The first time around I threw out everything; scarfs, hats and certain blouses I would wear during chemo because they provided easy access to my port; all the books I purchased that even mentioned the word cancer - including cookbooks. It was my 5th year anniversay and I was certain I was done with cancer.

The only thing I kept was a t-shirt of a frog going into a pelican's mouth with its hands braced against te pelican's mouth refusing to go in....the words "Never Give Up" were under the picture...I still have it. I am adding more t-shirts: Cancer Sucks and Cancer can kiss my @!!. This time I'm not sending a message to the world - this time I'm sending a message to cancer.

Sent by Kay | 7:31 AM ET | 06-04-2007

While covering the many conflicts, wars and other places where life and limb were at risk, your "camo", helment, body armor, etc. allowed you to fit in and look like everyone else.

Your "new normal" also allows you to look like everyone else in the cancer war. Some are distinguished from others by the bald heads from chemo, surgical scars that course our bodies, gaunt appearances from the ravages of chemo but by an large we look normal and not distinguishable from the rest of the population. Our normal appearances don't really convey to others what we have been through. There is no helment nor body armor to protect us in this fight. We must rely upon our fighting spirit, our caregivers and support groups, modern medicine, technology and skilled doctors and nurses to help get us through.

I choose to embrace my "new normal" rather than go mad "barking at the moon" because of the unfairness of it all. Early on I elected NOT to ask "Why me" but chose to ask "Why not me". It helps me cope...

Great topic. Blessings and prayers to you and yours.

Sent by Al Cato | 7:57 AM ET | 06-04-2007

Good morning, Leroy! As I was frantically cleaning my house in preparation for my surgery this morning (do other people do this too?) I ran across a lot of cancer treatment "mementos" - hospital bracelets, alcohol swabs, books/pamphlets about cancer, cards from friends and family. I kept the cards, threw out the hospital bracelets, kept the alcohol swabs. I was torn about some of the pamphlets and books, because on the one hand, I figured I knew everything I needed to know about breast cancer, since my treatment was behind me. But I couldn't help thinking that I should hold on to a few, in case it came back and I needed to learn about metastasis. I wish that I had the courage and optimism to throw it all out.

I wanted to thank everyone who wrote in last Thursday when I was quietly freaking out about my reconstruction surgery. Oh my gosh, you can't know how much it meant to me and what a difference it made. I feel much much better, and really ready to have this surgery. I'm heading off to the hospital in a couple of hours, and I'm bringing all of you with me. Thank you and thank you again, from the bottom of my heart.

Sent by Gretchen Hoag | 8:08 AM ET | 06-04-2007

I didn't have time to comment on last Friday's post but have been thinking about it most of the weekend. I have been NED for a couple of months but knew it would not last. My CEA has been slowly going up and although it can be unreliable, it has been quite predictive for me. I had scans last week and was prepared for the worst. After all five months after my liver resection when everyone was very optimistic my scans showed new tumors in several areas. This time there was only one tumor. How far I've come to think, "only one, great!" My oncologist was actually very good and is checking on having RFA on that tumor along with her usual, "this will not cure your cancer warning." I'm no longer looking for cures but time. So far that time has been truely quality time so I am very lucky.

The five months after my liver surgery I struggled with the issues you are facing now. Survivor guilt, thoughts of what reason was I spared and what responsibilities do I have now, when do I really say I am a survivor,etc. I also replayed the period of diagnosis and early treatment. Looking back I feel perhaps I negatively impacted an important period of remission.

Stephanie I am so sorry to hear about your news. My thoughts are with you that this will just be another bump in the road.

Sent by Dona | 8:28 AM ET | 06-04-2007

It took me a long time to throw out my cancer meds too. I have kept the scarves and hats--my voodoo is that as long as I keep them, I won't have to wear them. It's kind of like the women who sell all the baby stuff in a yard sale only to find shortly after that they are pregnant again!

