I wouldn't worry about it. When I was bald, I took to wearing baseball caps out in public. I received several as gifts, including a Boston Red Sox hat from a friend. (I live in the Philly suburbs in south Jersey.) One day, while waiting for my car to come through a car wash, a man came up to me and asked me if there was a story behind the Red Sox hat. So I explained that I had gone bald from chemo and a friend had given me the Red Sox hat because, in Philadelphia, you don't see many of those, and my friend relished the idea of just one Red Sox hat walking around Philly. As I was merrily going along with this story of my friend's opportunistic advertising for Boston (which I found quite humorous), this man who had spoken to me took on an expression of ... well, I don't know what, he just seemed aghast. He actually took a step backward. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that he just wondered if I was from Boston. So I asked him that, he nodded, speechless. And I answered him, no, when his car came out of the car wash and he nearly ran to it. I never took offense; I just assumed he was embarassed that he had brought up an issue he assumed was painful for me. I attributed to him a reaction of sympathy and regret. It's one of my favorite "bald lady" stories. Maybe your fellow shopper, too, understood the compassion and sorrow you felt. I am sure it showed on your face.

I do, however, wish that you had stepped up to her and said, "me, too." Not to explain your stare, but just to forge a human connection. The worst thing about my cancer experience has been, not the threat of my own mortality or the rigors of treatment or the financial nightmare, but the rejection of me by friends, family, and colleagues, and, two years down the road, the knowledge that I am so much more alone than I ever would have imagined.

Sent by tex | 7:42 AM ET | 07-12-2007

This may sound weird, but I LOVED being bald during chemo in the summer. The wigs & scarves & hats were hot, but the early morning dew and gentle mists of rain felt cool and refreshing and tingling on my naked scalp.

I often forgot to wear head coverings while I was busy with my day-to-day activities. Reminders came when
someone (most often an older man) would look startled, turn on his heels, and run away.

In those moments, I felt bad, only because I thought I should be more mindful of others. After all, I didn't mean to horrify innocent strangers!

Those poor strangers had no way of knowing that I cherished the feeling of freedom that came from being au naturale. That I was delighted to match my newborn daughter, who was also bald - we looked like Me and Mini-Me. And they couldn't know the overwhelming gratitude I felt because it was me, not her, going through chemo.

Sent by Anna Marie | 7:53 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Your reaction is perfectly normal. Your brain is expecting one thing and something else appears. There is a slight delay as your higher mental functions process it into the recognizable. This delay is easy to recognize, and usually embarrassing for the person performing the mental gymnastics. It is forgivable.
However, there are times when a person or even an organization, can commit disturbing acts for long periods. For example, I had a blood transfusion on Tuesday. After receiving 2 units, the nurse took the bags and remaining thimble full of blood and put it in a canister labeled Biohazard. Hey! I just had a quart of that stuff pumped into me, and now a thimble of it requires trained hazardous material experts in moon suits to handle it. That's very disturbing!
Keep laughing.

Gary

Sent by Gary Miller | 8:00 AM ET | 07-12-2007

I'm thinkingo of flashing the two-fingered peace sign to my fellow recognizable cancer world inhabitants.

Sent by jessie | 8:27 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Dear Leroy,
How honest you are about your feelings!
I asked my husband many times if people were looking at me when I was wearing a scarf over my bald head and here in Florida not very much. But we took a trip to NC and there my husband noted people looked at me more. I am also starting to feel self conscious that people will look at me and if I look good (which I make an effort to do) that they will think things like - Why isn't she working? Or, she can't really be sick! I know it's stupid but I guess we can't totally help our reactions. My sister won't even address my disease because her cancer is in remission or perhaps gone and it is too painful for her to even think about mine. So looking at someone else who looks outwardly like they are suffering is too hard right now when we are suffering inwardly. It's OK to be normal in your feelings. Thanks for sharing.

Sent by Vicki (FL) | 8:43 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy,

How familiar that reaction is. I can't help looking when I see a fellow cancer patient. I look pretty healthy so I'm sure they can't know that I have brain mets...although I do get my own share of stares since the cancer has already claimed my leg at the hip. Maybe that gives me a pass when I'm caught staring. I also want to say to people, "me too".

Sent by Cindy | 8:44 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Whenever I have encountered young parents, mainly mothers, coping with cancer I am humbled. I am so greatful my boys are in their 20's, although this is hard on them at least they are starting their own lives. Dealing with the ravages of this disease along with care taking must be an incredible challenge not to mention the escalation of the fear of leaving your children.

Leroy, yesterday's blog was another one of those reality smacks. Really, whether we want to deny it or not most of us are on that decline. I still think we need to grab on to every minute of quality we can. Fortunately, although you may want to lift weights you have the gift of writing, which can continue as your gift to us. Once again thank you.

I'm on track to try work on Monday. The pain is still a problem but I am getting more mobile each day. I intend to go to a board meeting tonight as my first "re-entry" from my vacation.

Sent by Dona | 8:45 AM ET | 07-12-2007

I know i wish that people would sometimes come up to me and say something, instead of just staring. A couple of times i've seen people with scarfs like myself, on and we just had a moment of meeting our eyes to just say, me too, i'm in the same battle you are. and its ok. but when i go to a restaurant or stand in line at a bank, i get the most stares and sometimes i want to run out or hide, but other times i just try and hold my head high, almost like i want to be strong for them reassure them i'm ok and a person with cancer can be ok. sounds funny maybe but thats what i do.
thanks for your topic today.
oh, and sometimes i wear my wig, it helps me feel "normal" what ever that means.

Sent by Jenn | 8:48 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy

THANK YOU for bringing this topic up!!

As many of you know... I am a very long term survivor and remained silent about my experience for 30 years and it has only been the last couple that I have begun to speak out......

I upon occassion see people in public settings whom are obviously (or at least I think obviously) dealing with chemo etc and I simply wonder to myself.. should I approach them.. should I tell them "been there done that".. should I let them know it is "possible to survive the horrors as I am living proof"... or should I let them be and not intrude????????????

I will be watching the responses to this post most intently.....

So tell me everyone.... should I (or anyone else for that matter) approach YOU.. or would you prefer to be left anonymous?

I really have struggled with this very question??????????????????

Sent by Ron Bye (NH) | 8:54 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Me too.

I walked around bald, no eyebrows or lashes looking like the Taco Bell dog for months. People did that to me and I figured it was just too painful to see. I also figured there is something strangely intimate about seeing a woman bald like that. Like you know more information than you should. Almost like seeing her getting dressed in her bedroom. I think it is a natural reaction, like a reflex.

I say me too because now that I have a head full of short curly hair that is now too long for a short cut and too short to do anything with, I'm guilty of looking away. I saw a woman in the market the other day with the chemo baldness and immediately moved my eyes away. I felt awful. Once I did this when it was first growning back and I did stop to talk to the lady. She seemed somewhat comforted that she was not "alone" however in a way she seemed annoyed to be approached at all. I'm not sure which was better.

I guess in the end despite our trials we are all still human. No sainthood here. As I've always said, I don't want to be a saint. Saints had really crappy lives.

My PET results came back finally. Test was Monday and they didn't tell me anything until late yesterday. Good news!! I light up less than I did back in Feb. The CT was wrong. If in 8-12 weeks at my next scan things look the same we will use the word "remission". I feel like I won the lottery. I also feel strangely guilty because not everyone gets good news. Strange.

