the hurt, pain and disappointment, I've told my husband that I forgive him and am trying to prepare him for his soon-to-be new role of single parent. Each day I remind myself that I have much to be thankful for: family, friends, a world-class treatment center, the most amazing doctors and nurses, an HMO that has paid every single bill medical and pharmacy bill without a single question, financial security and community support.

I'm cherishing my kids, my friends and this glorious summer-like morning here in the northeast. I wish that for all of you.

Sent by holly | 8:47 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Dear Leroy, Christine and Phyllis,

For my particular cancer story, I have used the word acceptance in lieu of peace. I, too, Phyllis heard those same words over and over again. I sat in my hospital bed and cried, came home and cried for a good couple of weeks. My husband was concerned that I wasn't "fighting" this thing, well I just couldn't move, I was paralyzed with grief. Then I had what was for me an epiphany - I realized I had the chance to make a difference. I could either show my family and friends, and most importantly myself, what I could do or become a person I didn't want to be. I looked back on the last 10 years of my mother's life, one that ended in the ravages of strokes and dementia. She never had the chance to say goodbye, to say I love you, to say what she wanted to say. We do. My mother faced innumerable hardships through out her life, but decided early on that she would face life with a smile and with love. And she did. I think it's a conscious decision to get up and get on with it. Make this the day when you are no longer buried in grief, even for an hour. That's not always easy, I am balling my eyes out as I write this. I'm going to go in now and wake my husband, the love of my life whom I also found a few short years ago, and my two grown stepsons and tell them I love them. And I'm going to call my daughter and tell her the same. My children told me recently I have taught them how to live - I had no idea. In the middle of all this is hope. That's what is getting us through.

Sent by Ellie Algatt | 9:05 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Finding peace -- this is what my cancer dance is all about. I say dance because I'm rejecting the war metaphor of being a "courageous cancer fighter" trying to win a "battle." Hey, if I'm a pacifist, I have to find a peaceful way to deal with this cancer, too, don't I?

Anger certainly doesn't help as "terrorists" didn't cause this process to get going inside of me -- there are no convenient enemies. Actually, thank goodness, as I'm of the opinion that the old "us and them" paradigm is the root of all the problems for the human race.

Instead, I'm trying to learn to look for the way toward healing. In each day and every moment there is a healing opportunity. BTW, healing and cure are not necessarily synonymous and while I'd like a cure, healing is an absolute necessity.

So take stock, find out what's important, cherish your loved ones, and give proper value to each and every breath of life (as Nancy has described). This is the way to dance with cancer, and is also the path of healing.

Sent by jane | 9:08 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Hi Leroy, I consider myself sort of a "veteran" at being a cancer "survivor". I've been dealing with it since 2001. All the ups and downs, through the bill collectors and the lost friends or the friends that don't call anymore and the man in my life who decided he didn't want to be hurt by watching me die... (he was, unlike me.. he was a pessimist).

Any way... I've seen a lot of tragedy in my life, (loosing 2 children). I grew up very poor, and am currently financially way below what most people could even imagine living on. But, I've decided to look at life as an optimist. I found it feels much better to not worry... my dad (who died when I was 25) used to play that song to me "Don't worry... be happy!!" And strange as it sounds, if I find myself being sad, (I am after all human and it does happen) Oddly enough, that song will magically come on the radio or TV or something. So I still listen to him and say "don't sweat the small stuff!!" it's harder to be angry than to be happy... I try not to think about the negative anymore and just find something to laugh at. My sister emailed me a site just to help make me laugh and its called laughing yoga... you know, I went on that site, and played some of the little movie clips of people laughing. And laughing IS contagious... for no apparent reason, I found myself laughing along with these people. And you know what? It feels great!!

Then, I look back at my life and say... you know, it really has been a sweet life... I've met so many wonderful people, and still have a bunch of great friends that do care! The sun is shining, and the air smells so sweet! The breeze, the smell of the flowers, the fresh cut grass, the birds chirping... it doesn't matter what season it is, I'll still find the air smells wonderful and will continue to feel "lucky" to have experienced it all!! So everyone out there... don't sweat the small stuff!! and Don't worry... be happy!!!

Shirley (thankful to be given the gift of life!)

P.S. Here is one of the laughing sites she emailed me: http://www.laughteryoga.us/

Sent by Shirley | 9:08 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Hey Leroy -
Great comments as always...
Peace? I think this is where faith steps in to play an important role. I'm hardly a holy roller, but beliving in something more than myself gives me comfort, purpose and guidance. I think it's irrelevant if your, Christian, Hindu, Jewish, Muslim or Unitarian.
I really feel for those that don't have a faith to turn to under these circumstances. Now I know why my parents dragged me kicking and screaming on beautiful Sunday mornings to Mass! They were building the foundations that I would have to rely on for the challenges of life.
All the best!

Sent by Tim | 9:14 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Leroy ole buddy....and yes, you have become my friend. I too had colon cancer. The doctor told me it is gone, but I still worry. Yours came back...mine could too. But, it has been 3 years and this past weekend I lived to see my youngest daughter graduate with her masters from Carnegie Mellon University. It was a grand day made even sweeter by of all things, CANCER! Who would have thought?

Sent by Patricia | 9:15 AM ET | 05-25-2007

I find that my peace comes and goes and returns again as I work through the twists and turns of this hideous ride called cancer. I found myself newly resentful that I see other people who appear healthy, yet abuse their bodies with excesses. Too much food, too much sex, too much alcohol, too much TV, too much whatever. Whereas I did none of those things and have terminal cancer. How is that remotely fair? But then I remember that I look pretty good on the outside, too, and I am comparing my insides to their outsides. I don't know what health complications that they may have now or might suffer from in the future. All that doesn't do much to help me in my quest for peace, but it does help me to stop taking this cancer thing so personally.

Anyway, as there are new and more frightening developments, I find that I have to go through the process of accepting all over again. And with acceptance comes peace.

Sent by Stephanie Dornbrook | 9:35 AM ET | 05-25-2007

I'm 2 1/2 years out from ovarian cancer, stage 3. I felt paralyzed and numb at first, and coming to terms with this has been gradual. A woman I met at a conference told me, "I wasted my "good year" in remission being depressed." Her cancer had recurred and she was gone a year later.This resonated with me, and I've made an effort not to waste my "good time". If you need antidepressants, take them. An online support group has been wonderful. Fortunately, my husband listens to my interminable talk about ovarian cancer. My 4 children refuse to acknowledge that I will most likely recur. I guess I'm saying: talk it, read it, examine it, dissect it. For me, it became manageable this way.I no longer picture myself way in the future, but I do make plans and anticipate being able to fulfill them. What else can you do?

Sent by Carol Erlingheuser | 9:38 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Good morning Leroy, good morning all, and an especially good morning to Joyce. Congratulations on your good results from your MRI. Im sorry that you had to be there alone, but we were all there with you in spirit.

Leroy, you were right on target this morning, as usual, especially for those of us who are emotionally weak. When you speak about "Treasuring the love you have found" it made me think about the old saying (one which I have never paid any attention to up until last year) "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" It does make us thankful to have been given the opportunity to love and be loved. Its not easy, but I am finding out that little by little its getting easier to get into the "acceptance" stage. This does not make the sadness, pain or the fear go away, but it does make you thankful for what you had and are fighting like hell to preserve. Thank you again Leroy for your inspiration.

Sent by sasha | 9:58 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Heather: I just visited 'especially Heather'. What a BEAUTIFUL website you have created! I am amazed with your skill and your language ability....even (and maybe especially) since your craniotomy. Thank you for sharing it with us. I read all of Emma's story. Her story and yours have touched my heart. And you have inspired me as well.

Reading all these blogs often does that for me. I read the stories and think, "Wow. If that person can cope with that situation, then I can deal with what is on my plate." It is a form of sharing strength and hope, I think.

Best wishes for peace to everybody on this Memorial Day weekend! Sandra

Sent by Sandra Shuler | 10:22 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Stephanie: I feel like I have been punched. I have looked for your posts and today there is one. I have no idea why I feel such a connection with you, but I do and I am saddened to read your words. Please let us know. I will pray for you.