Sent by mj | 8:33 AM ET | 06-04-2007

Leroy, the morning my husband passed away, I sat down with my daughter, aunt and a cousin and we removed all of the labels from every pill bottle he had, I dissolved all of the pills in hot water and sent them through the garbage disposal (this was a a suggestion from Hospice). I could not stand the thought of all of those drugs being in this house anymore. It may not make sense to many that I did this, but those drugs were a major part of his existence for the better part of a year. I still have all of his "cancer" clothes (those which were loose and comfortable for him" in basket in our bedroom, I can't seem to put them away or get rid of them. He was wearing a "Superman" shirt the morning he died, it was a birthday gift from our daughter. In my eyes he was definitely a "Superman". I miss him more and more each and every day and I curse "cancer" more and more each day.

Sent by Cindy | 9:00 AM ET | 06-04-2007

Even 8.5 years after my Mom's death I've still kept the flannel/button down shirts that my mom used to wear over a tank top after she got her port put in. They hang in the back of my closet and anytime I clean out my clothes I see them and am strangely comforted by them.
I have many other things from before and after she got sick but there is something about those shirts that keeps me from ever parting with them.

Sent by SA | 9:05 AM ET | 06-04-2007

I have also recently been going through some of the piles and stashes of pills and papers and wondering what I could get rid of now -- how can I make my personal space reflect the fact that I am not currently engaged in a life and death situation?

Do I need the hypodermics of pain medication? I'm really afraid to get rid of them, but I see that the vials are set to expire in August. I'm petrified that the minute I throw them away the 10 on a scale of 10 pain will besiege me again and I won't be prepared. And I certainly don't need boatloads of anti-nausea meds anymore, but the same fear grips me. What if I do wake up at 2am in excruciating agony and so nauseous that I can't even lift my head from the pillow?

I guess I'm still in the white knuckle stage of cancer recovery. I think I'll keep my "insurance" a little longer.

Sent by jane | 9:14 AM ET | 06-04-2007

This Saturday I left my flat to go to the open air market and I felt him just behind me. I felt him so strongly that I stopped in my tracks and backed up a step to keep that feeling a second longer. A friend of ours says sure you feel his presence just like an amputee feels their missing limb. I???m not sure about what my friend said, I want to believe his spirit visits me now and then.

So cleaning out closets is another pass through the memories. That hard plastic mask from the radiation, the mask he hated, I got rid of that. His Indian things and books are right where he left them. His shoes and clothes are mostly gone with a very few items singled out for friends ??? a favorite shirt which an archeological scene to his brother in law who carried him in the end, a favorite hat to his best friend who carried him with notes and emails. The cane he needed because of cancer still stands in the corner in the bedroom. While cleaning I find things, things that cancer made us put on the back burner, a teeshirt he bought for a friend in Australia, two heart shaped stones he bought for his daughter and granddaughter, stock certificates he bought for other people???s kids, a ring he bought me, and a book he gave me before the cancer entitled What to Do With the Rest of Your Life.

Sent by Anonymous | 9:15 AM ET | 06-04-2007

Leroy, a friend of mine transformed her large supply of empty pill bottles into a creative art installation and photography exhibit. And, people came and had a great time!

I haven't yet been able to part with my deceased husband's medical supplies. He died a year ago of pancreatic cancer. Friends want me to throw them out but they are badges of courage and remind me of all he went through to last as long as possible for us, his wife and children. I look at his incentive spirometer (the thing with the little ball)and recall the guts, the sheer will to live, one breath at a time.

Good to hear your voice this morning on NPR. You sound strong. Be well.

