Dear Leroy,
I suppose it is my self-centered nature, but I feel as if you are speaking to me, and giving me the comforting words I need to hear the most. Those words are that there is someone out there who cares that I am in pain, physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritualy and they understand the helplessness of wanting to do anything to help, but what? Well, if you were speaking to me, I would say thank you just for recognizing that I still exist and that my life matters, at least to one person, and that is you.
You have been here for us, and we have tried so hard to be there for you, and hope in sharing our ups and downs we can bring light to your life as you have so unselfishly opened your heart to ours.
Thank you for caring enough to take the time each day to talk with us, to be there, and it really helps and from what you have just written, I know you are aware of that. I suppose it is unintentionally setting you apart from the rest of the group, to say it is difficult to imagine someone like you needing the tender care of someone's loving thoughts, because I suppose we think of you as having so many around you each day giving you all the love and support you need, but, maybe that isn't true all the time either. I know there are some who have thought I had everything I needed, never imagining how much I ached for the sound of a kind friend's voice on the other end of the phone or for someone to put their arms around me and give me a sincere and caring hug. You know the kind, the one that says I love you, even if you do have Cancer, because you have Cancer and I love you without that word even being involved, the love is just for being you.
Thank you for the message. You touched my heart so early this morning.
Peace, Briana

Sent by briana | 7:36 AM ET | 05-31-2007

This is something thats been on my mind, for a long time??? What its like, to be the non-Ca friend.

Someone wrote the other day, about the importance of reaching out, calling, visiting, or offering to help in any small way. I did all those things, but my Ca friend is on radio silence. Not a word in return??? I feel like just putting my letters in the wastebasket, rather than the mailbox. This really hurts.

For me the glass is usually half- full. So I try to find the positive lessons here, and they are many??? First, your kind words, Leroy, which always speak to me. A new found awareness and sensitivity to everyone in Ca world (and I now have opened my eyes to lots of people) . A rededication to helping others. A greater sense of just how precious life is. Thankfulness for the former happy moments.

Sent by Emile | 8:35 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Leroy, your post today was particularly timely for me, as I'm really feeling the need for you and my other blog friends today. My breast reconstruction surgery is scheduled for this coming Monday, June 4, and I'm suddenly finding myself kind of scared. Part of me feels like I should just buck up, because technically this is elective surgery - I don't need it to get rid of any cancer. But I'm still scared, and feeling alone because I can't really share my fears with my husband - as it turns out, he was more shaken up than I knew about my original diagnosis and surgery, and I don't know if he's up to the task of reassuring or comforting me. So I'm asking you all for a kind thought or online hug to get me through the next few days. And I'll gladly return the favor any time.

Sent by Gretchen Hoag | 8:48 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Hi Leroy/Everyone,
Your remark about how crazy the cancer world is ???When its easier to be the patient??? holds very much truth. As a caregiver/spouse I feel in my heart that I am going through the same pain as my husband; the only thing I am not experiencing is the IV needle in my vein. I have never missed a chemotherapy session, Scan or oncology consultation. I have been following the same road by his side from day one. I have the same fears, same anxiety, same feeling of hopelessness and as I had mentioned in one of my earlier posts, the emotional stress has a way of taking over your body where the pain starts to become physical as well. How does one deal with the process of having to let go of someone you have shared what seems like a lifetime with. We are practically joined at the hip, a very close and loving relationship. My husband worries about leaving me and the children behind and I am always wishing that I was the one that was sick so that HE would be the one to have to carry the burden. I feel very guilty about this because I know it???s very selfish on my part . They say things get better as time passes. I am waiting patiently for that day to come where I can accept the inevitable. My husband was diagnosed last March. When , if ever, does the acceptance kick in? Thank you Leroy for writing these blogs for us

Sent by sasha | 8:49 AM ET | 05-31-2007

My husband is older than I am and has had some health issues. I have always been the disgustingly healthy one. All of our plans have been centered around his dying first. When he retired he took a reduced pension so I could have survivor benefits. Now it looks like this will not be the case. Things change so quickly. I can only imagine how hard it is for him and I know at times I make it more difficult because I am so independent. There are so many things I want to do on my own. When I am full chemo he does go with me but as I have been receiving just Avastin I relish running in on my own and doing this. I know this is difficult for my husband coupled with the thought of growing older himself without me as a support and a caretaker.

My friends are another story. It breaks my heart to see their concern. I am always making jokes about the situation but I know they are sad. A friend I've had since college has had a number of losses in her life and it kills me to know I will be adding another.

I've mentioned this before but the best thing anyone said to me when I shared my diagnosis was a friend who simply said, "I'll be there." What more can we ask for?

