Good morning Leroy,

If only we knew what we know now when we were young. Wouldn't it be great to be like King Arthur's Merlin, as we age we grow younger?

Live, live, live until we can live no longer. Make each day count and an experience.

Have a great weekend.

Sent by Susan Chap | 7:38 AM ET | 07-19-2007

I'm on my way to have chemo.A long 6 hour day, if my blood counts will let me.
I think more now of the furture than the past. I'm 45, my life was just becoming what I thought it would be. Then I was diagnosed Jan 3. Now all my thoughts are of the future not the past. My goal is to be here alot longer than the doctors say I will.

There was some good music in the 70's !

Sent by David White | 8:00 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Leroy,
I'm 52 years old also and I think that if my cancer kills me people will say that I died 'young'. I think about that a lot. Growing up, I remember my mother turning 50 and to my 15 yr old mind 50 did not resemble anything I considered 'young'. It was downright ancient! I have teenage children ages 17 and 16 who are great people in the making. I would like to be around to see them grow. I cannot imagine life without my husband who has cared tirelessly for me this last year. It would not be fair to leave him alone.
So I will continue to fight. For me, that has meant a hugh change in attitude- more fortitude and gratitude- and acceptance. Let's just get on with it whatever that might be.
Wishing you a day of peace.

Sent by jessie | 8:04 AM ET | 07-19-2007

OH MY!! I must sadly admit... I did have ONE pair of those shoes and a bell sleeved shirt and bell bottom pants too.. and I looked DAMN GOOD in them! LOL LOL

Thank goodness that past is indeed past! LOL

There is a song... "One More Day" composed and performed by young adult brain cancer survivor David Bailey (http://www.davidbailey.com) where he talks about having "one more day to live your life"... that is what we all need to remember.. today we have ONE more day to hold our wife and children and to live our lives.. that is all ANY of us really have!!

Live your life TODAY Leroy and everyone!

Sent by Ron Bye (NH) | 8:19 AM ET | 07-19-2007

I had red platform shoes. I loved them. Don't think that there are any pictures. Thankful for that also. My feelings are the same about the future. Thanks for the inspiration. You are in my prayers.

Sent by anne lumberger | 8:22 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Dear Leroy, You said it all - it's the possible loss of the future that worries me. Will my daughters get married and have kids? Will my husband be OK when I'm gone. Will he take care of our dog if she lasts that long (she's getting old). So I will try to cram whatever life I can into whatever time I have left. Loving thoughts your way. Thank you for the positive and upbeat blogs. P.S. Getting my first new chemo today and a little nervous!

Sent by Vicki (FL) | 8:24 AM ET | 07-19-2007

We got married in 1976 and my husband wore a navy leisure suit with red piping with a red shirt. Now, you know we are stuck with pictures of that! I didn't even object to the suit so I can't blame him.

Sent by Dona | 8:32 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Dust off that brown velvet suit, and put on that 70's sound track, Leroy! You have a lot of living to do yet!

My sister is currently dealing with stage 3 breast cancer, and since I am a lymphoma survivor of 5 years, we talk a lot about what she is experiencing and compare thoughts and notes. She is wrapping up chemo, and getting ready for surgery, so is getting a ton of tests of all kinds, multiple discussions with many doctors, and so forth. It is stressful just trying to cooridnate all that and make decisions about treatment directions, as your know. But last night, she was saying to me that after talking to the surgeon about some of the difficulties of her case, it suddenly hit her that, statistically, her life is shorter than it would have been otherwise. She was talking about the importance of making sure not to put things off assuming there will be 20 more years to do them.

Wish me luck this weekend. My brother and I are linking up in New Hampshire and hiking up Mt. Washington. We did it 40 years ago with our dad (now deceased from lung cancer) and wanted to do it together 40 years later to celebrate being alive and healthy enough to do so. It is also something I wanted to do as part of my year-long celebration of surviving cancer for five years now.