Sent by Marilyn | 9:16 AM ET | 06-04-2007

Good morning, Leroy and all-

I just came home from my 5 month CT scan to re-check for Liver CA mets, feeling pretty down, and came straight to the computer to read your blog for the morning. It's so good to know you all are there. Today is one of those days when I'm simply tired of being a cancer patient/survivor. I've had so many CT scans of my chest, ab and pelvis that I've lost count--I guess I could count the big envelopes of film copies in the closet and that would tell me--don't really want to today...in a week I'll go to the doc and get the results--my choice to wait for my appt. and get the news from him, face-to-face. I'll put it out of my mind as best I can for the week, but the memories of the times when the news hasn't been good remains with me. Days like this I have to remind myself of all the things I have to be grateful for (the list is endless), but I don't buy into the mandated-cheerfulness-approach. Some days I have to say I feel down. Tomorrow (or even in the next hour) things will feel different. I already feel better reading and writing to you. Funny the things we keep--yes, I recently threw a couple of those little breathing things away from past surgeries and bandages that I came home with. After a surgery to remove more than half my liver, I lost alot of weight and had to buy clothes 2 sizes smaller than normal. I've gained the weight back (and then some!) yet, I can't bring myself to feel confident enough to donate those clothes to the thrift store...what if I need them again? Oh well, life as the cancer survivor is the new normal. Thank you to all of you for the hope and strength you give me. Gretchen, thanks for taking the time to connect with us before your departure to the hospital...you go girl! My thoughts and prayers are with you this week, Leroy.

Sent by Nancy | 9:57 AM ET | 06-04-2007

Dear Leroy,

I'm a keeper, too. I think some of it stems from my nomadic childhood, traveling around from country to country, wherever the latest seismic data read, "Dig". It has been a way of making wherever I am, home.

Like you, momentos of my cancer and treatment mostly lie in one drawer in the bathroom, pill bottle, after pill bottle, face masks I had to wear when I refused to stay in the house and the chemo had depleted my immune system to zilch. There's also a file that is taking over my office, filled with countless blood work-ups and radiologists' reports.

There are really no outward clues that I have cancer. I've had my reconstruction, so my once concave chest is now supporting breasts that are altogether too perky for the rest of my body, but I love them. The scar from my port has healed (there goes my story about being injured in a knife fight!) About the only thing left is my now curly hair, which I keep hoping will eventually straighten, but after three years, I'm afraid I'm stuck with.

So, something that completely took over my life for two years (and still continues, with little tweaks here and there to my new breasts) is relegated to a bathroom drawer. Eventually, I suppose that I will clean that drawer out, as well, but I don't see that happening any time soon.

Good thoughts only for you this week,

Mo

Sent by Mo Spikes | 10:16 AM ET | 06-04-2007

I had two big sacks full of scarves, caps, hats, turbans, and assorted other coverings for my bald head. One batch consisted of "loaners" from women who had been through the whole ordeal before me. And when I tried to return them, they were sooo reluctant to let them back into their houses! But I didn't want them, either. I've kept the other bagful but they're WAY in the back of the closet. It makes me feel kind of sick just to look at them. Ditto the books and pamphlets about cancer and the various half-empty bottles of nausea medications. Oh, and then there's the sackful of medical supplies used when I had to give myself shots. That needs to go in the garbage for sure. I have a lot of pink ribbons and cancer pins and such that were given to me by well-meaning friends -- not the kind of thing I would ever wear, but I'd feel ungrateful (and a little superstitious) disposing of them -- so they're lying in the bottom of my jewelry box, undisturbed.

I'm not very sentimental normally. I used to throw away greeting cards I received for birthdays and other special events. But I have kept all the cards and letters I received during my cancer treatment. I'm not ready to reread them, but they meant so much to me at the time that I will treasure them always.

Gretchen - I'll be thinking of you today, sending good wishes that the surgery goes smoothly and your recovery is easy and fast.

Sent by Doris | 10:25 AM ET | 06-04-2007

I had a ceremonial funeral pyre for my wig this weekend......

Sent by Lesa | 10:37 AM ET | 06-04-2007

You mean you did not keep your "bullet proof johnny"? :-)

I work in construction and my co-workers at the time (1075), sent me a "get well card" hand written on two cedar shakes and held together with string and with each of their signatures on it and a note.....

"this is a very practical card... you can use it to shim up your pillow"

Although I have not "shimmed up my pillow with it"... I still to this day almost 32 years later have that card and it means a great deal to me about that time in my life..........