Sent by Dona | 9:31 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Good Morning everyone~ first to Gretchen, I'll be there with you if only in spirit. I know how afraid I was last year when I was facing surgery. I tried so hard to put on a brave face but the tears came a half hour before surgery. So it's ok, and you will do just fine. I am also writing to ask for advice. I am going to my brother in laws funeral soon. I am one of those people who don't know what to say to his wife and children. I usually just want to start bawling but I bite my lip so I won't. Can someone tell me a few things I can say to them? I don't live nearby so I can't offer any assistance to helpout with errands or anything like that. Thank you~

Sent by DiAnn | 9:41 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Like Brianna, I sometimes feel that you are speaking directly to me, and about what has been weighing so heavily on my mind. One of the more difficult aspects of this experience has been the distance that has come between me and some of my closest friends. I can understand not knowing quite what to say, but not saying anything at all is worse.
Gretchen, consider this your cyber hug from me. You will be in my thoughts and prayers.
Blessings,

Sent by Lesa | 9:43 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Dear Leroy and the blog family-
I've been the family support person, the friend, and the person with findings suggestive of cancer. Re what to say - I recommend the book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" written by Harold Kushner. I have given the book multiple friends facing a variety of life's terrible situations.
I usually end up paraphrasing the book: "This sucks. But you are not alone. Where do we go from here?" Then I try to visit/call/take them places/bring food/clean as might be helpful.
As a person who lost my beloved mother-in-law just last week, I can sincerely say that hanging around with a person dying from cancer has been an enriching experience. It has been sad, but not depressing.

Sent by Barbara | 10:13 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Hi Leroy,
I look forward to reading your blog everyday. Your words always touch me in some way. I am back in Cancer World for the 2nd time. I had breast cancer back in July of 2003 and was diagnosed with metastisized breast cancer to my liver in April of this year. My treatment is going well and I feel good. Once again my family and friends have rallied around me in love and support. My husband and I were devastated when my oncologist told us that my cancer was back. My husband had a harder time with the news than I did. Perhaps it was because I was ready to jump in with both feet and fight this awful disease with my chemo treatments. He was the one who made all the phone calls to family and friends. He is the one who accompanies me to every doctor appointment, chemo treatment, and scan. He is wonderful; he is my rock. I couldn't get through this without him. He even shaved my head last weekend because my hair was coming out in clumps. He says that I am beautiful bald, and I believe him. We have decided to live one day at a time. When we visited our priest on the day of my diagnosis he told us that sometimes you live one moment at a time. Don't think about yesterday or worry about tomorrow or next week. Enjoy today. I really try to do that.
Thanks, Leroy.

Mary

Sent by Mary McLellen | 10:13 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Dear Leroy,
This morning as the patient I was feeling down over my cancer. I am usually very upbeat, but I was wondering if I would ever be normal again, lead the normal life that I led before. My husband came down and saw me crying and he did put everthing in perspective. We will live with it for the rest of our lives, there are no explanations as to why it happened to us and we must deal with it how ever we can. Last year he had 4 heart attacks and I was the caregiver. Now it's his turn. Cancer is so difficult, a huge battle everyday not only on your body, but in your mind. We need to be able to turn to who ever will listen whether we need to laugh or cry. Sometimes the caregivers cannot express how they feel because they don't want to upset the patient. Sometimes as the patient we need to hear how they feel to validate how we are feeling. Thank you for all you do, you have been a god send to all of us.

Sent by Chris Fitzgerald | 10:15 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Hi Leroy,
I can't thank you enough for your posts.
Everyday I read & find some nugget of wisdom from you or comments that post.
Today was especially comforting for me about being "friends". To learn I am not alone. Sometimes being a friend to a non CA person is harder for them to accept, because of "your" illness. They don't want to add to your burdens, so they just stay away. They don't understand that being there for a friend is part of our daily "living".
Whether it is a hug, shoulder to cry on, or ear to just listen. Sometimes
no words need to be spoken.
When speaking with my non CA friends I try to keep the conversation away from "ME". I want to know what is going on in their lives. I want to learn more about the world outside of my CA. I try to let them know I am "Living" still. I want to laugh or cry with them.
I am so blessed to have 2 very close friends of 25 yrs. We have a "girls night out" every few weeks. We go to a restaurant to eat, catch up on news/gossip hee/hee, & laugh about past or present things.
To reach out to others is sometimes accepted & sometimes "not". Doesn't matter to me. The peson may have issues I am not aware of. I will just be patient until they are ready to accept my gestures of friendship.
Thank you again for giving us thoughts to ponder. For a place to voice our thoughts & oppinions.
Love in Christ,
Jean Trobaugh
Ada, Okla.

Sent by Jean Trobaugh | 10:25 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Dear Gretchen,
I, too, will be there with you, in spirit when you have your surgery on Monday. Please do not under-
estimate the trauma of going through another surgery, and the feeling of aloneness we all feel, no matter what we might think the severity of it is. Surgery is surgery, and even reconstruction can have its traumatic effects. You must be doing a lot of wondering - what will I look like when I get out of surgery? Will I look alright, will they be even or will I be disfugured, all the same? What kind of night will my surgeon have before surgery, will he get enough rest to pay attention to my body, THIS IS THE ONLY ONE I HAVE!!!!!
You are not going to be having this on an elective basis like a fashion model does, in order to enhance her income status, or for purely cosmetic reasons. There are still a lot of emotions that go along with reconstruction, and I will be thinking of you the whole way. I hope there will come a day when I am well enough to be in the position whether or not to have the reconstruction surgery. I was advised, and thankfully so, not to have it done immediately following the mastectomy. The advice may have very well been life-saving, considering the complications I have had since then.
Even now, if they every get my health straightened out, I will be nervous about it, so please give your self a break and a big hug from me.
There is no such thing as minor surgery in my book and reconsrtuction is in no way minor. I am certain you have had to go through many preparations for this day to come, and there is a lot of anticipation that goes along with it.
I am sending my best to you and will be thinking of you. Trust your surgeon(?)!! If you have gotten this far with that physician, you must have faith in their abilities. Still, do not be afraid to ask questions, right up until the time they put you to sleep. And when you awake, I hope you will be so pleasantly surprised, and have a renewed self-image and a new lease on life!!!!!
Love,
Briana

Sent by briana | 10:27 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Leroy et al

I have become fast friends with a woman whom is terminal with cancer. I have come to know her through my cancer advocacy and although she is a good distance geographically from me, I have come to care deeply about her.