Now I'm off to plan the rest of my summer. I think I've been holding my breath for 10 days.

Hugs,

Lori

Sent by Lori Levin | 9:03 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Having been through the baldness thing twice and now being on chemo for over a year, I do find myself 'noticing' bald headed women and wanting to say something to them- but I never do. why? I'm afraid it wouldn't be welcomed..but I like your two words,"me, too." I think I'll try them.

Sent by elm | 9:04 AM ET | 07-12-2007

True, everytime I see a bald person or someone with a scarf I immediately want to go up to them and say, hi! been there done that. Suprisingly, when I have I get a smile, but limited conversation.

I used to do the same when I had my twin boys. I would see other moms with newborn or younger twins and I would stop them and say I had twins and it gets easier. I had a few moms do this to me and it made all the differenct in the world.

I guess we can't really do that with our fellow cancer patients? Because we don't know if it will get easier.

One time I did approach someone with a scarf and it turned out it wasn't from cancer but a type of hair loss. Here I was trying to counsel the world and offer my support and this women was dealing with something entirely different!

I think I received more stares with my super short new 'after' chemo hair then I did with my scarves. How funny is that?? I guess I looked more freakish.

Sent by Janis (BC survivor) | 9:12 AM ET | 07-12-2007

My neck scars have grown less noticeable w/time; however, up close it's easy to see that there is less tissue on the L side of my neck, the skin is stretched & puckered...of COURSE it looks odd! People squint at me surreptitiously but never ask outright if I was in a bad accident, or is this just a botched suicide attempt? I make jokes about my Frankensteinian appearance bcz it truly does look as though the surgeon partially severed my head, then sewed it back on... No stranger asks questions, though.

Sent by Val | 9:23 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy, I am always so amazed at your words! They always hit me in a very strong, positive way. I was approached by a gentleman the other day at work. He was buying a pair of waders. His eyes looked weird to me. Bloodshot, glossy, and I looked away. He took the corner of his shirt and wiped at them. In our conversation about his waders, he told me they were the only way he could get to his home. Then he told me he has a wife and three kids and it was under water. You could have heard a pin drop. He wiped away his tears again and all I could say: "I am so sorry". He was from a town in Kansas that was under water from the recent rains. I automatically gave him a 10% discount. I felt so horrible for him and after he left I felt ever worse, I should have just bought the darn waders for him....I missed my moment and that hurts....we cannot afford to miss the moments that come before us so we always have to be alert to the signals.... God's speaking!
Thanks to all of you for your continued support and strength...God's blessings on all of you!

Sent by Laurie H. | 9:24 AM ET | 07-12-2007

I've done the same so I will join you and just say "Me, too."

Sent by Carol Warnock | 9:25 AM ET | 07-12-2007

I've done the very same thing, Leroy, with very similar feelings that you had. I even found myself wishing that my hair hadn't grown back in yet, so that the woman would know that I was a "sister" without me saying anything in words.

Krupali: I know that your exam date is tomorrow......please allow me some "teacher-ly" advice:

1. Get a good night's sleep. You have studied enough; burning the midnight oil the night before the test will only backfire, as your brain will be tired.

2. Eat a good breakfast with some protein. Take energy bars to eat during the exam when you are given breaks. Your brain runs on this fuel and can work best when you feed it.

3. Use positive self-talk. Tell yourself that you have worked hard for years and done all you can to prepare....and that you are ready!

Best wishes for success!!!

Sent by Sandra Shuler | 9:28 AM ET | 07-12-2007

I've had those same moments since my own chemo ...there are too many of them to suit me. Last week my town's weekly newspaper carried two obits, both had cancer, one, the mother of a grade school friend of my eldest son. Two lives taken too early.

In a less related note, I'd like to give a shout out for Fran Droescher ("The Nanny") and her new organization for advocacy in early detection for women's cancers. www.cancerschmancer.org. Fran is a uterine cancer survivor, who saw 8 doctors over 2 years before she received her cancer diagnosis, rather than treatment for more benign conditions.

Sent by Sheara | 9:32 AM ET | 07-12-2007

You echoed my experience. When it's invisible--be it cancer or a disability like severe pain or a heart condition--you want to scream, "I know!!!!!!!"

I've been writing a young adult novel about an invisible disability, a spinal disorder, which I started years (I'm embarrassed to say) before I ever thought about cancer. I've finished the first draft, but now I'm wondering whether I want to take a different approach. Cancer, maybe? To be honest, both are my personal experiences, and neither is much fun. But my back pain is not terminal.

Thanks for your thoughts, Leroy, I'm guessing it's becoming more and more difficult to put them into words.

Take good care of you.

Wendy

Sent by Wendy Murphey | 9:37 AM ET | 07-12-2007

That's what we get here, Leroy...the chance to say to a stranger "me, too."

Sent by Bruce | 9:48 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Your blog is stunning. I don't mean the topic, of course, but the writing and the writer. I'm so touched by your blog. I live with carcinoid cancer which is pretty mamby pamby when it comes to cancers overall, at least at my stage and with my type. When I was diagnosed, one of my doctors recommended that I don't go to cancer support groups, etc. and that I do everything I can to stay happy and upbeat to support my immune system and, of course, live life to the fullest. I've taken that advice to heart as much as possible and was reluctant, when I first heard your blog on NHPR, to subscribe. But I've been reading for about a month or so, and I'm so impressed with your ability to express those feelings about cancer that cut right to the heart and are shared by so many of us who have difficulty expressing them. Thanks for this gift. The daily reminder about cancer has not been a burden, but rather a motivation to get going, keep moving, etc., because life has so much to offer and is too darn short. Lynne P.S. Watched the Living with Cancer Special and it was awesome!

Sent by Lynne | 9:54 AM ET | 07-12-2007

I've had that reaction of wanting to say "me too" to people obviously fighting cancer (sually from a bald chemo-head), but then realizing they think I'm staring like anyone else.

There should be some code word or sign that we get when we enter Cancer World so we know who is a fellow traveller and who is just staring out of fear and curiousity!

Sent by N.R. | 10:06 AM ET | 07-12-2007

When I was chemo-bald, my daughter came to help me make the 1100 mile drive to the nearest cancer center for six weeks of radiation. When we made our first fuel and lunch stop, I placed an order at the cafe counter and the woman who brought our sandwiches from the kitchen, quietly leaned over to me and asked me if I was having chemo. As my eyes filled with tears and I nodded "yes", she placed her hand over mine and told me she, too, had endured this hardship three years ago and wished me well.

I couldn't stop crying for several hundred miles down the highway. There were three more occasions in the months ahead--one in which a woman stopped me in the grocery store, another while out on a walk, and once while cruising through the clothing racks at a department store. I cried everytime, and sometimes I remember being overwhelmed with the human connection of having shared this ordeal; sometimes I was just so sad that I looked like a flash-burned freak.

My daughter asked me if I thought I would approach other women in the future, once I looked normal again. I said I didn't know. Now, nearly two years later, I've had several opportunities in which I could have said, "me too", and I've let each one escape. I always sit in my car afterwards, and wonder why I was so paralyzed. Sometimes I think that maybe this stranger would like to be spared from another cancer "survivor", and just concentrate on which bunch of lettuce to put in her cart. And, I always do this self-scrutiny about whether or not I want to make contact for HER welfare, or is it all about me not wanting to feel this loneliness of the cancer world?