Sent by Patti | 10:46 AM ET | 05-25-2007

It sure is a roller coaster ride of emotions. There are times I am at peace with it then something happens and it slams me to the ground.
Last week on a bad day I made a list of all the great things that have happened since I found out about cancer. I am so very lucky in so many ways.
Fighting through tests that are pending and waiting..puts me in a place I hate with a passion. But then I live with a new passion to since cancer.
So there are so many reasons not to be angry anymore.
I think the point really is what am I going to do with all of this to show others or help others and pay it forward. I mean so much has been done for me over the years by so many. How can I stay angry over something that could happen to anyone. Staying Angry gives it control and I am not letting cancer control whats left of my life.
It just seems outrageous to do so.
Yesterday while I was waiting tests results which have not come in yet...I was trying to focus on living. Perfect little one, my Grandbaby. Truthfully in all rights I shouldn't be here to see her but..I am so she is a blessing beyond belief. New hope new life. It's Grand.
As I sat there holding her. There was a new calm telling me I can do this no matter what.
So peace can come if we look for it in many forms. In a person something anything. If for that moment we are at peace. Grab it and go with it. If it lasts a day take it. If it lasts for weeks hang on to it.
This roller coaster has dips dives and highs..I think as hard as it is we have to grab the highs and hold tight to them.
Anger for me is out the window to cause I have no energy to waste on it at this point.
Thanks for the thoughts

Sent by Kerry | 10:48 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Mr Sievers,
I have been reading your MyCancer blog for some time now. I was struck by the ???peace with cancer??? comment. I'm certain it strikes a lot of nerves. I think I know what you are saying, but I can't be sure. The emotional reaction to cancer seems to vary more widely than the physical course of the disease.
I am writing to you in order to present my view of being at peace. I have not been diagnosed with cancer, but I have many of the symptoms, and I have not been able to tolerate the prep for the colonoscopy. I have had stomach problems for 30 years. I do have anemia, insomnia, back pain, very typical bowel problems. My stamina is awful. I used to be a weight lifter and a jogger, but I have not been able to exercise for several years. I tried to go back to the gym for about 10 months, but my stamina kept decreasing in spite of my efforts on the bicycle and treadmill. Eventually, I found the resulting dizziness and fading vision (probably from the anemia) to be too overwhelming to continue.
The uncertainty of my future is absolute and ever present. I could live less than a year or I might have 30 years. I have no clue as to what is wrong with me, and neither do the doctors. They don't know why my I have had an upset stomach for the last 30 years either.
Most people would assume I would be a nervous wreck under these circumstances. I am not. Each day, I am focused on getting through that day, and making a positive contribution. I still work at my desk job every day, but I come home exhausted. I am taking short cuts on house work, and my brother is doing my yard work. I am still putting money into my 401K plan because I might need it.
Some days I get through the day by sheer obstinacy. I put one foot in front of the other because there are things that need to be done. It will physically hurt to do them, but it will emotionally hurt more to not do them.
Is this being at peace? Yes, of a sort. I am not an emotional wreck. I have a path which is difficult because of a physical ailment. I work around it as best I can. My mind is consumed with puzzles on how to get things done. I am not doting on what I cannot do. I am not fretting over the way life is supposed to be in an ideal world. I'm busy; I'm productive; I'm grateful for a supportive family and supportive coworkers. I still crack jokes and enjoy the company of good people. I have a good life. The present tense is very important as you well know.
I wish for better, but that has always been part of my nature. When I was a weight lifter, I could bench press 405 pounds. I would jog 6 miles, 3 times a week, Even then, I was looking for ways to improve. The scale of things is different now. I hire a contractor to replace my roof instead of doing it myself. I have found it is better to pull my laptop computer on a wheeled dolly instead of carrying it over my shoulder. I have a heating pad in my car. Soon, I may be hiring a maid to help with the house cleaning.
I am actively finding ways to continue to live rather than worry over the potential timing of my death. I keep my financial affairs in order because I will die one day and there is always the possibility of getting hit by a bus tomorrow. I am at peace because I am busy living every day -doing the things that need to be done. I refuse to live in constant regret over things I can no longer do or things I cannot change. I define this as being at peace even though I am working very hard. Peace is the absence of worry. My life if full of things to be considered as I solve daily puzzles, but worry over death does not catch me. I'm busy living.

Peace and joy to you
Gary

Sent by Gary Miller | 11:13 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Hi Leroy and all

I am both at peace with my cancer and very angry at the consequences that cancer inflicts on many of us ??? most of which touch me (so far) very lightly if at all.

I decided within hours of being diagnosed that if this was the experience I was going to have, to make the most of it ??? both for myself and, if possible, others. So far that???s worked out pretty well. It???s saved me a huge amount of time that I could have spent in futile rage and depression. I sympathize with those who have not been so graced and know that the good fortune I have been given is by no means due to my decision (which may itself have been aided) alone. I think I???ve said here that the support and affirmation I???ve received has been incredible. In some ways, cancer has been a blessing. It has freed me to do things that I???ve wanted to do for a long time and challenged me to do them now. It???s also true that I am 63 years old, have had a generally good life and while I don???t want to die, am reasonably ready. I am acutely aware that not everyone is in this situation. My sympathies and prayers are with Phyllis, Christine and all the others with the others who are in far greater pain, physically, emotionally and spiritually than I can even imagine.

Nevertheless, cancer sucks indeed, and I am deeply angry at some of what accompanies it for many people. I am also deeply angry at other sources of unnecessary and highly transformable suffering in the world. We in cancer world have no monopoly.

For example we are told that we should adjust to a ???new normal.??? While I will, when necessary, accommodate to new limitations, I have no intention of accepting them as ???normal.??? It???s too much like accepting other injustices as the way things ought to be.

One of these, that happens to be cancer related, is the high cost of medication, which frequently bankrupts and destroys families (one major Harvard-based study showed that 48% of bankruptcy is medically related). This quite simply unacceptable in a country that manages to spend $700 billion and more than 3,000 lives (and counting) on a futile and unnecessary war and waste billions both there and in the Hurricane Katrina recovery efforts. Meanwhile, according to a major newspaper, cancer afflicted families are forced to come up with $28,000 for a single combined treatment of Avastin and CPT-11.

It ain???t right.

True, some of this money goes to keep the boys and girls in the basement going. But only some. The rest goes for tens of thousands of drug salesmen, huge and wasteful lobbying efforts to maintain the status quo, truly awful TV advertising, cosmetic and elective drug development (Do wrinle reduction and erection enhancing drugs prolong life?), excessive executive salaries and double-digit profit margins.

These things make me angry. They are part of why cancer sucks. Indeed they are, in my view, an eminently curable cancer on the nation.

By contrast the courage and hope shown by other correspondents to this and other blogs continue to strengthen my own hope.

Thanks, Y???all

John Shippee
Atlanta, Georgia

Sent by John Shippee | 11:14 AM ET | 05-25-2007

I have come to terms with my cancer. When I think of being at peace with my cancer the image is I have no evidence of cancer or a painless, peaceful death in my final days.
I've been going through chemotherapy the 2nd time around and remaining stable for 9 months now. I've had my share of problem with health issues related to the cancer and the mental/physical effects of the chemotherapy. It alters your state of mind. Making my long for Peace of mind.
Living with cancer comes with many phases and stages.
I'm at the stage of seeking a way to become NED (No Evidence of Disease) by a combination of surgeries or treatments or continuing with chemotherapy which sooner or later will stop working. Current state of mind says go for NED even if it shorten my life span. Quality over Quantity
"Quality of Life" is very important to me. I would prefer fewer months of feeling good compared to many months of being sick in bed.
I still have hopes of becoming a long term cancer survivor and hopes of becoming a NED in my life with cancer.

Leroy,
What are your thoughts now about Quality verses Quantity of life?

Sent by Kris Worrall | 11:22 AM ET | 05-25-2007

With the cancer diagnosis (two different types of cancer concurrently - melanoma and kidney cancer), what made me the angriest was my naive perception that I had "lost control" over my body and life! Now I realize that I never had control in the beginning - oh, I exercized regularly, ate the good foods ( some cheating with french fires and fried chicken occasionally), tried to control the stresses in my life, treated others well, etc. Then came cancer to upset MY regime of MY life!

After experiencing the range of emotions from fear, anger, self-pity, blame, Why ME, etc., I came to recognize that cancer was/is bigger, stronger and more resilient than me and that I needed help. I needed a power in my life to calm my very "troubled waters" and to bring me peace. My daily prayers have done this and God has answered them. I still am afraid as my oncologist comes in to tell me the results of my latest scans- has it returned again! I think this is normal.

My journey to the peace I have took time;took introspection and a clearer understanding me and my needs to help me in this fight. It was/is a journey. How I got to where I am now was NOT a plan designed by me but I choose to believe that it was a part of a bigger plan that God has for me.

I urge each one to continue to seek through and by whatever means necessary a way to bring peace into your lives. Peace and calm does not imply that we are devoid of normal human emotions. But it does mean that cancer does NOT define us nor prevent us from living our lives by enjoying the many moments of happiness no matter how small nor fleeting.

Blessings and prayers as always, Leroy. Terrific topic for today.

Sent by Al Cato | 11:24 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Thank you so much for being a part of Ted Koppel's documentary and for sharing such a "straight on" approach to dealing with your cancer. I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in January, 2006, and am currently on my second round of chemotherapy after surgery immediately following the diagnosis. I marvel at the aura of peace and calm that you project as you discuss your condition, and I am so glad that you currently are experiencing remission. I hope that I will be able to make that same comment about myself in the near future.

Sent by Barbara Radcliff | 11:29 AM ET | 05-25-2007

on the lighter side ,if you will all forgive me for taking this moment to remind us to laugh even during those worst of times.
this story came to me this am by way of email and it seems appropriate to share it with you all on this glorious memorial day weekend!
a woman recently picked a new primary care doctor and after 2 visits and exhaustive tests and lab work he told he "considering your age you are doing fairly well" a bit concerned about his comment , i couldn't resist asking him, "will i live to be 80?"he asked "do you smoke tobacco or drink beer or wine" "no i replied and i don't do drugs either". then he asked " do you eat rib eyed steaks and barbecued ribs? "no , my former doctor told me not to eat red meat it is very unhealthy", i said. he asked " do you spend alot of time in the sun golfing,hiking or biking?"" no, i don't" I said. he asked " do you gamble, drive fast cars, go to strips clubs or have lots of sex? " no " i said " i don't do any of those things!".
he looked at me and said "then why do you give a S@#%@@t!".