We both know our friendship in this world has a finite time frame, though we know not exactly how long, only that it is likely less than 2 or 3 more years at most. She has nearly become family to me.

I have told her flat out.. I care deeply about her and will do anything humanly possible for her. I have also told her that I am "here" (although that means phone, email etc) for her. I will listen to ANYTHING she needs or wants to tell me. She can vent when she needs, we can commiserate or simply talk about our days such as they are. I do not query her on her condition or doctors appointments or anything such as that, however I have told her I am indeed interested in all those things but I wish to give her someone to talk to that is outside that "environment" but at the same time understands what she is dealing with within that environment.

I do what I can to comfort her, to console her, to LAUGH with her, to be "normal" with her and yes to cry with her on those notorious bad days.

I can do no more than that.......

She KNOWS I do CARE.... she knows I will be devastated when her time does come... we share a bond unlike anything I have ever experienced... it is a bond of kinship.. nothing illicit nor romantic.. a bond of deep deep friendship and "membership in the cancer club".

Sometimes all we can do is listen and be that friend................

Thank you Leroy

~Ron

Sent by Ronald K. Bye | 10:48 AM ET | 05-31-2007

As Lesa said...having friends who totally ignore and abandon you has got to be one of the most difficult things when facing an already difficult ordeal in life. I experienced that with my initial diagnoses and it hurt so much but also made me so angry at them. Over the past 7 years they seemed to start coming around again but now hearing of the recurrence, I'm getting the same silent distance from them that I did before. It just blows my mind.

But I am blessed in that I do have other friends and family who are supportive.

DiAnn - You only need to hug them and tell them how very sorry you are for their loss. And in the days, weeks and months ahead, send them a note now and then to let them know you haven't forgotten and use your brother-in-law's name - that helps give validity to his life!

Sent by Vicky (NY) | 10:58 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Great topic as usual .. I would say that we as cancer patients must be receptive to our friends, neighbors and caregivers attempts to provide comfort no matter how awkward the attempts might be. There isn't a book one can read as to what to say or how to say what we would like to convey to them or them back to us. Some people closest to us just "shut down" and are unable to cope or communicate. I don't know why but it happens......

I have participated in a melanoma support group for some years. Patients and caregivers come. Everyone gets a chance to talk if they wish. It has been very helpful for those who do actively take part. Some come only once and never return - patient and/or caregiver.

I have made it a commitment to try to assist both patient and caregiver and friends for those newly diagnosed. I also continue to communicate with a
group via email to check on how they are doing, can I help in any way, or would you like to meet for lunch. I am persistent but not pushy and I say that it is ok not to respond to my email but just want you to know I'm thinking about you.

I guess I am blessed to have so many who know my situation and continue to stay in touch. I also take the initiative to contact those friends I haven't heard from in awhile to ask them how things are going with them. We don't have to talk about cancer unless they bring it up.

I am a cancer patient and I am a caregiver/friend to many who are cancer patients like me. For those who have not been as fortunate as me with friends and neighbors, maybe you initiate the contact once "to break the ice" and see if there is any improvement in the relationships. Best wishes to us all.

Blessings and prayers as always. Leroy.

Sent by Al Cato | 11:03 AM ET | 05-31-2007

It's true that it's easier to be the cancer patient rather than the family and friends. I tell people that I won't miss me when I'm gone and I don't have to worry about someone else's pain. I also wanted to say that one of the best comments I've heard is "I'm sorry, you got a bad break." It may seem over simplified, but it made sense to me.

Sent by Glenda | 11:07 AM ET | 05-31-2007

When the dreaded phone call came from my surgeon on July 17, 2006, my mother lay dying in my home. My twin sister, my older sister and my niece were all here. I answered the phone, heard the words and then the sound of a freight train going through my brain. ???You have cancer.??? I dropped the phone and ran next door to the first people I needed to go see; my friends, Laurie and Ruth. To this day, I cannot explain why. The only thing I have come up with is maybe I thought they would just sit there and be as stunned as I. My family was already in agony and in that instant I could not add to their sadness. My friends have had a way of putting me in my place. They have kept me centered and focused, even when there were times I thought they didn???t care. After chemo treatments, days would go by and I wouldn???t answer the phone, they have never seen my bald head, and one in particular keeps telling me how beautiful I am. When I laugh and say, ???Sure if you like the ???Lerch??? look???, she gets furious. It is amazing to me people are so understanding and forgiving. I???m not sure if I were the friend I could have committed to being there for the long haul. I am by no means out of the woods. I have my first MRI on Tuesday next week and I find myself putting off projects and making plans because my future hangs on this report. And if things weren???t iffy enough, my husband is having a prostate biopsy on the 4th, the day before my scan. Tomorrow night 4 of my friends are taking me to a fancy restaurant for an end of chemo celebration. I am going to eat too much, drink some wine and thank them all for their love and support.

