Leroy

If "patience is truly a virtue"... few of us are virtuous............

Waiting is seldom easy for any of us.. and those of us whom live active (read crazy busy) lives... it is all the more difficult. I too prefer to confront my problems and issues head on and move on to the next one.. because there is always a next one unfortunately.

I know it is a bit trite and perhaps even unreasonable.. but the best thing you can possibly do is LIVE your life.. find something to focus on besides your cancer.. be that work... or a hobby... or take that class about something you have always wanted to learn... anything at all besides your cancer

If you can do this the time and waiting will of course be more tollerable.. not to mention it will help maintain your general sanity and attitude

Obviously you can completely "ignore" your situation and required treatments and scans and such.. but do everything you can to deal with them as necessary and get back to a focus on something else in your life... something positive.. something you ENJOY and are or can be passionate about

I do not have time in my life to deal with anything I am not deeply passionate about!

And in the meantime... I will pray you (and everyone else) can find that patience and peace..............

Ron

Sent by Ron Bye (NH) | 8:59 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Hi Lery and all,

Yup. Waiting sucks. Particularly when we know, as well all do that in the long run what we are waiting for is not going to be good news. Not knowing also sucks. All of us, I guess look at almost everything as the next symptom. Am I the same as yesterday or just a tiny bit worse ???or better? Is the insurance company going to deny payment on the treatment I???ve already had?

But one thing that can help is what we are doing while we wait? As many of us have said, both the time and the things that are available to us to do are a matter for gratitude - even while the waiting can be a matter for tearing of hair (if we have any) and gnashing of teeth.

A few days ago I suggested that while we wait perhaps we could do something together, in addition to this blog to confront the ruinous effect that medical-insurance-industrial complex profit maximization is having on our lives ??? in addition to the impact of our diseases.

We are now an army of six

A veritable movement You can join at johnshippee@hotmail.com.

As I said in response to those who are already involved, my criteria for good strategy are:

1) That is do-able with the available energy
2) That it isn???t already substantially and effectively being done by others
3) That it addresses an issue or issues that isn???t otherwise being effectively addressed or that it adds something meaningful to the existing mix
4) That it adds voices that aren???t being but could be effectively heard.
5) That it works in civil, but not necessarily conventional ways.

My own goals in this have to do with

?? Getting coverage for people whose illnesses now disqualify them;
?? Breaking through and knocking down the insurance companies and government???s bureaucratic denial of coverage barriers
?? Guaranteeing everyone regardless of income the medications, medical technology and medical care they need for a good quality of life. This includes substantially lowering drug and medical technology prices.
?? Guaranteeing everyone a substantial say in their own care as well as in medical health policy and practice.
?? Moving beyond ???Cancer World??? to enlist others similarly affected by serious diseases and injuries to help in these activities.

What are yours?

As I???ve written before, I believe this work should be done in a context that emphasizes wellness and the ending of health disparities, both at home and internationally.

These are tall orders ??? but we can make a beginning ??? initially by discussing the issues, thinking about who are in our own networks and spheres of influence, how our own stories can make a difference, what particular gifts we can bring to the process and how our work could complement that of others who are already out there.

Yesterday in church, A young playwright friend of mine said that everything worth doing should incorporate the impossible. Christa Tippett, hos of NPR???s ???Speaking of Faith??? writes of creating future history in her book of that title. Gandhi and Dr. Martin Luther King both did this with their words and actions.

Maybe we can too.

Vaya con Dios

John Shippee
Atlanta, Geoergia

Sent by John Shippee | 9:04 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Leroy

I firmly believe that you can do this and we're right here with you! I do agree though, not knowing what is going on inside of me is one of the most frustrating parts of having cancer. For me, the question is, "has it spread?" We know the answer as of two months ago was that, no, it hasn't spread to my bones or lungs. But has it spread anywhere else? That's a question that will soon be answered in August. I'm gearing myself up for treatment...don't know how prepared a person can get for something they have never experienced...but I'm going in with high expections and a bit on the cautious side. I don't want to be hit by those sharp words, "it's spread." So for now, I too, wait. I've been waiting for almost a year now...it will be a year September 5th. It's very hard for me to believe that almost a year has gone by since my diagnosis...but I suppose it's been a busy year. First the pregnancy, then the surgery, then the cancer, followed by the sweetness of my first child, Sophia, then another surgery, and FINALLY treatment. I guess I'm looking forward to it alot more than I thought I was...still terrified, but determined to beat this beast into the ground!

You all will be in my prayers and thoughts! With love!

Sent by Tess from KY | 9:13 AM ET | 07-09-2007

It must feel like sitting around waiting to die. I think I would be so impatient to have a doctor say that there is a magic formula to fix me.

It must be so very difficult, such a hard position to be in, not to know quite what to do.

ss

Sent by Susan Sawatzky | 9:18 AM ET | 07-09-2007

I am in the same boat is you Leroy...I have some spots on my lungs now, but too small to know for sure what they are or what they are doing there. I am stage IV colon/liver/nodes etc.. I think I know what they are and want them out now! But, I have to wait for 2 months to see what they do. I am not patient either. I am going to start taking Avemar though as others have had good reactions! Let's be patient together...Sue

Sent by sue | 9:20 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Don't rush it, Leroy. Enjoy this place of "best health" while YOU own it. Your cancer may take possession of it one day, but it's not today. Today's a cancer-"controlled" day. Do what feels right with it; live it as if it may not last. That's something that's no longer cliche to us. Try to own your health and these days for as long as you can in spite of the beast. I'm sure a lot of us are adding our energy to your fight. Have a good day, Leroy. And I don't mean THAT in a cliche way, either. I mean it in all hope.

Sent by Lorraine | 9:23 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Ugh. I understand your angst. But I agree with them too. Ugh.

Sent by Krupali Tejura MD | 9:25 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Good morning Leroy/All

I am sorry that your consultation didn't turn out on a more positive note. As you once said waiting for the result of a scan, "Water torture". Now you are told you have to wait for the scan, agony, to say the least. But, I am happy that you still have that wonderful sense of humor.

A friend sent an email to my husband that I would like to share with all. (If you have speakers on computer use them)
http://positivepause.com/

Sent by sasha | 9:25 AM ET | 07-09-2007

I don't even know what to say. How do you just wait to see what happens? I actually thought about your trip to Hawaii while I was having radiation today. It took me away from being a patient for few minutes. Thanks for the distraction. I hope you can find enough to distract you during this waiting game.