So...who knows, Leroy--maybe the stranger in the bookstore had a few moments in her day when all she was thinking about was corraling her children, and not her cancer.

Sent by Rebecca Bauder | 10:07 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Dear Leroy,
Yes, I've been in that situation at times and even before the cancer, I've never been sure if I should say something, so I've always said a silent prayer for them instead. Having cancer and the various reactions of people to that has been an education for me. I am not shy in speaking about my breast cancer but I do find that my choice of conversation depends upon the person I'm speaking to. There was a time when I was in treatment that a person I had worked with closely had a difficult time looking me in the eye during our conversation. Wow, was that a new experience for me and even though she was very cordial, I could sense her discomfort. I realized how people's perceptions can change with this diagnosis but that you have to remain true to yourself, continue to grow and be the person who will say "me too" when you can. You never know when you might be the one who helps someone get through a tough time just by saying those two words and I'm going see if I can do that more. I know that it will be difficult for me but I've been the "uncomfortable one" in the past and now I know how that feels.
Sending hugs and love to you and Laurie....with peace! Jude

Sent by Judith Tynan | 10:10 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Good morning Leroy/All

I remember how sad it was to look at my husband during his first three month cycle of chemotherapy. I had commented about this on an earlier blog you had posted regarding "Appearances" However, after that first cycle of chemotherapy,they changed his meds and for some unknown reason his hair grew back and aside from a little thinning, looks quite normal.

I also commented on Lauries Blog statement that you remind me so much of my husband. "Anti-chemo" poster boys. He, like you, appears to be the picture of health, six foot two, healthy complexion, no weight loss, hair grown back, etc. I do know the severity of his disease, but, his physical appearance is not a constant reminder of what is going on inside his body. There are even times (not very often) that I forget he is ill. I think you did the right thing by not making a comment to the lady. But in my heart I do feel that in some strange kind of way, you did want to say something to her, it might have made YOU feel better, the same way this "Blog family"
lets us feel better when we share our thoughts.

Stay well my friend, don't be too hard on yourself or embarassed. Although we have never met, I find you to be one of the most kindest and caring individuals. This blog is our lifeline.

Always in my prayers.

Sent by sasha | 10:11 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Hey Leroy,
I'm sure we have all done that at some point in our lives, the 'looking away'.
My husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer, had surgery, so far so good with the PSA. I find it irritating that because he doesn't LOOK any different, not like a 'cancer patient should', whatever the heck THAT means, people seem to think this has had no effect on our lives and SHOULDN'T. It has had a HUGE effect. He is not the same man as he was before diagnosis. He has much less patience, is grumpier, has some light depression, sleeps a lot.....I'm sure most out there know the drill. Getting slapped in the face with the reality you are NOT immortal afterall, does a number on you. I have lost both my parents to the cancer beast and now this with the man I love more than I thought I ever could love another human, of course it has affected me. But, now that the 'scare' is over, people seem to think it's all hunky dorey and things are just like they were 'before'. All of us in this battle knows it will never ever be as it was 'before'. Some of the 'new' is better, he and I are closer, talk A LOT about the important stuff, not just the mundane. He told me the other day he is SO glad I'm on HIS side, I've become a terrier about his care, had some issues with the doctor, so made an appointment with a new one. This is not a hangnail we are dealing with and I don't care if the doctor gets offended when we fire him.
Anyhow, I'm rambling. Keep on writing whenever the mood strikes you, and we will all understand if one of these days it just doesn't.

Sent by Diane | 10:16 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy,
I had my last chemo on 4/25 and my hair is just starting to grow back. I still wear the scarves, mostly for the sake of my 12 year old son. You see, he is embarassed by my appearance - he is a pre-teen and being embarassed by your parents is normal but when that parent visably has something going on it makes it ten times worse. (To add to his embarrassment, my youngest son is autistic and you can only imagaine his behavior in public.) Honestly, I am tired of the "pity" look. I know I used to do it before I got cancer but now I would love nothing more than for people to look me in the eye and see the courage and power that I hold inside despite my bald head. People are so much more than physical appearance. Now, if I happen to come across a person undergoing chemo, I don't need to say a thing, I look them staight in the eyes and honor them for that courage and strength.

Thanks to you for your daily blog. I think I would be in a much darker place if I didn't have your daily dose of inspiring words!
Suzanne

Sent by Suzanne | 10:34 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Amen

Sent by Lisa | 10:43 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Hi Leroy,

Why did the woman in treatment cause a negative reaction in you? When I see someone who is obviously in treatment I consider that person to be an instant member of my cancer family. If it's another breast cancer patient I have a new "sister." I almost always make a comment and then take my clue from the other person. I'll just say that I'm in treatment, too. The stranger is usually so relieved to have an instant buddy that we chat away like old friends. If their children are misbehaving, I correct them after telling them that I used to be a teacher (for 35 years!) and I can punish kids without leaving a mark -- LOL. Children settle right down. It has to do with tone of voice.

Probably I'm better adjusted than you just because I've been at this longer than you have. I've been adjusting to my new normal for 7 years of battling the beast, although I still hate it.

I'm grateful for every day and give back to the community by volunteering for my local hospice. That's an eye opener and has given me a much more thouough understanding of what is to come, down the road, for me.

I'm a people person and I enjoy sitting with my patients. I feel priviledged to be allowed into their lives and to learn their stories as they face their end of life. I'm certainly reassured by the kindness and compassion of hospice staff! These are folks who are cut from a different mold than the rest of us.

Don't hold on to your guilt at looking away from the woman. After all, she did choose to go out without a wig or scarf. Not many of us are that brave. Because of her baldness, her condition was so "in your face" you just weren't prepared emotionally for the encounter.

Looking away won't scar either of you for life. Having cancer, will.

Fondly,

Sue
Stage lV, breast cancer, have lived 3 years past my expiration date, currently in remission, much to everyone's amazement!

Sent by Sue | 10:43 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Dear Leroy,

I, too, chose to go about my life without a wig, hat or scarf when I was going through chemo. Sometimes I felt bad about the way people looked at me, but not bad for myself. I felt bad for them because here I was, doing something that so obviously made other people uncomfortable, but what was the only way I could deal with the baldness and my disease. Straightforwardly. I live in the extremely conservative little town of Irvine, CA, and I was so often tempted to have a big eye tattooed onto the top of my head. I refrained, but that may end up being the biggest regret of my life. I could have been the talk of the NCL chapters for years to come.

Hope your spirits are holding up.

Best,
Mo

Sent by Mo Spikes | 10:49 AM ET | 07-12-2007

It's so natural to not know what to do or say - I have run into people I can tell are going through treatment and feel an instant bond but have never said anything. But just two days ago at the market that changed - I heard a woman say "lung cancer" as she was talking to a stock clerk and so I stopped. I apologized for interrupting but felt I needed to talk to her she looked so forlorn. Turns out her husband has NSCLC - we talked a bit and one comment of hers struck me "Nobody wants to talk about it". I told her about all the on-line support (including this). The internet (and your site) are wonderful because it makes us cancer patients feel so much less isolated, and hopefully it helps you too, knowing you are doing a wonderful thing.