Sent by marianne dalton | 11:46 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Hi Leroy,
I related well to your blog today. I am not a cancer patient, but my husband is. He amazes me, as you amaze me, in that he is coming to peace with his cancer as well. Yes, he has his angry days; his hopeless days; his days when dreams are lost because of cancer. But once he gets through these emotions he ends on, "it is what it is." This sentiment allows him to go to chemo with resolve; to go to work while in treatment and do his best; to be a loving husband through his own emotional and physical turmoil.

I am not the cancer patient, but as a spouse or loved one I must come to peace with it as well. I must put on a strong facade to make up for the days he has lost his. I must also say, "it is what it is" in order to embrace each moment I have with him.

Thank you, once again, for this blog. I do not have cancer, but I know this blog helps so many out there touched by cancer one way or another. My husband is a dedicated reader and listener and I know he relates to you. Thank you for being here for all of us.

Sent by Melanie McClanahan | 11:48 AM ET | 05-25-2007

Leroy,
I think you said very gracefully that we all find our own kind of peace with our cancer. I compare cancer to a rollercoaster ride, the ups and downs that constant in our lives is something we live with every moment of the day. I have NHL Stage IV. Have had some success with treatment, but it is always a temporary reprieve. Once a CT scan or lump is found, the peace that I thought I had is overcome with fear. I paint now to express my feelings and it has been a way to cope and to open up conversations with my family and friends on what I am going through. I have anger today, because I found another lump and had a bad CT scan and am discussing treatment options with the Oncologist today. I have lost my hair..wore it bald, because hats and wigs were too hot. So I would tell Phylis that it is ok to be afraid of the cancer...but losing the hair you wear it as a badge of honor. You are in the fight and still have options. Just pray that you don't have a lumpy head......jk.
Miriam

Sent by Miriam | 12:14 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Dear Leroy,
I only recently started reading your blog after seeing the Discovery Channel documentary. I've spent the last week without access to the Web, and missed reading your blog.

As I've said before (in hopes that no one will feel I'm intruding as an outsider) I have a rare genetic condition called Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome. HPS causes pulmonary fibrosis. My lungs are slowly becoming scar tissue and hardening up so that eventually I won't be able to breathe. Four years ago, at 29, I was told there are no FDA-approved treatments for this. I had five years, maybe seven if I did really well. I was told I'd never get better, only slowly worse. Since then I've become an advocate. We now have two treatment-oriented clinical trials underway. Because our condition is so rare, we had to lobby the NIH, the drug company etc. to make this happen. We also have to do the recruiting for the trials because doctors seldom if ever diagnose HPS. That's where I was last week - manning a booth at the American Thoracic Society trying to educate doctors about HPS so we can get people accurately diagnosed and give them an opportunity to be treated.

Peace - for me that's not a destination - it's a stop on the road I'm lucky to visit now and then. There's a part of me mad that I have this disease, mad that I spent my vacation at a trade show trying to make the wheels of medicine turn so I can get what I need. Then there's a part of me that feels honored to do the job, and lucky that I can. There are days when I feel hopeful about my treatment and at peace with whatever happens. Then there are days when a friend dies, or something else happens that I'm not at peace at all. I'm mad as hell. I think that's okay as long as it's directed to healthy outlets.

Heather in Kansas
www.heatherkirkwood.blogspot.com

Sent by Heather Kirkwood | 12:29 PM ET | 05-25-2007

I am able to find peace when I focus outside of myself. When I was first told, before we even knew how far it had spread, I was near panic. I had always been afraid of dying. Not being dead, just the process. In the first few days, I worked through this. I have always been able to process change quickly. I went from focusing on my own death to the impact on others my death would bring. I knew in that instant, this is not about what is happening to me but about what I leave behind. I did not want to leave behind the memory of how Mom's cancer meant no more vacations, no more horse shows, just everyone focusing on Mom's discomfort.

Right then, I knew it was my duty to be strong so I could spare my family any pain. I can't take it all away but, so far, my kids have been able to live "normal" lives.

I have a 14 year old. I tell her all the time that the friction between us is normal teen age stuff and she should never look back and feel guilty. I know she loves me and I love her.

I love the normal moments where someone will grump because you left a dish in the sink, etc. To me, that means I'm doing my job. They are not focused on my death, they are focused on life.

That is when I find peace.

Sent by Karen D. | 12:45 PM ET | 05-25-2007

I am simply grateful to still be alive. It is in that gratitude I find peace.

Sent by Kay | 1:14 PM ET | 05-25-2007

I have had lupus for over 20 years and colon cancer first- stage 3 now stage 4 for almost 4 years total. I was very angry and scared at first...Iv had 2 mayor surgeries to rid some of this cancer from my colon, liver, nodes and more. I have been on chemo first for 34 straight weeks - had 28 radiation treatments and I am now on oral xeloda 2 times a day for 6 months (21 days a month)....through out all of this I think I have been very brave, and excepting. I know we are all going to have illnesses, this happens to be mine. I do not let people know of my inter deep feelings as I do not feel it is fair to them. I have beautiful friends and family and want to enjoy them and for them to enjoy me as long as possible. I do not think of dying as a horrible thing. We all will die, God will be there waiting for us just as our Mother's were waiting for us when we were born....just another journey we will take...I imagine the unborn crying with fear being born, not wanting to leave the only place it has ever known....and then... wow...here is a new 'good' place...in my mothers arms. I feel dying will have another BIG surprise for us. But, until that time I do want to enjoy this life in the now as long as I can with laughter and joy even though...

Sent by Sue | 1:40 PM ET | 05-25-2007

I posted before a quote from Julian of Norwich in the 1400's. "All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well." Upon reflection, I realized maybe that wouldn't be helpful to those who are dealing with cancer unless they were a member of a faith believing in some power greater than ourselves. Julian's context was that suffering was not a punishment but an opportunity to come closer to God (not the mainstream then.)

I have been in both places with Christine and Phyllis. Leroy's answer and those who have sent in their responses are all familiar and comforting. This is a journey as we have said. One day I felt one thing and the the next day I felt something different.

After 7 years, I've come to my place of peace knowing that whatever happens, all will be well. Maybe it won't look like my idea of well, but I believe my family will be ok nonetheless. It has been my observation that support rises from unlikely places - this website as a for instance.

I hope all of us can take from those who have gone before us and given us good examples of how to handle this nasty disease - a wonderful gift we need to embrace for our own mental health.

Sara

Sent by Sara | 2:04 PM ET | 05-25-2007

I watched you on Ted Koppel's program days after losing a friend to complications from metastatic breast cancer. While I heard all that was said about LIVING with cancer, I never heard anyone talk about what it feels like to actually lose someone.

I wasn't ready. I knew when she was diagnosed that the odds were not good for 5 years. It was only 2. I thought I had more time.

I don't know if she knew how much she meant to me. Did I tell her? Did I tell her enough?

Did I ever miss a hint she gave me that she needed to talk more? Did I, in trying to keep things normal, talk too much about day to day stuff? How do you know?

Should I be angry at someone? Did the doctors miss something they could have done better?

Is this one of those "well, she didn't suffer" moments that is supposed to make us feel better? Because if it is, I don't.

I miss her. We talked often. She was the poster child for living with cancer. She saw to it her kids went to college, she was there for her husband when his career took a downturn, she kept up her real estate business, and she remodeled her kitchen.

I'm not sure I get that much done and I DON'T have cancer.

There's a pain in my heart that doesn't ever go away. Oh, I get busy and go about my day. But then something happens and I want to pick up the phone and call her. But I can't. Ever again.

That hurts. Nobody tells you how to deal with the suddenness of this disease. She was winning her battle and had no detectable tumors. Then she was gone.

It's not fair. I wasn't ready. It hurts.

Sent by Crissie Cudd | 2:09 PM ET | 05-25-2007

LeRoy,

I applaud you for your blog today. It is an important issue to talk about finding peace no matter whether you have cancer, MS, or any other disease that is "incurable". It is an internal thing. I have found my peace simply by coming to the fact that once the cancer is eradicated from the body, there is a significant chance that it will return. People at work are always telling me how well I look at work. Positive comments always work with me. When I first was diagnosed with my cancer, I thought to myself I have the C word so I am going to die. It took along me a couple of months along with a dose of lexapro every day to come to terms.
It helps me to talk about it now. I was telling a high school friend of mine about the sight and how it has become some what therapeutic. As I ramble on, I guess I better get to the point. You find peace by what ever means possible. For me it is work, keeping my mind and hands busy, and a little faith.
Hang in there

Sent by Clark | 2:17 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Leroy,
You've got another nice thread going. Nice job. I would like to say to Phyllis who says she is "so ungappy and afraid" that she's not allowed herself to think of what she is so "unhappy and scared of" -Allow yourself to think of what you're unhappy and scared about. And while you're at it, allow yourself to think about what you're grateful for and about your personal talents and strnegths and what you're doing right.
And to Christine who asks, "how do you know when you're at peace" and "is there something more?" Believe me, you will know when you are at peace.
I agree with you Leroy that even people in their 90's still have things they want to do. They are also subject to fear, anxiety,sadness, anger, hope, love and peace, as we all are, whether or not we have cancer.
As to the question, "Is there something more?" I have to say, of course there is! Why are we going through all of this?The answer to that, for each of us comes not from the cure, but from "healing." There have been times when I've been so ill that there was nothing I could do, but think, and try to answer these questions. I wish that no one has to be so sick, but when illness makes us stop, we might as well catch up on our homework!