Sent by Lisa | 9:45 AM ET | 07-09-2007

AHHHH Yes! Cancer's Hurry Up And Wait Game. The only reqiurements for playing the game are 1. You must have cancer and 2 you must be willing to tear your hair out BEFORE the chemo does! This is how we play. Hurry up and get a test, diagnosis, Dr Appt ect. and wait for biopsy results, to get in to see the Dr., ect. After receiving the first levels results, you move on to the more expensive level, where you hurry to see the Dr., get test results , have surgery, etc...and then you wait for results..and so on and so on. In the end, you either tear your own hair out, or you finally make it to the chemo level where the hair just falls out. Either way, you keep hoping to hear that you've won the game.

R.I.P. to our fallen friend Joel Siegal.

Sent by Liz Zimmerman | 9:55 AM ET | 07-09-2007

I try to visualize borders for my cancer- not allow it beyond that space. I am possibly very lucky, there is a new breakthrough in biliary cancer. My doctor wants me to take my vacation. When I come back he'll be ready with the new chemo to blast away. I hope it buys me another year so I can have the summer off. Who knows. I hope my positive and determined thoughts have some impact on the cancer's growth as well as the drugs.

Sent by Cheryl McDowell | 9:57 AM ET | 07-09-2007

My husband has Multiple Myeloma - a blood cancer that attacks the bones - so we're quite familiar with spinal compression fractures. You'll definitely know, Leroy, if that happens to you. I pray that it does not.

After a really horrible year my husband is in remission, which is what we prayed for. But living with the Beast still lurking over in the corner is very difficult day in and day out. We try to live 'one day at a time' - enjoying the good days and not worrying about what may be around the corner. But every new little pain now carries the breath of the Beast over our shoulder. We don't know what we can do to keep the Beast at bay, other than to just continue to live each day to the fullest ... and pray.

Your blog is a Godsend, Leroy, reminding us we're not alone in this battle.

Sent by Dianne West in NV | 10:03 AM ET | 07-09-2007

I'm joining the waiting list, Leroy. After almost 15 years of no cancer, I've got a new primary in my colon. Surgery can't be scheduled until mid-August so I am learning to wait. But I feel good and hope this waiting time will be used well to get strong and do things that are important to me.

Sent by Kate Murphy | 10:07 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Hi Leroy,

I couldn't agree with you more. It is hard being patient and waiting to see what happens. It's so easy to let your mind wander and think the worst and worry about every little ache and pain. I am a member of Cancer World and am dealing with a diagnosis of cancer for a second time. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in July of 2003 and then was diagnosed with metastasized breast cancer to my liver in May of 2007. I am in weekly chemo, and it is going well. I am already nervous about my CT scan July 19th to see if the chemo is working. My tumor marker numbers are coming down, so I feel confident the chemo is working. I try to stay focused and positive. I believe in the saying "Live, Love, Laugh". I try to live each day to the fullest, love my family and friends, and laugh each day. I have learned to take life one moment at a time and to enjoy the little things.

Have a great day!

Mary

Sent by Mary McLellen | 10:17 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Hi Leroy and all,

Over the last year and 4 months I have been told to wait too many times. Last week I was told I'll be waiting again for another two months to see if anything changes or if anything new grows. I know exactly how you feel. I too am a person who says "let's get this show on the road, already."

On the plus side, yesterday I woke up and for the first time in weeks felt like positive myself. I had been stuck in a depression since finding out that the increasing pains in my hip were in fact lung cancer. I know we have to deal with our grief and anger and I had to go through that. And I'm sure I'll go through depression again. But it sure is good to feel like smiling and laughing again.

Sent by Laurel M. Jones | 10:18 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Hi Leroy,

I'd ask you how you are doing today but I think I know... about the same as me... just waiting.

I hate waiting! AHGGGGG!!! Eh hem!! (Excuse me... sorry for the outburst). lol
Can't really do it out loud here, people will think I'm crazy. Well I am, maybe a little bit. But, who cares?! Right?!

I've had "my cancer" for 6 years. I've had aggressive treatment, where I've been very sick and lost all my hair etc. And I've had non-aggressive, where I've been less sick. My cancer has not gone into remission during any treatments. It gets smaller (they call partial remissions), but its still there. Each time, after about 9 months, it begins to grow again. They say eventually, the cancer will become immune to any treatment and become aggressive. Don't know when that will be. Don't know if I'm going to want to fight it or just let it happen. I just have to WAIT and see what it does. I hate not knowing. I look just fine, normal and pretty much healthy. I don't feel healthy though... and some people when they see me, (the one's who haven't kept in touch) say "oh! You STILL have cancer?! I thought you got rid of it a long time ago, well, you look fine!" That's what social security said too when they denied me. But I wasn't just going to sit back and take no from them, so I got a lawyer and fought them and won! But they still send me letters asking if I'm any better so they can stop paying me all the money I worked years and put into the system in case something like I GOT SICK would help me for.

Don't really know where I'm going with all this... just wanted to write in I guess.

I figured someone out there in "cancer land" would know how I'm feeling... thank you for being there to let me rant. Take care all. Shirl Dolitz

Sent by Shirley Dolitz | 10:19 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Good morning Leroy. I guess I am in a situation somewhat like yours. I want to start "talking turkey" with my oncologist this week. When this chemo combo quits working, where do we go, and do I want to go there? Why haven't I had any body scans to see if the cancer has spread? Do I have to have severe pain before we take a look? What should I be looking for, and would you consider giving me a pain med. just in case in the middle of the night I am wracked in pain? I have been very lucky that I haven't ever been sick from the chemo or radiation, but tell me what I am looking at if the next type of drug does make me sick. My brain tumors are a threat in the coming months, so maybe I should just pack it in and wait?
My doctor does not seem to want to tell me what's going to happen, and I want to be prepared. It makes me sad for my husband and son. They are the ones who will need to deal with it all too, and I want for them to know too. In the meantime I try to live as normally as any person who is bone tired all the time, which means I do very little. Thanks for letting me practice my questions before my appt. on Wed. By the way, I too have been healthy, except for this cancer thing.
Jill

Sent by Jill Schaudt | 10:27 AM ET | 07-09-2007

I feel the same way you do. Get this out of me, now. For me, I've always wanted to feel like I was doing something to fight while I was waiting. I make sure I exercise every day, eat vegetarian with lots of antioxidants, take supplements (you may want to look into the Block Institute in Chicago for a customized plan), even take the non-US approved Zadaxin to help boost my killer cell activity. At least by following this regime it gives me the mental advantage that I am fighting the beast. Livestrong.

