Leroy...
I don't have any words...

Sent by Krupali Tejura MD | 7:08 AM ET | 07-11-2007

At least you are still here, sharing with us all on a daily basis. Selfishly, I worry about there coming a day when you feel you "can't" do this anymore. Meanwhile, I applaud and thank you for telling us how it feels, day to day. Joyce Smith

Sent by Joyce Smith | 7:21 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy: Some docs are better at telling us what we can't do than what we CAN. I found help by asking for a referral (you have to have an MD referral for insurance coverage) to a physical therapist. There, after my thoracotomy, I learned what my body still was able to do. And I was able to get an exercise program going for myself. It wasn't what I used to do, but it was designed for me. It was quite an emotional boost for me, as well, to learn what my body was still capable of doing.

Maybe working with a PT would be good for you, too. Turn around the negative (don't lift, don't backpack) into positive....what you can do.

GOOD LUCK!!!!

Sent by Sandra Shuler | 7:36 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy

I do indeed understand EXACTLY what you are saying.... perhaps you need to ditch that list and make one of the "I CAN"!!

Stay focused on the positive my Friend.....

There is enough "can't" in each of our lives for various reasons..... we need to remember the ones we can!

Stay positive!! :-)

Sent by Ron Bye (NH) | 7:55 AM ET | 07-11-2007

On the other hand, there is something decidedly positive about a LONG decline. Would you not agree? As opposed, say, to the decline you were originally advised to expect (apparently one more akin to the parachute ride than a roller coaster)?

One of my younger brothers recently wondered if I had made a list of things I wanted to do before I died, and I replied that, no, I had no need to climb Mount Everest, for example, but simply wanted to continue to enjoy the company of family and friends, doing what I have always done.

I certainly understand where you are coming from, sir (I have had issues with eating ever since my head/neck surgery nearly two years ago) and so try to focus on the positives. I am not, as one of my fellow survivors describes it, a 'dirt inspector' yet. I start with that :).

Hope and humor, my friend. Keep it up!

Sent by Joe Alvey | 8:25 AM ET | 07-11-2007

It stinks, doesn't it? Remember, you are not your body. You still can, and are, doing incredible things.
That YouTube video that Jan sent a link to yesterday was wonderful. Thanks for sharing it.

Sent by Laura | 8:43 AM ET | 07-11-2007

...except Leroy that your "emotional" backpack far exceeds 40 pounds. You have hiked rougher terrain than Baghdad during each scan, surgery and treatment. You have marched on with courage,dignity and honesty and you will continue to do so because that is you and that is what you are made of, not illness, not cancer, not limitations. You have always defined you and you will find a way to do just that now, even given this different set of rules. I wish peace for your heart today and every day.

Sent by Rachael | 9:04 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Hang in faithful warrior...
figuratively if not literally. Your awareness of and wrestling with increasing limitations reminds me of an amazing piece of wisdom I get from a 12 Step program..."acceptance is the key to all my problems today..." It doesn't come immediately or easily, but your journey as you've shared it over these many months shows that it does come eventually if we desire the highest quality of emotional peace possible on a daily basis. Keep the faith and pray for acceptance.

Sent by Leslie Erickson | 9:07 AM ET | 07-11-2007

No roller coasters? No roller coasters!!!! AHHHH! Well hang on kid, cause the roller coaster you live on is about to go up hill again. I know this is one of the fleeting down moments but you will see positively again (if you haven't ALREADY adjusted)and you will make a list of the CAN's. I'm sorry you are feeling blue about it though. Hang in there Leroy!

The ride is not over yet and there are plenty ups and downs left :)

Sent by Sarah Senter | 9:07 AM ET | 07-11-2007

I am a lefty, ok, you are asking so what does that matter. It did matter when I was little. My favorite thing to say was "I can't." My mom sat me down and said write the word CAN'T. I did, then she said, cross off the apostrophe and the T and asked me what did I have. I CAN. Take that CAN'T out of your vocabulary!

I was in Disneyland in March, and rode a bunch of roller coaster, and I love roller coaster, however, I found now that I am older, they are not as easy to ride as they were even 3 years ago. However Leroy, the newer hypercoasters are very smooth, just pick your seat wisely. I recommend the front and not the back to avoid the CRACK THE WHIP ACTION.

I agree, don't dwell on the negatives, change your lists to cans, I am sure you will fill it.

Thanks. :)

Sent by Susan Chap | 9:17 AM ET | 07-11-2007

so many times over the course of this blog it has been said that it is not death we are afraid of, it is the progression to death that scares us. Death is the certainty at the end of (everyone's) road, but the steps and experiences leading to it are unknown..it is depressing and scary to be progressively more limited in what you can and cannot do. I hear what you are saying loud and clear. But as others have already said, there are still (and always will be) more things that you can do than those that you cannot. So you won't be able to backpack (did you really want to sleep on the hard ground in this DC humidity anyway??), but you can still hike the canal and Shenandoah. No more roller coasters? Drive the beltway (I'm being facetious). After the sadness over this verbalized imposed limitation lifts (and it will), remember those things you can do, those things that make you tick, those things that make you who you are. Oh, Leroy, where one door closes, another opens. Life is waht matters.