Gretchen: Think of this as a beginning to a new phase. Reconstruction will give you back your femininity and make you feel whole again. I had my reconstruction done at the same time they did the mastectomy. We will all be there with you.

Sent by Patti | 11:08 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Dear Leroy,
I am so glad I saw the Koppel show and then found out about your blog. You have touched on so many subjects that are on my mind and in my heart.
Your friendships do change after you enter the cancer club, some become closer and some that you never thought would drift away end their part in your story. When they end their part you grieve the friendship and relish the memories. I have a hard time asking for help from my friends and family. I have been independent all my life and I felt as a burden when lifting a case of water from the car to my house became an impossiable task. Then I swallowed my pride and accepted help because I was told that my friends were offering help to heal the cancer scare that they were going through by me having cancer. The words of let me do anything you need, are easy to say, but to make a meal, help with running errands, driving you to an appt, or just listening to you cry when another set back is given are precious gifts. You really don't have to do anything but keep your friendship intact, for knowing we have friends that love us in this most difficult situation is more than we can hope for. I call the friends who have hung in there with me throughout my cancer journey walking angels. I am glad that they hang in and are just here.

Sent by Miriam | 11:09 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Larry and everyone,
I am one of those people who in the last 52 years has hardly ever been sick. The only time I have visited the doctor was when I had broken bones. Then all of a sudden I come up with Squamous Cell Carcinoma on the tongue and I have been the doctor every week.

I do want to acknowledge all of my friends at work who have positive thoughts for me. Every time I walk around , I have a coworker or friend came up and say you look well today and give me a hug. The hugs and friendship goes a very long way.

I also found out about and old school mate of mine had a bout with cancer a while back. They did surgery removing 20 lymph nodes finding cancer in 13 of them. Immediately I offered my hopes and wishes that it did not reappear.

We are one big family in the Cancer club and know what it is to live with the disease.

I hope that every one has a good day today and future days.

Sent by Clark | 11:23 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Absolutely, telling someone you are my friend and I am sorry is way more than enough. Expressing sorrow for that person is meaningful, and it says alot. It acknowledges their humanity, and their suffering. Much is encompassed by expressing your grief about their lives and their situation. Compassion -- it is not too much to give at all. Simple words.

This is far better than some of the really, really, hurtful and silly things I have heard and read. I won't defend or excuse their statements either, with well "they just don't know any better". I don't really believe that.

Sent by Pika | 11:26 AM ET | 05-31-2007

I have been fortunate through this process to have such good friends. My husband is my best friend and has always put me and my feelings first. My Mom...oh when I think of her, I tear up...I do not know what I would do without her. I too, though have faced the reality that some friends just don't have time or don't make time to check up on me. Most of my friends from high school (I'm only 26) have ran for the hills. I tell myself that either they weren't friends to begin with or the cancer just scares them. As many times that I tell myself that, it still is hurtful. I would like to think that when (and I do say when) cancer strikes someone close to me, I will be as supportive as I can be. Maybe it's because of my diagnosis, but I'd like to think it because I'm a good friend that is concerned about those close to me. It angers me that my "old" friends don't call, but I now realize that I have bigger battles to fight and I am so thankful for those people in my life that love me. And I am so thankful for all of you!

Gretchen: XOXO--I will be thinking of you on Monday! I send hugs and prayers your way! Hugs to everyone!

Sent by Tess from KY | 11:56 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Leroy,

When you think about this blog, you are giving yourself to those who suffer. That is the greatest gift. Sometimes I think it is more important to listen than to have the right thing to say because in the end, there isn't anything to say. We know your are here for us and that some of the other bloggers also are here to listen, Somehow, what's important is non-verbal.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 11:57 AM ET | 05-31-2007

Hi Leroy, thanks for your comments today. I know that my friends and family are in pain as I deal with this cancer and sometimes I think I am too hard on them. Just being there is so important and the small things do matter, even when we are receiving care, someone who remembers your name or establishes eye contact, or who knows that your time is valuable and you want to be done with the cancer stuff as soon as possible. I don't know what I would say to a friend because having cancer is like being on a roller coaster ups and downs all the time. Uncertainty makes it difficult to provide support. I thank G-d everyday for those who have chosen to stick it out with me, it certainly is way more than they signed on for. Leroy and all thanks for being there too, it means the world to me and I draw so much strength from everyone.
Take care, Estelle

Sent by Estelle | 12:13 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Leroy,

Often it helps me to list for myself the things that have happened to me BECAUSE of the cancer that are positive. Here are some of them:
1. My husband told me that he never knew before I got sick that I really needed him. Now he does know that, and it is a gift to him to feel needed.
2. I never knew before how many friends we have. Rarely a day goes by without a call or a card or an email. I have one friend who calls two or three times a week 'just to check in'.
3. The generousity of people is amazing. We have had meals, house cleaning, homemade soup, help with packing and moving, drivers to chemo clinic, flowers, prayers and on and on and on.
3. A group at our church paid for a trip for me and my husband to Lourdes, France. There I was cared for, fed, bathed in Lourdes water, and treated like "queen for a day" (only it was longer: a week!).....all at no expense to ourselves.
4. My colleagues at work pitch in and help me whenever they see that I feel tired and need them. My supervisor sees to it that I teach courses that are less energy-depleting so that I can keep my job.
5. One of my colleagues knitted a prayer shawl for me: the entire faculty added to the fringe. It is a treasure of love for me.
6.Our daughter is learning a very tough, but very valuable lesson about what is REALLY important in life, and what really is the "small stuff". We know how much we love each other and don't take days for granted.
7. We've met so many good-hearted people who are health care workers: receptionists, phlebotomists, nurses, doctors, even the parking valet always wishes me a safe trip home from the clinic.

