I just wanted to thank you for writing so eloquently about this disease. My mother was diagnosed 5 weeks ago with pancreatic cancer that has spread to the liver and invaded the bile duct. Your insights help me to have a better understanding of what she's going through mentally and emotionally. Thank you.

Sent by Jennifer Hughes | 9:19 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Leroy, pretty heavy stuff today, literally and figuratively. We are all given others to help us carry the burden, family, friends, nurses, co-workers, oncologists,church people, psychologists,neighbors. Since I've been diagnosed, I have experienced almost every person saying to me "if you need ANYTHING, call me". Now I know some people say that just to be nice or they don't know what else to say, but I know in the past when I've said that, I meant it. It's hard for us to ask other people to do things for us, but if they offer, put them on your list of people to call. I had someone offer to cut my grass or call her if I wanted someone to join me for a beer. The burdens are lighter if you share the load.

Sent by Joyce L | 9:48 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Thank you for your transparency. I have worked in the oncology unit at the hospital for a while, and now I am working for Hospice, it has been one of the highest honors of my life to walk the journey with others who are facing this disease that we know as cancer. Indeed, some call it a fight, but whatever name you choose for it, its my opinion that its a journey. A long journey with various rest stops breath taking views, and long stretches where its cold and the wind seems to blow against you. But, it seems to be in this journey that we learn the lesson that life is too beautiful and precious to grasp with both hands. We learn that the fight is never really over, electing to Hospice is forfeiting the fight, its changing your strategy...Thank you for your posts, they are real, and inspiring.

Sent by Summer | 9:50 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Dear Mr. Sievers,
I have been following your blog for some time now.
Frankly, while I have gotten something out of
everything you've had to say, it has been your more recent entries that finally gave voice to what I have been
unable to articulate for myself.

I am recently in remission from Stage 3 Lung cancer. I am 49 years old, a former Wall Streeter who once
played with the big boys, a wife and mother of a 10 year old daughter who came with a welcome, though huge cost physically and emotionally, having had her after a bout with Hodgkins that supposedly left me infertile in my early
twenties.
And I am furious and lonely and scared beyond my own belief. I hardly recognise myself. And then I read
your blog and I got it. I am in mourning. No one died. I didn't die. Yet, I am mourning the parts of me that will never be the same because of this
experience. Perhaps, especially because it happened again - twice in my lifetime. I am mourning my loss of trust in my own ability to make everything alright. I am, as you said, mourning life as I knew it, myself as I
knew me. But, I think too, I am mourning that sense of my own indefatigability in the face of the burden. I never knew what it was to be so tired.

Hang tough. I'm out here reading. -Susan Schwallenberg
Safety Harbor, FL

Sent by Susan Schwallenberg | 9:51 AM ET | 05-15-2007

I checked in here three times before I found your post this morning; since I'm quite new to it, I've been spending a lot of time reading the archives. Fascinating. All the entries together will make a great book!

And it's true that we're given the burdens we can bear, but it's also true that those burdens feel so much heavier some days than others and I'm noticing the weight very much this past week.

A quote I came across yesterday in my reading and right away I thought I wanted to share it here with all of you.

"Life must be understood backwards...but it must be lived forward." ~ Soren Kierkegaard

Blessings and peace to each of you on this day.

Sent by Vicky | 10:00 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Leroy,

In my undignified tussle with rectal cancer, after I found out I couldn???t learn enough to make the cancer go away, I am now using the clich?? male response...work it out. I am in the middle of chemo treatment and I am going to the gym every day. I am playing tennis vigorously. I ride my vintage Pinerello bicycle. I have a permanent colostomy to remind me constantly what is going on. I now take a little satisfaction as I lift weights and have serious diarrhoea (chemo effect) - I wrestle with control and I am proactive but I am living. There is tremendous satisfaction and joy to be found in that.

Robert
Toronto, Canada

Sent by Robert | 10:07 AM ET | 05-15-2007

So many well-wishers hoping to help often would instruct me to visualize the chemo and radiation blowing up or attacking each cancer cell???after all I needed to fight ??? to wage a war against cancer. It all felt too harsh ??? the chemo and radiation, the endless surgeries and doctor visits, the poking and proding, the endless tests scanning analyzing my body. There is simply too much invasion going on with this experience. So I close my eyes and visualize whatever treatment I am undergoing is embracing each diseased cell and making it healthy again. I visualize health and wellbeing. Sometimes it is all too overwhelming. The endless bills, the struggle just to work part time, the anguish I see in my family???s eyes and my friends??? eyes. And there are times I yell, ???Enough already God???! And just about the time I am ready to give up some type of relief arrives; an unexpected visit from my nephew, a call from a friend I haven???t spoken to in a while, a check from an unexpected source, a smile or just a day with slight pain. So I don???t see myself fighting a fight or winning a battle. I see myself a heck of lot more aware and a heck of a lot more grateful???..and wanting to soak in each and every moment. When I die it is not because I gave up???it simply will be my time. So in the meantime, I will do my best. I will continue to strive to be more loving and compassionate and a helluva lot more non-judgmental.

Sent by Kay | 10:30 AM ET | 05-15-2007

This is a tough one. This statement about burdens. When I read it, I thought now nice, trite, polite. It seems an oxymoron - if we can bear it, then it's not a burden. The words "bear it" are really at issue for me. Maybe that is what John was saying. People's lives DO get destroyed when "bad" things happen, like cancer, the focus of this blog. Jobs are lost, homes are lost, medical insurance is lost, finances are lost, careers are lost, sometimes, even spouses, family, & "friends" leave. The list can go on. These losses are not only difficult to bear, they directly affect the cancer patient quality of life, and even length of life. If you can't finagle a work from home job, then what? If you have no caregiver, then what? If you have no insurance, it WILL affect your medical care. I hear it time and again, "oh, you have "good" insurance, you can do this test/treatment" -- when I hear that, I feel a stab of pain, not joy. The stab of the knife edge I am on. The stab that that person next to me may NOT be able get the care they need due to "bad" insurance.
Maybe it is that luck thing again, bad luck to get cancer, a roll of the dice -- a roll of the dice as to whether you are lucky enough to bear it.
No trips to Hawaii for many people. And no chance to get it, even that peace. Mr. Sievers, thank you for giving us this forum, this helps to bear this burden.

Sent by Pika | 10:35 AM ET | 05-15-2007

This is my first posting to your site, having been incredibly moved by the Discovery special. You, more than any other person living with cancer, named ideas and feelings that had not been put out into the mainstream previously, ones that I can relate to so deeply. I'm 44, in my third year of treatment for metastatic breast cancer.