Sent by Mike Dougherty | 10:42 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Hey Leroy,

Hang in there! We are in the same boat. I want to go in and get it out but the Drs. keep saying it would have no benefit. I take it when they say it but then I get worn down when family and friends start asking me that same question. I feel stupid for saying "Well thats what the Drs think" so today I am planning to call the Dr again to ask "why?". I want to understand the reason. I think I may be in for a heavy dose of reality. Sometimes you just gotta ask the same question again and again.

Hang tough, Cancer Warriors!

Sent by Sarah Senter | 10:44 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Leroy,

I am not a patient person, either. I CAN be, but it isn't easy and I am anxious every step of the way until I KNOW FOR SURE.

I really hope you can distract yourself from your spine. Maybe you should go back to Hawaii and sip Mai-Tais? Sounds better to me than waiting for a vertebra to crumble.

I agree with everyone who says "live each day", but some of those people aren't patients - and that makes a difference. Not that the advice isn't sincere, heartfelt, and good, but actually following through, as the little red hen said, "depends upon a lot of things."

Sent by Diana Kitch | 10:46 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Hi All,

Waiting is NOT fun, and I will admit to being extremely bad at it. I guess from all my years of surgery, I am a sort of fixer and now. I become very impatient by people who just sit and ponder something.

I am sorry you are in the waiting loop. Be positive if possible while you wait.

Sent by Susan Chap | 10:56 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Dear Leroy,

Aargh! What a crazy dance this is, wellness, illness, cancer, waiting --
have you heard Cleo Laine sing the song "I'm Calm"? It's on the cd: CLEO LAINE SINGS SONDHEIM. When I'm under a lot of stress, it plays over and over in my mind. I would recommend listening to it, if you don't already know the song. That entire cd helps me through this time of illness/tests/results/surgery. Hope you have some music that helps you.

Patience in the face of this stuff is practically impossible, yet frequently demanded. "Are we there yet?" "What do you mean I have to wait??!?" "This is just my one and only life!" "You must be kidding!" All these and more stack up in my mind like planes needing to land, and the runway is occupied. My partner and therapist actually have to listen to me rant about it all, but then, they also remind me to hold on and breathe.

So Leroy, hold on and breathe, and hold someone's hand when you need to. It's totally okay to just want someone to hold your hand.

Keeping you in my prayers, heartlight too,

Kim Blankenship

Sent by Kim Blankenship | 11:12 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Maybe one of the "gifts of cancer" that some people talk about is learning to be patient when perhaps that's not a skill we've learned before.
It's not particular to cancer, but aggravation comes along when you have to deal w/ the medical/insurance system on a regular basis, as many people living with cancer do. I'm dealing right now (I'm on hold) with one of the annoyances that come with our fractured health insurance system. Since I was diagnosed, I've had all of my scans at the same hospital, the one where I've had surgery, and where my oncologist treats. Now I find out that since my previous employer changed our health insurance to a different provider in March, and I have to keep it under Cobra, I can't have my scans where I've always gone, but have to now go to where the insurance company recently decided (unasked) that my family doctor shoud be capitated. Now, instead of bring the prescription to the hospital and having the test, I have to call my oncologists', they have to contact the insurance company to get pre-certification, I then have to schedule at the new place (and my doctors have not had any experience with the quality of the scans or the radiologists who read them at this new location) and get my previous films from the hospital where I prefer to go and bring them with me when I have the test done. I also now am required to get these, for me routine scans, pre-certified every time. I hate this. This is a small complaint in the scheme of the larger helth insurance mess that embarrases our country and harms uncounted citizens, but having cancer causes a large loss of control of ones' life, and having layers of burocracy elbowing it's way into treatment choices this way is wrong. I can't wait to see "Sicko".

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 11:14 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Goodmorning Leroy,

The waiting I know is tremendously hard. The trying to stay busy instead of just being busy. But somehow when the mind is busy on other things it does make the waiting easier. Also if we knew what we are waiting for was really going to be good it wouldn't be so hard. Positive thiinking, which I have to say thank you to Sasha for forwarding e mail this morning. Is beautiful. I am truly inspired by all of you writing into this blog. Leroy, keep up the good work and know that we are all with you on this journey.

Sent by Dorothy | 11:31 AM ET | 07-09-2007

I agree with Ron - you have to find something to really occupy you. I just got back from a 2 week blitz through Korea with my 11 year old daughter. It was an amazing experience, and I hardly thought about my cancer. The interesting thing is - just before I left I was having pain in my right side (the bad lung), but didn't have any pain during the trip! I think I psyche myself out sometimes and create pain or magnify it, as if real pain wasn't enough. Now that I'm back home I have time to relax and dwell on the "waiting game" again - when's my next scan, what will it show, will I have to do chemo, etc. etc. I need to take another trip, soon!

Sent by Marcia Greer | 11:31 AM ET | 07-09-2007

This is a very difficult one for me - wait and see! I have had some melanoma friends whose doctors said "Let's wait and see what the next scans show." The next scans showed a "proliferation of tumors everywhere". The tumor load was so great that nothing could stop its onslaught. You know the rest.....

The second guessing began....would it have happened anyway even if the treatment had been administered? Should the scans have been done after 30 days instead of 2 months? Were the possible side effects of the proposed treatment really weighed against the risks of doing nothing? Let us remember that cancer is not a "wait and see" disease. We need to attack it while the tumor burden is small(try not to allow it to spread further and gain strength); while the cancer seems to be taking a breather before resuming its attack; we need to attack it while our bodies are strong (at least as strong as they can be at the time).

With all of the above said... I was convinced to adopt a "wait and see" posture on a spot in my brain that showed up on the MRI. It was in the mid-brain and not able to be biopsied; I asked about gamma knife or some other pin-point radiation to zap it and was told that if it is NOT a tumor and the spot is zapped that it could do damage to that portion of my brain and could cause some impairment to brain function. So "wait and see" is what I did. The spot is still there, has NOT changed in 1 1/2 years so the likelihood that it is a tumor is remote. I can tell you that my patience was sorely tested. I watched a young friend pass away from metastatic melanoma to her brain because she chose to "wait and see."