Sent by elm | 9:25 AM ET | 07-11-2007

LeRoy,

I have not missed a post however I have not commented as I'm anxiously awaiting the results of my PET scan. My doctor called personally to let me know that he is also anxious. I'm not too sure this is comforting. I should know something today. Actually I should have known something yesterday but the phone never rang. Cruel as you know. I am facing a stem cell transplant. It is sadly likely.

Anyway, I've been so wrapped up in my own drama I haven't had the focus to respond, especially to yesterday's post. Your partner is eloquent and amazing. Bless her indeed.

However, today I must send you these thoughts. I totally understand how scary, frustrating and totally wrong being told "can't" is and the idea that this is the beginning of many can'ts is just insulting to a man like you. Well, I offer this. As a result of my cancer and treatment I've had to reinvent myself like Madonna due to "can't". I make a living as a painter, at least I did, and was well known for my oil paintings. I can no longer work in oils all day as now I cannot breathe when using them due to the chemicals and solvents. I've had to switch to acrylics which I used to call "painting with snot". I pulled out the colored pencils again too. I was a runner but the tumor that is left is cutting off my airway and makes running painful and it is like trying to run and holding your breath at the same time. I love physical activity so I pulled out the old road bike. I can't run but I can cycle a little. I'm tired all the time so I've let many of my little hobbies go and pick carefully my activities.

What is the result of all of this? My paintings are better than ever. I'm enjoying my fitness routine and have made good friends in a cycling club. I've learned that no matter what happens as long as I'm willing to learn something new I can't be told "can't" because I just keep changing.

Now I know I'm still able to be physical (at least till that PET comes back). You are being told that you gotta stay a little safer than your norm. Well LeRoy...learn something new. Find a new challenge that does not risk your back. I don't care if it is computer related or get your ass over here and I'll teach you to paint. Whatever it is challenge yourself with something you never imagined you would do. You are still very much alive so don't waste it.

Easy for me to say I know. However I had to say it. That advice and $3 will get you a nice cup of coffee.

Big hugs big guy,

Lori

Sent by Lori Levin | 9:26 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Dear Leroy-
Your comments hit a very soft place for me. Recently my Grandmother passed away. She was 92 years old, and some might say lived a full life. The last year has been hard, because her body began to refuse to do what it once did so well. In January she took a fall, and it became apparent that she would never be able to walk again. Despite her hard-headedness and all the medical assistance, she was never going to walk again. She tried to get out of bed in May, took a fall and broke her leg right below her hip - not good.

Granny was always a go-getter. My sister visited her 4-5 years ago and found that she had moved all the appliances out of the kitchen to clean behind them. She was not going to be restricted, her body however had its limits.

I have MS, and when it flares up and I cannot walk or think clearly, or focus on objects, I have to accept that my body has its limits- and it really pisses me off!

But you have NO idea, Leroy, that despite your physical limitations how much you give to us spiritually. Thank you- and please keep up the hard-headedness that life needs sometimes.

Sent by Rebecca | 9:28 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy, it is never easy to accept our limitations...be it physical, emotional, financial, etc.... But is it possible for you to channel your energy into the things you CAN do? Perhaps you cannot ride that roller coaster, but there is still alot of joy, say, in kayaking or canoeing, hiking without the pack, general day tripping and enjoying the sun on your face and the smells of summer. For that matter, come to the Adirondacks and we can hike together! As for the long decline.....it certainly has it's benefits, but it is a trying journey towards the end....for the individual as well as for the caregivers. I would not trade my time as a caregiver for my Dad, but it is exhausting some days....

Sent by Karen | 9:28 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Can't, can't, can't... By following a fews of these simple cant's you CAN live as long as possible and still be able to enjoy the "normal" things in life... It seems like a fair trade to me... and this is coming from someone whose back pain lead to the discovery of his cancer, so I know how bad back pain and cancer can be.

Sent by Brit | 9:31 AM ET | 07-11-2007

I second the idea of a PT referral. Strengthening the muscles around the injured area, if possible, could help strengthen and stabilize the thoracic spine. It's worth asking your onc about anyway.
I had gotten very disabled after my various surgeries, and after the double mastectomy and TRAM reconstruction, which took my entire rectus abdominus muscle group, (the "6 pack" muscles)I was considerably disabled. I had an intense program with an Occupational Therapist at first. OT's specialize more in the upper extremeties, and functionality as far as being able to do tasks is concerned. Not only did I get the range of motion of my arms and shoulders back, which the mastectomy caused me to loose, but I got considerably stronger, which helped me mentally and emotionally I was helped after each of the later major surgeries I had in '04 by going to specialized PT with therapists who worked exclusively with cancer patients, and was eventually able to stand up straight and lie flat again, and to have enough endurance to walk for more than five minutes.
Of course, there is the release of endorphins that one gets with exercise, so all in all, it's a win/win to keep as active as our illness or injury will allow. It's hard to feel sorry for myself when I'm in a pool doing water aerobics, as I do three times a week now, or when having a private Pilates session, which I do weekly.
My advice is to do what you can do for as long as you can do it. Doing so may even help us to live longer. For breast cancer patients, research is coming out over and over again saying that regular exercise will extend our lives. Don't tote that barge, Leroy, but maybe....walk the canal path briskly?