Lately my burdens have been quite challenging to bear. I've been tempted to stop treatment, just to feel like myself again, and then face the inevitable. Because I'm honest about how this will end, but it's sometimes unbearable not knowing when. And as I grasp for some control in this, I want to at least be able to do my death my way.

But yesterday I got good news. A clinical trial treatment is working after many disappointments. I feel I'm back from the precipice, just a bit. I'm going to take my focus from staring over the edge and try appreciating the view for a while.

Sent by Laura Buckley | 10:45 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Dear Leroy/ Susan:
Last week I found out my tumors had gotten bigger. My oncologist said, the vectibix (chemo)I was on didn't work. I cried and told him I was too young for this. I wanted it to just go away....I was so fearful, I cried all day and night.
I really think people with cancer live between hope and fear. I know I have been doing this for three and a half years.
In my quest to find a middle ground. I have found a place where there is joy and peace. I am not sure how I got there, but I do know it is a wonderful place.
I am reading "The Lord Is My Shepard" by
Harold Kushner. He talks about walking though the shadow of the valley of death. He talks about walking though as being temporary and not permanent. And not to letting cancer (pain and Loss) define our life.
If you can find a way to walk though the fear and not let it take all your hope away it is a gift.
Everyone has to figue it out on their own. It is not easy... In fact it is a life long journey. I hope and pray you find it Susan.

Love and prayers to you.

Beth Morrison

Sent by Beth Morrison | 10:52 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Dear Larry,
You are on vacation for heaven's sake! Can't NPR give you a break and let you enjoy a week on a beach to forget all of life's troubles? Yes, of course we would miss your columns but I think all of us would be so happy to know you are fully enjoying your time, and possibly not thinking about illness. I say let's give Larry a break! Happy vacation, my friend.

Sent by Jane A. | 11:05 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Leroy- I kinda thought the same as John at first. That if we can't win the battle, then we aren't bearing the burden given to us. But then I think if we mentally bear the burden, that is the accomplishment. It is a hard phrase to accept sometimes. I have a brother-in-law that is 3 months into treatments for pancreatic cancer. He is a doctor himself. It's hard to feel so helpless. We do what we can to make him smile but sometimes it doesn't work. Nobody ever said life is fair...

Sent by DiAnn | 11:22 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Hi Leroy/ Hi All..........I am a "Living with cancer" spouse and totally addicted to your website. Leroy I totally agree with your quote "We're given the burdens we can bear"
As a child, my mother used to quote a saying to me which was just worded a little differently. She would say " God will never give you more than you can handle" I never believed her. I am not a strong person; actually Im quite fragile both physically and emotionally. When my husband was diagnosed with cancer last year I didn't think I would have the strength to survive losing my soulmate of 40 years. But, somehow, its 14 months later and "Im still here" Yes, I still hold my breath with every Scan, still have many sleepless nights, but, yes, I am able to carry the burden. Im stronger than I ever thought I could be. And again, Im so totally happy to be involved with you and these wonderful people on your website. May God bless us all.

Sent by sasha | 11:34 AM ET | 05-15-2007

I don't know, Leroy, I hear your logic but I still wince when someone tells me I'm only given the burdens I can bear. I've been told that my whole life and I say, Okay, sign me up with the people who can't handle it and are "weak", because I don't want my daughter to have to deal with her cerebral palsy and my terminal(so they say) breast cancer. She's had her share of struggle. That phrase sure doesn't encourage one to be strong because you might get a whole bunch more sorrow to deal with. My girlfriend has had a life with very little drama in it. Does that mean she's weak and God knows she can't handle more? It just doesn't make sense to me. I'd like to hear other people's thoughts on the matter.

Kate

Sent by Kate Fuehrer | 11:46 AM ET | 05-15-2007

My son has cancer and we would love to see the documentary.

Sent by Melody White | 11:46 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Hi Leroy & Gang -

Cancer world is a lot about semantics, isn't it? It would be nice to see an obituary saying "so-and-so died after 'living with cancer' for (however many) years."

I feel like I'm having a vicarious vacation in Hawaii; you're enjoying it for us all!

Continuing with the appearance thing (you certainly seem to have struck a chord there): I had a wonderful wig which I wore through 11 months of chemo; it was so similar to my regular hair that no one seemed to notice. I continued to work with the public during my treatment and I didn't want "cancer patient" to be the first thing people saw. The wig enabled me to talk about cancer as I chose. I LOVED my wig. No bad hair days!

Ann

Sent by Ann Stern | 11:57 AM ET | 05-15-2007

Leroy,
I agree with you 100 percent. Doing one's best is all one can do, after all. As for "fighting" I don't like the word, either. It isn't that cancer is the enemy out to destroy us; cancer is a natural phenomenon that may kill us quickly unless we do our best to live. Even so, life ends and all we know for sure is how we lived it.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 12:00 PM ET | 05-15-2007

I agree with you about the saying that this having cancer isn't a contest. I use that statement a lot. When we're talking about what we're all coping with and going through in the bc.org chat room, sometimes one will say that what she is going through is nothing compared to what some others have. I always tell them that it's not a contest.
I'm going to give away my age here, but I remember a really AWFUL TV show called "Queen For a Day" that was on when I was little. I remember that women would get up and tell their "Gee, ain't it awful" life stories, and the one who was the most pathetic got to be queen, wear a crown and robe, sit on a throne, and win a washer. None of us is looking to be "QFAD", but it's really not helpful to compare our load with someone elses'. It's cancer no matter how you slice it. We all have our own coping mechanisms, levels of support, understanding of our situation and treatment, and no one goes through this exactly as someone else would. We don't get an instruction manual for being a cancer patient. We do the best that we can. There have been times where I couldn't bear all of the surgery, fear, and coping with lung mets, and couldn't stop crying, and got really depressed. It took a lot of support and work to get to the point where now I can bear what I am dealing with. It's an effort of will, not a fight as far as I'm concerned. I willed myself to start exercising regularly for the first time since high school when it was mandatory, get help when I was depressed, find support, go to meetings, learn more about the disease, and look beyond being a cancer patient. I'm starting my own business making jewelry, and will be raising money for the cancer counseling service at my hospital with part of the proceeds. Making a contribution helps with the coping, too.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 12:06 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Leroy,

I wanted to comment about the "fight", but also about our need to "look good" while doing so. Yesterday's comments were

uncomfortable to me for the most part.