Sent by Marcia Greer | 10:50 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Hi Leroy,

Your example probably hits home for most of us. Unlike the young woman in your story, I don't have any outward signs that I'm stage IV RCC. The people that do know keep telling me that I look great. Believe me, I don't want to look sick. But on the other hand I wish we had some way to signal each other. Not for sympathy, but for the strength of knowing how many others are on our team. You found a couple of very powerful words ... "Me Too" says so much. Just perfect in its simplicity and message.

You may have also coined a great fund raising slogan. I wear a LiveStrong wrist band, as do most of my supporters. But I'd gladly add one with "Me Too" "ME2" Or ME II" ... hats, tee shirts, jackets, bumper stickers you name it!

While my primary oncologist is 3 hours away in Boston, I go to a local group for blood work every couple of weeks. Each visit, I see one or two people that I know. Most times its someone I didn't know had cancer. They likely didn't know I have it either. Its scary how many of us are out there!

The practice a very busy with 5 docs and a huge waiting room, which makes it easy to quickly glance away. It seems we don't want to confront reality. At first I thought it was because I felt sorry for the others. You know ... poor souls had been dealt a bad hand. Then I realized that I too was forever a part of this secret society.

One day as I was walking out, a friend of my father recognized me. He called out "Hey Shaun, is that you?" for all to hear. In a strange way it was liberating. You bet its me and yes I have cancer. I stopped to visit with him. We talked about our families - not cancer. Just like "normal" folks would do if they ran into each other at the supermarket. Nice!

Since then I make it a point to chit chat with whoever seems willing to. I think it helps us take minds off why we're there. But more importantly, reassures us that we're not alone and that while we may have cancer there's no reason not to be normal.

Shaun

Sent by Shaun | 10:57 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Oh, I'd bet she saw your reaction. And cared. When I was bald with nary an eyebrow or eyelash, some people gave me those stares,even though I usually wore a scarf or hat or wig, then quickly looked away when I caught them. And I absolutely hated those moments! But guess what? Like you, I've caught myself doing the same thing to others now that I'm back in the world of the normal-looking. Yesterday it was a bald girl around 8 years old with her mom and sister, playing around outside the grocery store. The mom caught me looking and I glanced away quickly. What I felt was extreme sympathy and sadness. I thought about saying, "Me, too." But maybe they just wanted to be treated naturally, as if the cancer didn't stick out like a sore thumb? That's what I wanted.To blend in.

Sent by Doris | 11:10 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy-

I chose not to wear a wig and be proud of the bald that I had. At 2 1/2 years past my chemo and my hair not returning (this was my second bout with breast cancer) but 3rd time with cancer. I still get the looks from people. Sometimes people come up and ask how are you feeling? I never know quite what to say... well fine since my chemo was 2 1/2 years ago but just can't get hair anymore (hard as a female!) or oh it is going well. But I have started to talk to people or be even more open that I have always been. And it is nice for me - feeling like I did a nice thing what you say "Me too!" but maybe I helped them a little to know they are not alone.

Thank you again!

Sent by Andi Arabak | 11:10 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy,

I don't know of anyone who HASN'T reacted like you did 30 years ago and recently. It's because we aren't sure what the other person wants.

If you act as if there isn't anything wrong, maybe you are adding to their sense of isolation. If you say something, maybe they don't want to talk about it.

I think it is appropriate to acknowledge their situation in some way like, "me too." They'll let you know if they want to talk or not.

I say, give everyone a chance.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 11:20 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Dear Leroy, I have to comment on this one because it strikes to the core of something I've struggled with. First, yea for this woman. To me she is a pioneer, a saint. I've gone out bald only a couple of times since my chemo and it drives me crazy that I do not have the courage to do everything bald on a daily basis. I hate my wig and won't wear it so I struggle with ball caps and scarves that are ridiculously cumbersome. And, the caps and scarves feel fraudulent to me. I want to go out in the world bald because that is who I am now. So, I applaud that woman and as fatigued as she may have been, to me she is my hero. As far as how you feel and your immediate reaction please don't be too hard on yourself. That is a normal reaction and we all respond that way when we see something so different than the norm. I think people know that and probably most understand that. Don't beat yourself up for it. Every day as they are out there they are doing us all a service. For example the woman who boldly did her shopping with her bald head. If we could see more of that on a daily basis we would turn our heads away less and less. I read an article recently about Roger Ebert who decided to go to a red carpet event even though his physical appearance would show the challenges accompanying his stroke. He said in the article, "we spend too much time hiding our illnesses". I loved that. Again, don't be had on yourself.

Sent by Kim Barbato | 11:34 AM ET | 07-12-2007

I also don't know how to react or what to say when I see a person who is obviously going through chemo. I remember how bad I felt when I shocked someone with my bald head. Cancer is scarey for everyone. Everyone is touched by cancer. We are their worst fear.

The people I see when I'm out in public remind me of when you see a person who is very obviously pregnant. Do you ackowledge with a "me too" or would they rather you didn't keep pointing out the obvious to them and just let them have a normal moment at the grocery store? Pregnant women complain about how everyone feels they can come up and touch your stomach. I ache to tell the person "you are not alone" but I also want to give them that moment where they are just another person going about their day.

Sent by Karen D. | 11:34 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Good Morning All, Well, I'm angry. I'm angry at those of you who have experienced chemo baldness that you have the nerve not to smile, or nod in recognition, or have the nerve to say "Me too." Is it that you see your "old" selves in those of us who are still bald? I love it when someone compliments me on my scarf or asks how I'm doing - and I'm speaking of complete strangers in a huge city. And I guess under my anger is sadness that people think I'm a freak, that I have something that is contagious, or "there but for the grace of God go I." I'm glad you've spoken out Leroy and I admire you greatly, but you have cut me to the quick.

Sent by Ellie Algatt | 11:36 AM ET | 07-12-2007

What does one say? Or does one say anything at all? This exact same thing happened to me just yesterday morning when I went for my monthly checkup. One of the oncology nurses complimented me on my inch long hair and my eyes went immediatlely to her baseball cap and scarf. How I wanted to say "welcome to my world" but I choked up and said nothing. Somehow I had always thought of the onc nurses and doctors as being bullet-proof when it came to cancer. How ignorant of me!

Should I have acknowledged her cancer? Should I have respected her privacy? Should I have waited for her to say something about it herself? I would rather err on the side of politeness so I said nothing. I returned home feeling so sad, not for me but for all those unspoken and lost opportunities to be of help and/or comfort.

Thank you for the blog this morning, Mr. Sievers. I needed to know that I am not alone in feeling awkward about how to respond to fellow travelers in the Cancer World.

Sent by Brenda Lynch | 11:48 AM ET | 07-12-2007

I loved how eloquently you described your thought processes and reactions, Leroy!So human deep down!

I'm the girl who asked you to stop focusing on cancer. Did you watch "The Secret" yet? Please do so. It might save your life actually you WILL!!!

Sent by Priti Saldanha | 11:52 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Hi Leroy,

A missed oppotunity to make a connection with another human being is only being human.

I was walking down the the hall Tuesday in front of the GI unit. The oncology department is right around the corner. Here I am, this middle aged woman, wearing a student's uniform, squeaky shoes, the whole nine-yards, and approaching me was a middle aged woman, wearing her head scarf and the universal look. Our eyes met and we smiled. We passed one another saying our good mornings. I do not know if it was important that she needed to know I too, am a cancer survivor. Sometimes just looking into someone else's eyes that reminds them none of us are alone.