Those are just some of them, Leroy. And I'm not special....I know you and others on this blog have had some wonderful things happen as well. The goodness of people and the love of human beings for each other is the most important thing in the world. I don't mean to be a Pollyanna; it doesn't stop this horrid experience from being horrid. But it really IS the most important thing in the world to be told, "I am your friend, and I am sorry." It is enough and it does help.

Sent by Sandra Shuler | 12:15 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Hi Leroy,
I am not only a friend of a cancer patient but a spouse. What I have learned from the outpouring of support from friends is to be more compassionate and caring myself. So many people have supported us, that I find it easier to support others going through a hard time. My freind's dad died of chemo related complications, very unexpectedly; since I am affected by cancer as well I felt like my own father passed away-I think I felt for her moreso than before cancer rocked our world because I could picture it: Roger after surgery, Roger going to Chemo, Roger feeling sick. So, I think our friends allow us to become even more human, caring, and compassionate by their support, love and caring for us. I hope everyone is lucky to have at least one friend who can offer such support.

Sent by Melanie McClanahan | 12:42 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Gretchen:
You'll be fine, I just know it! My wife had her reconstructive surgery last December and went through the same apprehensions. It's been less than six months and she's happy with the results.
If your husband is like me he will enjoy having a wife who feels good about herself, a wife who feels that it was worth going through that elective surgery.
Love, Don

Sent by Don Winslow | 12:54 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Good Morning,

This particular thought has been a consistent thread in my communication to friends??? family and colleagues. Facing your own suffering and fragility in the human condition is so much easier for ones self.

I am infinitely curious about the reaction I see in people around me. It???s hot in the pacific NW and I often do not hide my baldness in public. When I see someone struggling with it, I often will say something to let them off the hook. Something like ???Gee I am so glad to be bald and cool in this hot weather???. These types of ice breakers seem to help people move beyond feeling sorry for me and talk frankly. Best part is that I then get to meet new people. It works well with close relationships too.

My mother suffered heart problems due to the stress of my diagnosed. As a result she can not be with me through my treatment. This is hard for both of us. But she has her own health to deal with. As her best friend and daughter, I often wish I could do more for her. I know that this is not realistic. I believe that our parallel journeys have strengthened both our resolves.

Knowing that we are not alone in our challenges and at the same time accepting that in our human condition our entry and departure of this world is singular, creates such a paradox in our thoughts. For me allowing people to be close and having the courage to love back has help to put it all in perspective.

Sent by Coralee | 1:13 PM ET | 05-31-2007

DiAnn, crying isn't wrong, it shows that you care. There is no magic recipe for how to speak to someone whose lost a person who they love. Tell the grieving ones that you love them, that you feel sorry that they've lost him. Don't say anything to deminish the loss, such as "He's in a better place." or "I'm sure that you wouldn't want him to suffer." When someone that we love dies, we want them back. If they were ill for a long time, it's a jumble of emotions....we want them back, but the way they were before they were ill and suffering. We miss them, and feel guilty at "selfishly" wanting them back at the same time. Anything that is said that indicates that the grieving ones will feel better soon, or that they should be "happy" that their loved one isn't suffering any more is a way of distancing ourselves from their grief, and invalidating it. Hugs, tears, silence when there is nothing to say, and keeping in touch when all of the activity of the funeral, legalities, etc are over are all that anyone can ask.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 1:39 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Good Morning, Leroy,
Like Dona, I was always the healthy one. My husband has heart disease and our future was planned around him and his health. In fact, he was in the hospital when I got the news about my brain cancer. It was very difficult to do that flip flop and switch from caregiver to patient. He has been a wonderful caregiver and pill pusher--I would never be able to keep track of all the meds.

It was so difficult to tell friends about the cancer. People I had always been close to reacted with silence but I know it is because they fear saying the wrong thing. There really is no such thing as the "wrong thing". I wish I had realized that in the past when friends got word of their diagnosis. I find myself hurting for my friends much more than for myself. When I'm gone I won't know the difference but a few people are going to have a large hole in their lives for awhile.

I think you gave the best advice to friends. You said the best thing your friends can give you is some normalcy. Nothing feels better than going out for lunch with "the girls" and stepping out of Cancer World even for a couple of hours. It can set the tone for a week at a time. Laughter really IS he best medicine.

Thank you for this wonderful outlet and your inspiring daily messages. We are not alone.
Gene

Sent by Gene | 1:40 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Gretchen,

Ill be thinking of you on Monday. Hold on to those things that are beautiful and true. Take care.

Sent by Emile | 2:20 PM ET | 05-31-2007

So often my friends do not tell me their challenges in lfe because they don't want to burden me. Often a friend will say "Compared to what you are going through...." I always respond "Let's not compare"; a crisis in life is a crisis in life. I may have cancer, but I am still your friend. And besides it helps me from being so damn self-centered. :o) " I want to be there - if it is - as my daughter says - to be a loving set of ears.