Sent by Survivor1953 | 2:33 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Leroy, Some days I think I have it handled, then you get one of those crappy days, and it all starts again. The Chemo is difficult, but not as bad as the alternative. To say you are at peace means different things to each of us perhaps. I try to be as normal as possible, but sometimes the cancer won't allow it. There have been many days I would like a do over. Wouldn't that be great--Oh!! just to be normal again. I hope you enjoy the holiday!

Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 3:48 PM ET | 05-25-2007

This message is for Gary Miller who wrote about his extreme gastrountestinal problems. Have you been tested for Familial Adenomous Polyposis? My daughter, who suffered many of your same symptoms all her life, was diagnosed at the age of 29, four years ago. Following surgery, she is living a fairly normal life. FAP is a very rare disease that can occur anywhere in the body, including stomach and colon. Please let us know how you're doing.

Sent by Ellie Algatt | 4:20 PM ET | 05-25-2007

To Leroy, Christine and Phyllis:
I just celebrated my two-year-end-of-chemo-anniversary on Sunday (yay!!). So I am hopefully DONE with the disease, at least for a long time. I understand what Leroy is saying, but I think that to get that place, it takes a while, and a different length of time for each of us. We all deal with crisis in different ways. For me, the time after diagnosis and the time treating the disease were some of the darkest days of my life. It takes time to grapple with the enormity of cancer, with adjusting to the idea of dealing with it in whichever way we think best for ourselves.
We may never reach ???peace??? with cancer but we can come to some sort of level of acceptance of it???which comes with being eyeball-to-eyeball with our own mortality. We are just forced into thinking about all of these things sooner than many of our friends, family and colleagues and there is a loss of (for me) a certain naivet?? or innocence that comes with all of this.

Sent by Maggie | 5:32 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Leroy, I don't think I'm quite at peace with myself and cancer yet but the anger is going away. Anger is a useless emotion and I've needed help to deal with it. I think as my life gets a little bit normal and I am told I am in remission I will have more peace and acceptance.

Sent by Vicki (FL) | 6:01 PM ET | 05-25-2007

As a young adult cancer survivor and having had cancer 3 times, I have accepted cancer as a big part of my life-1/3 of it. It obviously has brought ups and downs (and extremely low moments) but I have usually been pretty at peace with it. I know that it's influence is not going anywhere-it will follow me whether I die tomorrow or in 20 years. Who really knows when it will be.

I related to your piece today and hope that more people can be at peace with where life brings them-whatever it is and enjoy their time because it is precious for sure.

Sent by Rachel Baumgartner | 6:14 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Leroy,
This may sound stupid, but I feel that cancer has given me permission to be more open and accepting of others. I know the odds of my beating my cancer stink, I went through the first surgery and chemo, and believed I was going to win. However I could still talk about the what if. I consider part of my job is to prepare those who will be left missing me, if cancer or a heart attack get me. People never walk around thinking that the "big one" heart attack could take them out tomorrow, however because cancer tends to bring home your mortality it is very disconcerting.
i sit here and puzzle am I at peace, mostly, do I cry and get upset about having cancer, yes, but I do not let it take over the living. We with cancer have lots of living to do in who knows how much time.

Sent by Rita | 6:15 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Hi Leroy and all, Finding peace with cancer, I don't know if I will ever be there, I can deal with it, I accept that I have it but it sure doesn't bring peace. I guess I made peace with it in the sense we co-exist. But since the diagnosis my life has been anything but peaceful. I have had to endure treatment after treatment, bad news after bad news, and move to another state and live separate from my family temporarily in order to keep going. Things that I believed in and thought I could count on have been stripped and I live a different reality from appt to appt. But in some weird sense I do feel more at peace with who I am. I have found the my strengths and what is really important to me, so I guess that is some kind of peace. I wish there was another way to discover these things about myself. Just as others have said, I am very connected to this website, it is often my escape and my solace. I wish you Leroy and all a healthy happy long weekend. Take the greatest care, Estelle

Sent by Estelle | 7:42 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Leroy,

Reading your blog/comments today was, for me, harrowing. I think everyone on this blog deserves praise. Everyone here is dealing with cancer in some way. The ways are many and varied, as are we human beings who are struggling. So much courage, so much"upbeat despite,"....so much. The effect of today's blog was cumulative for me. It crept up on me and I wound up in tears. Bless all you brave hearts!

Sent by Diana Kitch | 8:59 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Stephanie: I hope you are doing well..

Crissie: It's always hard to lose somoeone you care about deeply, whether it be through cancer or other unforunate events that happen... I've lost family members to the disease, and what you say plays in my head a lot of times... your words resonante with me...just a few weeks ago, my uncle cried on my shoulder because he missed his wife (my aunt) who succumbed to cancer 7 years ago... it's still hard...and I don't know if the pain ever goes away for anybody.

Sent by Krupali Tejura MD | 11:32 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Thank You so much, for being there, for us, All. Your thoughts let me in "on", what my brother most likely, is thinking. What I can do to help, and ease his mind, or as I do...."just be there"

Sent by Diane in Michigan | 11:53 PM ET | 05-25-2007

I have my good days and my bad days. Most of them, I am happy to report are good days. Yesterday was not a good emotional day. The other day I had an eye examination and was told that I have cataracts. It is not bad yet. I am only 43 and feel that my body is aging from the inside out. My cancer, ovarian, has left me with a lot of bodily changes. 30 additional pounds and I have a colostomy! uggg! I look like I am pregnant. I feel like I am not sexually attractive to my husband anymore. How do you find peace with this. Fortunately most of my days are good ones. I rely on my faith to get me through, and it does. I also took the time to be with some of my girlfriends. They let me let it out. We all had a lot of laughs and it made me feel better. Thank God for girlfriends. Like I said yesterday was not a good day. I think this is normal. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with, but hopefully today will be better. We will have some friends over this evening for homemade icecream. I will laugh with them also. Find the humor guys. And thank you for letting me vent.

Sent by Betty in Germany | 4:01 AM ET | 05-26-2007

I just printed out all 14 pages of these amazing journal entries. It seems to me they are the best primer in survival techniques one could possibly hope to own. Thank you my fellow travelers.

Sent by Anita Solomon | 10:30 AM ET | 05-26-2007

I have been reading the blog since watching the special on Living with Cancer and I hear all of the anger and upset and concerns that each person has.

In 1994 my husband was diagnosed with cancer and fought a long hard battle for 5 yrs. During that time I learnt so much from him and from the cancer. It is true that if you allow it, it will consume every living part of your life but you have to take control of it and live life to the fullest. We did everything he wanted to do in those five years. The doctors gave him six months or less to live, he had colon cancer and it spread rapidly ending in his brain. But not one day was wasted. At his wish, I continued to work outside the home, fortunately I had a job that allowed me to adjust my schedule to meet his needs and I lived close to work. It was extremely sad and hard on our children to watch as he was in pain and it eventually grew worse and he dealt with the chemo for five years. They were in the prime of teen years when he passed. Our daughter was not quite 17 when he passed and had gotten to a point that she hated her birthday since for five years something always happened that he was in the hospital on or close to that time. It was hard on her as a teen growing up not to have daddy there for these birthdays. After losing him we adjusted and was thankful for the time that we had been given with him and to be given the opportunity to learn and grown as well.

As if that wasn't enough to put on the plate of a young, growing child, in 2005 I was diagnosed with a neuroendocrine pancreatic carcinoid tumor that had metastesized to the liver and cannot be operated on. The tumor has attached itself to the veins and vessels of the lungs, heart and liver and one wrong snip and I am gone. So the only alternative we have had at this point is I take a sandostatin shot of 20 mg in each hip once a month. This shot is a time released medication that we were in the hopes of shrinking the tumor and pulling it away from the veins and vessels. It isn't happening. It hasn't grown any that we know of but we are awaiting the results of the last ct scan that was done on Wed.

But can you imagine with all the turmoil that you have in your life what a young child is going thru watching dad suffer in pain and then when they have finally came to terms with losing him finding out that mom has cancer too? When I was diagnosed I was heartbroken that I was going to put my kids thru that trama again. When was enough enough? But I didn't hide it and I didn't ever even with my husband not talk about it with my kids. I have been very open and honest with them and they have learnt when is a good day and when is not but we haven't stopped learning.

At first the doctors told me that I probably should check into early retirement. Being as strong as I am, I laughed at them and told them, God isn't ready for me to give up and if I retire early that is what I am doing.