Early December of 2005 I received a whole new attitude on looks in an elevator at my oncologist's. I'm a 64 year old guy,

5''9", with the rather unattractive little belly we fellows sometimes get. I'm also balding and sport a full, neatly trimmed

white beard. The steroids taken with chemo created what my kids called "chipmunk cheeks". I admit that around Christmas time,

I let the beard grow a bit and though I have never taken a job as a Santa, it would not take much to do so. I love it that,

sometimes, at the market, I get the wide eyed (usually hopeful) glances from little ones. It sure is fun.

Bone tired from chemo, I entered the elevator, really not paying much attention to those around me. I have become accustomed

to those tired looks in others and rarely have trouble sorting out the patient from the caregiver. But this day I became

aware of the beautiful blue eyes of a six or so year old girl staring up at me. People came off and on the elevator. Finally,

I knelt, looking straight into those eyes and, with my best Santa smile quietly said, "Ho Ho Ho". Her eyes widened for just

a moment. Then she smiled and said, "Are you really Santa?"

I gave my stock answer, " No, but I help Santa a lot." thinking of the many gifts I had yet to buy. Thinking that this might

indeed be the last Christmas with my little blue-eyed girl of 25.

Just then I realized that under her pretty blue scarf, this beautiful child had absolutely no hair. Thankfully, the elevator

door opened and some inertia pushed us into the large waiting room.

Ashley, as I was to come to know her, sidled down the long row of chairs. She settled into the chair next to me. We made eye

contact, she with a quiet, wistful look only little girls are capable of. I smiled and said, "Hi". We glanced at each others'

wrist bands.

She began her conversation casually, as though she were talking about one of her dolls, " I've been very, very sick." she

said. I nodded, "I know about that. I've been sick, too."

We continued our conversation for some minutes until her oncology nurse quietly sat by Ashley's side. "I have to go now.

Would you walk with me in there?" blue eyes imploring.

"In there" was to the oncology suite. Through a door and down the long corridor I had long ago christened "Valley of the

Shadow". Mom and nurse nodded at my enquiring eyes. Ashley slipped her small hand in mine as we walked a long, curtain draped

hall to the bed which would be hers today. I sat in the chair beside her as the nurse prepared all the paper wrapped

implements. Ashley held my hand. Thank God for lovely oncology nurses who know their business. Small tears at the pain were

wiped away. We sat quietly as bags were hung. Chemo is a busy time.

Anne, my oncology nurse, rushed past the room, did a huge double take and blurted, "Michael, I've been looking all over

for....." Onc nurses are busy folks and don't like their schedule messed with. But I'm proud of her. She got it right away.

Smiling softly at Ashley she said, "I have to take him away now."

Anne and I just cleared her curtains in the Valley before the tears overcame us both. Curious heads bobbed out from curtained

cubicles as Ashley's bright voice echoed from linoleum floors, "Thank You, Santa Claus!"

So if that image in the mirror bothers you today, just be thankful that you don't look like me...like Santa Claus. It can be

brutal.

As you said, Leroy, "..who ever said this was fair?"

Michael Lewis
Seattle

Sent by Michael Lewis | 12:14 PM ET | 05-15-2007

SURVIVE that is a word I have used for 33 years. You learn to use your mind and body to survive for the next day. You go on and live your life, do what you want. Down the road you may encounter other problems like I did, Heart disease. But you use what you learned in surviving Cancer and you SURVIVE heart problems the same way mind and body working together. I had a total heart block a year ago Sunday, my mind listening to my body made me get my wife to call an ambulance, the EMT got me to go to a closer hospital, so as they wheeled me thru the emergency room doors my heart stopped. I SURVIVED. I stayed in ICU for 2 monthes under the drug Vercid. during this time the procedures being done were very painful, but I SURVIVED by going to my "safe place" in my mind. I willed myself to go to a Templar Knights castle in the Middle East where there was a courtyard with tropical fruit fountains and PEACE AND TRANQUILITY, I stayed there until I could take laying in a bed trying to SURVIVE this next chapter in my life. When I talk to people about my life I use baseball as a guide, Hodgkins was Strike 1, Heart attacks were Strike 2 and 2 foul tips, but I am still at the plate ready to HIT A HOME RUN!!!

Sent by Sam Means | 12:21 PM ET | 05-15-2007

I watched your show with interest because I to have cancer. Endometrial cancer. The show was wonderful. Thank you for the chance for others to see how people with cancer look at their new lives and face what lies ahead. My only question is why I didn't hear a single mention of God in the whole show. I couldn't face any trials without Him, and I'm sure, even if you are a non-believer that at some point you have asked God the big question, why?

I also hate the word 'fight' when thinking of my cancer. The battle isn't mine to win or lose. It isn't about the disease. I feel that how I face this diagnosis is about how I face any hardship life throws my way. I ask God to give me strength to face tomorrow as He would want me to. I trust Him to help me learn the lessons this cancer will teach me about myself and to let me grow from it and accept death when it comes with dignity and grace knowing I will be with Him. I'm not afraid because I know where I'm going. To not have God with me would be my greatest fear, even more than the cancer.

My friend Lynn Eib is a patient advocate for Dr. Mark Hirsh, an oncologist in Hanover, Pa. She has written 3 wonderful books about living with cancer. Here is her website. http://www.cancerpatientadvocate.com/
I'm not advertising for her at all. Just thought if you ever need help spiritually, her books are uplifting, funny and insightful. God be with you.

Sent by Prudence Kinley-Ruth | 12:44 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Michael Lewis

You and Anne aren't the only ones who dried. What a moving story on many levels! Thank you.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 12:56 PM ET | 05-15-2007

So far I have watched about have of Living with Cancer and I must say it is very inspirational. My battle is with Squamous Cell Carcinoma on the tongue. I thought I had the battle when I had the tumor removed surgically in August of 2006. All margins were clear and path on the lymph nodes came back negative. It was the greatest feeling. Then in November I had a huge let down. It returned. Since then I have had chemo, chemo/radiation, HDR, and Hyperthermia. Finally after a trip to California, the doctors are pretty sure they got it. The only other surgery I will have to have is removal of a chain of lymph nodes as a precaution. There is more to my story but I will feel it in at a later date

Sent by Clark Hubbard | 12:57 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Burden, fight...these words do not describe how I feel about this time in my lfe. I have to believe that I am going thru this for a reason. Not really a burden as much as a lesson in life. In the last 4 years I have buried my father, step father, experienced cervical cancer treated with chemo and radiation, Katrina took all that I owned and now I have had a bilateral mastectomy. These life experiences test our resolve, we must often dig deep to find the strenght to persevere. As humans, we most often do...the survival instinct is strong. And when the time comes for the lessons to end, we can know that we learned well and hopefully shared our knowledge with others in order to assist in their lessons.