Leroy, you like many of us will be given advice and counsel from our doctors, from specialists and from other cancer patients, you make the decision on what's best for you because in the end, there is no "right" decision only the decision that you make for yourself. And that is ok....

Blessings and prayers as always...

Sent by Al Cato | 11:40 AM ET | 07-09-2007

I hate the waiting, I have just been released from the hospital after going through a stem cell transplant for foliculer lymphomia, they say at this point evrything is fine, but you said before we live three months at a time, I only made it 6 months last time, they say it's not a matter of if but when, this is like you say hurry up and wait.

Jeff

Sent by Jeff Ronco | 11:41 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Yuck, the position you're in would make me nuts, at least for a while until I realized that letting it make me nuts was also be letting the cancer have more of me than it needed to have. Waiting to get worse so you can have treatment. Yuck.

I hope you are good at repression and denial, Leroy, and can manage to put it out of your head that that's what you're doing and just enjoy life a little--or actually enjoy life a LOT. Let tomorrow take care of itself.

Sent by N.R. | 11:51 AM ET | 07-09-2007

I always assumed that, after I was finished with my treatment for stage II breast cancer, I would have yearly scans of some kind to make sure the cancer hadn't come back. I was surprised to learn that in fact, for breast cancer, there are no recommended yearly scans, rather, it is a "wait and see if symptoms present" scenario. As my oncologist put it, even if yearly scans showed something 6 months before physical symptoms presented, it's not like those 6 months would really make a difference in terms of treatment. On the one hand, I think that I'm glad to be spared the anxiety associated with scans (as many of you have described so well). On the other hand, sometimes I feel like I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sent by Gretchen Hoag | 11:53 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Leroy and all,
I so appreciate your posts. I am six months past diagnosis, and the thing I dislike the most (aside from having to carry the Cancer Flag into quiet battle every day) is the fact that I am told to be vigilant about monitoring every message from my body while simultaneously admonished to maintain a positive attitude. And my personal experience is that the same doctors who told me to be vigilant don't actually want to hear my report of symptoms until those symptoms have gone on for at least three months. Do doctors realize how many long, uncertain nights there are in the space of three months????? The trick is that rational, conscious thought about being positive and accepting and patient doesn't quite bridge the chasm of secret, nagging worry.

We have such a peculiar tightrope to walk. Is it possible not to turn into a neurotic tangle of frustration? I am currently trying to find some peace by working at turning off the minute-by-minute data collection monitor that runs in the back of my head and makes all that whirring noise. I tell myself that when the symptoms deserve to be noticed, I will notice, and I don???t need so much watchfulness. I've been augmenting my conscious efforts with acupuncture and that has helped quite a lot. I mostly feel good and I???m trying to enjoy that feeling without simultaneously thinking of it as a precarious state. I must admit that I still feel like smacking people who glibly say to me, just keep a positive attitude ???!

I send up a cheer for you Leroy, and for all of us who are carrying on the best we can!

Sent by Kathleen Hoffmann | 11:58 AM ET | 07-09-2007

Dear Leroy,
I had the same reaction when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, GET IT OUT, NOW! I was given the option to have chemo first to see how it would affect the tumor, but was told that I would still have to have a mastectomy because of the location of the tumor. All I knew was that my body (or parts thereof) had betrayed me and I didn't want them anymore. I opted for double mastectomy as soon as we could book an operating room. In hindsight, it was the best decision I ever made since pathology revealed microscopic traces of tumor in the breast everyone thought was clean. Then I was told to wait at least a month to six weeks to begin chemo in order to allow my body to heal from the surgery. I told them I would start in two weeks, and two weeks after surgery, I had my first round of chemo. I don't do WAIT well. Sometimes I think the waiting causes more stress than the disease, itself.

Can you be away from doctors for a bit? Maybe travel, although you have spent a lifetime traveling, but that always helps me take my mind off of things. Or, you could come out here and deal with my two teenage boys. They seem particularly clever at keeping me occupied! In any event, you will find something that makes the waiting less painful. I know you will.

On a personal note...I ran five miles straight today for the first time in three years. My feet hurt, my knees hurt, my hips hurt...and I feel wonderful.

Best,
Mo

Sent by Mo Spikes | 12:05 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Leroy, I, like you, am not a patient man. I get in peoples faces, sometimes just for fun. Most of the fun is gone now, and I do it because, I can't wait. What do they expect to happen, it will all dissappear. Hardly! They want you to wait until a vertebra in your back becomes so painful, or has so little sturctural strength it falls apart. Niether outcome is acceptable. So the treatment has side effects, name one that doesn't. Waiting gets you one thing, in my opinion, further behind the "eight ball." Leroy, don't wait go with the procedure now, while this is more managable, and you are stronger. Live strong. Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 12:14 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Leroy,

I'm pretty new to this "dealing with cancer" mode having been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in January. I spent nine days in the hospital recovering from surgery and it occurred to me that the worst possible thing would be to go through this alone. I feel blessed to have my faith,family and friends who are with me during this battle.

I've just sarted reading your column and admire your candor and inner strength. Count me as a friend to help you in your battle as you are helping me in mine.

Bob

Sent by Bob | 12:18 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Ah yes......I remember, following my last radiation treatment 2 years ago the doctor said "okay, go get on with your life". At the time I thought that sounded like good advice and I set out to do that very thing. Little did I know about the pulmonary fibrosis that his "life-saving" radiation had set into motion and the fact that there is no cure and it will most assuredly kill me. The cancer is still being held at bay (still waiting?). The oncologist celebrates....I would too except for this oxygen tube going down my nose. Now, what am I waiting for? "Get on with your life" is great advice, if only I could.

Sent by James Wallman | 12:31 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Leroy - This is the worst kind of waiting...waiting for something bad to happen. Just relax and enjoy while we wait for your tumors to grow or a new pain to start. It might be next week or in 6 months. Cancer doesn't play fair.