Sent by Ronald K. Bye | 11:18 AM ET | 06-04-2007

Leroy, You are the luckiest Cancer warrior, I have ever heard of!!!!!!
You were actually able to do your profession and fight cancer at the same time. None of your fellow soldiers are able to perform in the field of battle the way you have. Your Cancer fight has been seen and heard by more people than all of us combined. You have shown remarkable courage under fire. You should be awarded a medal for your actions.
Keep the mememtos of your war. Remember some of good things not just the bad. Remember the friendships made, the comrades you gove hope and inspiration to.

Keep being a great "normal"leader.

Sent by Sam Means | 12:28 PM ET | 06-04-2007

I wanted to respond to your comment this morning about being "useless" when you're knocked out by treatment. I think we all define ourselves so much by what we do, rather than who we are or how we live. Throughout your illness, you have shone with usefulness by sharing your thoughts, your pain, your heart, your humor. What better use of self can there be?

Sent by Julie | 12:44 PM ET | 06-04-2007

A wonderful woman that I work with passed away this morning very suddenly. Here at the office. A seemingly healthy woman in her late 40's that I had the utmost respect for. So this makes me wonder. Is it better to get a disease like cancer so that you and your loved ones have some warning about your impending death, or is it better to go quickly like my co-worker did this morning? My shock and horror is just magnified because I didn't have a chance to say goodbye.

Sent by Julie | 12:55 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Best wishes to Gretchen!

Leroy,

Your last two posts discuss labels and things that mark your journey and who you are. I am thinking about these things myself as I hear for the bazillionth time that "I look so good" nobody would know I had cancer or how glad I must be that "it is all over"(I'm still awaiting the darn "remission" word). We all know it ain't EVER over. I guess in the long run there is no label or thing that could ever contain, describe or do justice to what we all have experienced. I think the work you do here is as close as you are ever going to get to what you are looking for. You should be proud in that you made this world a better place in your own way. What you do is honest, creative and heals. What more is there?

I am thinking of you and sending you positive thoughts for your scan.

xo
Lori

PS...My dad's name was Leroy.

Sent by Lori Levin | 1:21 PM ET | 06-04-2007

I kept my wigs, scarves and bandanas and I still wear them (well, the wigs just for fun; I always did love the purple one).
However, I did toss everything else, and that felt good. It put that ???cancer stuff??? in the past. On the New Year???s Eve that concluded the year of chemo, I took my calendar for the 15 months that related to my cancer, from the earliest tests through the chemo and follow-up tests, and I burned it page by page while playing the music that I listened to at every chemo session. As I read each day???s and week???s appointments (???9:30: MRI. Be there at 7:00 to take the contrast dye, make sure to take off all earrings and metal??? combined with ???3:30 Little League playoffs; bring oranges for the entire team.???), I could relive those days that I have really not forgotten. The anxiety, the medical events coupled with the normal routines.
While this did not bring me closure, it was really fun to see those days turn to charcoal and then to ashes.

Sent by Maggie | 1:50 PM ET | 06-04-2007

I simply can't resist responding - esp. to the person '32 yrs later'. YAHOO for him.

I don't want to give false hope, but today on my homepage is an article re 'new drug therapy for liver CX'. This is due to Clinical Oncology Society holding their annual meeting in Chicago. I've done conferences & tradeshows for years - mother of CX survivor for this past year.

Each time a medical meeting addresses CX issues they have a good NEW announcement (possibly more).

I'm thrilled w/my son's progress & I keep thinking that if one can delay the process there will be so many benefits, for so many people.

The best to ALL.

Sent by Joan P | 1:57 PM ET | 06-04-2007

I sold my wigs in a garage sale.