Sent by Kay | 3:09 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Dear Gretchen/Leroy; It's ok to feel scared, because if we had a choice, we wouldn't. We can't help our feelings they're just there. We are all nervous when we don't know how things will turn out, it's only on the other side that we can look back and say "that was silly, I shouldn't have felt that way", but we don't know beforehand. I wish you well and will look forward to hearing how things went. Keep the Faith.

Sent by Joyce L | 3:21 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Hi Leroy,

Dealing with cancer is hard for all, patient, family, friends close and casual. It is hard to interact and maintain normalcy when all seems so bleak. At times, I feel, patients might now what to ask for. They aren't sure what they need from those closest to them. Normalcy? Yes, but that isn't to be, probably ever again. The non-CA people need to understand that some days are just bad, and some days are good. Those good days may be far and few, however, they need to be savored. So, what do we as non-CA people do, keep reaching out to the person, being there if possible, dropping a card, an e-mail, letting the person know you care. The patient may have had to relinquish control or may not have the ability to handle their daily life for a time or ever again, however, until they breathe their last, they are still alive, and need other people around or to know they are being thought of.

Great exchange, I to look forward reading each days entry. Thanks to all.

Sent by Susan Chap | 3:40 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Dear Gretchen, many hugs, kisses and prayers. I will be at the chemotherapy center with my husband on Monday June 4th and I promise you I will be thinking of you. xoxoxoxoxox

Sent by sasha | 4:13 PM ET | 05-31-2007

I began reading your blog and read that your condition was worsening. In a panic I tried to find out if you were alive. I wouldn't normally panic at the plight of a stranger but my father has Stage IV colon cancer and has had a few months of treatment and...I panic now.
Then I realized I was reading LAST year's blog and I had a sick feeling. Would I find that your blog was still being written, nor not?
And I find that it is. Congratulations. I'm very happy you're alive and kicking and squeezing life out of each day.
Thanks for writing.

Sent by Adrian Luhowy | 5:00 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Just had to share our GREAT news, my husband got the results of his 15 month PET scan today & he is negative for any cancer. He was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer in Feb 2006 & the first oncologist said he was never going to see his daughter's wedding. Well, Feb 2008 is only 9 months away & he is doing good. He lost his entire right lung, suffered through 4 chemo treatments, but is working hard to be able to dance the daughter daddy dance. They already picked out "I loved her first". Oh by the way, we told that first oncologist to pack it & we found one that at least gave us some hope. Thanks for allowing me a place to share our GREAT news. I hope all of you have a day like today!!

Sent by Kathy | 5:16 PM ET | 05-31-2007

With the cancer diagnosis I did have a good opportunity to separate the wheat from the chafe. I found out, for example, that my husband and grown children are real keepers, but that most of my other friendships were of a highly superficial nature. I mean, that's the only reason I can figure that people disappear when a friend is in a life-threatening situation. It's a lesson in what is important in life.

What really surprised me, though, was that one person with whom I am very, very close, and to whom I gave a mountain of cancer support, turned away from me when I got sick. I'd heard her say that other people with cancer depress her and she doesn't want to be around them, but somehow I didn't dream that this would also pertain to me.

Well, cancer world does suck, and some of its lessons are very, very hard.

Sent by jane | 6:23 PM ET | 05-31-2007

I was having a down day on Sunday, and a friend called to see how things were going. he first talked to my husband for awhile and then talked to me. I could tell that he was upset, cause he just took time to inhale, however he said some very comforting things, that I could tell were hard for him to say. Although I am currently doing good, my cancer ovarian, has a 6% survival rate, and I have considered, part of my job in this cancer journey is making sure my husband and I were on the same page. I will fight this thing as long as I can, but there may come a time when I know I won't win, and I try to be very clear I want to go on my terms, probably without being sick on chemo. Anyway my friend said he was wondering if we were both on the same page, and stated that it really sounded that we were. I was pleased - don't ask me why, maybe because we don't put it out there to each other.
The other thing he talked about was our my husband and my relationship, and how strong it was. He walked about people as they approach the end of the fight and do so with dignity and the peace you spoke about the other day. Although I am not near the end, my last surgery got all of the cancer, his words were comforting to me. Maybe it was my mood, the hour or just a conversation with a friend about something that matters, my life and possibly my death. What can I say, it helped. We did make plans to meet in Maine in the fall to toast our friendship and enjoy a beautiful state.

Sent by Rita | 6:35 PM ET | 05-31-2007

I just wanted to lend my support to Gretchen. I just had breast reconstruction surgery which followed ten months of chemotherapy. The surgery is a step forward in your life. I felt that it was a great way to tell myself that I am moving forward toward being myself once again. And you should not think of this as cosmetic in any way. You are becoming yourself...only better now because you have taken charge of your life. Good luck to you.

Sent by Helene Weingarten | 7:16 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Diann- I think hugs are best- the real heartfelt kind. Also, I recommend you give her a letter recalling what you liked best about your BIL. This letter will be a treasure for her in years to come. When my brother's 16 year old son committed suicide many years ago, I wrote him a letter and much later he told me it was the most meaningful note he received. The written word is very powerful, as we all know from reading Leroy's blogs.