Enjoy the day, Leroy. I am sure I can find a really ugly shirt for you, so just let me know if you need it. I can't help with the platform shoes, though. :)

Sent by Art Ritter | 8:45 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Hello, Everyone:
Today is my one year anniversary, or as some call it, my "new" birthday. One year ago today, I was diagnosed with cancer.
In the days leading up to my "new" birthday, I wondered how July 19th would feel: Would I be sad? Fearful? Resentful? I really wasn't sure what I would feel.
Well, it's 7/19 and I can say that I don't feel sad, fearful, resentful, or any other negative emotion.
I woke up late this morning, hurried to work, and still took time out to enjoy the sunrise, even though it's a bit cloudy today. So, I guess things turned out better than I would have imagined. Sure, there have been moments of devastation, despair, and there have been times when I've experienced a sense of darkness so consuming I thought I would never be able to survive (let alone withstand cancer treatments).
But, just like everyone else here, I made it, and I will continue to make it. Like Leroy, I don't spend as much time thinking about the past, although I would like to note for the record, I never owned a velvet suit.

Sent by Michael McGalin | 8:45 AM ET | 07-19-2007

I view your bionic self more in terms of a 1952 Chevrolet which is being preserved and whose engine still runs as smoothly and sweetly as it did when it was new. A little decay - sure, and fuzzy wool seats but still a good car.

Sent by Karl Merchant | 8:53 AM ET | 07-19-2007

My husband who is living with cancer is taking a nap even though it's 9:00 am. In the past at this hour, he would have been into his second coffee break at work or on the 5th hole on the golf course. Of course, I'm worried about the future but currently, the present,is sapping all of my psychic energy. My grandmother used to say that people should never have to be tested to see how much they can deal with. I'm rooting for you Leroy. You've given me so much hope.

Sent by Elaine | 9:09 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Leroy,
Great post. Great memories! Our polyester clothes, that hot look of the 70's, melted in the trunk of our car on our way back from "Spring Break" in Florida in 1972. They became one huge wad of goo after the broken tail pipe of our car overheated our trunk. (While we were probably singing along with that great music of the Van Morrison, Derek and the Domino's, or Cream.) We DO have the pictures of those great kids-him wearing his new wire rimmed glasses, the Nik Nik shirt, bell bottoms and platform shoes, me so hip in hot pants and platform sandals!
My husband smoked back then. He started smoking in 1968 (so cool). He quit when he was diagnosed with lung cancer last summer. He is 55 and just figuring things out.
The Chemo this winter caused cataracts to grow in both eyes. He thought that he was going blind(retinal neuopathy). Good news though, just cataracts. They were just removed and now he doesn't need glasses -for anything. So cancer has given him some-new, good things. He can wake up and see everything right away, and not have to hunt for his glasses or cigarrettes to smok- before he can do anything else. Cancer gave him freedom this year. Who'da thunk it???

Sent by Deb | 9:11 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Dear Leroy,

Are you sure about the platform shoes, lol?

When you quoted that at age 52 "You just started to figure things out" it reminds me of the old quote
"Youth is wasted on the young" Oh how true that is.

Be well my friend. Always in my prayers. Sasha

Sent by sasha | 9:13 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Dear Leroy
My husband???s first wife died of cancer when she was 42. Her daughters were 12 and 15 at the time. When we were moving into a new home and I was cleaning out a closet I found her journal, which I truly believe she put in my hands that day. I was having a particularly hard time wondering how I fit into this family. In it she wrote that she wasn???t so sad about dying or even afraid, but she was sad for the times she would miss... her daughters weddings, grandchildren. She prayed that someone would be there for them. All of a sudden it became crystal clear the important part I played in her life. Because her life, her family lived on. I know have three beautiful grandchildren and once again I will be mother of the bride as my younger step daughter gets married in August.

I thank her every day for raising such a wonderful family. I love my husband enough to wish he had never lost her... and he loves me enough to let step into her shoes without judgement. I think she would be pleased.