Sent by Laura | 2:02 PM ET | 06-04-2007

If I may be so bold, I'd like to suggest that if you are holding onto wigs, turbans, scarves, etc., that you consider donating them either to the local Cancer Society office, the local hospital, or the local Hospice. They are an unbelieveable number of people out there struggling with cancer who don't have the financial resources to buy such things. These organizations reach out to those less fortunate and it may, just may, give you a little lift every time you think of helping someone else through your own painful experience. We lost my mother in Sept. to cancer and I hope someday the wig she absolutely hated will bring comfort someone else.

Sent by Kim in FLA | 2:43 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Leroy:

I've been reading your uplifting thoughts for some time now and this I just couldn't pass up responding to. I felt this was so weird because just this morning before going to work I decided I need to wash the wig one last time and put it away. My hair had come back enough that I stopped wearing it about 4 weeks ago and had just left it on the pop bottle. Yeah I know why a pop bottle but that is what they told me to put it on when I didn't wear it. Subconciously there must have been a reason I didn't do anything with it for awhile but today was the day it struck me to put it away. When I was leaving my bedroom I also thought I needed to put the hats and scarfs away also. And there sat the pharmacy sack with my leftover anti-nausua medicine. I guess it will go this evening when I get home. I think I'll put everything (wig,hats,insurance papers,calendar)in the back of the closet for now. It has been about a year since this all started and I still fear things won't be o.k.. The doctor keeps giving me a great prognosis but I guess one day I'll believe. I just thought it was weird that you wrote today about clearing things up since it hit me today also.

Sent by Laurie Gabbert | 2:56 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Hi Leroy,

Memories. Some good and some bad. Some of the memories I cling to I often wonder how I made it through. I don't have cancer but the man I love does. We have recently rekindled a romance. At age 41 and after countless failed relationships in my adult life for the first time I know what it feels like to love. It's not only a feeling it's a power. Something I can't quite explain but I know it exists.

I just spent a wonderful morning and afternoon with my guy. We were going to have lunch but he didn't feel well. He believes the cancer has returned, although his doctor disagrees. As we speak he is on his way to the hospital. I am scared. He tried to smile and joke as he was leaving to comfort me. It didn't. Lately, I have been asking God why give me something so beautiful if it's only temporary?

As I think about this I am thinking of the times we've shared together. Riding a moped through St. Thomas and cruising up and down winding, steep hills, and not only being thrilled but being scared at the same time. What a rush! Watching the beautiful flowers that are native to the land and staring in awe at God's magnificent creation. Lying in the sand on one of the world's most beautiful beaches and making love under a full moon.

Maybe that is what God has given me....warm memories. God forbid that something happens to him but I can't help but think of the wonderful memories we've shared. No one can take them away.

Sent by Gloria Lovett | 3:19 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Leroy- I had no problem disposing of any cancer related meds. Maybe because I'm a nurse and it comes automatically. I am, however, SCARED TO DEATH to get rid of the wig !!!!! Even if my breast cancer should recur, I`d get a new wig. But damned if I'm that superstitious to save a wig I`ll never wear again, as if to ward off another attack!!! Maybe chemo brain lasts longer than I thought. Judy

Sent by Judy Kolbaba | 3:20 PM ET | 06-04-2007

My son have been off treatment now for four years but I still have the "needle box" (the awful red box for hazardous material) and a box of medical supplies for his port. Not that I want to keep them, but the experience was so painful that I don't want to see those things again. When his port was removed, the nurses asked me if I wanted to keep it as a momento. I said "NO" without even thinking about it. It is just difficult for me to remember the year and a half of childhood he lost.

Sent by grace | 3:34 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Cleaning out has been going on in my house too but things of a different sort. I've been going through all my books as my library is having their annual book sale this weekend and I just decided to unload the ones I haven't looked at or read for years - it will be that much less work for my family when I'm not here. I don't mean that to sound morbid - just the way it is. I went through videos and music CDs as well and donated alot of them too. I got rid of alot of clothes a few weeks ago and now I'm working on miscellaneous stuff. I've got a house full of "stuff" after 35 years of marriage and I just look at it all and think of it as excess. I don't want to leave it for someone else to deal with!