I am and have always been a firm believer that God isn't going to give me more than I can handle. Finding the tumor/cancer was a Godsend to me. I was rearended, wasn't hurt, no broken bones,just a headache from hitting my head on the window and a few bruises but I was used to those since I am diabetic and have them all the time. But when I was being checked at the hosptial to see if I had hit the steering wheel is when the tumor was found.

Sure I was scared and all the thoughts that can, did go thru my mind. But believeing as I do, and I am not a deadset, hardcore, religious person, but I do know that there is someone with far greater power and knowledge above than I can even dream of having.

I accepted that I have cancer. I haven't been angry. Curious as to why me, but I think the answer has been foudn in that I needed to realize what all I have to offer and give to someone less fortunate. I had tossed around the thought of doing foster care for sometime and am now doing just that......kids are to be placed in my home next week. The doctor gave me full clearance to do foster care, actually encouraged it.

I will admit that the mindset of the cancer does play a huge part in what quality of life you carry on with. I still do the things I have always done, and have been doing the things that I always wanted to do but thought I have plenty of time, I am still young and could do this later. Well later is now. I try not to put off for tomorrow what I can do today as tomorrow may never come. Whether it is the cancer that takes me or some drunk driver out on the road. I can go at anytime any of us can. I don't let the cancer stop me, instead I try to let it be my guide in a sense. I know that someday the cancer is going to win and it is going to end my life but that doesn't have to be now. I don't know when some drunk driver is going to hit me and kill me instantly. At least with the cancer I know that the end can come sooner than I want and I am in somewhat control of how I live the last days of my life with it, but with a drunk driver I don't know when he is going to decide to be drunk and drive where I am and I have no control over that.

I have learnt to accept what I have and not to feel sorry for myself in what I don't. To take the opportunity to really show family and friends your love and appreciation that you may not have the opportunity to do tomorrow. Never let a day go by letting someone else know how you honestly feel about them. I have taught my kids that if you are angry, face that anger,deal with that anger and turn it into happiness. Life is too short, and shorter than most of us realize if we havne't lost someone close to us before and we have to learn not to take for granted what is being given to us to enjoy.

Having cancer doesn't mean that my life is over. At least not yet. It means, wake up, do the things you really want to do. Stop trying to justify what you are doing or are spending. If it is done without causing harm to others then that initself should be your justification. I could write a book, and have kept a daily journal of the days that have knowingly filled my life with cancer since 1994. I often go back and read what I have written and see how far I have come since first hearing those words......you have cancer......when they were spoke to my husband and what affect they had on my life and then to hear those same words for myself about me.

Life is a journey and the road we choose to travel is a decision that is ours. We can make it a most delightful, experimental learning journey or we can wallow in our self pity and forget that there are others in this world far less fortunate than we are. We have had the opportunity to at least experience life, there are some who never had that chance, not even one breath of air. I tell myself daily, not to think of what I am losing or missing out on, but what I can give to those less fortunate to make life easier on them.

Sent by Judy | 11:14 AM ET | 05-26-2007

I am not at peace with my Cancer. Maybe if I felt I was winning or making some progress I could be at peace with my cancer. It wasn't so bad having Cancer the first two times. They said it was caught early and I was cured. This time there is no way they can say that. Maybe I could find a way to be at peace with my Cancer. Would it be when I felt like all treatment options were exhausted? Maybe this is something I should work on....

Sent by Jill | 11:27 AM ET | 05-26-2007

Everyone finds peace in different ways and at different times. In the face of extreme adversity, it is often most difficult to find and stability much less peace. I am fortunate that I can get thru this time in my life by remembering that life is a struggle, and finding inner peace is a joy that can be achieved. We all have faith of some sort, even I , an atheist, have found peace thru the teachings of the Buddha. Self and all that we are are merely lessons to be learned in the life we life. According to the Buddha, life is struggle, how you handle that struggle determines where you are in self...and where you will ultimately be in peace.

Sent by Liz Zimmerman | 11:56 AM ET | 05-26-2007

I am 53 years old and was diagnosed in Jan '06 with stage 3c Ovarian Cancer. Surgery and chemo seemed to be successful and at the end of chemo in Aug. '06 my CA-125 level was down to 10, which gave my husband and me great hope for a good survival outcome. But since Dec. my CA-125 levels have been creeping up, and I have had, in the last 3 months, all of the symptoms I had just prior to being diagnosed, so I now have to have more scans and tests and my Gyn. Onc. has begun to express some concern. For several days after my last blood draw results, I became depressed and moody and frightened - really frightened - for the first time since the initial diagnosis. For awhile, I lost the sense of acceptance and peace that I had been able to maintain all through the previous year. For awhile, the initial shock and fear that hit me like a ton of bricks at first hearing the words cancer took me over again.
But it's been several days now, and we have been making plans for the various scans and tests, and I have regained my composure. Leroy, you put things so beautifully! It is not that I don't ever feel anger or grief or fear; it is that, most of the time, I just don't want to spend the time I have left being controlled by those negative emotions when there is so much to savor and appreciate and do in the time left! I have 5 grandchildren, 4 wonderful grown children, and many friends. And of course, my husband, who has been my rock during all of this. Yes, there are times of fear and depression, and it is okay to experience those - in fact, I think people in Cancer World have more right than most to have those - but I find I cannot sustain those feelings for too long. I don't have any magic answers, or formulae to finding peace of mind, either. I just know that if I make an effort to spend some time with my family or friends, I come out of the fear pretty fast and get back on track. All I can do, and anyone can do, really, is live life one day at a time, as if that day is the only day. Thank you, Leroy, and everyone who contributes here; you are all a huge part of my support system.

Sent by Katherine from San Juan Island | 1:32 PM ET | 05-26-2007

my mom was diagnosed with terminal (as far as the medical community are concerned) brain cancer in december. i'm 28, and i dropped out of ucla and moved back to the bay area to take care of everything. i'm the only child, my mom and dad are divorced, and mom's long-time boyfriend has strengths, but they lie in areas other than finding mom insurance or setting up and an advanced health care directive while she was unconscious at the hospital. (the two of them let the mysterious symptoms - depression, loss of balance, one leg folding suddenly, lethargy, splitting headaches - go unchecked until almost too late. she needed emergency surgery the day after checking into the er, but she had no health insurance nor any kind of legal documents in order.) so, after driving 7 hours to get back from la, i consulted with her brain surgeon, looked at mris and cts of the tumor, called relatives. right before her surgery, she and i set down a basic will, what goes to whom, and had a notary friend come in and notarize her advanced health care directive. i didn't leave the hospital building for 3 days, because i was afraid she'd die while i was gone.

the diagnosis was a glioblastoma. the doctors tried to put a cheery hopeful spin on things (lots of research being done! treatments getting better and better!) but basically, as far as they were/are concerned, it's just a matter of time.

i couldn't find hope or optimism about the whole thing, and i still can't. i was so blind-sided by this (as we all are) and it was so much worse, at every point, than i could have possibly imagined... i just couldn't open myself up to that kind of disappointment and make it a way of life. the reality of the situation is that this will most likely be what kills my mom. i feel like shutting my eyes to the reality of the situation, drowning out the beeping of the hospital machines with a loud repetition of a hollow mantra (she'll be fine, she'll be fine, she'll be fine) felt really immature to me.

but i am also not wired for pessimism, or negativity. i have certainly experienced some as i have gone through this, but i am just not able to sustain it. i have a low capacity for negativity i guess.

but the question for me, that i really, really wrestled with, was how to make sure i was aware of the reality, but not smothered by the horror of it.

i couldn't bring myself to believe that a miracle would happen. i could get myself to a place where i was open to the possibility, and even inviting it, but i just couldn't take that extra step of absolutely blind faith in it.

so, what i cultivated was acceptance. the buddhist books i read said that hope was just another way to keep from staring at reality. the same way being stuck in the past, or constantly planning for the future are ways to avoid being in the present, hope is a way to keep from accepting the current situation. the books didn't say that hope was bad, or wrong, just that it was an obstacle in really being with the present.

that resonated for me. you don't have to like the present, or love it, or be excited about it, but you need to accept it. it's here. things may or may not change in the future, but you don't know about that yet. all you have is right now. and now. and now.

and i have found that every time i slip into frustration with the way things are, or anger at my mom for her method of coping with her cancer, or mad at myself for not doing more or being more, i lose my ability to just accept. my mom has cancer. she'll die someday, whether from the cancer or now. she is doing the best she can with a terrifying situation. i am doing the very best i can at being me, dealing with a terrifying situation. i have to yank myself away from the precipice of maybes, shoulds, coulds, woulds and come back to right now.

coming from a lif-long history of self-improvement - bettering myself, and refining myself - it's hard to see that acceptance and resignation are different. i don't want to give up on mom or her cancer, and i don't want to close the door on the possibility of a miracle. but i also don't want to spend so much time resisting the yucky stuff, resisting that wide gulf between what i want and what i have.

so, i have found peace with my own experience of cancer. obviously i am still sad, and scared, and tired, and so mad at cancer (cancer is a total asshole with no sense of timing or any thought for people's feelings, you know?) but i am not resisting it anymore. i accept that it's here and the only thing i can do is try to greet the new experiences, both negative and positive, with as much grace as i can muster. and i have been present enough on a couple of occasions to notice the physical sensations associated with letting go of my resistance, and the way it feels like every cell in my body breathed a sigh of relief at the exact same moment. so, i aim for that sensation.

pema chodron, who wrote 'when things fall apart,' talks about leaning into fear, and i imagine myself doing that all the time. rather than pulling back from my fear, i try to imagine myself leaning into it, like it's a stiff wind. i also try to imagine physically embracing it, rather than turning my back on it.

finally, the best advice i have given or received is: accept yourself. you are doing fine. even if you're not doing fine, that's okay. be kind to yourself.