Sent by Liz Zimmerman | 1:16 PM ET | 05-15-2007

The comment by Micheal Lewis "Santa" made me cry but that's what it's all about. Cancer is NOT a contest (I thought it was when people told me so-and-so worked through their chemo). Cancer is NOT about how much one can bear - it's about living every hour of every day to the best of your ability. Cancer is NOT about fighting - it is about working toward a goal with God's help and the help of all his people (family, friends, caretakers). Thank you again Leroy for expressing our feelings so well. I hope you are enjoying your vacation and not doing tooooo much deep thinking:)

Sent by Vicki | 1:19 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Leroy,
You wrote this wonderfully. And I could hear the fire in your writing. That is what makes you a good writer. I can always feel your emotions.
For a long time I used to want to choke people who would say God will not give you more than you can handle or my favorite "things happen for a reason". If I may explain.
My journey with trials started in 2001. My first and only child was born 5 weeks early and caught a staff infection in the hospital. The doctors came in my room, and told me to get down to the NICU, they didn't know how much time he had left..... He made it and is a strong little boy with no problems. I truly considered myself blessed after that. Six months later I was diagnosed with my first brain tumor. It was a grade one PXA. (Boy would I kill for one of those again. lol) They removed it and I was good to go. But I was pissed off. I was mad at god, the people with good health that still had the nerve to complain.(the famous chip on the shoulder) Then a year later the tumor came back and I had the gamma knife procedure. I was pretty numb on that one. Was starting to wonder if I would have to deal with this crap the rest of my life. Then in 2005 it came back. Had the surgery, but this time it was a glioblastoma. Grade 4. CANCER...Of course fear set in, I'm not going to act like a super hero or anything. But I guess in the beginning I had the whole sink or swim attitude. I think that has made a huge difference in my battle. Yes I said battle. I try to help fellow tumor heads as much as I can as they do for me. Maybe it's the way I was raised. Maybe it's the reasons I want to stick around. My son, husband, family. Maybe it's selfish. Maybe I just don't want to leave this wonderful world yet. I would be very disapointed in myself IF one day the cancer decides to take me and I didn't do everything I could. I do not live my life acting as if I will die from this. Call it naive, call it what you will but I think that is what makes it possible for me to continue my fight.

Sent by Christine VanHoose | 1:31 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Dear Leroy, "Doing one's best." That is something I have said to my children, over and over again, the outcome isn't as important as the fact that you did your best. I think this is so true about our dealing with cancer. I do my best everyday trying to grab back the normalcy of my life inspite of the craziness all around it. When I think about the cancer and what the treatments entail sometimes I feel like I am in the land of Star Trek being injected with unknown substances from a planet not yet discovered by mere humans. Because there is so much unknown about cancer and the treatments and the way it behaves, I have to keep going because I have always been someone who sees the glass half full, if I keep trying my best the answer may just be around the corner. And even if it isn't I did give it my all. I just want to have made a contribution to this world that really matters. I don't want to be remember as the brave soul who fought cancer, but about what else I did with my life. I didn't choose to deal with cancer, but I did make decisions about how to give back and be a contributing member of society, and that's what I want people to remember. Cancer is just a sideline, nothing I would have chosen, and in the end what choice do we really have but to do our best. Enjoy the smell of the ocean and the beautiful flowers, Best, Estelle

Sent by estelle | 1:32 PM ET | 05-15-2007

hello again,
I really like reading what you have to say and feel Leroy! Fighting implies that we have to DO something. Of course I am choosing LIFE and I will be "pro-active" about getting through this disease- I am on board as I say-I'm a valuable member of my "tumor board"...but when I first heard a fellow teacher at the high school I've taught at for the last 18 years say "okay you're ready for the fight etc.. Ra Ra Ra... I remember freezing for a moment hmmm.....not sure about this fight thing-this fight word-I'd like to think I'm a peace maker :) (it is habit-in our culture-that's why you are changing the landscape) I think part of me was- Oh crap(can't use the s word) I have to WORK at something else-and I don't want to WORK right now-can I just get a break? I think a big reason my disease came along was because I was flat out TIRED. For me it's all about balance and I think the body lets us know when something's out of balance. Intuitively, to use your words bearing our burdens-Personally I think this is so-I think it's the meaning of LIFE, it's what we are doing in this existence, we are learning so much, about different degrees and types of pain and pleasure in so many aspects. Since you are talking about words-I'd like to comment on "Living with Cancer" I also have a book called "Living with Lymphoma" wonderful book!---Of course I've always like Living versus Dieing-not sure at this point I'd be drawn to a book called Dieing with cancer. I notice that the word that doesn't sit well with me is WITH. I think Lance Armstrong said -Cancer leaves your body but it doesn't leave your life. Amen. Of course it will never leave my life-this has been the most transformative experience probably in my entire life. I've been thinking of the words "Living through Cancer" It implies no matter what happens on the other end we got through it and we are victorious. I don't want Cancer in my body-just not sure about the WITH part. I wonder if anyone else feels this. I do think the right words are important. I think that is what is Up for me right now. This disease is so psychological that certain words carry alot of power/energy I think and set us in a certain direction. Thanks again for this blog!-I think I need spellcheck anything that is good-I say God invented it-for me God invented spellcheck. ;)
Linda

Sent by Linda Mowbray | 2:36 PM ET | 05-15-2007

dearest michael lewis,
your entry today is the MOST beautiful story i have ever read since joining this "club". thank you so sincerely for your story. i , too was once a beautiful blue eyed little girl, now i am a bald blued eyed woman.your silent knowing of when "to say or to do" with that blued eyed child is something i will take with me forever. you stroy will remind me that i shouldn't complain about being a bald blued eyed woman; that i too have something to offer in this crazy world!

Sent by marianne dalton | 2:45 PM ET | 05-15-2007

After reading the comments sent in by Nancy K. Clark, I was instantly transported back in time. I was a young, very young, wife living in Naval housing on Mare Island and being forced to listen to that dreadful program Queen For a Day because my next door neighbor wouldn't turn down the volume on her TV. I remember thinking the same thoughts as Nancy. Have these contestants no pride? Each trying to outdo the other in pathos and exaggeration. When I first started to read this blog I had the same feeling, then it hit me. This isn't a contest. It is very real people telling very real stories, which just happen to be similar to mine. How we handle the "burden" of cancer is going to be different for each and every one of us. Talking about it can be therapeutic for some and an invasion of privacy for others.