I have also been told that my current health is the best that it will be for the rest of my life. That is not comforting either. I feel great. I haven't had any chemo in 2 months and I have no "cancer symptoms". I am about to start the process for the stem cell transplant and they are already telling me that that my health will never be the same. The hope is that the transplant or a later treatment will control my cancer. Even if this transplant is a great success I will have permanent side effects and my immune system will never be the same. What was the good thing about having cancer? That's right, there is nothing good.

I will be thinking about you and reading your blog. I hope you have many cancer-free thoughts and activities. Meanwhile that researcher working away in the lab might just come up with something.

Sent by Jill | 12:33 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Some people say that there are lessons in everything, especially,i believe, with patience and the unknown.
I'm waiting as well. After my diagnosis i had all the scans and was told that nothing showed up anywhere else. then about 4-5 months later while meeting with my radiologist, i find out from her, that i have a nodule on one of my lungs. what!? My oncologist never told me that! so, i confronted my oncologist next time i saw him and he appologized and explained that it was "off his radar" due to its size, very small nodule. however, it could grow if its a different cancer, or it could shrink if its part of my current breast cancer, or....the best news would be that it did nothing at all, stayed the same size.
i'm currently in chemo treatment, then onto radiation for 6 1/2 weeks, then after a time i will have a CT to see whats going on with the nodule. so i have to wait until late fall early winter to see what the nodule is up to.
hopefully nothing.
waiting is not fun, but maybe theres a lesson here?
hmmmmmmmm

Sent by Jenn | 12:48 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Hi Leroy/all
Last night was my time to watch living with cancer program. I was beginning to feel down on myself. My cancer is quote unquote lighter than others to beat if there is such a thing.
I agree with you that the best way to be this is to constantly fight this thing. I get so frustrated waiting for things to start moving again. I have been on a break for 90 days waiting for the brachytherapy to finish work. After a visit to my surgeon, who totally manhandled my tongue and made pain a reality said I am going to have to have radical surgery. Does this mean all the radiation and chemo I went through over the past year has all been for naught. That is the way it seems.
The next waiting was to see a plastic surgeon to evaluate all the reconstruction I was supposed to have. They want to reconstruct when they destruct. So that is finally set up for this thursday.

It aggrevates me so much the wait is like the military. Hurry up and wait and in the meantime things get worse and the frustration gets worse.
Have a good day

Sent by clark | 12:49 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Sasha, thank you for sharing the positive pause link. I intend on sharing it with the ladies in my support group, as well as my Mom. Blessings to you all this day.

Sent by Karen | 1:09 PM ET | 07-09-2007

For some it might have just gotten better.
Pioneering treatment for brain cancer gets Swiss approval
See:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20070709/hl_afp/britainswitzerlandus

Sent by Irene | 1:22 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Leroy,
I am so sorry you have to wait for pain to move forward. My heart goes out to you. I am a buddy for many colon cancer patients, I am a stage 4 survivor ned for 23 months and what gets me is how life is so unperdicitable I try and give hope and most times I do but inside my heart breaks for these people.I dont know why Im ned at the moment.but its hard to see those around me suffering. I guess I have survivors guilt alot Please know you are in my thoughts for a slow NO a stable tumor that doesnt grow. We can always Hope.

Sent by Anita | 1:30 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Dear Leroy,

I would like to say that I would handle this latest development well, but frankly, it would drive me batty. I have learned SOME patience in dealing with cancer, but not that much. The only answer for me, therefore, in dealing with your latest obstacle, is prayer, and lots of it. I will pray till I am blue that the next time they look at those tumors they will be smaller or more manageable, or something the doctors want to deal with. Hang in there in the meantime, as best you can, as we all do. May we have peace also, and know that there is a higher power who is not waiting for the result of a scan, a blood test, or an ok from an outside source to proceed with events in our lives. He's working right now, on call, in strange and miraculous ways. God Bless.

With you in spirit,

Connie E.

Sent by Connie | 1:53 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Dear Leroy (and fellow abductees into Cancer World):

Thank you for your consistent honesty, your soulful humor, and for not giving up your posts -- professional and personal. While zapping away those sites will be satisfying if/when the time comes, it's clear that you recognize that the stability of the lesions (my position, too) is good news. You have them in abeyance (yes, I know, for now but maybe for a good long time). I have had spinal bone mets -- fractured/compressed L4 -- and you will know if it happens. But awful as that may be, you've been through so much worse. You'd handle it. So, here's to your celebrations of the quotidian, and your reaching out to all of us affected by the cancer underworld -- even with one foot in and one foot out. Small favors but at least a reprieve from scanning/waiting, appt/waiting, treatment/waiting and the often consuming daily work of buoyance agasint the gravity of it all. -- Marcia

Sent by Marcia | 1:55 PM ET | 07-09-2007

waiting, waiting, waiting,....So easy to say; so hard to do. Following my radical prostatectomy, and subsequent (failing) PSA test, my urologist told me that, "The surgery was a success, now all we have to do is deal with the cancer. We'll see your in three months or so for another blood scan and go from there." I went from there with the grayest sense of anxiety and not-knowing that I've ever had. I'm a cancer patient, but have also had a life-long anxiety disorder. Dealing with this has landed me once again in the therapist's office.
Anticipatory anxiety is one of the most difficult emotions for humans to deal with. No matter what I do in the interim, there's never been an escape.
Your situation is so much worse than mine that I'm at a loss as to what to say. God bless and may somebody find a more definite answer for you than what you received today.

Sent by Tim | 2:54 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Man! What a sh**ty position to be in! I'm so sorry, Leroy. And on top of that, you're supposed to be patient. Just wait calmly until the cancer advances and you're in terrible pain --THEN they'll try to deal with it! I can't say I know exactly how you feel because I'm not in your shoes (yet). But I did get frustrated when my doctor told me that as someone with Stage III breast cancer who has completed 17 months of treatment, there will be no further tests performed unless/until I show symptoms of metastasis!

"What kind of symptoms?" I asked.

"Ohhh -- maybe shortness of breath...or rapid weight loss," was the reluctant answer. In other words, when death is near. Why? Because studies show the outcome is "about the same" whether metastasis is caught early or late. In other words, we're all going to die! Finding out sooner will just worry my pretty little head unnecessarily. Well, maybe so. But does it really make sense to just wait? Isn't that all just about saving the HMO money? What about what the medical profession has always told us about the importance of "catching it early"?