I am finding joy in these small connections.

Sent by Teri Thomas | 11:58 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy, I was a surfer, back in the day, I played football at a national university, I worked myself up to Sr. Vice President of Wells Fargo Corp, I went to the gym. in general, I took care of myself. I was a Regional Sales and Operations Manager for the Bank, I loved my job. But all of that is gone now taken by Cancer. I still have the skills, but I don't have any hair, or stamina. I suppose people look at me and wonder what is wrong with him, but I don't have time to think about that. I'm just trying to have as good a day as I can. I think, perhaps, that mother with her kids may fall into the same category., your Teacher too. They had seen the look too many times to be affected by it any longer. I have, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. I'm too busy, trying to survive. Don't be so hard on yourself. Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 12:06 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Don't worry, when I was bald after chemo I got a lot of these "look aways" and my response was to catch them look at me and smile to let them know it's OK. I had quite a few encounters when my hair grew back and was really short where I was called "young man" - I am a woman in my 30s' and those people where so embarassed that I had to laugh and tell them that they weren't the only ones. I do a lot of public outreach and during the time of boldness I told people at the beginning of the program what's going on and the stares stopped right then. Now that I have hair again and I meet people around town with no hair I compliment them on their scarfes and show them my "Chemo Curls" as something to look forward to.

Sent by Stefanie Ritter | 12:13 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy, I say don't beat yourself up. And don't hold back. When my best friend was going thru chemo and we would go shopping, there were looks but I felt proud to be with her and just looked right back with a smile. We were having fun. Of course, I am the person that hired a computer programmer that didn't have fingers beyond her proximal knuckles on both hands. She worked for me for about a week before I noticed. Never asked her about it either. I guess I wouldn't make a very good spy.

Sent by Pat | 12:40 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Because I had half of my tongue replaced by a part of my lower arm that didn't know how to talk, I tend to slur rather heavily. On the phone, I am quick to address this by stating first that I have a speech impediment caused by cancer surgery, and things go pretty well after that, but when I am out in public, I am reticent to just give out a shout out in this regard, so I am, I am sure, often suspected of being drunk or mentally impaired.

It doesn't keep me from getting out and about, but I DO tend to rub at the scar on my neck or in some other way try to point out quietly that, 'Hey! There's a reason for this!" :)

Frankly, I don't think you can ever get used to the idea that people consider you a freak (or worse). I think 'me too' would have been an awesome response on your part, unless it turned out to be sinnead o'conner or someone else going bald on purpose, in which case you would be in the same quandry as one who asks an overweight friend how long she has been pregnant :).

Hope and humor, my friend, and don't sweat the small stuff!

Sent by Joe Alvey | 1:45 PM ET | 07-12-2007

I don't know. And to be honest I am surprised no one else has brought this up... we are a damn smart bunch reading and commenting here (and of course, the best looking group, I am sure...)

I think Jess' idea of the Peace sign (although I just had a laugh... we need a gang sign.. like the letter "C" with our fingers... that would be ridiculous!).

Isn't this sort of like asking a heavy woman when she is due?

Admittedly, we all need support, and if I can help anyone else deal with Cancer I certainly will, but something like this is best done with much more subtlety.

Sent by Brit | 1:49 PM ET | 07-12-2007

My second post today, after dwelling on "Me too." I was about to suggest something similar to Shaun, not only to be used for fund raising, but also awareness-raising, like the LiveStrong bracelets. How impressive would it be to have "Me, too!" clad crowds, advocating in Washington, DC or in state capitals.

Here's my suggestion, for what it's worth. I found a website with the meaning of colors of roses. Red and white given together signifies unity. How about an oval(like the airport abbreviation stickers), with Me too! in red on a white background. Also a white jelly bracelet with the message in red (or the other way around). Like Shaun suggests -- bumper stickers,tee shirts, bandanas, scarves, hats, etc.

Sent by Sheara | 2:01 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Dear Leroy,

This reminds me of an incident that happened at our church. A beautiful, young woman had cancer several years ago, and like so many it returned. She lost her hair, but wore a wig and a sunhat, got a tan, and looked marvelous. It continued like that for a while, and then she stopped coming. She came one last time and said her husband was "taking her to the mountains". I think we all knew that was to be her final trip. Needless, to say, she passed away. Her husband came a few more times, and he looked so lonely in the pew by himself, even though people spoke to him warmly. One Sunday, as I stood with my husband and child in the pew in front of him, he started crying. And not just sniffles, really crying. He stood there alone, and just balled, with tears running freely down his face. I couldn't believe nobody comforted him in any way, and it got the better of me. I guess they really didn't know what to do. I found myself crying too. I didn't really know him that well, but I reached back to him and clasped his hand and met his eyes. That was all I could do for him, but I'm so glad that I did. We connected, and he knew I cared. He never comes to our church anymore. Maybe it holds too many memories. I pray that he has found another church, and hopefully, in time, found a way to cope with his grief and move on. Anyway, I'm always glad when I make a move like I did, instead of looking away, even though it is so uncomfortable and you never know how a person is going to react. This is my constant prayer for everyone here. That God heal you, and if that is not in his plan, that he comfort you and your family. That's all I can do for anyone here, but it is heartfelt and sincere. God Bless.

Sent by Connie | 2:07 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Hi Leroy/All in cancer land!

Leroy, you are so sweet... that you thought about your reaction to her and it made you think. You are a very sensitive person. The world is lucky to have you here right now.

I personally, don't really remember much about others reactions to my being bald. I think I kind of wore it with a badge of honor. I did get a couple comments like "hey... good thing you have a nice round head" Or... "you have a pretty face, you look good bald". I did find out I had one of those strawberry birth marks on the lower back of my head... right in the center by my neck... almost looked like a heart tattoo. Never new it was there b4. I also know I used to complain about my hair b4 being bald. (I have thick curly long light brown blonde hair) I always hated it and could do nothing with it. Now though... I LOVE IT!! I will NEVER complain about my hair again! And, it has grown in thicker and curlier than b4 and now is down to my waist! And... if I need aggressive chemo again (I'm sure it'll be down the road). I will cut it off 1st and make it into my own little pony tail wig-let.

Carpe' Diem! Shirl Dolitz

Sent by Shirley Dolitz | 2:12 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy, Yes, you probaby should have said something.
But now I know what to say whenever I see someone, so thanks for the line. And don't worry about not saying anything because she probably would have cried.

On account of the kids, and all . . . .

Sent by Joanne | 2:29 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy, I was one of those mothers who didn't wear a wig or scraf or anything on my bald head. It wasn't that I was trying to show off anything; it was that they hurt and were hot and uncomfortable and I thought I had enough uncomfortable things going on that I couldn't choose to do anything about. This I had a choice. I didn't have to put anything on my sore head-- and my attitude was it wasn't as uncomfortable to those looking at me to see me bald as it was for me to wear a wig. Anyway, I do remember the looks, the stares-- and in that brief moment you KNEW-- you knew if someone else had walked that path, had been in the same situation, had shared your own uncertainty. When your eyes met, you knew. Chances are she knew, too. Without words, she probably knew.

Lori

Sent by Lori Monroe | 2:42 PM ET | 07-12-2007

The other day I was trying on a bathing suit I recently ordered, which does not hide my port scar. I told my 14 year-old son that I sort of dreaded people asking me about the scar, and the looks on their faces when I told them what it was from. He suggested that I come up with some amusing and/or wild alternative explanation. I'm thinking of doing as he suggested with strangers or people I don't know well, if only to save myself (and them) a few of those deer-in-the-headlights looks.