And then I read Michael Lewis' comments and I am still crying. With my 1/8" hair I will never be mistaken for Santa Claus but should that happen, I would hope to handle the situation with the same compassion and sensitivity. Well done, Michael.

Sent by Brenda Lynch | 2:47 PM ET | 05-15-2007

When I first started reading this blog in 2006 I couldn't relate because it seemed that all who wrote had some not so bad disease. But something has changed recently and the stories are honest and the topics are reflecting what people with cancer really live and suffer through.

My husband is my true hero. I remain in awe of how he handled himself and how he dealt with the hand given him. So many of the writings on the blog show the same spirit of compassion and courage.

Sent by Irene | 3:54 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Hi Leroy, I used to ring up you and Ted when you came to our deli in DC for lunches and when I watched your "Living with Cancer" show it was like saying hi to an old friend. I have lung cancer, COPD, Osteoporosis. The COPD will probably get me before the others do with only 18% of my lungs left. I remember being told you have up to 3 years with my diagnosis and now have been fighting or living with my diseases for 10 years. Last year I suffered respiratory failure again and like you I stay home and watch alot of TV and have lots of dialogue with myself. I emailed all of my friends and family and told them to make sure they watch your show because your words are mine, minus the Chemo and Radiation. My lungs are too bad to risk any treatment for the cancer. I have never been able to tell people how I feel because I was afraid it would make me sound weak and scared so I say, I'm fine, my normal response. I thank you and applaud you for the willingness to share your life with us, by helping us find the words that set me free and allowed others to know my feelings without thinking I am weak. (now living in Yuma, AZ)

Sent by Pat Beach | 3:58 PM ET | 05-15-2007

When I was about to start chemo, my daughter gave me a cap inscribed "Let's Roll" in honor of the passengers and crew from Flt.93. I felt that I could use the power of the human spirit that they exhibited when facing formidable odds. They chose to fight and by doing so "chose life".

"Fight" maybe too strong for some but for me it is synonomous with the power of the human spirit. With this said, it does not imply that there is only one way to "fight" our cancers. Each must seek and do what is best for them and use it to their best advantage.

To ultimately die from cancer does not, for me, imply weakness of body or spirit or an unwillingness to fight. I had 3 fellow melanoma friends who died from their disease. They fought as hard as they could to survive but the disease was too much. They were noble in their fight. Their spirit was strong and their will to survive was also. After their protracted battles, they chose "to do no more" and slipped quietly away. I do not look at them as weak in any way. I am inspired by the way they handled "their burdens". I am also inspired by their simple choice, "I did my best but now I am too tired to continue and I am ok with my choice".

Words do carry power! In my cancer world, "fight" is everything positive and nothing about it is negative. This is not a contest!!! I don't equate surviving or dying as being categorized as a "winner" or "loser". I have friends who have survived and some who have died but the thought of trivializing their "fight" with cancer into such simplistic categories, dishonors their names/memories.

Quote - "I know that God want give me more than I can handle but I just wish that God didn't trust me so much". Amen

Sent by Al Cato | 4:36 PM ET | 05-15-2007

When a friend or colleague offers to "let me know if there is anything I can do" they are giving you a gift. Do not be afraid or too proud to accept their gift. Let them give you their gift. While I was sick people mowed my lawn, helped with houshold chores, had sleep-over ofr our kids and did other mundane tasks that can become more extraoridnary when you are dealing with the effects of cancer and its treatment.

I had many, many days where listening to the radio was all my day consisted of. That was all the "fight" I had in me sometimes. You fight as best as you can as long as you can. Nobody has the right to tell anyone they are not fighting adequately. If you have no fight left or if fear or pain or hopelesness has overcome your spirit, this does not make you less of a person. In fact, it just validates that you are human. Just do what you can and forgive yourself if you fall short of others expectations. Walk a mile in my shoes, brother. Then you will know what it's really like.

BTW, I love Al Cato's quote about God not trusting me so much. The folks who add content to this blog are so introspective, articulate and philosophical. I get intellectual stimulation and a cathartic experience every single time I come here. Everybody keep up the great work.

Leroy, you are the sun this universe orbits around. Thanks for sharing with us all.

Sent by Dave U. | 7:17 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Dear Mr. Sievers,

I almost feel bad to add to your ever-growing lists of comments, seeing that you read all of them. But sorry, not so bad that I won't share my story...

I first want to say that I was truly touched by your recent Discovery Channel documentary. Never very eloquent in my own writing (I'm a math/science guy), I've found myself struggling this past year with how to tell my story, but here goes...

On March 15, 2006 I was diagnosed with Stage IV Ewing's Sarcoma at the age of 24. I'm now 25, 17 rounds of high-dose chemo stronger. I also received radiation to my left femur and lower spine. Given less than 30% chance to live, I turned my nose up at the statistics and came back from death's door step. I achieved remission last August. Four weeks ago, I started to feel pain in my lungs and left arm and we are now trying to figure out if I have a recurrence, or if I'm lucky enough to have an infection in my lung and a bone infarction in my arm.

The thing about cancer that's hit me so hard is how lonely it is despite the fact that I have the most amazing support system. Two loving parents, two older sisters and tons of friends have done nothing but tried to comfort and normalize my life. Regardless of what is happening around me, I still find myself lost in my own loneliness. Don't get me wrong, my support system has done so much for me, and I certainly couldn't have done it alone. But sometimes, nothing relieves the loneliness. Perhaps its because I'm so young and have friends who can only offer their sympathy, but cannot empathize. Sometimes I feel that the only place I can find comfort is while watching documentaries such as yours, or reading blogs like this, seeing that I'm not alone. Anyways...I wanted to thank you for showing the strength you did in your determination to make the documentary.

Sent by Bobby Silberman | 7:53 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Leroy,
I am so grateful for your honesty during the Living with Cancer program. I taped it and inted to share it with others who need positives. I know that I cried while watching it. Validation takes on a whole new meaning. Keep up the great work and my prayers are with you.