Sent by Susan | 9:18 AM ET | 07-19-2007

I don't dwell on the past but often I do reflect upon it. Our past, the good and bad things, have shaped us to be what we are today. For me, that's not a bad thing. I am grateful for my life's experiences.

My future is today and whatever the day brings forth. Tomorrow, next week, month or year represent my hopes and dreams of what may be. Optimism, hopes and dreams are the fuel for the human spirit. Without this fuel, our spirit would wither and die.

I do hope and dream for a future yet to be lived but I also know that we must make the best of this day because it is really all we have for sure. For today, let us stoke the furnaces deep within our souls to live, love, laugh and contemplate the possiblity of a future with our hopes and dreams fulfilled. Not a bad way to spend the day!

Blessings and prayers to you and Laurie.

Sent by Al Cato | 9:25 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Platform shoes. I had a pair, at least one pair. I remember hurrying from the grocery store to my car in 1974,carrying my infant daughter, and I FELL while wearing those shoes. Thankfully, neither of us was hurt. When I got home, I threw those shoes away! I figured we had just missed a tragedy and it was time for me to grow up.

Now platforms are BACK! Do we never learn? HA!

Sent by Sandra Shuler | 9:34 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Dear Leroy,
I've been gone a week and am now just catching up with what's been going on with you. Wow - so much of what you express resonates with my experience, as a caregiver, and my late husband's, as a pancreatic cancer patient.

Like Laurie (thanks for sharing her perspective), I was not in denial but I had what my husband called a "wonderful optimism" which buoyed him. He wasn't afraid of dying, nor did he look back with many regrets, but he mourned all that he would miss in dying prematurely, especially knowing what our 3 children "would become". Someone also said to me after he passed, that at age 59, he was just at the point in his life where the combination of his experience and acquired wisdom was worth a damn to anyone.

During his cancer, my husband and I mainly just put one foot in front of the other each day and did what we had to do, making imperfect decisions among imperfect choices, as we faced our fears. I guess that's what Hope and bravery are all about. You and everyone else here display a lot of both.

I saw one of those quotation cards the other day with a saying attributed to Winston Churchill that says it all:

"If you are going through hell, keep going."

Best Wishes to all.

Sent by Marilyn | 9:49 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Great blog entry - as always Leroy.

Thinking of the future and the past. Since our 4 year old's journey into Chemoland began, we do think of the future more than the past. What will his future be like? We are changed forever of course for being travelers to Chemoland.

However, we often long for the innocence of the past, the ignorance of the past, when we did not know of all the landmarks, and the roadbumps, and the challenges that come when traveling in Chemoland.

I always feel so blessed that you share yourself with us in the blog. It is such a gift to be able to process topics you present as it relates to each of our expereinces and to discover, even in Chemolnad, we are not alone.

Thank you for that gift.

Sent by Melissa T, North Aurora IL | 9:58 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Dear Leroy, Your thinking innspires me! 52 was the age I was when they "loped off" my left breast. A devastating experience for a very vain gal. However I am still here and, like you, matured in my thinking through the experience, so that I can truthfully feel that I am a better person today than I was before I came to realize that there was more to life than the petty little things that I had thought were important!
You write like you have had this kind of "awakening". It will carry you through this new trial. Reading the comments on your latest blogs, it does sound like some others have had this new treatment in their spines and have good reports about the results. May you gain new strength, along with your obviously new wisdom! We await your reports.

Sent by Jeanne C Rakowski | 10:23 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Hey Leroy,
As a "vertically challenged" person, I really miss my platform shoes (now I value my ankles too much to wear them)--I don't miss my "afro" though! Even the ugly '70s were fun while we were there. Looking forward to more of your points of view on everything.