Please excuse my rant. I just had an MRI this morning that I had fought hard to get, but it was a much more unpleasant experience than it had to be: several painful sticks before the guy could get the I'V. in. A tech who kept asking, "Are you sure you're in the right position? One woman had to do the whole thing over again because she didn't center herself exactly right."

Finally I barked, "Hey, that's the job of the professional, not me. YOU make sure I'm in the right position! Didn't they train you to do that?"

Cancer has made me a crabby person.

Have a good day, everyone.

Sent by Doris | 2:59 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Cheryl Please tell us more on the new breakthrough in biliary cancer. I want to ask my doctor. thanks

Sent by David white | 3:56 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Aaah. The age-old question: What do you do when there is nothing to do?
Nothing.
You live. You relax. Time goes by. It is almost like not having cancer at all. Your family visits, taking time from their busy lives because they know that soon you may not have any time for them. You notice the sunshine and the clouds, the rain, whatever the moment presents you, and you enjoy it.

It sort of feels like floating down a lazy river. I know in my far-off consciousness that there is a steep waterfall somewhere downstream, but for now, the ride is a lazy float in dappled shade. And I am enjoying it.

I didn't get to make blueberry pie but I did have several cherry pies with the help of my children from our sour cherry tree. Absolutely fabulous!

Sent by Stephanie Dornbrook | 4:08 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Dear Leroy,

I know very well what it is like to know something is going on in your body, but you do not know exactly what it is or how much damage it may be doing. Silent, but vicious, the mystery takes what little peace we have left. I feel terrible knowing you must endure that kind of stress when you have been through more than your share.

Acceptance is a good thing, but I fear it can be harmful in those times when we must continue to be vigilant to find out just what that "thing" is that is
growing inside us. In my case, I want to know, and I don't want to know, and I think you know what I mean when I say that. It is difficult, to say the least,
and it comes down to the trust you have in your doctors and the faith you also have in yourself, trusting your sharp intuitive powers to tell you when close attention is required. Some of those feelings cannot be ignored, nor should they be, and if you begin to feel that something should be examined more closely, I hope you will listen to your heart and ask them to do what they can to ease your mind. Sometimes knowing what is NOT happening can be quite valuable, and could release the angst of the mystery.

Something you said frightens me a bit, and I feel compelled to ask you not to ignore some of those twinges of pain that you may normally discount as
"normal" occurances with back problems.
I have had fractures in my spine that I thought were only residual and normal feelings from the earlier surgery. I denied the twinges until they became uncomfortable, then turned to intense pain. Only then did I insist further investigation, only to find three vertebrae were fractured, and the spine becomes weaker and weaker without the proper treatement. As you know, there was an eventual collapse which required more surgery, placing me in the "bionic"
category, and part of my spine was then replaced with titanium plates. I was
told it was probable I would become a quadraplegic if I survived the surgery, and for this reason I consider myself a living miracle. Perhaps the reason for this reprieve is to be here today to delivery this message to you. I do not want you to experience what I had to endure, you have been through more than your share of misery as it is. It is, for this reason, I strongly encourage you not to dismiss ANYTHING as normal discomfort, we have passed the point of normalcy in our lives.

I am sending my prayers to you and will continue to support you in all of your decisions to do what is right for you. I wish I could take your stress away and replace it with peace, but the best I can offer at this point is my love and continued admiration for fighting this with everything you have. You have my respect, and I hope sharing my experience is not upsetting to you, it is only meant to reinforce how vital
it is to listen to your body, as well
as your heart.

Love, Briana

Sent by briana | 4:20 PM ET | 07-09-2007

I know this probably sounds silly, but while you're waiting, why not have a nice cool 8 oz. glass of 100% pomagranite juice, each day without fail.
I was on chemo for five months last yr. when they did a Pet scan and said, well the tumors in your lung (metastisized from colorectal cancer) aren't getting any bigger. The chemo must be working. Then I started drinking 8 oz of Pom every day.
Three months later "No evidence of metastatic disease detected". That was last August. Today I still have no evidence. Today I drank my Pom juice. On your grocer's shelf along side all the other juices, $4.79 per qt. That's only $1.25 per day. Less than Starbucks. Co-incidence? Maybe!
But, Hey! It works for me!

Roman Bukolt 10 yr. survivor of cancer and still going strong!.
I enjoy reading your blogs.

Sent by Roman Bukolt. Madison, Wi. | 4:38 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Dear Leroy, I thought I had developed some patience and tolerance but I seem to have lost it when told my cancer metastasized to my chest and brain. I am waiting for a second opinion, I am waiting to be approved to be disabled, I am waiting to start chemo again. I have symptoms so things seem more urgent. Since this all happened faster than the doctors imagined - is it growing still rapidly inside me? How much time do I have? Will the treatment work and stop the spread and growing of those nasty cancer cells? It's soooo hard to wait. Enjoy your reprieve if you can - at least you feel good! You have purpose - writing this column - you make people smile and feel understood. THANK YOU.

Sent by Vicki (FL) | 4:44 PM ET | 07-09-2007

You said, "I have to be patient." Don't you wonder why sick people began to be called "patients"?

Sent by Laura | 5:20 PM ET | 07-09-2007

David, I'll get the name of the chemo (or names of it) from my oncologist on Friday.

Sent by Cheryl McDowell | 5:29 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Hello Leroy and all contributors to cancer blog:
I never cease to be amazed by the strength and beauty of all you people. It is always inspiring no matter what kind of day I am having. I laugh, I cry, I see myself reflected in your words. Love to all. Sherri in Texas, BC dx 4-06

Sent by Sherri Eggleston | 5:30 PM ET | 07-09-2007

I think as we wait in emotional pain and sadness it feels like it will never ever end. Is this depression? Then one day as we are waiting we are completely distracted from the sadness and take a giant leap forward into life again. It may be a great book or movie, or a very beautiful sight...seeing an old friend, hearing inspiring words ... or an out and out gift of god. I have come to really believe in these sort of unexpected Pop Up moments wholeheartedly... they cause a complete shift of perspective for me, often cause a shift from sadness and depression into real pure joy. They are a big, wonderful distraction but much more than distraction. They are grace. One of these was handed me today as I felt depressed and very sad over rising tumor markers and recurring high blood pressure caused by one of my chemo drugs. And it shifted my whole world back into the space where I feel hopeful and determined again, more like myself, and even cheerful.