On another note, I love the idea of "Me, too" bracelets - perhaps it's a good idea to pitch to Lance Armstrong and the LiveStrong organization. What a great way for cancer club members to quietly acknowledge each other, in a different and more specific way than the yellow bracelets.

Sent by Gretchen Hoag | 3:07 PM ET | 07-12-2007

I remember when my aunt, very dear to me, had brain cancer and lost her hair, 20+ yrs ago. She eventually died fromthe cancer. She lost all her hair during chemo and always wore a wig, even in her home when other family members were present. Going bald in public back then was rarely done. One day when I visited her at her home, she said something like -- "oh, with you I can remove my wig", and took the wig off. I had never seen a woman bald before. But, I remember to this day how touched I was that she felt comfortable enough with me to take the wig off. It is a memory I cherish because it reminds me of how close we were.

Sent by sharon | 3:33 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Of all the myriad emotions I experienced during my chemo treatments - chemo, surgery, then more chemo and radition - some of the ones I recall with the most clarity are from losing my hair. I have always had relatively short, curly hair. It has been a challenge since I was a little girl - thick and unruly, it is best cut short. I didn't learn to love it until I was 22 or so. And, following my first meeting with my oncologist, I was more frightened about losing my hair than about the fact I would be asking, volunteering, to be poisoned. Of course it didn't start falling out right away. But when it did, I would stand in the shower, watching it all go down the drain, and I would CRY and CRY. Huge sobs from the inner-most depths of my soul. I couldn't look inside myself to see my ridiculous lung cancer (never a smoker - and 26!) but I could SEE this happening to me.

Funny thing, though, being bald gave me certainty, spunk, and self confidence I never had before. I met strangers, joked with friends, got kissed on the noggin more times than I can count. It started growing back and then just as soon as I was thinking I needed a cut, it was time to fall out again from the second go-round.

It has grown back in again, straighter, but still super short. I love it. And I'd take it any color, texture... it is so good to feel the breeze in it.

I never shrank when someone stared or made a comment. I always wanted to reach out to the others I saw - sometimes I did, other times, no. It makes us stick out like sore thumbs but it also can bring us closer together. One more step along the way.

Sent by ejd | 3:42 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Hey Leroy and all,
Second post today. Immediately after treatment, I tried to pick up my exercise schedule from pre-treatment, without a lot of success, but as I was riding my bike, I kept seeing the same guy with the same livestrong jersey that I always wore when I rode. I began to wonder if he was a survivor or caregiver, whether he was just being supportive as so many are now. And I thought it a great idea to show other survivors that "we" are out here doing what we love to do as best we can, in some shape and form. I came up with the concept of I AM TEAM SURVIVOR. We are all members of the same community and support each other. We represent everyone in our "team" everyday in our regular day to day activities to competition events. If you want to see the logo, go to: www.iamteamsurvivor.org
The site has not been up very long and is under construction.
Though I have never been able to catch up to that guy to ask him about his connection, I try to talk to people about my experience whenever possible and only if it presents itself. I think it helps remove the stigma associated with cancer. We didn't ask to get it, but we have to accept it and deal with it the best we can...hopefully with all outcomes being successful someday soon.
Lance

Sent by Lance Carlson | 4:05 PM ET | 07-12-2007

It is the awkward moments that cause us angst..woulda, coulda, shoulda. It's part of the human condition- wanting to show concern, care and comfort but not wanting to intrude so much that it makes a difficult time even more difficult for the person. So, what's a person to do...

I try to take the initiative but am very sensitive to any feedback or body language that signals that this is not working. I have found that if we can connect if only briefly that the "door may open" for more conversation.

Laurie H. said it best for me: "we cannot afford to miss the moments that come before us so we aways have to be alert to the signals...God's speaking"!

Don't beat yourself up Leroy. We've all been there and have "missed the moment". With this blog today, you have sensitized us all so that the next time such an opportunity presents itself to connect with a fellow cancer traveller, it will cause us to try mightily to engage with or signal that we too have walked this road and we do understand.

Blessings and prayers as always.

Sent by Al Cato | 5:04 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Ron, I think it would be great for you to speak out about being a survivor. Everyone needs to know there are people who have beaten this monster. It gives hope.
Leroy, we have all been there, it is hard to know what to say so we say nothing. I agree that if we don't say anything for fear of upsetting the person we can always say a pray for them. You are helping in so many ways. I believe there is a purpose for everything, and I hope now that many of us will try and speak up the next time.
God Bless all of you!
Aurella

Sent by Aurella Rocchi | 5:32 PM ET | 07-12-2007

In response to some of the other posts, personally, I am not a "Me Too" or Lance Armstrong bracelet kind of guy. In fact, I have not been able to attend a Relay for Life event yet, because to me it seems, blaspheme, I know, like a Holocaust type of event. At least, to me, the imagery is the same.

I do not want to be part of the walking dead, I suppose, is a morbid way of putting it (and I don't need to hear about how we can all be hit by a bus tomorrow...been there, done that, etc.)

I know that the intent is great, but I can't get into it.

And I can't wear a bracelet that seems to celebrate my cancer or even acknowledge it, despite the other impediment I reference in an earlier comment.

I think that if you, personally, want to acknowledge a bond with another, that is huge and important and valuable. I think that commercializing it or taking it away from that personal experience and making it an MTV moment, if you will, removes the humanity from it.

I have been wrong before, and I will be wrong again, given time :).

Hope and humor, my friend!

Sent by Joe Alvey | 5:47 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Dear Leroy,
Everyone's' comments reminded of when I was bald from chemo with no eyebrows or lashes. I went to my daughter's 4th grade school Halloween party and wore an orange bandana on my head - I thought it looked a little pirate-ish. Anyway, at the party one girl stopped me and asked, "How did you get it to look so realistically like you don't have eyebrows?" It totally cracked me. I told her that I really didn't have any eyebrows or hair under my bandana because the medicine I was taking made my hair fall out. Poor kid looked more shocked than if she had seen a zombie.
I too always want to go up to people who look like they may be going through chemo - I still haven't managed to do it yet though. I know that when I was bald I really liked strangers letting me know they had been down the cancer road. I've had chemo again since then but I didn't have any hair loss with it - it made the experience very different. Some good - obviously having hair is good but I sort of missed having an obvious reason that people could understand without having to tell them if I wasn't feeling good. But it's very hard to know if someone wouldn't mind you stopping them and letting them know that they aren't alone in their cancer experience.
My best wishes to you, Leroy.

Sent by Martha Hochman | 5:53 PM ET | 07-12-2007

One more thing: A great comment I got when I was bald from a store clerk was just a smile and a simple, " I've had your haircut before." Says it all.

Sent by Martha Hochman | 5:56 PM ET | 07-12-2007

To Sue

"3 years past my expiration date"...thanks for the laugh.

Shaun

I like the idea of a ME2 shirt or button or wristband...maybe even differentiate the caregiver and the patient version by color if you wanted to go that far.

I notice people wearing livestrong wristbands all the time now, and when I point them out to non cancer world residents they're amazed and usually say something like "I see those all the time and never knew."