XO Katie

Sent by Katie | 10:26 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Hi Leroy & Everyone!
I have to say that the sadness I feel with a terminal illness is not always there, but it comes in waves. Take last Christmas, for instance, I looked around at my family and wondered, 'Is this going to be my last Christmas?' No one knew I was thinking this and I tried to be as normal (don't believe in that word but it fits) as normal could be. Or, lately I think, should I go out and put in that new floor I want or save the money if I need it when insurance may not pay for a treatment?

I'm not so sure if I am being too morbid or just realistic? Wish this monkey would get off my back so I could do and buy things I really want. Maybe I'm selfish, who knows? But, it does sadden me to think this way now.

Now on a positive note, looking back, I thought I was so coool in my plaid pants, platform shoes, and big hair.... Most importantly I didn't have a worry or care in the world...Funny, how life changes when we are thrown a curve ball.

Sent by Lisa | 10:32 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Leroy,

I don't think there is an adult person alive who has not given thought to the future: what it holds, whether I will live long enough to see my children happy and established, etc. etc.

I feel I have been given a chunk of time to live and that I have no control (or very little) over how long a time that is. In my family, a baby died shortly after birth. That baby is a presence in the family and that baby is honored and who knows how much influence he will have on those who knew him for such a little piece of time? He didn't accomplish wonderful things, but he was HERE and had an impact.

We all do.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 10:52 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Leroy, Seems to me, with platform shoes, someone would have nicknamed you stretch, or the Giraffe, or some such. Perhaps you would have had an NBA career! With an Afro! What a picture, don't you think?
I get depressed over concern for my family, I'm sure you do too. Seems all the planning, just isn't enough. Love makes you crazy! So does Cancer, just not in the same way.
I have a picture of dark brown slacks, a lavendar shirt, an equally awful tie, a light tan sportcoat, and white patent leather shoes. Now that's a 70's outfit. Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 11:29 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Leroy,
You survived 70s fashion to get to this weekend, and the release of HP7.
Put on a great soundtrack and have fun reading.

Cindy Williams

Sent by cindy williams | 11:35 AM ET | 07-19-2007

I agree that no matter how old you are, it probably seems like there's so much more you want to do. The future is what we base so much of our day-to-day actions on, it's really hard to have it called into question. Even though, realistically, it is always in question for everyone.

I have battled two kinds of early stage cancer in my 40s, and so far neither has come back, though I'm dealing with some serious disabilities as a result of the treatment. And the thing is, I don't think I'd be fighting so long and hard to get over, or at least get better, from these disabilities if part of me didn't still believe I could live to age 90 or so. Even though I'm also well aware, depending on how things go, I might have to struggle to live past 50!

As long as there is some hope for the future, I think I will grab at that hope. As for the past, I have spent some time reviewing it, but not a huge amount. Especially in terms of fashion mistakes over the years....

Sent by NR | 11:36 AM ET | 07-19-2007

It's kind of cool that we are all remembering a time when the treatments available to us seemed like sci-fi! Your blog made me smile, and it reminded me of that car insurance ad that says people who survived the 70's should get a reward. It's accompanied by a picture of a guy with a 'fro and velvet suit. He reminds me of my boyfriend - one of the lucky guys in our school who had the kind of hair that could do that.
Then I started thinking about the real bell bottom pants we wore. My sister and I always went bare foot - I'm from rural Arkansas, what can I say? More than once we complainged about getting our big toe caught in the hem of those pants - it would take you down like a sack of rocks, so the patform shoes weren't the only hazard.
I was thinking about what you said about how our past made us who we are. I think about how the cancer part of the adventure is part of who we are still becoming. And, I think about the things from the past that made me a person who could survive what I'm going through now.
I sure would love to see you in that velvet suit.
Scarlett

Sent by Scarlett Harris | 11:36 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Unlike you, Leroy, I do apparently have thoughts about the past, largely through what I described to my brother as the "ghostly midnight dreams of people and places I thought I had forgotten." It is as if my life is passing before my eyes in VERY slow motion.

For the most part, however, I am where you are at, at 51 years old myself, looking forward and wondering how much of a future I have.