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 9:31 AM ET | 07-11-2007

I find the things I can't do anymore are very simple things. I like to fix a really nice meal when my daughter comes home for a visit. I can't always do it. I'm not going to harm myself, I just don't have the strength. I'm procrastinating the cleaning of the guest rooms because I know my back will hurt when I push the vacuum around. I guess I should just tell my husband. He would willingly clean. But he sure can't cook like me.

To david white - boy, is my brain jumbled - I meant to say CPT-11.

Sent by Cheryl McDowell | 9:35 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy, I am sorry for the things you can't do & I am sorry you are going through this. When the nerve damage in my feet was really bad I couldn't go on my daily walk which was such a part of my life, I missed it. My oncologist suggested I bike. It worked. Sometimes, its really hard to loose things we love to cancer (the age old quality of life issue) but the good news is that you still have the desire to do these things - while cancer may have affected some of your abilities it hasn't touched your spirt. Hang in there, and thanks for sharing. One thing Cancer hasn't taken from you is a unique ability to communicate and befriend those in need. We appreciate you.

Sent by Beth | 9:38 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Oh Leroy. I completely understand and I'm not going to offer any words of encouragement because sometimes one (me included)just needs to be sad for awhile and mourn our losses.

Sent by Ruth White | 9:57 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy, I suspect that your feisty spirit is what gets you through all the adventures your life keeps serving up. It is important to grieve losses (like roller coasters, weights and backbacking), and at the same time to love the smorgasbord of other joys still readily at our disposal. Whatever we focus on will be magnified in our perceptions, so keep at least one track of thought on the good stuff if you can, even as you mourn the faves now moved to the "imprudent" list. Would waist weights (like divers wear for ballast) would still be a way to get cardio and exercise w/o jeopardizing your noble T-7???

Sent by Sarah | 10:06 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy,

It re-ocurred to me the other day that all of the things I think about and all of the revelations I have during this and other challenging times in my life have all been said and thought before. It doesn't seem to matter what your subject is, Leroy, it always hits close to home. Your writing is so eloquent.

I too love roller coasters. I have always wanted to fly in fighter jet. Those things won't be happening for me now. But I'm ok with it today. I rode plenty of roller coasters and still get excited when the Blue Angels fly over.

Yesterday was my last day of the second time around of radiation. That felt pretty good too. Give me a summer Sunday with my family and a BBQ burger and I'm content now.

Thanks, Laurel

Sent by Laurel M. Jones | 10:08 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy, I wish I could say every filthy word that I know to comment to your post. And being from New York I know many and use them in my head regularly when I think about cancer in general, yours and mine in particular. I know wonderful ones! Disgustingly wonderful words and expressions that would make the soldiers in Iraq blush when they weren't busy trying to stay alive.

Maybe I would really like to send all my filthy repertoire to the administration who continue to fund this blank blank blank war when the money could be put to 'HELLO??" better use, like finding a cure, cures, for cancer, not to mention global warming, feeding the hungry, stem cell research, ON AND ON AND ON. My mental vacabulary grows! It even surprises me! I can create the most disgusting vile associations of filthy nasty incredibly embarassing words and phrases! I wish you could hear all of my epithets - surely they would make us both feel a lot better for about 5 minutes. Thanks for continuing to write even though your posts sound sad to me. I HATE IT SO MUCH. For every single one of us. PEACE, (Hear it, George?) Joanne

Sent by Joanne Wilkerson-Burke | 10:09 AM ET | 07-11-2007

I hear you Leroy. I'm still very lucky and my list of can'ts is short. But I did start making it. First to go was donating blood which I did religiously. Then it dawned on me that my organs are now useless to anyone else. Not that I want to be in that position to donate but working in a hospital makes me well aware of the need for organs. It's good to stay positive but equally as valuable to acknowledge our losses.

Sent by Lisa | 10:09 AM ET | 07-11-2007

"Can't" is a word my husband has had a hard time dealing with also. He was diagnosed 7 years ago with a rare form of head and neck cancer. Even though he's had the advantage of the new technologies in time to buy him time, he's had a lot of his former life diminished. Due to all the various forms of radiation he "can't" open his mouth very wide which is especially problematic for eating. He "can't" hear very good at all because of both the chemo drugs and radiation. He "can't" see very good because of radiation causing cornea scaring and subsequently "can't" drive a car because of his "can't(s)". What I think a lot of people don't know about cancer is how dramatically it changes ones life. They think the only side effects are basically hair loss and fatigue. While those are hard to deal with, my husband finds them the easiest in comparison. My husband is my hero and I keep reminding him of what he "can" do. He "can be and is" a great husband. He "can be and is" a great father. Cancer isn't always about having the right attitude, that isn't always possible. But he is showing others how the battle can be fought.

Sent by Sharlene Bedard | 10:10 AM ET | 07-11-2007

I totally agree with Sandra about PT. It's what I do for a living. I'm shocked that PT hasn't been offered along the way in my treatment; to recondition after chemo, to get best function after surgeries. I'm almost recovered from my last surgery after which I get to do that one foot in cancer world, one foot in the real world thing ... until??, forever??.

Anyway, I wrote my own 6 week reconditioning program and began as soon as Doc gave me the all clear. I'm lucky. I'm licensed. I know what I'm doing. And I'm feeling some GOOD fitness. Better, I know, than if I had done no PT at all.