Sent by Linda T. | 8:47 PM ET | 05-31-2007

This is my first time here. My mother was diagnosed with colon cancer back in 1998. They took out six inches of her colon, and said they "got it all". She had no chemo, no radiation. She didn't even see an oncologist at the time, and had no follow up care like CAT or PET scans. We trusted our doctor on that one, now we feel like she let us down in a big way. We thought we dodged a bullet at the time, but we didn't, because the vile little cells were still waiting, to kick into action again. During a routine physical three years ago, a shadow showed up on her X-ray. The doctor again told us not to get excited, but unfortunately it turned out that the colon cancer had returned in both lungs and some lymph nodes. She had surgery, radiation, and a lot of chemo. Her PET scan came back all clear, her port was removed, and she was declared "cancer-free". This March she saw her oncologist again, and need I say more - it is back again. In one lung. Now we all console ourselves that it's nowhere else, but is it? Now they're saying this isn't a sprint, it's a marathon. She's back on the chemo bandwagon for 12 more treatments over 24 weeks. I am a religious person, pray daily and try to count my blessings, but this really is torment. I know I don't have to tell anybody else with cancer this. It is torment for me, and I'm not even going through it - she is, but I'm living with it too because I talk to her every day. I hear about how when she cries, her tears sting her eyes because of the chemo. That just breaks my heart. I keep a lump in my throat 24 hours a day. It has taught me patience though. Before this, waiting on a test result would drive me nuts. If I had to wait over a weekend or a week I almost went crazy. Now you're always waiting. Waiting to see if the chemo kills the cells this time, waiting on the PET scan...waiting on what else is out there.

I just wanted to take a minute and say I saw Leroy's special with Ted Koppel and it moved me beyond words. I feel such a connection and such empathy with anyone going through this, or supporting someone they love through this. I am so glad you didn't give up Leroy. Every day is precious. May God Bless and Comfort every single person going through this hell in any capacity.

Sent by Connie | 11:16 PM ET | 05-31-2007

Dearest Gretchen:
After my mastectomy-reconstruction, I wrote a shaky note (I was still high on morphine), thanking my doctor for making me even more beautiful than Before Cancer. I also wrestled with whether to have reconstruction and what kind. I can tell you that it has helped me to forget the trauma when I see the new--and improved--normal!
You will be in my thoughts and prayers and in my heart on Monday. May you, Leroy, and all of us have a complete recovery.

Sent by Tamar | 12:27 AM ET | 06-01-2007

Gretchen,
i am recovering from a recent surgery myself, it is scary but i found that doing certain things for myself beforehand helped alot. I especially found that listening to a guided meditation especially made for surgery, during surgery, really helped,it put me into some kind of control, and when i woke up i was full of energy and felt good, so doing whatever you can do for yourself may help.

blessings on June 4th for you!
jenn

Sent by Jenn | 7:43 AM ET | 06-01-2007

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in June 2005, my surgeon told me that how I deal with this beast, will set the pace how my family and friends will deal with it. I was already deeply concerned with how I would tell my very elderly parents, (now 90 and 83 years.) It was difficult to ingest this diagnosis, let alone having to worry about everyone else. I told my children and sisters right away, but chose to wait until after our annual father`s day bash to inform my parents. I guess I took the cowardly way out, told them via phone, but I just couldn`t bear the thought of being trapped in a room with them, to see that horrified look on their faces, to see them cry. Funny, but I felt guilty that I had to tell them at all! I guess it makes us stronger to know we have to think compassionately towards our extended family when faced with cancer ourselves. Judy

Sent by Judy Kolbaba | 9:35 AM ET | 06-01-2007

Leroy,

I run a support group with incredible people, both cancer survivors and caregivers. It is without exception that the survivors tell the caregivers that their cancer journey is much more difficult for them (the caregivers) than themselves.
They discuss the obstacles and provide support telling them that, without them, their journey would be a more rocky road.
They members of the group are my heroes and provide me with unending inspiration!

Sent by Sue Degnan, LMSW | 10:00 AM ET | 06-01-2007

Dear Leroy,
I was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma last October. Since I travel a lot in Latin America working with the poor(www.agros.org)the original diagnosis was an amoeba. What a surprise when my grapefruit size abscess in my liver didn't shrink, then of course they found another tumor, the primary site in my lung. I have been fighting the battle ever since. I have enjoyed your Blog and the many comments.

I do have a question for you about the monster always lurking. I have never felt that. I have always had a wonderful Peace even though my sons are 14 and 16 and I have been married to my wife for 19 years. Our house is also filled with Peace and Joy. We just don;t have time for moping around. I am already living on borrowed time yet my tumors are shrinking.

So the question I have for you is what role does faith play to you in dealing with cancer? I'm not talking about religion but rather a real relationship with God. The reason I ask is I do have a strong faith yet I am told even in the faith community my Peace is unusual. If you would like to get a better sense of what that looks like you can read a few entries in my Blog (www.donvalencia.com).

The question again- what role in your mind can and does faith play in dealing with cancer and potential healing of cancer.

Sent by Don Valencia | 11:56 AM ET | 06-01-2007

Dear Don,

I had to comment on your post about having peace with a cancer diagnosis and the monster always lurking. I have a real relationship with God. If I didn't, I couldn't survive my mother's extended battle. However, I don't have peace about it. I do worry constantly. Several years ago, when she was first diagnosed with the spots in her lung and lymph nodes, I spent the first year with my own life on hold, feeling I could not go on if she died. In the years since then, as it has gone, come back, gone, come back....I have had to realize that whatever happens.... I have to go on myself as long as God allows me another breath. I consider each day a blessing. I have a wonderful husband and two children myself who deserve as normal a life as possible. We too have tremendous joy in our lives, tempered with harsh reality. I have faith in God. I know he can heal, I just wonder, will he? Is it part of his plan for our family? And should I even question it? It's just very very hard to watch someone you love go through hell here on earth, even if you believe they'll end up in heaven. I pray for the kind of peace you have, and wish the best for you and yours.