STILL, I must recall that just because an illness and some doctors have put an expiration date on me, the probability of my living until tomorrow is just as great as anyone else's (given liberties with statistical anomalies like not comparing me to a youngster toting a gun in Iraq). And that, my friend, is how I must live, I think, when not in treatment, as if my future is the same as it was before the disease came along.

Sent by Joe Alvey | 11:42 AM ET | 07-19-2007

Hi Leroy,
I'm with you! Interestingly enough, I have not given much thought to the past since being diagnosed. I think about saying good-bye to the love of my life and my daughter and cannot fathom that. I also think about how much I enjoy living and I'm not ready to give that up!! So my mantra continues to be healing, healing, healing....
As far as the seventies are concerned, I remember; Neil Diamond, Carly Simon, Fleetwood Mac and the Bee Gees. All good memories to me. this music was played in our home all the time. I am now forty and still love these musicians.
Have a good weekend and be gentle to yourself!

Sent by Carolynn Dubicki | 12:09 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Ahhh, the platform shoes. I had several pairs, especially with cork wedges. My sister, being under 5', slipped hers on as she got out of bed. We both had the ankle sprains to prove it! But, didn't we think we looked great with our 'elephant' bell bottom pants? And don't forget growing our Farrah hair later on!

Truly though, I still remember that my first thoughts on dx-day, 16 months ago, went to the future - the possibility of not being there for college graduations, weddings, and grandchildren, and a golden retirement with my husband. I'm 55, and my near-term goal is attending both my parent's golden wedding anniversary, and my step-sons's college graduation this winter. I feel confident today, that I'll get there. Leroy, I'll bet that you'll accomplish any near-term goals that you have - like attending your friends' October(?) wedding!

Sent by Sheara | 12:16 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Dear Leroy and all,

The trip back to the 70's was fun, Terrible clothes, big hair and those platform shoes. My Mom worked for Endicott Johnson Shoe Company and made some of those shoes. She came home from work just shaking her head and wondering what kind of style could possibly come next?

I am in conflict at times as I always tended to live in the future more than in the present. I always assumed that I would have at least 20 years in retirement. But I was diagnosed just 2 years after I retired and I am stage 4. Looking back, if I could have changed one thing, it would be to have experienced more things while I had my health. Don't put things off like I did! Sometimes tomorrow isn't like we thought it would be.

My heart really goes out to those of you still dealing with job responsibilities and growing families.

Vicki, I hope your new chemo went well today. And Susan, what a wonderful post on family relationships. That diary was certainly placed in your hands!

To everyone: strength, hope and peace.
And to Leroy, The best "Glue Job" that anyone could ever have!!

Love to all,
Eileen Pruyne
Charlotte

Sent by Eileen Pruyne | 12:17 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Well, since we're in a confessional mode here, I had some heinous wardrobe malfunctions, too. I made two of them. One was a VERY colorful skirt, made from plastic covered big floral print cotton fabric. Yes, a plastic skirt. The other was a floor length yellow gingham dress that took over 6 yds of fabric. (that's a LOT of fabric) I'm embarrased to say that I wore it to school, and on occasion, took to the fields near my home in it with a basket for wild flowers. I was heavily influenced by a friend who was heavily influenced by the film "Elvira Madigan". I think that I thought that I was romantic. I suppose that the adolescents of today can be forgiven their questionable taste in clothes. The tatoos, nose rings, ear plugs and other more permanent alterations will be, I'm afraid, ghosts of their "70s's" that will be less easy to forget about.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 12:22 PM ET | 07-19-2007

when i was diagnosed with lung cancer nine months ago i thought about death for about a split second. at 26, i hadn't taken too much time to dwell on it - who has at this age? i figured cancer or no, i have a heck of a lot of living left to do, even if the prognosis is daunting.

i think about the past in equally short split seconds. i laugh about time with friends, admire my family and how we have grown closer through the years, and even get choked up when i think about the seven months of treatments and surgeries and the crazy fact i ended up with this on my plate, of all things.

i love the future. i love plans. i always have. places to go, people to see, food to eat and memories to make. i had a clear scan a month ago; occassionally a stray thought seeps in - what happens if the news in september is different? i am SO enjoying my days, and my futures, now.

it cannot be dwelled upon, i know, the what-if's, because they've kind of been thrown out the window at this point. next is a trip to the family cabin and more time with friends. not to mention the days of work betwen then and now. i love the present. the days are so good. i want a long future.

all the best.