Sent by Bruce | 6:31 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Dear Leroy and the group, a note about yeterdays comments on our impending decline. I'm 17 months into stage 4 lung cancer diagnoses. I can feel the changes almost daily. I decided to put my cancer on hold for a brief time last Friday. I went SKYDIVING over Newport RI. I jumped (tandom with instructor) from 10,000 ft. We flew for 40 seconds at 120mph before he opened the chute. We then floated gently back to earth. For a short time I forgot about my cancer. I was in control! Hours later reality came back but Man what a ride! Go have one more adventure while you can.

Sent by Ron | 7:04 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy - don't feel bad that the women may felt your stare. Being bald now due to Pancreatic cancer I have now decided not to wear my wig. For some reason I just woke up one day and said the heck with it this is me. I get stared at and just smile what else can I do? I think I'm not embarrassed so if others are and want to stare let them at least I am alive. I'm sure since the mother was not wearing a wig she is use to the stares and does not care. So next time you see a bald women go up to her and say "Good for you - you are not afraid to show the world who you really are even if it is due to a bad situation."

Sent by Cathy | 7:19 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy, etc.

Me, too.

Sent by Beth | 7:19 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Me too -- sounds nice.
Being the out with it type of person I am,I took a few chances at conversation and support in my semi-bald state. Both were humorous. The first one was a woman who happened to be Budhist and had recently shaved her head. We both chuckled and had a good conversation none the less. The second woman had alopecia. She was sort of offended but secretly I believe she was thankful to have that as opposed to cancer. In the end I was glad for the option taken.

Sent by Mina | 8:00 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy, hello,

There are visceral reactions to differences, whatever they happen to be. What I would like to have happen, is when someone different is noticed and reacted to, have that begin a dialogue. (I know that's not always practical or possible.) But you have started a dialogue here, about similarities and differences. Speaking outloud the usually hushed up and unspeakable. That really is a good thing. I'm 46 and struggle to speak up, put specific words out there/here, to name anything and anyone is an act of courage and possibility. Let's keep it going.
Me too. Me three. Me four. and on, and on, and on. The goal? The growing awareness that we are all connected, different and similar, and we all live on this one planet. We all need each other, and our planet needs all of us. I can feel the connections, the endings and the beginnings, it feels scary, it feels awesome, and it feels endless.

You are a strong cog in a sturdy wheel. We can do this.

Thank you Leroy. Hope that you have a good evening.

Heartlight,
Kim Blankenship

Sent by Kim Blankenship | 9:11 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy:

Your expression of your innermost thoughts each day often brings me to the point of tears, as it did today. I have known several cancer patients and am currently watching as my aunt fights her battle with this dread disease. I have found so many times people in the community sporting what appears to be the newly grown hair following chemo. I find myself wanting to say something, anything, to let them know that I have just said a quiet prayer that God will watch them and care for them and ease their pain. I rarely approach as I am never sure whether they will feel embarrased that here when they are out and about trying to be "normal" someone insists on bringing up the dreaded "C" word....or heaven forbid I have made a totally inappropriate assumption (how many of us have asked a woman when her baby is due only to find out she is not pregnant?). While I can not say "me too" I can and I will try to let these folks know that I have said a prayer for them today....this may not be any better received, knowing that many folks do not relish the idea of God these days...but I will try...Thanks to you.

Sent by Cindy Sivula | 10:04 PM ET | 07-12-2007

I like to joke about that fact that men used to look at me because I was attractive and now they look at me because they are not sure why I am wearing an eye patch. I like it because at least when I look in the mirror I still look like me on one side of my face. My five year old daughter feels defensive when her friends at school say - "she's a pirate." They are just kids so I know they are just noticing something different about me. It has got easier with time but sometimes I do long for my two perfect eyes that I had pre-cancer.

Sent by Samantha | 10:18 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Oh my! After my best bud Marge died of breast cancer, leaving behind a husband and 3 young-uns, it seemed that everywhere I went, I saw bald women. I spent lots of time in lady's room stalls crying. I have often felt so very guilty -- that they may have felt that they repulsed me -- they did not!!!! I wanted to go over and embrace these strangers. You see, when it all was happening, I was in Georgia and my friend was dying in Colorado -- not a hop, skip and a jump, me with a little one and 6 cats, and her with 3 kiddos.

But you cannot walk up to bald strangers and hug them, as much as you need that hug, as much as you want it....

Sent by Victoria Ferreira | 10:45 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Dear Friends,

I am here again to say I am not in a good place right now, and it does tie into the subject matter, somewhat, in that I do not think anyone but another person in our special club would recognize it if they were to take a quick glance at me, but if you looked deep into my eyes, there is a look of
emptiness, that look of "someone is home, but they have the lights turned down very low". I have done all I can to try to find some energy, I took a shower thinking it would make me feel better, but NO it didn't, because I am angry with myself. I am very, very tired from this fight and for the last week or so I have tried to take the focus off my CANCER and place it on helping others, thinking this would bring me out of the dark place I am in and give me some of the fight I need to have, and MUST have, in order to get the help I need to FIGHT this beast. It is a frightening place to be, feeling like giving up, but wanting so badly to want to want the desire to live, and it has left me in a state of paralysis I am not accustomed to most of the time. I have been fighting so hard for so long and I am worn out, I want to lay down and just sleep, but I know I cannnot as long as I do not know what is happening inside me, I cannot rest until I REALLY know, so no amount of sleep is taking care of the mental fatigue. Has anyone ever been in this state of mind? I wish I could just make it all go away, but I can't, and something must happen in order to get me back to the FIGHT LIKE CRAZY TO GET WELL state of mind.

I would much rather share hope than to admit I am feeling a bit hopeless, and once again I am embarassed to come here and say I need help. It is difficult to be your own cheerleader all the time, and I am in that lonely place of fear and have no place to take it, to talk it out, to lessen it, so I am here, on my knees again, looking for a little comfort. As I said before, I can dress myself up to look almost normal, but inside I know better, and I need to know if there is anyone else out there who gets into these places in the dark recesses of your mind, and what do you do to help yourself out of it?

Of couese, I know I am not alone in feeling like this sometimes, but this is getting to a point where it is lasting longer than I am even a little comfortable with, and I would give anything to have the comfort of a little bit of good music, a nice honest conversation, and a lot of love and compassion to get me past this time of deep sadness and frustration.

Thank you for listening, I am trying all I know to do to try to release this fear. I cannot do this alone!

Briana

Sent by briana | 11:50 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Hair! It is really wild how important it is to us. I am an English teacher - grade 8. I would have this awful nightmare over and over again. I dreamt that my wig fell off while teaching poetry or the dangers of dangling participles or whatever! The best way to describe the horror of this dream was that I felt naked and terribly shamed. I cannot explain why losing a wig and having my baldness exposed was so ghastly. No wonder that musical "Hair" was so popular. People just tend to have strong feelings about hair or the lack thereof.

Sent by Susan P | 12:40 AM ET | 07-13-2007

Hey, Leroy, no worries -- I got my own "me too" this week, and it wasn't fun. I lost my dad less than a year and a half ago to cancer, and found out this week that my husband's mother has it, too. Both cases were recurrent after at least 15 years apiece. Guess the point is by this time, I've learned lots of things, but two in particular stand out to me in a situation like this -- #1, "cancer people" are on hypersensitive alert b/c we realize the value of each moment, each snippet and each emotion, and #2, we know that no matter how much experience we have with this disease, no two people react to it the same way. Bottom line is, you're forgiven & BLESSED just simply because you're enduring the pain of it and STILL CARE how other people feel. God bless you, Leroy -- you have no idea how much this blog means to so many of us!!!!!