Sent by Beth Hime | 7:55 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Well, I was waiting until more people
commented before I did. I have a little
problem with the "We are given the burdens we can bear" idea. It reminds me of a story I'd heard about a woman whose father had just died and someone
told her "God doesn't give us more
than us can handle". Her response was, "Do you mean if I were a weaker person, My father would still be alive?" I like that. I'd hate to think because I'm a strong person, I'm given more to deal with. I know this sounds a tad cynical, but I've had alot of
bad luck in my life. I don't consider myself a strong person or much of a fighter. But I have learned to cope with what I has been dealt. I don't think in terms of fighting my cancer,
especially since there is no cure. But
I do all the things the doctors ask me to do and I take my chemo without complaining. I'm a good patient, a good trooper, if you will. I am living with it as best I can. My cancer has changed me as it has many of us. I
have learned to appreciate things more,
I'm more compassionate toward people who are ill. But I wish I didn't have to have cancer to gain these qualities.

I hope this might help Kate who posted earlier and said she had a problem with the idea of God giving people what they can bear. I don't think I have cancer because of any reason other than bad stuff happens. But I think we can choose how we deal with it. And I am constantly amazed with just how much the human spirit can deal with.

Sent by Susan in Maryland | 8:19 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Leroy,
I recently discovered your blog after hearing you on NPR. I find myself checking in regularly even though "blogging" isn't something I'm normally drawn to.

I appreciate the discussion about your "burdens" comment. Perhaps it's a semantic issue for some of us.

When I was an adolescent, my mom was diagnosed with Non Hodgekins Lymphoma 2 years after my dad was diagnosed with a very debilitating case of MS. I was often angered by comments such as that. It made me wonder why my friends' healthy parents were so "unburdened." Even though they are both gone now, the grace and strength that both my parents modeled became a life lesson that I drew on when I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma a few years ago.

After several rounds of chemo and a stem cell transplant I continue to "fight" to try to live a normal life. And with the help of a great family, wonderful friends AND some experimental meds, most days I feel like I'm successful at it.

Thanks to all of you whose stories and perspectives are helpful to the rest of us.

Those of us who are on this journey may not know what the future holds, but for me I'm just glad I'm still making the trip.
Lesa

Sent by Lesa | 9:51 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Hello again Leroy. I find myself making time every night to get online and read your latest. Thank you for doing this, giving all of us this outlet. I have not really ever looked at having cancer as a burden to bare. I guess I have looked at it as curve balls and speed bumps in this journey we call life. It made me slow down and really enjoy the little moments, and I don't take people or things for granted. Most of us did not doing anything intentionally to get cancer, but we did and we deal with it all the while living our lives. My doctor told me after it recurred the first time that it was now a chronic disease and people live many years with chronic diseases. So I guess I have looked at it like that and it helped, I work in a hospital so I know there are a lot of chronic diseases and there have even been a few that I have decided make cancer look not so bad (I know that is a hard one to believe). So when I have a bad moment I just remind myself that there are people out there with their own "chronic disease" and that I just need to put on my "big girl panties" and deal with it. It works most of the time. So for everyone out there in the cancer world let's keep laughing and smiling!!! And THANK YOU again Leroy for this wonderful outlet for us all.

Sent by Cheryl | 11:29 PM ET | 05-15-2007

Hey Leroy..I love this entry as well. I really don't like the word fighter..just like I hate when someone says your touched by cancer. Touched..its more like kicked punched and beaten down..but touched kinda doesn't fit.
Fight maybe to strong simply..because cancer is so huge and overwhelming at times. We can possibly fight every single day and second in it.
But I agree with Al...That we are all different in how we handle it and how we use it when we move forward.
I love the words *Just Do It* because they reflect on how I felt it was a just do it situation and that was that.
I don't believe I am brave or better then others in the fight.. But I do believe staying positive in what ever way you can helps.
Cancer from what I have learned is what itis..But it can't take away nothing if we let it.
There is a saying * I have cancer but cancer doesn't have me* I reminded daily that living with cancer...it becomes something smaller daily..Yes there are what ifs and yes there are problems cause we have it. But all and all no matter what life is awesome. Lately I have just made the choice to not give it the power it deserves. Life is far bigger.

Sent by kerry | 12:26 AM ET | 05-16-2007

Michael Lewis .. your story was just so moving. thank you for sharing that.

Leroy .. your show, and your blogg are wonderful. I have only started reading the blogg, after watching your show, and thank you for taking the time to do this for us all, even while on vacation.

Recently diagnosed with colon cancer, I really have related to a lot of what you have wrote.

Sent by Jill | 12:42 AM ET | 05-16-2007

As far as I'm concerned, people with cancer can use whatever language they want, to describe their medical treatments. "Fighting" cancer doesn't work so well for me, but not for the reason you suggest, Leroy - the "what if you lose the fight?" reason. In a fight for a just cause, I believe it's possible to go down fighting, and display a certain nobility of spirit. You know, Davy Crockett at the Alamo, the Charge of the Light Brigade, all that "ripping yarns" stuff. There's no shame in losing, as long as the cause is just.

The reason I have trouble with the pugilistic language is that, in my reading about cancer since my NHL diagnosis a year and a half ago, I've come to understand that cancer isn't a foreign invader inside our bodies, but is actually part of ourselves. Maybe that's an NHL survivor's outlook, in particular - because I've got a cancer that can't be cut out surgically, nor zapped by a focused beam of radiation. It's a systemic cancer, present at many places within my body simultaneously. While I'm in remission at the moment, it's capable of returning at any time. Indeed, the die may already be cast for me, for good or for ill - because, in all likelihood, my cancer was genetically programmed to happen since before the day I was born.

My chemo treatments pushed it back. But they didn't alter my DNA. If some renegade chromosome on the dark side of one of my DNA strands is set to go off like a time bomb when I turn 52, or 59, or 67, or whatever, and instruct the lymphocyte it manages to start growing, then it's just going to happen, that's all. And, if that DNA strand is already duplicated a bazillion times over, dispersed throughout my lymphatic system, then a whole lot of other little genetic time bombs are going to go off, and other mutated lymphocytes are going to start growing, too.

My cancer is part of me. So, what am I supposed to do, in "fighting" it? Punch myself in the nose?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not happy about having cancer. I'm not embracing it. Some days I'm mad as hell about it. It's just that I find the "courageous battle" talk oddly inappropriate - knowing what I know about how a cancer like mine comes to be.

Others may feel differently, and - for you folks who do - you're welcome to your viewpoint. It's just not language I can easily use to describe my own situation.