So I hope these moments of grace are visited upon you soon and frequently as well as everyone who suffers cancer. Watch and listen carefully for them.

Sent by Nancy O | 5:41 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Is it worth it? 1 year 10 months ago had my esophigus removed-so far I'm clean-August 6th I go again-I just turned 70 yesterday-and I'm feeling good-never know what' going to happen when I eat but-trying to live in "the now"-I figure not a question of if- but when-thoe microscopic cancer cells decide to do their work-what will I do? kemo-radiation-another operation-for what-to make the doctors "rich"- oh not rich-you know what I mean-what about quality of life-I've seen enough people close to me go-never think it would happen to me- Is it woth it? or just accept that death is imminate and go-

Sent by vincent g. fede | 5:59 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Have any of you heard about the clinical trial using a modified herpes simplex virus to attack cancer? The early results are reported to be very promising. They mentioned specifically colorectal cancer. Check this out you guys - maybe it's a clinical trial that may be helpful to some of you?

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2007/07/070707083314.htm

Sending love and good thoughts to all of you...
Susan
http://lemonmargaritas.com

Sent by Susan Metters | 6:12 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Hey Leroy,

I'm so sorry to hear you're stuck in the waiting game. Enjoy the health you have?! By the end of 6 months on Xeloda I was surprised at how debilitated the discomforts of treatment made me feel. Stay healthy, you're my inspiration! XOXO

Sent by Katie | 6:25 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Leroy,

I just read your July 2 post, "How to Tell a Local from a Visitor." As many of your other posts have done, it brought me to tears, not bad tears, but therapeutic tears. Your writings ring true not only for the cancer patient but also with members of the cancer patient's family.

My family and I were thrown into the cancer experience when my dad was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer in Feb 2005. After living longer than the average small cell lung cancer patient lives after being diagnosed, he passed away on September, 1, 2006.

Just like you described, the first visits with my dad to the doctor were terrifying, but as time went on, the many visits for treatment and check-ups almost seemed to turn into the social event of the day.

You and your blog have been very therapeutic, a lovely unexpected blessing. I love the way you so effectively craft your daily writings and their thought provoking endings.

Hang in there!

Sent by Betty A. Roberts | 7:22 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Mamma mia!! What a revoltin development this is! I guess we all agree that the waiting game is the worst.

Sending good vibes to those rogue cancer cells to stay put and leave your spine the heck alone.

Sent by Sara (MD) | 7:57 PM ET | 07-09-2007

"Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" I guess the thing with this kind of waiting is NOT getting there may be far better than getting there.
May you linger in this space for a very long time.

Sent by Sandra Li | 7:57 PM ET | 07-09-2007

I have colon cancer and it is taking a different path of metastasis than yours. They removed the colon tumor but could not remove the liver mets. So for 3 years I have been waiting to die of liver failure. No such luck, now it has spread to my lung. I want to try radio frequency ablation on the lung mets since it seemed to work well for you. But I don't even know where to start. My doctor just says "Nobody here (at this medical center) will do it." How and where do I even start looking?

Sent by Kevin | 8:10 PM ET | 07-09-2007

I compare the waiting game to the calm before a storm. We are told the rain and wind are coming and have this lull in which to prepare, yet we don't know whether we are preparing for a tornado that will actually materialize or a storm that makes a complete miss. Yet, we still ready ourselves for the worst of scenarios. We are often told in this Cancer World to "prepare for the worst and hope for the best." So while you are considering the progression of disease, I am here hoping for stability with your spinal mets, no additional pain, and a cure to this disease before you have to move forward. Hang in there, Leroy! I truly believe the best is yet to come.

Sent by Suzanne Lindley | 8:30 PM ET | 07-09-2007

I too have tumors on my spine. I found out in March of 2006. I had finished treatment for breast cancer and I just had reconstructive surgery. All of a sudden, I had this awful pain in my upper back between my shoulders. When i coughed, sneezed or moved it hurt bad. I went to the emergency room and, as usual, they gave me every scan known to mankind and said I had some "spots" that I needed my doctor to follow up on. My oncologist told me that the cancer had spread to my bones. The pain wasn't too bad at first but now, I can barely lay down and I am in excruciating pain all of the time. He started out in 2006 giving me Zometa treatment monthly to strengthen the bone. I also played the waiting game. He didn't give me chemo or radiation until 1 year later when my vertabrae is leaning on my spine and at 37 years old, I have the "old lady osteoperosis bend". My back in a complete mess. I haven't been able to lay flat for almost a year and I need assistance in getting up. I pray for you, Mr. Leroy that you do not have to go through this pain that I do. I have two yound children - 11 and 4 and I cannot hardly do anything with them anymore. I am on Oxycotin and Percocet for pain which keeps me blitz out of my mine and I have to use a sedative to lay on the table to get the radiation because it hurts so bad. I am scared. I hope I am here to see my children grow up. But I understand what you mean by the waiting game. Every scan you get you wait and hope. Every pain you feel you hope it is not cancer. Every treatment they give you you hope it works. When I think about what I want to do next year I wonder will I be here. I wonder will I be able to finish college. No one can understand unless they are in the situation that cancer leaves your whole life in limbo and you begin the "guessing game". You listen to other patients to see what treatment they get to see if it can help you. It is all a guessing game to allow the researchers time to hopefully find a cure or something to prolong our lives longer.

Sent by Danette Winfrey | 9:16 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Geez! I spend some time on the ACS cancer survivor's chat line, and I have suggested with much agreement, that the site's theme song should be Tom Petty's "The Waiting is the Hardest Part".

I am, actually, in a very similar boat right now: a recent CAT scan, and subsequent PET scan, reveal 'spots' in my lungs. These would be mets from head and neck cancer I survived more than a year ago, IF they are cancer. As of now, they are too small to diagnose, apparently.

The most difficult thing, as you mention, is the waiting, despite the fact they are reasonably certain these are indeed mets to the lungs - both lungs...and that the future is one, not of cure, but of remission and palliative care.

It seems really strange, frightful, actually, that we would want them to grow so that we can identify them.

I commiserate, my friend.

Hang in there. It's amazing how time flies when you are having fun!