Sent by ejd | 12:26 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Ah, chemo...I keep thinking about my body's cells and how bravely they try to process the poisons away as I have them poured in every two weeks. I kind of have a dialog going with them, as if cells could understand, mentally telling them how sorry I am to do this. They are the part of my body that IS working well.
Sometimes when I walk into one of my doctor's offices to make an appointment for a procedure, I see the whole endeavor as part of a huge "medical industrial complex" and, although I'm grateful it exists, it kind of creeps me out, too.

Sent by Cindy Weehler | 12:45 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Leroy,
I want to thank you for participating in "Living with Cancer". A more open communication about this disease is important and long overdue.
I am not living with cancer, but my mother did. She died of malignant melanoma at the age of 52, when I was 11 years old. At the time, my sisters were 25, 22 and 19. My mother worked hard at raising the 4 of us by herself, and she faced cancer by herself.
I lived with cancer. We lived with cancer. And we didn't know what to do. There was no communication to me about what was happening (on any level). I just got to witness the side effects of her treatments, and to hear her suffer in the middle of the night. My two oldest sisters were no longer living at home, and visits were few, even on her darkest days - when they were needed the most. What's worse is that I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to my mother. I wasn't allowed to be at the hospital when she took her final breath. And hospice was never an option at the time. All I can think of now is that she deserved so much more.
In some ways, I am still living with cancer. Now, at 40, I am still haunted by a sense of guilt. I am haunted by the thought of how lonely she must have felt, living with this disease.
I now see that my sisters didn't know how to provide the support she needed and deserved, either from fear, ignorance or both.
I will never forget the hankerchief I found among her belongings. She received it from one of her co-workers. It said "Get Well". And it's sad. In some ways, that's one of the nicest things that anyone did for her while she was living with cancer.
So thank you Mr. Sievers, for just talking about it.

Sent by Vicky Bohler | 12:45 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Dear Marilyn,
Thanks for the quote about hell. I also heard a quote "If you think you're at the end then it isn't the end.

Sent by Elaine | 1:10 PM ET | 07-19-2007

I must admit... I own a pair of my dads old polyester plaid pants from the 70's and love them. I get compliments whenever I wear them...yesterdays treasure are still today's gold (well with the exception of a velvet suit/platform shoes--but of course ;)).

I hope your back is feeling better and that you are doing okay with what is on your plate right now. I am back in California, and am taking off on the world adventure this weekend.

Lots of hugs. Krupali

Sent by Krupali Tejura MD | 2:00 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Fortunately I missed the 70's because my children were young and I was introduced to Sesame Steet. All of you had great replies to this peculiar decade and it shows how all of you are still a vital part of this adventure we call "life".

Sent by Mary Lynne Carlisle | 2:23 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Leroy and all,

Good post and comments from all. You all are very special people who give so much strength to others visiting this site. Have a very wonderful happy day.

Dorothy

Sent by dorothy | 2:30 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Leroy,
I hope you have a wonderful Harry Potter weekend and get to be totally absorbed in the book! My favorite thing in the series is the Patronus charm (and Professor Snape!). May your Patronus always be strong!