Sent by Carl Wilton | 1:14 AM ET | 05-16-2007

Leroy,
One of today's comments said that she did not get the "We are only given the burdens we can carry". This struck a cord with me. I have always felt that things happen for a reason and it is not for us to question why. This is for God to know. My faith has really helped me the most in dealing with my cancer. We all have our own crosses to bear. It's about how we go about holding them that matters. My heart does go out to the parents who must deal with a child suffering from cancer or any ailment. I cannot speak from experience. But I really do find that prayer and meditation gives me lots of strength.

Sent by Betty in Germany | 1:52 AM ET | 05-16-2007

I agree with you Leroy, we are given the burdens we could bear. Seems hard to believe when the burden is at its heaviest, but we get through it. And we are never alone, just have a little faith.

Sent by Myrna | 3:13 AM ET | 05-16-2007

Hello again, I was always told I was "brave", but I didn't ask for the "fight" - I just did what I had to to survive. Unfortunately it feels like trying to survive isn't quite enough. Quality vs quantity and all...I just want the nightmares to go away. The worst part is the "fight" to stay sane. Thanks for your insights, Leroy. You say things in such a classy way, when all I want to do is scream.

Sent by Tammy | 10:16 AM ET | 05-16-2007

My late wife (who was a Dao-ist) "fought" cancer, and near the end, I had an odd dream. In it, Buddha came to me and simply said, "tell her to stop fighting" I woke with a start and the next day told her that. She changed not long after that, and altered her approach. In the end, she died, but don't we all?

Sent by Al in PT | 11:34 AM ET | 05-16-2007

Bobby - I think you have to take back your comment about not being very eloquent in your writing. Your last paragraph about the loneliness speaks very clearly. Thank you and bless you!

Sent by Vicky | 11:52 AM ET | 05-16-2007

Thank You-

Sent by vincent fede | 12:24 PM ET | 05-16-2007

Nan,
Words to think about.
Mom

Sent by Nancy Stein | 1:51 PM ET | 05-16-2007

Leroy, every time I think I'm not going to write to your blog again, I find something so moving from yours or others comments; I am compelled to say something. To Bobby, I am sorry you are so young and have to bear this situation, but remember that others younger than you have also experienced this heavy weight. Some have survived and others not. I was feeling so sad when my friend Ben Cupps died at the age of 17, 7 months after his diagnosis. Then I watch a story about a little boy who died from cancer, in his mothers arms, before he could learn to drive a car. Our Ben lived long enough to drive. He shot down the Colorado River in a raft 2 years ago this June. We took the train up Pikes Peak also. Then a year later he was to weak to run across the street. He had his tongue removed. NOTHING WORKED to save him. BUT, he did so many things others haven't had the chance to do. I hope we all live this short life we have, to our fullest desire. And if you can't do the things that you use to do, remember those who never got the chance to do them at all.

Sent by Leah | 4:20 PM ET | 05-16-2007

Leroy Seivers,
My name is Erin and I have aboyfriend that has been diagnosed with glioblastoma, stage 4! He is currently undergoing chemo with temodar every 24 days...He was diagnosed 1 year ago memorial day weekend...I watched your special and I am so filled with hope, and I would love to have as much information as possible- The docotors info for a second opinion...your treatment with the radio wave probe...Johns' Hopkins doctors and programs...Help please...I know that his time is valuable and it has already been a year...I want the best treatment possible for him...and I know that you can help me- I have tried to get a copy of the "living with cancer" special but it is going into review at Dateline with the executives. Please help me...talk to me...You and your story is inspiring!

Sent by Erin M. Mullally | 4:41 PM ET | 05-16-2007

I'm touched by what Jennifer Hughes said on her comment's... my mother was diagnosed with the same in October... Leroy's blog & community has helped me tremendously to understand what happens to all those dealing with cancer. This blog has been therapy for me...I would suggest that we all just keep reading... I'm just beginning to understand this thing called cancer..

Thank you Leroy and friends,

Richard Williams
Marysville, Ca

Sent by Richard Williams | 10:09 PM ET | 05-17-2007

Leroy, your explanation of the phrase is completely plausible and I appreciate what it means to you. However, I too have difficulty with that very saying; perhaps the choice of those specific words irks me. If we can all have a different interpretation of it, well, I suppose that???s expected. But since it???s so often-used when talking about bearing a particular cross, I think it's important to note what it implies on a more literal level. The word "given" is what troubles me most. Who or what is giving us these burdens? Your interpretation might suggest that it's life itself, that we all come to points sooner or later where we have to deal with certain realities. But using the word "given" in the context of receiving something that must be borne suggests that someone or something is directing these burdens onto us.

Several years ago a patient posted a message using that phrase. He's gone now. Was he given the burden of a disease so he could eventually bear his own death? Why did he find comfort in that phrase? Is it only in moments of strength and hope that one can accept the burden and feel in confidence that the burden is tolerable?

This phrase seems to also suggest for many people that a god is giving them this burden, as if it is a test. (The story of Job holds no insignificant reference). God in this case only doles out what will make you stronger. This sense of "given" personified seems to hint at sadism; that someone or something could possibly be weighing out who gets what disease, tragedies, reprieves, or cures.

Sent by GlenD | 2:25 AM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy,
Wow, I just watched the Koppel special, after recording it on DVR. Thank you so very much for your ability to articulate life with cancer. I've been living with stage IV lung cancer for nearly 6 yrs. now; while this experience has somehow made me stronger the cancer still has the ability to overwhelm me and bring me to my knees. A couple of years ago I did a special with Lance, Run for the Roses- Livestrong book-He made a comment on the Koppel special that 'cancer was the best thing that ever happened to me'. That statement has never made sense to me. Cancer has stolen many, many people that I considered close freinds, it has disrupted the lives of the very best of society, and while I'm thankful that I have been successfully treated so far; I also know I will most likely meet up with it again. I don't know why I've survived while others have tried just as hard and died anyway. But I know I have to be vocal, as a cancer survivor and advocate, as a mother of two precious daughters. Reading your blog, hearing you speak so eloquently, it's funny how connected I feel to your words. While I know sharing your experience, helping others can be self-healing and help us sift through the multi-range of emotions and thought it can also be draining and exposing. I thank you for your bravery to do so anyway.