Again, I have to say I'm shocked that this is not an automatic offering as part of cancer treatment. Through PT you do get to your best fitness and function within your disease process. It's not JUST for accidents and broken bones.

I see all of my docs again late summer to get all of their OKs to proceed with life. As part of my fullest recovery I'll request from one of them a prescription for PT. There are things I can't do for myself; modalities, manipulations. I HAVE to return to good fitness to do what I do for a living. I'm doing pretty good but there's a persitent paraesthesia that concerns me.

All the docs would jump on, "See a neurologist." It's like after chemo I had difficulty holding my urine. "See a urologist," they said. Well, you know what? I was kinda doctored out at the time. I PTd my issue and happily it resolved.

Please don't misunderstand. I'm not saying "ignore referrals." Do nothing without proper medical guidance. But I am saying float PT in front of your Docs as a treatment possibility. Let them help you decide.

Sent by Lorraine | 10:14 AM ET | 07-11-2007

I could have written that first paragraph. My family and friends can attest to that. I commiserate and I am so gratefull for you and your ability to be painfully honest. Because of what you CAN do,you will always have a friend to carry your backpack for you. You are so important to my day.

Sent by Diana L Santamaria | 10:15 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy- your comments today make me smile because it reminds me so much of when my kids were little. The moment I told them "no", they wanted to do it even more! But look at the glass as half full, there are soooo many things you CAN do as opposed to those you cannot. You need a good project right now. Stay busy. Do something that makes you smile......

Sent by DiAnn | 10:18 AM ET | 07-11-2007

I love you, Leroy. Feel it. You are such a truth teller. I am a mountain climber in the Adirondack Mountains of New York... but only in the winter. I hate to sweat. Following breast cancer, I couldn't carry a pack because of the risk of lymphedema, a debilitating condition and a real risk following mastectomy. My husband, a couch potato, became my "sherpa", a true testament of love as far as I am concerned. But still, I hate that I can't carry my own gear beyond a fanny-sized fanny pack. Keep on trekking, Leroy. It might be steep right now, but you are far from the summit.

Sent by Holly | 10:27 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy,

I and Jodi went to the Y and they had exercise float dumbbells and other resistance paddles for your hands and feet to do at least a moderate workout in the water. It does not stress the spine at all, you float in the water. I am saying there are usually ways around "can't".

As Sandra said, a physical therapist is trained to look over the medical spine reports and set up a program of exercise.

No "dirt inspecting", always have hope. I see a lot of new treatments coming to even cure many cancers-keep hanging in there.

Sent by steve faulkner | 10:31 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Hi Leroy/All in Blog land

I know that you probably didn't mean for that too be funny, but I had a visual of someone wearing a backpack and lifting weights riding a roller coaster and couldn't stop laughing! So Leroy... put down one of the things you CAN do, is making someone laugh! And that is a great gift! Take care and Carpe'Diem! Shirl Dolitz

Sent by Shirley Dolitz | 10:33 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Ever since my eight weeks of radiation last winter, I've found myself struggling energy wise. It's come back some, but not like I expected it to or the doctors forecasted that it would. I used to climb all over the roof, painting dormers, backpack, and commute hundreds of miles a year on my bicycle . It's (change in lifestyle) caused some major depression problems for me. Urinary incontinence, which had recovered following surgery, now has also returned with some very embarassing moments following radiation. So, I'm back to wearing protective pads, etc. (Too much info, folks? I don't think so. Lots of you reading this are probably going through the same things or much, much worse. The only thing that's helped me is to slow down. If only half the lawn gets mowed this week and half the next, so what? If a paint brush never touches this house this summer the neighborhood will just have to deal with it. This is my life now and no one has taught us more about living it as it is than you have, Leroy. I'm at a loss for words when trying to come up with something that's encouraging-can't even come up with some kind of a trite, positive reply. Take pride and comfort though in the fact that you've helped all of us to know that this is still a life and it's still worth living. You've got more courage than anyone I know.

Sent by Tim | 10:44 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Hello Leroy,

I can only imagine how this situation must make you feel. As I approach the end of my nearly 18 months of Avastin therapy on a clinical trial (which I would not trade), I've become much less able to get the physical exercise that I enjoyed during the earlier therapy and for most of my life. I've found that I injure more easily and take longer to heal, too...sometimes needing physical therapy. Two things that I can do now are stationary recumbant cycling at an easy pace and beginner yoga, so that's where I'm staying for the time being. I'd never done the yoga before, and I love it!

Two weeks ago, I was in Vermont with my sister, who is 9 years younger. We wanted to go to the summit of Mt. Mansfield for lunch. It was two days after my infusion, so we definitely had to take the gondola rather than consider a hike. I began to wonder whether or not this is just the beginning of a longer slowdown.

The closest I've come to the CAN'T feeling occured the day after my long term disability went into effect. I received a registered mail letter from my employer's HR department with the list of items to turn in, notification of deletion of all of my corporate email files and quite a bit of paperwork to complete. It was just like an employment termination letter. I felt as though I'd been punched in the stomach, and had been told that my chances of returning to work were through. Usually our HR people had been pretty good about telling me what to expect in the medical leave/disability process; but, they slipped up big time with this. Fortunately, my manager tried to cc me on an email that very morning. When it bounced and he found out the reason, he went through the ceiling (on the way to his manager's office). They were able to get HR to hold off on many of the actions until I get through this therapy. During this time I'm content to have the occassional lunch with the group. (And, I'm sure lucky that I've had smooth sailing on the disability insurance side.)