Sent by kira | 2:56 PM ET | 05-26-2007

Dear Leroy,
I wish I could find some sort of peace, but I am in a situation where it is difficult to get through each day and I am not only diasapponted and hurt, but I am ANGRY!!!
It was recently confimed (discovered almost a year ago, but nothing done about it), I was misdiagnosed, and because of the incorrect paperwork in the begining, the paper trial has followed me, and I have been unable to get it corrected. I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer in February 2006, and had a radical mastectomy in March 2006. I was initally elated because the surgeon told me she got all the cancerous lymph nodes and my chances for survival were excellent. Then I continued to have many complications, the first being a raging infection that turned necrotic and I was back in surgery about two weeks after the mastectomy to remove the infected area. I was again hopeful, but continued to have infections that would not resolve, and returned to my surgeon complaining of pain and swelling and a golf ball sized lump under my arm. Leroy, I am telling you the truth when I tell you her remarks about this were "Oops, I think I may have made a mistake and did not get all your cancer." She ordered the labs from surgery and found there were three separate reports on the number of lymph nodes removed. She, could not, of course, recall, since she does so many surgeries, which one of these reports may be correct. I was referred to an oncologist after being told by the initial oncologist I was assigned to he could not treat me until all the infections and complications were resolved.
When I went to the second oncologist, I was encouraged, she spoke of team work, quality of life, taking care of her patients, always being available if there were any problems, etc. She did blood work, and found some abnormalities, which took me to yet another physician, a Rheumatologist, who told me my immune system was compromised, and decided to repeat all the labs that were done the prior month, and when I went to her office another month later, she walked into the room and announced "I think you have bone cancer, possible myeloma with kidney involvement, the only thing I know for certain is you are very ill. She did not have to tell me this, I was at the point then where I was barely able to function at all, but told me to go home and "not worry about it", she would repeat the labs again, and order a biopsy.
Sent back to my oncologist, a biopsy was performed just before Christmas, and I had to wait almost two weeks (because of the holidays) to get the results from the biopsy. When she called, finally, she said the biopsy did not show bone cancer, but my labs were still abmormal, showing there was a disease process still going on. (I
was later told it was common for these symptoms to show up and not be bone cancer, but breast cancer which has gone to the bone, and would not show on a conventional biopsy, like was performed on me.
There was no follow up by the oncologist, as a matter of fact it is now May and I have not seen her since, I have had no cancer plan, only labs and xrays tellng me my cancer persists, but cannot be located. I have never had, nor has it even been mentioned, having a mammmogram on the other side, or simple, standard follow-up treatment.
I no longer know where to turn for help and so frustrated, I am not sure I even want to fight anymore, because it only brings me more frustration and heartache.
I cannot tell you how frightening this has been, to be at home waiting and waiting and knowing I am ill, but no one will take any responsibility to evaluate what the problem is. I just keep getting bounced back and forth between doctors, leaving their office crying in frustration.
In November, I fell and broke my arm, and am still in the cast from that fall, six months later. My orthopedic, who is very angry that I have not had the proper cancer treatment, called a friend of his (an oncologist) and asked him to see me. I thought, thank goodness, now I am going to get some help. He was very attentive on the first visit and told me of two types of breast cancer revealed when the mastectomy was performed, but this was the first time I had heard of the second type. This type is very aggressive, and he said it could very well explain all the swelling, pain and complications I have been having, and assured me, I would get some help. He ordered CT scans a bone scan and more labs, and once again said he was not certain what was happening, but I was very ill. Duh!!!
I am a compliant patient, and had all the tests he asked me to have, and when I went back to see him two weeks later expecting to have some answers, he walked in, did not look at me, said the scans did not show anything definitive, and to come back in a year. A YEAR!!!
I have no suppport at home, as a matter of fact, less than that, because he thinks all this is in my head. Refusing to educate himself on the disease and the side effects of the medications I am taking to prevent recurrence (what about getting rid of the original first?) and is verbally and emotionally abusive, telling me I need only to get up and move around, stop thinking about my cancer and just go on with life and forget it.
I am unable to do this, of course, especially since I still feel so bad. The stress of this, if I do have cancer that persists, cannot be helping me, but the lack of support is heartbreaking. My friends have all been long gone, they cannot bear to see him treat me the way he does, so I am alone, wheelchair bound, broken arm, and feel awful and alone. When someone says to me, as they often do, that I should just get out and move on, they are unaware of the difficulties I face on a very limited income, in a wheelchair, not able to care for myself properly and being unsafe to be alone due to a risk of falling and breaking another bone. I have always in the past years of my life, been so independent and driven, and I cannot tell you how frustrating this is to be trapped in an environment that is hurtful to my health and to my heart.
I began this journey with the most positive attitude I could muster, and thought my spiritual condition was good, but actually in denial, trying to make certain others were not adversely affected by my illness. Well, that worked, my only support system is an internet group, which is a wonderful group, very small and intimate, and they have literally kept me alive these months of worrying and waiting. Now, even going to the site is depressing, hearing of all the wonderful medical care they are receiving, their loving and caring families, and the support they are blessed with on a daily basis. I am here crying my eyes out daily, out of frustration, because I cannot get any help. And I now know, one of the reasons is the false reports that were generated in the beginning. When a doctor looks at them, they do not read further and send me on my way.
So, peace, this is a word that is no longer in my vocabulary, even though I crave the feeling I was so fortunate to feel before I heard those words "You Have Cancer".
Prior to finding the lump in my breast, I was in the process of writing a job description to become an advocate for patients who were either unable to help themselves or intimidated by the medical system. I am very good with people and very empathetic, and know I could do a good job, but now I know I am no where near qualified, I cannot even help myself! I suppose what I am doing here is screaming out for help, for anyone who may be able to relate to this type of treatment to offer some advice or encouragement on what I could do next, because I really fear for my life.
I thank you for this forum, and I wish I could have come here, as I have tried many times to do, with a positive outlook, only to erase the blog and shut down my computer because I could no longer see through the tears. At any rate, thank you for letting me vent my fears and frustrations, and hope I have the courage, after writing this, to hit the SEND button.
My prayers are with you and with all those who are travelling this road and I hope my bitterness is not misunderstood, and thought to be aimed at anyone on this site, but it is with myself and with the medical system that has let me down in the biggest way.
I do not normally ask, but at this point I feel it is my only hope for comfort. I ask for the prayers and support of those reading this and I thank you for allowing me to come here and vent my feelings and my desperation.

Sent by briana | 7:59 PM ET | 05-26-2007

Leroy, I watched your "Living with Cancer" program about a week before I found out that I relapsed from adult Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. I don't think that was a coincidence. I really believe the Holy Spirit lead me to it to tell me something. Because I'll need a bone marrow transplant, I went to the hospital in my local area which performs the most of them -- Johns Hopkins. Your comment about finding an excellent hospital hit home to me.

Also, thank you for developing this kind of forum to really delve deep into the issues concerning cancer patients. This has been the best website I've seen. Bravo!

Sent by Anne Hart | 11:41 PM ET | 05-26-2007

Leroy - Brilliant show on Discovery. Thanks for being so willing to share all that you endure. I am an 11-year survivor of brain cancer (diagnosed in college) and am launching the first cancer radio show for young adults. We'd love to have you as a guest this Fall (got booked solid through November in 3 days) but I don't know how to get in touch with you. The show is at http://StupidCancerShow.com and we look forward to heaing from you.

Sent by Matthew Zachary | 12:24 PM ET | 05-27-2007

I find a kind of humorous peace in knowing that even if I died tomorrow, I'll only miss half of the 30 or so years I "should" have had because that's about the amount of time I spend sleeping these days.

Sent by Patricia | 2:48 PM ET | 05-27-2007

This July, God willing, will mark my second year of being cancer free. On Friday I went in to have my blood drawn for a CEA test and will call in for the results the day after tomorrow.

I first found out I had colon cancer 3 ?? years ago at age 44. It was staged class 3 since it had spread to one of my lymph nodes, but nowhere else. After surgery and months of chemotherapy I was diagnosed cancer free.

About a year and a half later my cancer had returned, spotted on my liver. After a liver resection and again months of chemo I was again diagnosed cancer free. That was two years ago.

I too am at peace with my cancer. Sometimes though I find myself feeling like I am whistling past a graveyard. Although I am technically cancer free, and each time I go in for a test I am extremely apprehensive about the test results, I am resigned to the fact that it is a part of my life and could come back at any time.