Sent by Lori Monroe | 11:40 PM ET | 05-18-2007

Leroy, IT seems you know exactly what I'm thinking alot of the time. To me, I'm 35 now, cancer is not a curse from God in my opinion because look at all the children with cancer. God would not curse or burden children, I don't think. I agree that "things happen for a reason". I've struggled ALOT in my life, was a single mother at 21, had many medical problems and then the Leukemia in Oct 2001. Up until then my father and I were not real close, he never really said"I love you" to much and I felt like the black sheep of the family, but once he found out how sick I was I guess he realized his 30 year old daughter could die. From then on, he now tells me he loves me and that he is proud of me. Maybe that was my "reason" for getting sick so he could see that he has 5 wonderful kids that need to hear their father loves them and is proud of them. As for Cancer being a burden I have to carry, well yes, I feel that statement is true because we all have different types of burdens, but people with cancer, in my opinion, seem to have triple the burdens or "stresses". We not only have to fight for our life from the cancer but we also have to fight the government to not cut medicare payments to these wonderful oncologists who are trying to save people from dying. It seems like to me when you have cancer and need medical assistance or food stamps or financial assistance, etc. you hit a brick wall, at least I know I did because my husband and I made "too much money" BEFORE I got sick to qualify for food stamps to feed my 2 boys since mommy couldn't work and didn't know if mommy was going to live or die. Medical bills-burden/stress, having enough money to pay mortgage, elec, water, food, gas-burden/stress. Not to mention the stress it puts on your spouse and your marriage.
But 5 years later guess what? The same stress and worries are still with me along with all the new side effects I endure everyday from all the treatments I've been through. My sister always told me " I don't know if I could be as strong if it had been me to get leukemia/" All I say is "I wasn't ready to go and leave my family so their was only one thing to do "FIGHT"! And I will fight to the bitter end no matter what.
Angel Lemons AML?BONE MARROW TRANSPLANT SURVIVOR

Sent by Angel Lemons | 4:58 AM ET | 05-20-2007

Dear Leroy,

I am moved by your writing in the Burdens We Can Bear and the comments others have written in response. The tears I shed while reading are about gratitude for life, everywhere I have been in my self-development and hearing from people as big and graceful as you all are from my vantage point. I see you as guides for whatever more may come my way that I will need to rely on grace, my best self, perserverance, solidity/reality and my core presence. I see you as guides for living life - thank you.

Leroy, thank you for your decision to be public about your journey. I haven't wanted to connect until now. I guess as a 46 year old, single mom, breast cancer survivor (for now - it's been 7 years from diagnosis and remission), I feel grateful to be living as if I never had cancer and worry that I am not doing all the preventative (bone scans? etc.) that I should be doing to ensure an early catch should an occurrence be quietly sitting in me. I don't have family and so I want longevity for my relationship with my daughter. My mother passed when I was 21 and I couldn't bear her passing - I thought I was actually dying - she was everything to me (the good, bad and the ugly.) I want to live, love, garden, be with my daughter and my closest friendships, travel, cook, sew, do good work, read, and even find family members in Italy and Mexico.

Your writings help me stay focused on what really matters, and help me use myself for my work of supporting recovering addicts. It will help me stop pressing to complete the to-do task list on the job as well as at home, and help me have quiet time, and good conversations with my 8 year old daughter.

I suspected I had breast cancer when I learned I was pregnant with her, but I found out with an official diagnosis after breast-feeding her (about 2 years after my initial point of suspicion).

I am just learning about blogs from yours and thank you again for initiating the undertaking - because for me, this is better than a support group! I am in remission - so don't really qualify for any support groups. It's a good feeling to be connected to cancer survivors and their allies. I am Chicana - and I am wondering if you know of blogs in Spanish. Since my diagnosis I have come across so many existing friends of mine (Latinas) who later become diagnosed and I think that this may possibly be very valuable to them as well.

??En Allianza - Siguiendo adelante con ustedes! (In Alliance - Moving forward with you!)

Michelle

Sent by Michelle Di Miscio | 8:21 PM ET | 05-25-2007

Okay, I'm so upset at this juncture I just read the title "The Burdens We Can Bear" Well, I think I'm going to break as the song goes by Eric Clapton: "The moon don't shine... the car won't start, it's broken down...my whole damn world is broken down"
My husband has advanced prostate cancer, I was dx'd with MS 20 years ago, my oldest son has Asperger's and my youngest is bipolar and now the sink is clogged and I feel like I'm ready to explode because of course it's my fault for trying to use the garbage disposal for vegetable peelings. Ahhhh,

It's funny how the little things can just send you over the edge. So petty and insignificant, yet.... I feel so frustarated. Anyone walk in my shoes... Please.
Venting big time,
Chelle

Sent by Chelle | 8:12 PM ET | 05-27-2007

Hi There

I happened to enter 'God will not give you any more than you can bear' into Google. It is something that I have heard time and time again, the truth of the matter is God never said that. The bible tells us that there is nothing new under the sun, the bible also goes on to tell us that there is nothing that we are confronted with that we cannot handle (this is paraphrasing), now, that is easier said than done, when you only have a broken leg, or the car will not start, even if you are about to lose your home, but when one is faced with sickness and afflication, terminal illness, pain and suffering, we have to ask God WHY? WHY ME or WHY US. But what he does is he says 'I am your burden bearer' and he will take away your burdens. Now, the cancer may not go, and the pain may hang around for a few more years, and yes, you may in fact more than likely die. But the God that we serve gives us a reason for living, he gives us a new lease of life. AND For the one that believes there is NO GOd, for the one that is confined to the wheelchair or stuck to the morphine drip, the one who cannot talk who cannot eat who has no quality of life, and for one that has no interest in God or the one that thinks all hope is gone, listen to me, form a relationship with him and he will carry you through. This life is a corridor that we are going through, but for all believers - and that opportunity is for all of us, there is hope that we can live and live more abundantly, do not let anything separate you from the love of God, in your situation take this opportunity to say Lord, I cannot believe, how could you let this happen, Lord I trusted and believed in you and now there is sickness and death is a certainty, Lord I confess that you are the Lord and Saviour of my life and I believe that you can carry me through and over, Lord I believe that you came and you died so that I can have life and have it more abundantly, Lord Carry me through, hold my hand Lord whilst I run this race.

Whether you have days months or years, your life need never be the same again. To those that do not know him, this is a foolish suggestion, it was foolish to me once, but now I know him and can tell you how he has carried me through.

This is a wonderful site, a place where people can share and I will continue to pray to God for each and every one of you, for those that can pray for others pray for them, God answers all prayers, the answer may not be what you want, but he answers them and farther along we will know all about this and farther along we will understand why.

God Bless Each and Every one of you.

Maxine

Sent by Maxine | 10:38 AM ET | 06-09-2007