Sent by ~C | 2:37 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Again you have me smiling. We laugh, and sometimes it is the same as crying. Okay I should speak for myself only. But I have joked about my fake haircolor, fake boobs, fake eyeballs (contacts), fake fingernails, and wondered, with possible future joint replacements, how much fakery I could physically endure and still be me. My joke the other day about being uploaded into the internet was half wistful. I remember reading Time Enough for Love by Robert Heinlein about a man who had a total body transplant...his brain into his secretary's body. It was an amazing story and I loved it. You're so right, not enough time to do all I want to do, and there is no sword hanging over my head, at least not yet. I'm 47 and bemoaning the fact that if I live to a ripe old age, it will come too fast and with too many infirmities for my liking. I guess it doesn't matter how long you have; in that last second, it's never enough.

Sent by Alycia Keating | 2:40 PM ET | 07-19-2007

High-heeled shoes and bell bottoms sure were at odds with riding a bike.

I am in my fourth year of monitoring an early and small and non-aggressive prostate cancer. Everything is steady, but it is there. Always there.

After the shock I entered the education phase and read everything possible about early prostate cancer. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing; time will tell, but I know that each case is different and that each man and family need to know that there is time to learn, time to study, time to make a decision before acting. Many rush or are rushed into a decision.

Life is good. Life is as good as it has ever been. Yoga. Exercise. Good diet. A glass of red wine with good pasta or fish. A slower pace. New challenges. More commitment. Life is good.

Sent by robert ferguson | 2:44 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Fiftieth birthday:

From now on,
it's all clear profit,
every sky.

Zen Poet, Issa (1763-1827)

Sent by Tim | 2:52 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Today is my real birthday and at 48 I never imagined being in this position. I certainly am not looking back and pray that I continue to grow old.

Sent by Lisa | 3:15 PM ET | 07-19-2007

First of all let me say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you LISA...

Most of all lets remember that everyday ABOVE ground is a good day.even if it is in a leisure suit...hehehe

Sent by Liz Zimmerman | 6:30 PM ET | 07-19-2007

leroy,
I loved the 70's clothes. Black velvet hot pants and boots and string bikini's on the California Beaches. The clothes gave me a sense of freedom.
Leroy you have a way of just making me feel free to just feel. I spend so much time trying not to believe that this cancer is changing me or my life but I know that it really is. You give me hope and courage.

Sent by Jolyn | 7:41 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Leroy,

My dad is 83, and he thinks about death a lot these days. He's doing great, healthwise, except for the "old age" thing, and all that comes with it.

You're right. We are all going to die from something. Sooner or later.

I'm working on being in the present with myself and the people who are in my life, moment to moment. Scared, sad, happy, whatever the moment brings, for them or for me.

What I am working on being aware of is noticing the little things: like the weariness in the woman's eyes taking my order at the drive-thru at McDonald's.....asking how she's doing....turns out, her daughter just got diagnosed with breast cancer, and she's devastated. Here she is, at her job, doing the best she can, for her self, for her daughter, for me, a stranger, in a car. Maybe before all this, I might have missed the weariness and fear in her eyes, or maybe I wouldn't have asked how she was, but I'm glad I did, and I'll go back and check on her. Tell her about this blog of yours.

This is one way I want to live. Aware, noticing, and checking in on people, we may not know each other, but we are definitely not strangers.

Thoughtfully,

Kim Blankenship

Sent by Kim Blankenship | 8:22 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Marilyn,
I left out part of the quote that I wanted to send to you. "If things don't work out in the end then it's not the end".

Sent by Elaine | 8:25 PM ET | 07-19-2007

Dear Bruce,

I hope you are on vacation, having a great time but I have not seen your name on this blog, as it usually is, for several days. I miss your sense of humor and creative comments and hope you will check in and let us know you are doing alright and all is well.

Namaste

Briana

Sent by briana | 8:29 PM ET | 07-19-2007

I humbly recommend the movie "Evening" with Vanessa Redgrave, Meryl Streep, Glenn Close, Meryl's daughter and Vanessa's daughter. At the heart of it is forgiveness for one's own inevitable mistakes. It's about coming to terms with the past - a central theme for most of us as we get older. The reviews were not stellar, but I think it's because to quote one such, "it's hard to imagine being 20 to 30 years older". It's intense, superbly acted, at times breathtaking..like a Beethoven quartet. I read the book years ago and have kept it near me because it is that good. It is a whole different experience than the film, though both are about that first love affair, the relationship of mothers and daughters, coming to terms with your history.