I am very fortunate. I have had and continue to have great doctors and caregivers and a very supportive family. They are the angels in my life. I have met those who were or are not as fortunate. When I remember them and consider my good fortune it is hard to be angry or feel sorry for myself.

Thank you Leroy for your work with this blog. In reading these posts, I see how brave your readers are. Best wishes to you and all of your readers. I will keep you in my prayers.

Sent by Phil Rumme | 3:14 PM ET | 05-27-2007

You (in the general sense of the word) can be "at peace" with your cancer when you know you have not been silenced or discarded because of it; when you know you and your medical team have given it your collective all; when you know people haven't looked through you because you are OLD, BLACK, A FORMER SMOKER, POOR (or what have you) AND, AND, AND CANCEROUS. When you know you don't have to scream in your old age as you had to through your youth....then, maybe, and wonderfully, and luxuriously, you can find the extra millisecond it takes (and it need not take more than a millisecond for those with a heart and those with a soul and those who are human and those who are trying) to grasp the rope that says "choose peace" or "this way = peace."

Conversely, when you have been looked through (not even looked "at" much less "upon") your entire life, when you have had the strength and will and desire to battle the "C" as you have battle all other ""'s...when others in the bed beside you in "worse" condition have given up but have had their hands held nonetheless by medical professionals...then the "C" becomes a much, much, much harder pill to swallow. Oh, for the luxury to choose peace.

All humans get cancer. All humans are equal. Not all cancers are treated equally.

Cancer is and is not at all the great equalizer. It is and is not at all the great consolidator. Let's keep it real.

Sent by izzy | 4:38 PM ET | 05-27-2007

Briana.
i am so sorry for your plight. I am sending prayers and positie issues. What part of the country do you live in. I will do anything I can to help

Sent by joyce | 6:21 PM ET | 05-27-2007

I wonder sometimes if I have found peace or if I'm just in denial. At least the initial panic has subsided. There are, however, "neighborhoods" where I don't often let my mind wander because it's not safe to be there alone! Denial isn't such a bad thing, anyhow. It's the way we protect ourselves until we're strong enough to deal with reality. It's just another way of living in the moment rather than projecting into the future. A few years back, when someone I loved had a drug problem, I used to attend Narcotics Anonymous (NA) meetings. There I learned a few mantras that often helped me find peace. One was the Serenity Prayer. Another was the phrase "Let go and let God." I'm an agnostic, yet that idea of releasing my frantic grasp on things, opening my hands, letting whatever will be, be --acceptance, in other words -- made a huge difference in my life.

It also helps me to spend some time every day out in nature, letting its beauty soothe my soul. Beautiful music has a similar effect. And sitting down at the end of each day with my husband, verbalizing at least one thing about that day for which I feel gratitude also helps me stay calm.

As others have said, this kind of peace or acceptance waxes and wanes. But so far, at least, that initial heart-thumping horror has never returned. Maybe you can only go there once.

My heart goes out to you, Brianna. No one should have to suffer through the kind of ordeal you describe. I wish I had more than sympathy to offer. Depending on what state you're in, maybe you could file a grievance about the actions/inactions of your health care providers who have let you down so badly. That procedure can be less onerous than you'd think. I just filed an appeal with my HMO about a test they refused to give me. When that appeal was denied, I officially complained to the CA Dept. of Managed Health Care and requested an Independent Medical Review. They responded immediately and I will have their Review within a week or two. All the research and filing of forms was done at home, right here on my computer, relatively easily. Anyway, I just wanted to say I care and I'm sorry it's been so hard for you to get help.

Sent by Doris | 7:50 PM ET | 05-27-2007

I want to thank you for your words of support and letting me know someone understands the frustrations I am feeling right now. I have really had no where to turn of late, and have wanted to write to this site so often, but I wanted to bring positive news, but I believe the truth of my situation also needs to be brought to light. I know there must be others who have suffered some of the things I have been going through, and my only hope is that I can find some help and be able to share it and help another, so they do not have to go through the heartaches I have been through dealing with daily.
The hardest part is the feeling of aloneness, and that doesn't help the anger, since keeping it inside only makes the pain worse. So you have helped me by listening, and I thank you, very much.

Sent by Briana | 11:36 PM ET | 05-27-2007

Dear Joyce,

I am sorry I did not answer your question, but I live in GA. I am very disappointed because this was one of the finest places for healthcare when I was younger, but because of the influx of so many, I believe it is easier to get lost in the system here now. But it should not be that way anywhere, everyone should have the right to good healh care and insurance is not an issue so I am left to believe much of the problem lies in communication, and the care taken by health care workers to be thorough. I also believe it is because mistakes were made at the beginning, they do not read any furher to see the complications, and I get lost in the shuffle.
My biggest fight now is to stay hopeful, and being a positive person throughtout my life, this is such a foreign feeling to me to have lost my faith. Without faith, fear becomes more and more huge and make it very difficult to find peace or the energy to fight.
I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for caring enough to ask.

Sent by briana | 11:55 PM ET | 05-27-2007

Hi Leroy, I loved what you said about finding peace. I think it's really helpful for friends/family too. We are all dealing with anger and grief and trying to find love and peace. You always put things so simply and beautifully. I lost my family member last month but still read your blog just about every day and it helps keep me in a peaceful state of mind. I hope peace finds all of you reading....

I've also been wanting to ask if you would ever consider hosting on this forum an unscientific survey of those diagnosed with cancer (habits, food preferences, personality type stuff, environmental considerations, etc). You, this forum, and it's participants are all so open. Maybe gathering this kind of information could raise some interesting questions (for your blog if nothing more) or even identify some new research opportunity?

Your forum has already helped so many, and in so many ways. It would be really cool to see it's success propel cancer research forward somehow too. Maybe this is not the way...but I thought it couldn't hurt to ask you to think about it since you seem to be looking for ideas. This is definitely something I would be interested in reading.

Peace be with you all!!!!

Sent by Nichole | 10:32 AM ET | 05-28-2007

Brianna, I am glad you finally expressed your feelings on this forum. Like you, I did not want to come across negative. This blog is a safe place to get those feelings out and receive the wonderful support of all members. LeRoy has created a safe haven for cancer patient's and caregivers.
I lost my faith going through some of the touch times. I had a friend call, e-mail or drop by to remind me that I am loved.
I bet you are tired of fighting. Wouldn't it be nice to have and advocate to do all the calls and stay on top of everyone? I know from experience that what cannot be diagnosed easily frustrates some physicians so you are left with no answere and a feeling that you are not being taken seriously.
If you can turn inward and remind yourself that you are loved and not look for validation from your caregiver,you may aquire a little peace there. I am sorry he has let you down. This is very common and remember this is not about you. It is about him and his limitations.

I am returnig to work June 4th as a Research Assistant in my Oncoloogist's practice. I have much experience in Clinical Trials but wanted to start back slowly as an assistant. Anyway. I will pick his brain regarding your situation and see if he has some fresh ideas.
In the meantime I am praying and sending thought of hope and caring throughout the day.
Joyce

Sent by joyce | 12:09 PM ET | 05-28-2007

You ask: "Can you be at peace with your cancer?"

My husband: "No."
Me: "No."

Especially after reading Briana's post. I think that folks who are suffering outrageous physical pain, despair in the face of an uncoordinated medical establishment, hardship in the face of no funds to pay for treatment or to take care of themselves adequately, despair in the face of absent loved ones, loneliness, and a near complete lack of hope as they suffer unimaginably would be hard put to feel at peace.

It's Memorial Day. My husband the cancer sufferer, the Viet Nam veteran just went upstairs to sleep some more with the help of a couple of Percoset. He couldn't go to the town parade, let alone be in it as planned. Another tooth appears to be rotten. He has a staph infection. He aches. And he has chemo tomorrow that a kind person will drive him to/from because I cannot take another day off work. I try my best to "manage his care" but I wish to God in some ways he could just check into a hospital where all the pertinent body system experts would take care of each and every issue he has doing on in one massively coordinated way. He deserves better than this, as do you all.

Sent by Teri | 12:44 PM ET | 05-28-2007

Briana,

Please contact your local branch of the American Cancer Society or go to their web page. They can find support groups, counseling, whatever you decide you need. If your spouse/partner isn't supportive, please get counseling to help resolve the living situation. You have too much on your plate, girl! I will keep you in my heart.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 12:59 PM ET | 05-28-2007

This is for Abby who wrote in on the 21st. Abby, I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma at the same age as you 6 years ago. I had a son in middle school and one in college. I was determined to see them graduate and get on in life. One is married now and the younger one in college.

The stem cell transplant was very difficult but doable. High dose chemo was pretty brutal but I just focuse on getting through one day at a time. Then in about a month and a half I began to feel like my old self. I feel pretty normal now and continue to teach full time while taking an experimental drug, which thankfully my insurance covers. I'll be thinking about you this month. Not many people have MM so it's hard to find people to talk to about it. I believe staying positive and focused on the future is one of the best weapons to have. Hang in there! My thoughts go with you.