What I do have alot of that I really want to get in order are pictures of my grandchildren. I started scrapbooking for my grandson and am up through age 1 1/2 yrs old for him - he's 5 now and my granddaughter is 3 1/2 (I haven't done any of hers) - that's what I want to concentrate on doing - keeping up to date on their scrapbooks!

Sent by Vicky (NY) | 3:37 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Leroy, There is nothing about this experience that is normal. As much as we might try, we are never going to be the same again. I don't think the same way, I don't plan too far into the future, which was a big part of my previous life, the cancer has taken that away. The things we do to survive are surreal, certainly nothing anyone would volunteer to do. You have guts, you work hard at it everyday, you have guts! Sure, things are different, but we are still here, and we are still fighting. Hang in there, you have guts. Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 3:42 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Gretchen: By now your surgery is over. The warm thoughts and prayers for an uncomplicated recovery are still flowing your way.

Leroy: What an amazing and thought-provoking topic today! When I first read it with my coffee this morning, I thought, "Well, other than my medicine cabinet, no one could tell someone with cancer lives in this house." As I have been going through my day, your blog was on my mind. What CAN be told about me by what is in my house? As I think about it, it is very revealing. My faith is very apparent here; my profession; the kinds of furniture I like reflects a sense of respect for the past; music is everywhere; my family....pictures in every room! But, guess what. Surprise to me: Cancer is here, too. Stacks of billing statements and insurance EOBs are on my desk; inspirational books written by cancer survivors are on the shelf; clothes in the closet are two sizes larger than the ones I wore before chemo and steroids; medicines in the bathroom; drawers full of scarves and hats in the closet; and The Wig, still on its styrofoam stand in the linen closet.

I'm still pondering what this all means about who we are. Are these things trophies? or reminders of troubles? or both?

Thanks for making me think...again. I'm also thinking about you and your wait for the scan results. Fingers and toes crossed!

Sent by Sandra Shuler | 4:33 PM ET | 06-04-2007

My sister was a someone who kept "stuff" from shoes she will never wear again to packaged food that was years old. I am also a keeper, of other types of "stuff." When she was diagnosed, and things looked so bleak, and I was so angry, I insisted she start to purge her "stuff" because, I didn't want to have have to do it. Her stuff wasn't related to cancer therapy. She didn't lose her hair, she had minimal side effects. It was me in a preparatory phase. Interestingly she is still purging and I am trying to find time to do it. And it suddenly doesn't seem as important for me to purge, although I need to.

Not on the subject of ridding ourselves of stuff, I would like to say, last year, when my life was almost my own, I started to see a therapist to get a handle on me. Life got busy (work, boyfriend, my saint, vacation) I haven't been back. I do however, feel better personally then I have since November 2005. I am mentally better and taking batter care of myself physically. What changed for me, THIS BLOG.

Thank you so very much to all of your who take the time to share.

Sent by Susan Chap | 4:54 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Hi Leroy, I did not have time to read your post this morning; today is "Monday Morning Chemo" I just wanted to make a short comment about wanting or not wanting to get rid of pill bottles. My husband has metastatic cancer and takes oral chemotherapy on a daily basis, as well as by infusion every three weeks. My kitchen counter looks like a pharmacy. The thought of not seeing those pills scares me to death because I feel that the pills are keeping him alive. I feel that once the pills are gone he will be gone. Be well Leroy and good luck with the scans. I will be praying for you.

Sent by sasha | 6:24 PM ET | 06-04-2007

I have a "zipper scar" that runs from one ear to the other across the top of my head. I don't have a lot of hair in the first place (whatever happened to my ponytail anyway?) so I wear it very short. I get a number one blade (1/16") buzz. I am proud of my zipper. My buddy calls it my badge of honour. Damn straight.

I wear this every day. Every now and again I'll see someone with a similar scar. Makes for a great conversation starter, "Anterior cranial facial resection?" It kinda goes from there.

This scar I can't throw out. I don't want to throw it out. It reminds me every day of where I have been and where others are. Never will I forget.