I agree with those who have already posted. Try to find some new positives.

Sent by Sheara | 10:51 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy, this is my first post on your site..i discovered it after your tv special. as many have said, you have a way of giving voice to thoughts we all have but can't seem to express. your comments today touched me deeply and hit home. i was diagnosed with brain cancer in 2001 at age 44. i had surgery, then radiation but it came back so had another surgery,after which the surgeon told my husband he should contact hospice, and i might have 6 months. the tumor was in the right front quadrant and the second surgery resulted in my losing function in my left arm and leg and i am now wheelchair bound. i did have chemo (timodar) and there has been no recurrence. our two boys were 17 and 12 at the time. and i was a stay at home mom. now i can't drive because of seizures, cooking and baking are a challenge, (my first love), i could go on with ways my life changed in an instant..and not for the better. people loved to say "it beats the alternative"..and there were days that i debated if that were true. i have worked with a pt and have made strides (so to speak) to improve my life.. have learned to do many things one-handed,but typing is not easy..as you can see. My oncologist says he has never seen my type of cancer
(astrocytoma) recur after 5 years so looks like i beat it, but when i look at what it resulted in and how it affected my family, i am still really angry. . a sense of humor helps. thank you for what you do..many of us understand exactly what it feels like.

Sent by martha bruner | 10:57 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Dear All,

I felt the need to thank you all for your inspirational messages. The courage demonstrated in the comments convinces me that I am with some of the greatest people in the world. Cancer hit us for a reason.....but it will not define us and we will not bow down and let it destroy our spirit. We CAN Livestrong.

Sent by Mike Dougherty | 11:09 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Well, better a long decline than a short one! (Sorry, I know that is in appallingly bad taste, but it IS the first thing that came to mind.)

Giving up the things you love sucks. One of the greatest pleasures in life for me used to be sitting in a hot tub with my husband, enjoying a glass of wine. But after having lymph nodes removed during my mastectomy, I was told I can NEVER go in a hot tub again due to the risk of lymphedema. And NEVER fly without wearing a tight compression sleeve,...and a few other lifelong restrictions. I hate it! But hey! As long as we're alive, there are new joys to be discovered. Hang in there, Leroy.

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

I agree and I think it sucks. It really pisses me off. I try to focus on what I can do and to be gracious about what I can't do. But inside, it pisses me off. I would love to have my life back! I don't like the new normal. Okay, rant over.

Sent by Stephanie Dornbrook | 11:18 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy,

What a SUCKY situation! F*** cancer, f*** mets. I'd be growling and snarling - at least to myself.I have no advice. I hope you can get through these feelings to some that are more comfortable. Meanwhile, I don't think there is anyone on this blog who would mind if you vented the ones you have now.

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

Leroy,

Your blog has helped my husband get through many bad days. He also feels bad when he can no longer do what he once did but he is still here, a great husband, father and grandfather.

Sent by Lucy Bernhardt | 11:23 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Sometimes it's hard to be in a STAY STRONG! BE POSITIVE! mood. Sometimes it's okay to just reflect on the things that are making us sad. I've read all the comments here and was particulary touched by Sharlene Bedard's. Sometimes I complain about NOT being able to do my ordinary every day things. Sometimes, on other days, I complain about never being able to carry the child I've always dreamed of. There are different days for different can'ts. I think it's important to allow ourselves the time to mourn the loss of something that is part of our identity. Tomorrow I'll remember to be thankful that I can see, hear, speak, eat and drive. But for today...it's okay to be a little sad. Leroy, through this crazy internet world I feel as though you're a good friend. Please know that each day I hold you and your wife in my heart.

Sent by Laurie | 11:23 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Hello All

Oh, how I hate having bad days...and today is one. Don't really have a specific reason for it...perhaps it's just the rain or it could be the realization that I have cancer. With treatment approaching, I have been forced to look this beast in the face. The other day, I felt so strong and positive...ready to battle. Today is a different story. I don't feel alone (thankful for that); I'm just down. I read a post my wonderful Mother wrote yesterday that brought me to tears. I cannot imagine myself in her shoes. I know that she tries her hardest to put on a strong face for me, but I do realize that this is terrifying for her. To my beautiful, strong, and brave Mom, the most simple and true words I can say to you is I LOVE YOU and I am so grateful for you! To all you caregivers out there...thank you for the love and devotion you give!

I don't like limitations either Leroy. In about a week and a half, I'll be going off my meds and on a low-iodine diet (which means I can't eat anything I love to eat) and I'm not thrilled about it! But if it means that my treatment will be more effective, then it's worth the sacrifice. I just try to remember to take one day at a time...sometimes one hour at a time...sometimes one minute. You all will be in my thoughts and prayers. With love!!!

Sent by Tess from KY | 11:31 AM ET | 07-11-2007

This is the first time you've sounded truly dejected. I'm so sorry.