Sent by Tammy Reasoner, Cincinnati, OH | 1:41 AM ET | 07-13-2007

I am in my early 30s. I do not have cancer, but I do have a favorite hat that I wear sometimes in the winter if I do not take the time to fix my coiffure. I was at a lecture once, wearing my hat, and a stranger came up to me and asked me why I was wearing it. I knew instantly why she was asking, but explained that I had just felt lazy that morning. She said she was a survivor, thought I was going through chemo, and wanted to offer me her support. I was a little embarrassed, but so appreciated her compassionate gesture, and I hope she does exactly the same thing to everyone she sees in an unexpected hat.

Sent by Kate | 10:14 AM ET | 07-13-2007

She probably would of liked to hear that. We all suffer from that look away thing we all do so well. Perhaps it is something we should all learn to just give a true smile to the person with acknowledgement of respect. I do try to do those things now. Having oxygen all the time I always get stares and if the kids ask me about it I try and tell them "don't smoke" you could end up wearing one of these!

Sent by Pat Beach | 11:37 AM ET | 07-13-2007

I'm so relieved I'm not the only one to have this experience. I was in the emergency room recently with my son(an ankle injury-nothing too serious). It was packed, as they usually are these days. I noticed a woman in a wheelchair, wearing a scarf around her hairless head and clutching a container in her hands that she obviously needed for her illness. A gentleman stood behind her, I assume he was her husband, and he wore a look of sheer exhaustion and desperation, a look I remember wearing when I was taking care of my mother during her illness. As the hours wore on, the woman seemed to become even sicker, the man more desperate as nobody acknowleged them. I couldn't help staring, and I know he noticed. I wanted so badly to go over to him and tell him I had been in his shoes, understood his frustration, his despair at watching someone he loved suffer, yet unable to find anyone even to offer her some privacy while she got sick. I wanted to intervene, to shout at the triage nurses and beg them to do something, yet I did nothing. I sat with my son instead and tried not to cry, re-living the four short months I had with my mother, many of them spent in the exact same situation as the couple in the emergency room. I've regretted not approaching them, letting them know I understood. I'm not sure I would have wanted to be addressed by anyone at such a time, but I remember hating the feeling that people were feeling pity or disgust. I probably would have felt less alone had someone followed a look with an explanation. It's for this reason I have come to depend on this blog-I can always find someone who understands.

Sent by tina simpson-collins | 2:46 PM ET | 07-13-2007

Hi, Leroy,
I think it is normal to be observant of what is happening around you. I will even be so bold as to say that your glance probably did not have the embarassing affect you might think. As a mother of 2 small children, I have often been in a similar situation as that lady, and she was probably just frustrated and tired. She may not have even noticed your glance that much. In fact, when my kids are in a cranky mood, I am so focused on getting them back in line or in leaving the store that I kind of block out the detail going on around me. There is just too much chaos with the little ones. I admire your courage to let people know what is going on in your life. You seem to be a very strong man. You are in my thoughts!

Sent by Renae VanDuyn | 4:50 PM ET | 07-13-2007

Leroy,

I have said "me too" to a few people, and haven't always received a "kindred spirit" response. One woman focused on her shopping at Target, was clearly upset that I had called attention to her baldness, so I mumbled a lame apology and moved on to a different aisle.

The worst, though, was the time I went to exercise class and saw another bald woman there. When the class ended, I approached her, smiled and said, "me too." Then I asked her about her cancer and her treatment. As it turned out, she didn't have cancer at all! She told me that her husband had died suddenly and unexpectedly, and in her shock and grief, all her hair fell out. She was quite kind to me (she was probably used to the reaction), but I felt like an idiot.

I learned then never to assume anything. I understand your desire to explain your reaction with a "me too," but cheer up! It might not have been what she needed to hear.

-Julie in Milwaukee

Sent by Julie Tynion | 2:05 AM ET | 07-14-2007

Hello Leroy, I lost my hair a few weeks ago and look very much like a bald squirrel with a mouth full of nuts. This past Sunday while walking in our church Memorial Garden admiring the beauty of it all I got too close to a branch which ripped my wig off, It was dangling there on a branch, I quicky grabbed it and stuck it back on...Laughter is the best medicine.

Sent by jean | 8:54 AM ET | 07-14-2007

Leroy,
This is without a doubt, my favorite subject regarding chemo etc. I am one of those women who decided to go bald and clean...no wigs, scarves or hats for me. Iget alot of looks and more "look aways" than you can imagine.When I first started going out in public, people looked away and I was feeling kind of freakish. After giving it some thought, i realized that we are taught early in life to look away. How many of our moms have admonished us for staring at someone with a disability? Instead of looking that person in the eye and greeting them warmly with a hello ar how are you, we were taught to look away.I am guilty of teaching my children the same silly look away stuff too. People will continue to look away from me, and thats o.k. I will continue to be bald for a little while longer, I will always be comfortable being in my own skin....and thats what really matters.

" I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am the soul that lives within"
India Arie

Sent by Liz Zimmerman | 10:22 AM ET | 07-14-2007

Leroy,
I wanted to make one more comment to the lady who wondered if we should approach others with a "been there, done that" approach. While I think it is great to acknowledge others and just plain "ask" and "listen", I don't think it is a good idea to lead with "been there, done that". All of us have our own individual places we're coming from and even though some of the treatments, etc may be the same, I can assure you that the history of the person, the lifes experiences, etc. ARE NOT the same and I found it insulting when people would assume that I was experiencing the same thing as them while I was on crutches. My crutches turned out to be a lifetime thing and not something for 6 weeks as with most broken bones. So, my message is, just please don't assume that you can relate to all of a person's experiences. But, I also think it is great to just lock eyes and think or say "me too".

Sent by Cindy | 12:41 PM ET | 07-15-2007

I'd like to answer Ron Bye's question about whether I'd want him to approach me as a fellow cancer survivor. The answer is YES!

I walked around bald and bare when I was going through chemo and people stared at me, I'm sure. (I live in Singapore and it's too hot and humid to wear wigs or hats.) I wish other cancer survivors who saw me had approached me to tell me they'd been through it and survived 5, 10, 20 years. There's nothing like a success story to give a cancer patient hope.

But now that I have hair again, I'm a bit hesitant about approaching other people who I think might be undergoing chemo because I feel like I'm boasting or asking to be considered someone special.

I worry that announcing my cancer to people might be construed as my saying, "I've had cancer. Been there, done that. And now I'm tougher, stronger, and wiser than everyone else."

Is "cancer survivor" a badge of honor or a sympathy card?

Sent by Shin | 12:27 PM ET | 07-18-2007

In the Summer of 1999, I was already done with chemotherapy and radiation but still bald. I never covered my head with wigs or scarves. It was a warm afternoon and I was on my way to somewhere when coming toward me were some highschool-age girls who had caught sight of my hairless head and started whispering and laughing. I found this to be an unusual response and when our paths were just crossing one another I said: "It's cancer, it's not funny, and I hope you never get it." Then there was total silence.

Sent by Mari Gabbert | 6:05 AM ET | 07-23-2007