Sent by Dave U. | 6:48 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Dear Leroy,
It was great hearing your strong voice this morning. I too have disgarded some of my cancer stuff - wigs and scarves (not all) back to American Cancer who helped so much. Books to library. I might still have pink pan from hospital but not sure where it is. I am afraid to through away my meds in case I need them again. Everyone says I look good with short hair but I don't like it much and feel like it labels me. The bad memories are mostly gone though - my husband reminded me the other day that I threw up my cookies on the couch and I had blissfully forgotten. It's almost like forgetting the pain of having a baby once you start feeling better. Thank you again for your wonderful insight and everyone will be thinking of you when you get your tests. God Bless.

Sent by Vicki (FL) | 7:49 PM ET | 06-04-2007

leroy i am so happy for you .my husband had coloncancer 31 years ago it came back in april of last year its now in the liver lymph nodes they now call it metastatic cancer he has been in the hospital for 6 weeks he is going to have surgery to reroute his digestive sysems so he can eat without a feeding tube.he is having it june 8 he needs all your prayers cancer can come back anytime

Sent by georgia | 8:00 PM ET | 06-04-2007

I have been very busy removing clothing I have been saving for when I get thinner. Cancer is a great leveler in that there is no going back. If I do get that size again, I will want to treat myself to new clothes.

I have been reading a lot of material by cancer survivors and they all seem to suggest that if you are not mad, sad, depressed or scared that your probably in denial.

I felt pretty proud when my son John commented in his note that he liked how I was handling my cancer, without fear. I have not felt fear. I also have not felt any of those other feelings either.

Growing up I prided myself in how the problems in our home ???Didn???t effect me???. It took a long time before I stopped pretending that ???I???m fine???. When I was not fine. Am I still doing that?

I don???t like that I have Cancer; I also don???t like having Diabetes. Not because they might kill me, but that now my Insurance might not cover me or I might not be able to drive.

I also have awareness of how drastically I have changed physically. I used to notice my reflection in a mirror or a window and think, ???Who is that???? I have been changing so fast, that I really don???t know what I look like anymore.
I figure that people are still attracted to me and don???t seem to be concerned with how I look.

I haven???t kept a journal about my cancer treatment and it???s effects, because I just wanted to get to the next stage of feeling better. I knew that around 72 hours after my treatments I would have a rough time for about 48 hours, and I figured that I could stand anything for two days, knowing it would be over soon.

In the first hours of knowing I had Breast Cancer, my girls made it clear that they wanted and would be involved, every step of the way. They in turn made it clear to the other family members, how they were needed and they also stepped up to the plate. My children gathered round me so tightly that there was no way that I could fall, or not get through this together.

I had a goal and was bound and determined to reach it. All my chicks would be together in Ireland in June. John and Sarah???s wedding is the light at the end of the tunnel.

The doctor has cooperated in that he ended my treatment in time for me to be fully healed of the toxic medicines I have been given. My daughter Nancy has been buying me outfits and underwear wherever she goes and has outfitted me in the most gorgeous dress I have ever tried on.
I???m pretty sure this is the outfit I will wear the day of the wedding, but things can change.
Peg

Sent by Peg Heglund | 8:00 PM ET | 06-04-2007

I always dreamed of the perfect transition into old age. Retiring, going on trips, doing things with grandchildren, buying them the things I couldn't afford for my child. I don't have any grandchildren yet, just a lovely daughter who buries her head in ther sand, but treats me well. Cancer stopped it all cold. I still work, I need my insurance. I walk through rooms of too much stuff that smell of dust-the rooms are the ones I dreamed of, with the doll house Dad built for Molly now for those future grandchildren. Restocking the bookcase with all the children's classics. Instead of planting bean pole tents and sunflower houses the weeds grow because I am too tired to turn the earth over. I want to take garbage bags and fill them with all this stuff. And then there will be my stuff left behind. Much of it pieces of projects for that future life when I could stop working and play at making things all day instead of teaching kids how to make things. I felt most moved today by the pieces written by the folks who have been left behind, their dreams cut short too by cancer. Their dreams in the possession of their loved ones, now gone. This is pretty random, but your piece was very thought provoking to me today Leroy. It might help me deal with some emotional flattness I've been fighting.