Carol

Sent by Carol Snider | 11:35 AM ET | 07-11-2007

You've lived such a full and exciting life, Leroy, that I can certainly understand you focusing on what you are now unable to do. But this daily blog is something you CAN do and is valued by so very many people. And I have no doubt there are many, many other things that you CAN do that you haven't even tried yet. That future is yours to grab hold of.

My husband had a T11 compression fracture along with a tumor in the spinal nerve column that affected his walking. Physical therapy has been a part of his treatment since about a week after his initial surgeries - through the chemo, radiation, infections, dehydration, malnutrition - the therapist was always there to make him do whatever he could that particular day. He's now doing PT three times a week as an outpatient and is walking again. Insurance notified us this week we've used up our max visits for the year, but we will continue and pay what we have to because they are so valuable. So have your doc write a prescription for PT and be sure to find the right therapist for you (we had to do a lot of searching).

We're all here just waiting to hear what new exciting things you've found that you CAN do. Keep the faith, my friend.

Sent by Dianne in NV | 11:52 AM ET | 07-11-2007

Just imagine if you were a 25 year old young man with the same prognosis and being the parents watching him decline.

CANCER SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!

Take care Leroy.

Judy

Sent by Judy Voller | 12:00 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Hello Leroy,

Thanks for giving me a "comfort place" with your posts!! Your post today takes me back to comment yesterday by Stan Wozniak. I have Renal Cell, Stage IV, look fairly o.k., except weight loss and pale. I have diarrhea and fatigue. Have to rest a lot more. Just can't accomplish much. I hate that! As Stan stated, this is probably the calm before the storm. Prayer and the drug is the only thing holding me. I am bracing for scans again lst week in August.

Your friend,
Betty Lewis

Sent by Betty Lewis | 12:03 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Limitations vs. possibilities..Yes there is a counterbalance to our limitations imposed upon us by cancer, age, accident, other diseases, etc. It is often very difficult to contemplate or recognize the possibilities when those abilities/capabilities that we used to help define ourselves and to bring joy and satisfaction to us are taken away. I very clearly understand the frustration associated with this loss.

As others have commented, there is a sadness in today's blog from you Leroy. It is ok to reluctantly give up those things that once brought you so much joy. It is ok to be angry and sad that cancer has not only invaded your body but it has also placed limitations and restrictions on what you can and cannot do!!!

I hope you'll agree that the limitations that cancer has placed on you has also opened a "window into the possibilities"...could you have ever thought in your wildest dreams before cancer of this blog and the positive impact you have had in so many people's daily lives!! The physical limitations imposed upon you by cancer have enabled your true gifts..your eloquence, sensitivity, courage, willingness to share your heart and soul with strangers who have now bonded with you.. to come forward and do great things for us all.

I understand your sadness at the limitations but my personal assessment is that your "possibilities" now define you as a noble soul and our friend!

Blessings and prayers as always.

Sent by Al Cato | 12:04 PM ET | 07-11-2007

You just got the idea that you "can't" with some things but you still have other things you can. Leroy you have the power to put onto paper so many ideas I have and I do feel alot like you! The inspiration you can give is just another form of things you "can't" do. Keep smiling please!

Sent by Pat Beach | 12:07 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy,
It's these life-changing, painfully constricting challenges that are really hard -- especially for any of us who are prone to contesting and facing limits. But it may be the roller coaster effect -- you don't even need to pay the park entrance fee -- and not a permanent decline. Hiking without a back pack, having someone else lug your equipment, not fun but doable. Hang in there. Here's a new tx that might be of interest. http://www.news-medical.net/?id=17789t Keep the faith through these dark nights of the soul.

Sent by Marcia | 12:18 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy,

You give us all food for thought. I have liver, lung, and spine mets. Two weeks ago I went river rafting with my family and came home with a bachache - found out that the pain was coming from a compression fracture (T11). Perhaps had I been given the foresight that you have I would have been more careful. But honestly, I'm not sure. I've learned from this disease that life is hugely unpredictable and that control is only an illusion. Maybe I wouldn't have bumped that rock and would have instead been rear-ended by another car. Or even a simple mishapped step that ended in a fall.What I am saying is that even when we are careful we can't prevent or predict the unknown. I have been living with stage IV disease for a long time now and have many times over been given instructions to get ready for the "beginning of the decline." There have been twists and turns on this roller-coaster ride, accompanied by lots of ups and downs, and the pack is often heavy but on and on the ride goes. As long as it continues on, then there is excitement ahead. I prefer not to dwell on what will one day happen but instead savor what simply "is". For now, I will celebrate today and the gift of this moment with my family and the things that I can do. Hold on tight......you might soon find that the can'ts are far outweighed by the cans.

Sent by Suzanne Lindley | 12:25 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Wow! I have only been aware of your blog, Leroy, for little more than a week, and have been reading it, and the commentary, daily ever since. What strikes me most, beyond the fact it almost seems we are going through the same issues with different cancers at the same time, sometimes, is the relative conformity of responses.

As with politics in this country, it seems there are never more than two camps of thought, and yet there are always the two :).

In this case, it seems you have the Be Positives and the Go Ahead and Wallow In Its. But a third party, the independent party of PT Is Practical, also emerges.

Unlike the political parties in our country, sometimes, in this case, each of the 'parties' has some valid points.

As a Be Positive guy, I don't always practice what I preach, so I can understand where the Go Ahead And Wallow In Its are coming from. At the same time, I have realized great benefits, both physical AND mental, from physical therapy, and can understand their view as well.