Sent by Connie | 1:50 PM ET | 06-01-2007

Hi Leroy/ Everyone.......This is my second post, I dont think my first one went through. But, I was wondering why there was no Blog today Friday June 1st. I hope I have a glitch in my computer. I am concerned, is everything ok with Leroy? NPR did not say anything about not having a blog today. If anyone knows please post.

Sent by sasha | 8:12 PM ET | 06-01-2007

to gretchen---i too had bilat. mastectomy with reconstruction. i thouhgt i was just fine till the night before and i really lost it. i got all the negative emotion out that night from the diagnosis and months of chemo . i was also so sad that i was losing something that was a part of me---i had nursed my boys for a yr a peice and in a few moments they would be gone...i was just so sad...but you know what??? it was just fine. more than fine when it was over and i'm happy to say that i'm sitting here with 550cc of silicone gel and some new nipples too and they look DAMN GOOD!!! the old ones were WAY overrated--nursing big irish drinker boys does a number on the real ones! anyway, just say to yourself over and over this mantra.. "i am strong, i am whole, and i am saving my life". it will get you thru!! love to you all--kelly

Sent by Kelly Reichart | 9:12 PM ET | 06-03-2007

Hello my name is Jean,

I was diagnosed with non small lung cancer on May 1 2006. I asked and the doctor said "about one year if you choose not to take chemo." I chose not to do chemo but started on homeopathic treatment instead. I quit that in January because of the side affects.

The following is an email I sent to my kids on Monday of this week, I had planned to send it to you too:

Dear Children:

I cleaned the garage today (that's where the beer is located), I cleaned the lanai, cooked spaghetti sauce, salad, Italian bread, cookies, etc. Got the bar already. I'm having our golf group over for dinner tomorrow. We go to their homes every Tuesday after their golf and I feel it's about time for my turn.

Not bad for someone who was told she was going to croak this month is it?

Love Mom


AND NOW FOR THE REST OF THE STORY:

On Tuesday (the day of the party), I finished my chores around 2:00 and took a shower. My husband came into the bathroom and asked me something. I couldn't speak!! He called 911 and they took me to the hospital, just as my first guests were arriving at the house. (They stayed for a while, put away everything and had a couple of beers and wine....what are friends for?

Turns out my lung cancer is on the move...it is now in my brain and possibly in my neck bone as well. One of the tumors is in the area that controls speech.

The doctor prescribed steroids for the swelling around the tumors (this was the cause of my speech loss.) I am speaking pretty normal now.

I start my first bout of radiation today (fast huh?) a total of 15 treatments will be given. I will lose my hair because of it, DARN! I guess I will do chemo this time around. I still feel it will kill me before the cancer does.

Your blog about friends was right on today.

Thanks for the blogs, I have been reading them since the broadcast a few weeks ago. Yours is the first email I open in the morning.

Thanks for reading this sad tale of woe.

Jean

Sent by Jean Meier | 8:42 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Dear Leroy, I suppose I???m credentialed as an ???expert??? because I???m a psychologist and psychoanalyst, as are most of my friends. I???ve dealt with a lot of tragedy second-hand but when I was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer it confronted me, and most of my friends, with the massive task of reorganizing our thinking about who we are to each other. Our training (we???re all Ph.Ds and M.D.s) wasn???t particularly useful but the capacity for empathic resonance and the steadiness of our commitment to each other has been central to my survival thus far. I???ve rarely had chemo without company. In the beginning, each visit to the oncologist was a group affair???lots of note-takers and questions. They also signed up for the ovarian cancer listserve and read it when I couldn???t. They took me away for a week-end and told me how much they loved me. Other patients I???ve met during chemo have similar situations. One woman???s friends (ten of them) have arranged a trip to Italy, staying together in a villa for a week. For me, the fact that no one has withdrawn, that the cards and calls continue, that our conversations are no longer centered on my cancer (although it does loom in the background) has been a great gift. Cancer has deepened our connections to each other. Recently an acquaintance???s partner was diagnosed with an especially lethal brain tumor and I felt I knew more clearly what to do--which was to respond. I???ve sent cards weekly (never sent cards before in my life!), written when she emails, given advice when it???s solicited. Often, I think, because I have cancer as well, my responsiveness carries more weight. Sally in Chicago

Sent by Sally Jenkins | 9:24 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Leroy,
I am on the same boat as you are. I just completed radiation for tumors on my spine, metastisis from Breast Cancer, three time survivor. I have not had a scan yet, because the doctors
feel that the spine needs time to heal. I identify completely with how you felt in "limbo" time. I know that soon I will be waiting for my scan report. Thanks for sharing, you are doing a great service for all of us cancer survivors.

Sent by Lorraine Ballarin | 10:51 AM ET | 06-08-2007

Pass onto to folks the three most important things to say to loved ones before they die.*If you've had a conflicting relationship.
I forgive you
I hope you forgive me
I love you

Sent by Catharine Ford-Daly | 10:22 PM ET | 07-17-2007