Sent by Lesa in Missouri | 1:55 PM ET | 05-28-2007

Well hello there Leroy and Family,
I must say I appalude you for your courage and strength ,you have a way with words,I was in on another website of my friend ????rir, he was diagnosed with braincancer a year ago and he mentioned this site aswell as another site here in Iceland of a young mother with three kids and she is very ill with livercancer I can honestly say that from this day on I will cherish life for what it is and all the mod cons and luxuries in the world I really dont care about them ,as long as I have my health I will be glad.I wish you all the very very best and all the people that have cancerand your friends families and relations I will include you all in my prayers you are all heros in my eyes .God bless you all and give you strength and courage .
Yours sincerly Dolores Mary Foley.

Sent by Dolores Mary Foley | 4:31 PM ET | 05-28-2007

My heart goes out to Briana. I, too, was misdiagnosed by my first oncologist. I didn't know that at the time I went looking for a second opinion - I just determined to go elsewhere because he refused to answer any of my questions. I turned to a teaching hospital and had spectacular results with my gynecologic oncologist, who spent as much time as I needed answering all of my detailed questions. There, too, however, my radiation oncologist was less than forthcoming and subjected me to a treatment that my insurer later deemed "investigational" for my diagnosis and refused to cover. That battle is ongoing. Thus, I believe that you need to ask question after question even when you feel confident with your doctors. If you can get your primary care physician on your side, as I did, you will have a better chance.

This brings us back to the question of peace. I have posted here once before, on the related emotional issue of sadness. I have come to peace with the issue of my own mortality - which cancer brings to bear first and foremost. Much more difficult for me - impossible to date - has been the matter of coming to peace with the social and economic side effects of cancer - the difficulties with the medical and insurance community, employment issues, friends and family who disappear. Tess from KY offered to be my e-mail buddy, but I am so fearful of employment consequences if I reveal my identity that I cannot take that chance. I have not come to peace with the loneliness and the loss of trust. I do spend a lot of time thinking and reading about forgiveness, because my bitterness is not going to have any effect on the people who have abandoned me already, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life in misery.

Sent by tex | 9:39 PM ET | 05-28-2007

Where does peace come from? William Butler Yeats gives us a hint, in a poem of his that's always spoken to me, "The Lake Isle of Innisfree":

***

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

***

Where is this idyllic "lake isle"? I think it's wherever we can find it - amidst doctor's appointments, and test results, and side-effects and worries about how we're ever going to pay the medical bills. It's not a place in terms of geography, at all. It has, rather, to do with the geography of the heart.

The thing the poet teaches me is that peace is found in the dailyness of it all. It's not found in ceaselessly striving for the bigger and the better (as Madison Avenue would have us believe). It's not found in having perfect health (even if there were such a thing). It's found in accepting the good around us as good enough.

I've received some disheartening news in recent days, that I'm going to have to have a biopsy, to check out some enlarged lymph nodes - which could mean my remission's over. I won't deny that this news has stirred me up a bit, but the peace I've found in the midst of it all has been the peace of cherishing a few moments on the front porch with the family, as I did this Memorial Day evening, sipping coffee in the summer's breeze and enjoying a taste of the first cake my daughter ever baked. Her simple joy grounded me, and peace came dropping slow.

It truly doesn't get any better than that. In such epiphanies can be discerned the gift of peace.

"A Pastor's Cancer Diary":
http://www.cewilton.blogspot.com

Sent by Carl Wilton | 11:08 PM ET | 05-28-2007

My fianc?? told me, earlier today, that she's proud of the positive way I'm dealing with my cancer. I really don't know how to look at it any other way. Maybe if my cancer was in a further and more difficult stage to treat, my outlook would be different, but I really don't think that would be the case. I know I have to remain positive and optimistic for my whole body to heal, and if my treatment isn't as effective as planned, I'll have to reframe my perspective to retain a positive attitude.
I realize that each person must define their own sense of peace, and personal circumstances can make that an extremely difficult place to get to, but to me, it's the only way I can deal with my cancer and stay sane.

Sent by Christopher | 1:30 AM ET | 05-29-2007

Hi all you lovely people:
If you have any doubts about the power of support groups, or the healing that comes from putting your feelings down on paper, they should be dispelled by reading the responses to this blog. Your willingness to share stories, to comfort and console others, is so, so, evident. I never asked for my Cancer, but it did give me the opportunity to meet and talk with some wonderful people.
Briana, it sounds like you have had just about every problem that I've heard expressed by my support group in three years. My wife sympathizes with your breaking your arm, she broke her hip a week after a diagnosis of breast cancer.
The light in me honors the light in all of you!!!
Love, Don

Sent by Don Winslow | 4:58 AM ET | 05-29-2007

My life partner for the past 17+ years passed away on Feb. 19th, 2007 as a result of the effects of an agressive form of cancer. She was diagnosed a year earlier, and fought the disease as hard as she could, for as long as she could. I rather resent the sentiment of some people who seem to think that only the people who "give up" will die from cancer. I was with my love during her battle, and I know that she never surrendered! Was she frightened? Certainly, at times. I am the one who was most fearful, frightened by the prospects of facing the life that I now I live - one filled with grief and loneliness. My partner was determined to fight her disease, and to do everything in her power to try to live as normal a life as possible. By the way, normal is absurdly difficult when your days are filled with scans, chemotherapy, radiation therapy, pain medication, and brain tumor induced seizures. Still, she tried to make the most of every day, and did a much better job of it than I have in my own life since her passing. The point I'm trying to make is that cancer took the life of my loving partner, it wasn't her attitude or her lack of trying that stole away her life at such a tender age. It was the disease.

Sent by Becky Rude | 7:50 AM ET | 05-29-2007

I was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago. I hada lumpectomy, chemo , and radiation for almost a year. Since then I have been struggling to find any meaning in all of this or at least deciding if I wanted my old life back or was there a new direction for me. Indeed many things have changed, friends appeared from the past and others disappered. I was listening to NPR one day and heard the woman, who had been a ballet dancer's, blog entry. I thought to myself, what would I write in and it came to me immediately and clearly. I have learned to build walls and open doors.I think anyone who has experience what we all have will understand.

Sent by KAREN SHUTTLEWORTH | 8:16 AM ET | 05-29-2007

Kira:

What you said really resonated with me. I, too, was a caregiver in my 20s not too long ago (I'm now 30). Like you, I handled everything: the hospital bills, keeping track of my mom's medications, arranging for physical therapy and visiting nurses, and spending hours at her bedside--alone. I really admire your grace and calm in the face of this morass of illness, fear, and just general crap (there's no other word to describe it). Your mom is lucky to have you, and you are lucky to have been raised by such a good mom. Its impressive that you have a good head on your shoulders at such a young age. And its sad that young folks like us have to mature so early. I wish you and your mom the best, and I am praying for you.

--Tam (Secaucus, NJ)

Sent by Tam | 10:45 AM ET | 05-29-2007

No offense meant, Tam, but I'm wondering don't you think that people in their 20's are adults? You made the remark that it was sad that young folks have to mature so early? Giving that kind of care is difficult on anyone at any age. At least at a younger age, you're more apt to have more physical stamina than older adults.

I think that is one of the "biggies" that those of us with cancer worry about - becoming a burden on our family.

Sent by Vicky (NY) | 7:51 PM ET | 05-29-2007

To Leroy and My Dear Friends,
I want to thank all of you for your loving commments. Joyce, Doris, Teri, Diana, Tex, Don, and all of you who have helped me to see that I have not lost my ability to communicate. I feared I would not be understood properly and come across as someone who just wanted to whine and cry, and my biggest fear is that I will be viewed as someone filled with self-pity. But that is not the case at all, and I believe, with all my heart, you were able to read between the lines and feel the pain and the loneliness that brought me to this site and find the courage to finally write about the truths of my sitaution.
The horrors of what I have been enduring are not the type of conversation people can have over a casual cup of coffee, and although I have been involved in a support group over the internet, and they are wonderful people, even they are having a difficult time understanding the lonelinesss of having your family and friends disappear. There are times when I hesitate to go there to talk because I see them write about their loving suppportive families, how their husbands and wives and other family members are there to help them through the emotional trauma and the daily living that must continue if we are to survive. To hear them speak of their wonderful doctors and excellent medical care, knowing I am having a difficult time even find proper care, is heartbreaking, and I know they are not doing it to hurt me, and I am truly happy that they are not having to endure what I have been struggling with these months. Please , I hope you do not misread this as resentment toward them for their good fortune, but I have a hard time containing my anger and often leave the site and cry out of frustration. I turn off the computer, not because I do not need support, but because it hurts too much to read post after post of medical marvels.
I undertstand they are not here, sitting across the table from me, to feel my pain, and there are some who truly have taken the time try to be in tune with my feelings. I am grateful to them for that. But they are not here, they are scattered all over the country, and as much as they say they are sending me hugs, to be able to feel someone put their arms around me and sincerely give me a loving hug would feel like heaven. I crave that feeling of connectedness. I believe if there is anyone out there who has suffered the lack of human contact for great lengths of time, will understand to power of physical touch.
I have contacted the American Cancer Society, and many of the Associations who support "survivors" and their advice is to contact my oncologist, who is supposed to be the point of contact to put me in touch with the resources available to those of us in this situation. When I was there less than two weeks ago, and he gave me 11 whole minutes of his precious time, I asked for a referral to a counselor, or social worker, someone to talk with, especially about the reali