Sent by Joe Alvey | 9:20 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Dear Leroy,

Thank you for your words today. I'm also in an "as good as it's going to get" situation. I've been waiting. In March, I learned that I had "clinically insignificant" masses in my lung. The doctor said I should wait three months until the next CT scan to see what happens with the masses. Sure enough, on the next CT scan, some of them had grown to become clinically significant. I get the results of a PET scan and a lung biopsy this Thursday.

The doctor expects that the biopsy will confirm what the CT scans strongly suggest -- that the rectal cancer has spread to (at least) the lungs and lymph. So he has scheduled me to begin a new round of chemotherapy right after my visit with him. The cancer is incurable, however. I will never be free of it.

I wish I could wait. I feel pretty good right now and I know that the chemo will make me feel a lot less good. I did almost six months of chemo after the surgery to remove the tumor. Ugh. Maybe this is the best I will ever feel again.

I'd like to keep on feeling good a little longer. But the cancer won't wait; it doesn't wait. So I can't, either. All I can do is try to enjoy the day I have today. Maybe another one of the "gifts" of cancer is that it creates a powerful focus on the present. And today is pretty good.

To all on the Cancer Road, wishing you peace, one step at a time.

Sent by Elsa Cumming | 10:03 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Good Evening Leroy,
Enjoy this little break while you wait and see. Boy does the "HURRY UP AND WAIT" game really suck. I can promise you one thing, if and when you have a vertebra fracture from the tumor you WILL know. In june 2000 I was diagnosed with BC. Then in 2003 (36 months) for about 6 months I mentioned I had a nagging back ache, they took a film of the lumbar area, it really didnt show anything much, but in July of 2003 I moved over in bed and "surprise" I ended up with a T-12 compression fx. Next time I say lowback I am asking for pics above and below. I walked around bent over and had big bruises on my knees from holding onto them to move very vert slowly. I used a walker and I had to wear a back brace with a T frame in the front center, I had to wear for over 6 months, I called it my corset, it lifted and separated things... That was a lesson well learned. True to myself 35 months later and some leg pain, I now have mets to the femur. That got me the grand prize of a titanium rod from hip to knee, after 21 radiation treatments. I am sensing a pattern here that the medication works for about 36 months or so.
The moral of this story,AVOID THE COMPRESSION FRACTURE, follow up on those tumors, if they bother you before your next appt. My back hurt first thing after getting up, but after moving around awhile it would ease up, it was not crippling pain, just nagging.
Best of Luck!!!
Cheryl/Florida

Sent by Cheryl | 10:40 PM ET | 07-09-2007

I'm with you all on the waiting game. I find for some strange reason more comforted when I can feel the pain and I know that the cancer is there and back because I know more the outcome and the result. I then will plan the attack. The waiting times will shorten and I will get to be active in my fight instead of waiting. But I am not unfruitful for good news. It is what we all want. I just feel more anxiety . It's my CT and PET time for me this week and then a whole week of waiting. My warmest wishes are with are with all of you. Thank you for all of your comforting words.

Sent by Melissa Hartford | 11:51 PM ET | 07-09-2007

Here's the NPR blog of 'My Cancer' by Leroy Seivers. Gives insight into the thoughts, feelings of someone going through cancer. Marleen

Sent by Teresa Mullin | 8:44 AM ET | 07-10-2007

Danette - My heart broke for you and your children as I read your post above.

I just had a bone scan done yesterday as I've been having pain in upper back between my shoulders. It just feels like someone is sticking a knife in there at times...however, it's not like that all the time so I'm hoping it's not mets this time. I've already had bone mets in 2005 and then again in 2006 (right clavicle and then left shoulder joint) so here it is 2007 and it's found another spot or two?? It's darn scary. The biggest thing for me is worrying about how bad the pain will be and how much can I "endure."
I am allergic to many pain killers so that worries me too. I had radiation for the first two bone mets and that helped with the pain but I guess they can't keep radiating us all over our bodies!

I have a sincere question - so many of you continue with the treatments (chemo especially) knowing that it's really not "helping." How do you do this? I'm not asking this in a critical way whatsoever - I genuinely want to understand how you can go through with some of those things when you know how it's going to make you feel and then the cancer comes back anyway or becomes resistant!

Another thing that eats at me (besides this cancer) is the fact that both of the conventional medical treatements of chemo and radiation are carcinogenic - they are both cancer causing agents!

I'm very grateful for this blog. Thank you again, Leroy and thank you to all of you who share your selves here as well. Some days it's kind of depressing reading all of our comments and stories and yet above all of that is the feeling of hope and support we can give to one another! Thanks again everyone!

Sent by Vicky (NY) | 11:45 AM ET | 07-10-2007

Ugh -- I, too, am fed up w/the "watch & wait" game... My doctors have been monitoring an indolent tumor on my spine (T4) for a little over 3 yrs now. I think my chart made the rounds of the entire MD Anderson Radiology Dept before they respectfully declined to treat me bcz of the close proximity to my spinal cord. While I'm certainly grateful it remains asymptomatic, it's a strange feeling, waiting for that pathologic fracture...

Sent by Val | 5:05 PM ET | 07-10-2007

Good for you!! Like you said, none of know when it is our time. This August will the anniversy of my husband's sudden death of a heart attack at age 52 yr. Did he ever have heart trouble before? Not ever; his death came as sudden as a summer rain and over just as quick. I was in shock because I didn't have a clue or even a warning. But it is strange, that was the way he said he would like to go when it was his time. No long illness for him, he wanted it over with fast; no suffering and I don't think he had any idea he was going to die when he woke up that Sunday morning. So while we were on vacation in his beloved Idaho where he was from, he passed away suddenly in the middle of a rolling golden field between the mountains,on a beautiful late summer day. I was grateful for that at least. So you just go ahead and make plans for your life like you are going to live forever. My 86 year old father has Type I diabetes for over 60 years, a record his Dr. said. He tells me all the time that he never expected to live past 60. Don't let the cancer win or rule your life.

Sent by Emily Saxton | 12:58 PM ET | 07-20-2007

time- I keep a diary-and at the end of each month I review it-prior to my operation(removal of my esophogus)time never counted for much-now--It's been 1 year,11 months since my operation-this month I go for another scan-it's nerve racking-my mate and friends just don't get it-

Sent by vincent g. fede | 10:03 AM ET | 08-01-2007