Sent by Cheryl McDowell | 9:11 PM ET | 06-04-2007

Leroy, My brother is going on 5 yrs with brain cancer. We were at DUke today. The last chemo he took did not help. His last 3 MRI's have not been good. He is 36 yrs young. They will not offer him one of the newer clincial trials because he is not a "newly diagnoised" brain tumor patient. We left there today feeling very bad and we are upset that he cannot take some of the new stuff due to his time with being diagnoised. Do you have any suggestions as to where we can get some help with this? Basically, they were telling him to go home and die!! That is just how it felt. If there is something that may can help him, Why not give him a chance at it? I am so upset right now. I can hardly see to type this. Please respond if you can. Your imput would be so appreciate. We are DESPERATE! Elizabeth Bradford

Sent by elizabeth bradford | 11:58 PM ET | 06-04-2007

To Kim in FL,
I am one of the breast cancer patients that could not afford a wig or scarves. I was thrilled at the idea of going into the wig and scarf room each week during my chemo to pick out something new to coordinate with my wardrobe. It made my feel pretty during a very ugly time. I returned the wig about a month ago and now that my hair is returning, I am slowly phasing out the scarves and hats. Bless you for the suggestion. I'm sorry for the loss of your mother but I am living proof that her donation did not go unnoticed.

Sent by Suzanne | 10:55 AM ET | 06-05-2007

Leroy,

Every spring I clear out my closet of anything I haven't worn in 12 months. It is more than discarding old clothes. It a way of saying hello to the life that is coming and knowing it won't be like the life that is behind me. What is "normal" seems to me to be changing all the time.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 12:09 PM ET | 06-05-2007

Leroy
Another great Cancer Story

One week from today I will be on my way to Chicago and then to Shannon Ireland. for John and Sarah???s wedding on the 16th.
This has been a magical time for both of them. They found a lovely house, moved in last Friday and John accepted a teaching position at a High School 15 mins from the house.
Sarah and Nancy did the two-day walk for Breast Cancer last Saturday in Chicago and Tracy did the same walk in DC last month. They all carried my picture and raised six thousand dollars between them.
There have been miracles all through my journey with this disease.
I would like to tell you about the one today.
Last month I attended a session called Look Good, Feel Better put together by the American Cancer society and the National Cosmetology Assoc. I wanted to get help with make-up for the wedding. I was disappointed but appreciated the make-up they gave us.
I got a call last week asking how I enjoyed the session and told them how I felt and they suggested I try again and attend the session today in Orange County.
This was terrific as a professional make-up consultant that works for the doctor in this hospital conducted the program. She was very helpful. I told her I was to be mother of the groom in Ireland, in a week or so and she said that she would also be in Ireland at the same time. She is going to her husband???s family event and would be very close to where I am staying. She offered to do my make-up the day of the wedding in Ireland.
She was so excited at our meeting and felt a bond. We exchanged information and I will send her my numbers in Ireland.

She offered to reshape and wax all the participants??? eyebrows when they have completed treatment.
There were about twenty-five women attending. She donates her time and asked us to pass it on to someone else today.

This group also gives every candidate a free wig and head covering of their choice.

The kits they gave us were worth three to four hundred dollars apiece. All expensive products donated to this program.

I was saving this story on my computer, to send and guess who rang me up on the tele? Eva Gallagher, my make-up artist to get the names of the places I will be staying in Ireland. She will ring up her father-in-law to check it all out. She suggested I meet with her this weekend for her to do my make-up to see how I like it. Who needs hair with all this attention?

Love Peg

Sent by Peg Heglund | 12:12 PM ET | 06-05-2007

Leroy,

May you stay on the green side of the grass for many more years.

Emile

Sent by Emile | 3:57 PM ET | 06-05-2007