I saw that Lance Armstrong's group will be hosting a debate for all these presidential contenders. I think Leroy, Ted and everyone on this blog should take a bow. Talk about making a difference!!!

Sent by Cathi | 9:24 PM ET | 07-19-2007

I agree with a lot of the comments today. I try not to dwell in what my future brings. That is not for me to know. My job is to live for this glorious day given to me. We hear everday news of peoples lives cut short by senseless accidents. We cannot possible know for sure that cancer will ultimately take us. God will call us home one way or another when it is our time. In the meantime I have a lot to do. Fighting this cancer is one of them.

Keep the faith everyone.

Hugs, Betty

Sent by Betty in Germany | 3:11 AM ET | 07-20-2007

I've wanted to own a home for over 15 years now. I've had three sets of bad landlords in a row, the last of which promised me I could stay here in this house "forever" and then eventually buy it when my dad died, then waited until one year after the garden was replanted and the whole place repainted (by me) before trying to sell it out from under me. Well, I shamed them into giving me more time to raise the money to buy it and they waited -- until three days after my last chemo treatment, before I was even back to work. Of course, I couldn't meet their price, after having improved the property so much, so they gave me a 60-day notice. Lovely people.

Well, cancer gives one courage, that's for sure. Within a week I had made an offer on a cute little Victorian house about a mile away, and I close on the 31st. It took all of my savings and ALL of the money I had at work in my 401k and profit sharing accounts, but what the hell? I had/have lung cancer. What are my chances of living long enough to see the "bad loan" I had to obtain eat me alive? Even if I do live another five years and have to sell when I retire, at least I will have had five years of owning my own home. I plan to paint, polish, plant, and decorate -- all my favorite things -- until I can't do it anymore. This is the biggest gamble I've ever taken in life and it feels great. I'm sure I got a large part of the courage from Leroy's blogs. Why sit around and wait to get cancer again, right? Get out there and live while you can and do the stuff you've always wanted to do! (Fortunately, I have no kids to worry about leaving or not leaving money to, so this decision was a lot easier than it might have been.)

So, thanks, Leroy, for giving me the guts to buy in the Bay Area, on a single modest salary, a sweet house with a huge mortgage. May we both persevere!!

Sent by Julie Chandler | 12:45 PM ET | 07-20-2007

Briana (and all),

Thanks for asking about me. I'm reading daily still when I can grab the time, but I'm currently in the middle of moving 20 years' worth of life into a condo and selling our house because it's too much for one person. I want to be completely moved by Aug 1 and it's just such an enormous job that I'm not spending much time posting.

I just want to get this done and get out of the house, because I don't feel like I can really start moving on while I'm under our roof. This move is a good thing for me.

I'm doing better with Terry's death. I believe it won't ever be GOOD again, but it will get BETTER.

Sent by Bruce | 2:48 PM ET | 07-20-2007

Hello, very interesting and inspirational, both of my parents are 73 and I worry about them constantly, they act strong in front of me, but I know they're scared sometimes of not being there for me or their grandchildren, I'm going to send them here to read your blog.

Thank you

Sent by MsRebecca | 6:14 AM ET | 07-23-2007

Oh Leroy, I am looking forward too and not looking at the olden days of the 70's. I think that when we get older and wiser we tend to forget a lot about when we were young and dumb and having cancer makes us focus on the forward part of living. However, I do remember a day in the 90's when my teenage son went out and bought that velvet suit you sent to the thrift shop, came home all full of wonder and said "Hey look mom...ain't it cool? I am wearing it to the anti-prom I am going to with 6 girls, and me!"
Wondrous huh!!??

Sent by Mary Creger | 10:42 PM ET | 07-23-2007