Apparently, here in CancerWorld, the lion and the lamb CAN sleep together on occasion.

Hope and humor, my friend! Keep it up!

Sent by Joe Alvey | 12:28 PM ET | 07-11-2007

P.S. Yes, it totally sucks.

Sent by Marcia | 12:46 PM ET | 07-11-2007

I'm offering a message of hope. I was diagnosed in May 2005. I went through the usual treatments (chemo, surgery, radiation). My cancer came roaring back immediately following radiation (I have a very aggressive type of breast cancer). Everyone was pretty gloomy about "what this means". Fortunately, my oncologist was behind my interest in fighting. She put me on a chemo that was not very effective against breast cancer but she thought it might work against mine. I've been on that chemo for over a year now.

We all know how cancer works. You find a treatment, the cancer is reduced for awhile, then finds a way around the treatment, you go on to the next chemo, etc.

Yesterday I got the results of my latest scan. I hadn't had one in 6 months. It was especially nerve wracking waiting for these results. I had been on chemo long enough for the cancer to find a way around. To everyone's surprise, there is no signs of cancer.

Statistics will tell you my prognosis is poor. Sometimes they say extremely poor.

I decided statistics are very good at predicting the past but can't predict how your body will fight your cancer.

Keep fighting Leroy. Get your air back and get out there and "do". Find out what all you can do to strengthen those bones. LIVE. You only have to worry about the moment you are in. Who knows what's around the corner. Maybe another remission. Maybe "stable". There are lots of possibilities. The human body is an amazing thing.

Sent by Karen D. | 12:51 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy:
No goals, no expectations.
Whatever is, is.
For now-just Be.

No future, no past,
Just the present.
For now-just Be.

Ups, downs,they don't exist
In this instsnt of time.
For now- just Be.

Cares and woes? Don't worry,
They'll still be there.
For now- just Be.

Wishes are good, prayers might be better.
But not for now.
For now- just Be,

For one minute, for one hour,
It doesn't matter.
For now- just Be.

Breathe in and breath out,
Focus on the present.
For now, just for now-
Just Be.

Namaste,
Don

Sent by Don Winslow | 12:51 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Dear Leroy,

Moonlight, night's flashlight,
dimmed by the fog moving in --
here's a star on bright to guide you.

Well, it's a poem for you. Not the greatest, obviously, :) but it came out of my spirit to give to you.

Maybe something warm and fuzzy, like a blanket and a friend would be more helpful right now. You can borrow any of my dogs, (I've got 5, all sizes); they hang out close by when I'm having a hard time. They would be glad to do the same for you.

Sending you a gentle hug.
Sending one to Laurie too.

love you,
Kim Blankenship

Sent by Kim Blankenship | 1:00 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Dear Leroy,
There are few things in life as sad and discouraging as CAN'T! I haven't had to face the growing list of "no you can't" yet but I believe my French Canadian and Irish heritage would show my stubborn side with "Oh yes I can!!" I hear your frustration and sadness with things as they are now, but please know that you are giving all of us so much daily by sharing yourself with us. Thank you from my heart and I know that you will find the way to "I CAN" that will be all your own. Sending hugs and love to you and Laurie!

Sent by Judy T. | 1:01 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Losing things you used to be able to do is a hard thing. My cancers, so far, have not shown any signs of coming back since treatment two years ago but since I had radiation and chemo for oral cancer I have been unable to eat normal food, sing, or talk for very long. Some of my greatest joys Before Cancer were meals with friends, singing (alone and with friends), and teaching (which does require havig a voice that lasts for longer than 15 minutes at a stretch). I don't think any of these things are going to come back. It isn't a matter of someone telling me "you can't", it's that whenever I try, I CAN'T.

I am reading a book by Lama Surya Das called "Letting Go of the Person You Used to Be" and, although it's definitely not aimed at cancer survivors, I'd recommend it to anyone struggling with the losses of abilities that cancer inflicts on so many of us.

There's a quote there at the begiing that I like "when the heart grieves for what is lost, the spirit rejoices over what it has left". I am finding it's important to let in both the grief and the rejoicing, some of which blend in such exquisite ways sometimes that they defy description.

Do I get angry that I lost a singing voice that drew constant compliments, or should I be grateful I had it and used it while I had it?

Anyway, I hate rollercoasters, but I'm sorry you are now the person with the bad back that can't ride them.

Sent by N.R. | 1:07 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Dear Leroy, Yes, it sounds like you are feeling the way you (& I, and so many of your friends & fans) felt the day you spoke so elequently about when the doctor first told you that you had CANCER. Didn't you feel then that you were at the beginning of a long decline? I did. I rememger asking the doctor how long I had. He smiled gently and said, "My dear, I can't tell you that". And he was so right. Yes, I am one of those who have been fortunate enough to have survived for many years since.
Now I am 77, have had a stroke two months and am hoping and praying that I don't get a second and worse one. My vision will never be the same but even an artist can learn to accept these little setbacks.
Point is Leroy, aren't we all on that long road with you? Aren't we all traveling down the same decline? We must keep contact, share what special thoughts and ideas we have, and lean on each other. This is life and not one of us will get out of it ALIVE.
However look what you have done and are doing! What would we all do without each other to lean on? This is the beginning of a new chapter in your life and a change in your attitude. Think UP and we shall go ON, not down ogether!!

Sent by Jeanne C Rakowski | 1:10 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Hi Leroy,
I'm really sorry to hear about the new restrictions that you are facing. I know it is really hard to accept and the thoughts of more restricions in the future really SUCKS!! Grappling with these issues is never easy and I think the worst part of it is the loss of control over your own decisions. You are being told by someone else what you can't do.

I am fighting some of the same battles and I have the battle scars to prove it. But my "independent nature' did lead to some interesting situations. Some would call me "Very Bull Headed!"
Its a family trait. Authority and I always got along much better at arm's length. But my former supervisor and I have remained good friends and she says that she still gauges new rules by "How much of a fit would Eileen have had over this one?"
So having rules around is a framework and bending those rules a bit is a profession! Just figure out how far you can safely bend them, that's the challenge!

And do give your self and Laurie a chance to grieve over the changes you are both going through. And treasure the memories that you have.

As far as the downward road, yes, it is the one we will all travel together. I woke up with swelling in the side of my face this morning which can mean that the cancer in my lungs is becoming more active again. I was hoping for a longer remission. Time will tell what this means. But what ever comes up for any of us, we are going to face it and go on!!

Keeping you all in my heart and in my prayers.
Eileen Pruyne
Charlotte

Sent by Eileen Pruyne | 1:12 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Dear Leroy and Laurie,

Yesterday I was not able to read the blog. But, I just wanted to thank Laurie for sharing her thoughts. I too am a spouse/caregiver and can empathize with her.

I do,however, have a question, not only for Laurie but for anyone who is the spouse/partner/caregiver.

My husband was diagnosed with cancer just about a month after you Leroy and it was only up until I would say six months ago that we have come to terms with it. When my husband was first diagnosed, after the initial schock wore off, all kinds of emotions started to set in, sadness, fear but mostly anger. He was angry that he had become ill and I was angry "How could you do this to us" which I see now was not a normal way one thinks. However, for almost a year instead of getting closer because of the illness, we began to become polarized. We argued more in that first year than throughout our entire marriage. It is only recently that we have come to terms with what is going to happen in the near future and bonded once again, realizing that it was from the stress and the illness, and not the lack of love for one another.

Is it normal to be drawn apart instead of becoming closer? After the fact, I feel such guilt..........how can I be angry with someone that I love so much. These mixed emotions are so very hard to deal wth.

Leroy and Laurie, I wish only the best for you.

Sent by sasha | 1:15 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Dear Leroy,
And I thought I was the only "bad" person who hates authority and being told I can't do something.
You are probably angry and in rebellion over all these "can'ts". I am confident you will soon see the "cans" and will move on.
Thank you again for your wonderful gift of writing and sharing your thoughts.
Charlotte in Temecula, CA

Sent by Charlotte Kewish | 2:10 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Hi Leroy, this topic is so meaningful. I just don't feel the same as I did before I had cancer and many of the changes are invisible so others expect the same level from you. I can't stay up late anymore, I can't eat whatever I want without risking several trips to the bathroom anymore, I can't do things spontaneously anymore, but most important, I can't care about all of the little things I used to care about anymore. People expect me to get upset about someone taking my parking space, a late bill or bad weather. I just don't have it in me to care anymore about the little things. I can't be who I used to be and that is the hardest pill to swallow. Best, Estelle

Sent by Estelle | 2:14 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Dear Leroy, its me again. I read today's post and was very sad.

I recently logged on to a spiritual website. I thought it would bring me some solace and at times it does. I only wish I could learn to truly accept and believe what I am reading and what is happening in my life.

I would like to share a part of a passage that I read. Like many of the other bloggers have stated, you may no longer be able to go hiking, but you have accomplised so very much with this blog by helping all of us through our difficult times which I believe far surpasses your previous accomplishments. I would like to share a passage that I read.

" Great accomplishments come from being able to see the goodness in everything, and then focusing that goodness in a specific direction.

It's impossible to stay focused on what can be when you're obsessed with worrying about what already is. Yet by accepting what is now, you are free to create what you know can be.

Make your efforts effortless by letting them happen and letting them be. Let life freely flow, and you will go anywhere you desire.

-- Ralph Marston

Sent by sasha | 2:31 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Dear Leroy, I understand how you feel as I don't like being told what to do or not to do. I am sad that I "can't" work as a nurse any longer when once I thought I'ld be happy if I didn't have to work. Like everyone else I have limitations ("can't dos") but am trying to focus on what I can do and what makes me happy. You make me happy reading your blog - please keep it up because they purity of your feelings is a balm to all of us.

Sent by Vicki (FL) | 2:44 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy,
My thoughts are with you today. I agree so much with Al Cato. You are very pressious to all of us. We are walking this road with you, even though some days I fell like Krupali's comment today.

Take care, Dorothy

Sent by Dorothy | 2:49 PM ET | 07-11-2007

My prayers are with you Leroy. We are never promised our journey will be easy, but we are promised that we will not be alone. You are not alone Leroy. Thank you for sharing your journey with us.

Sent by Kim Barbato | 2:58 PM ET | 07-11-2007

To Sasha...yes, what you and your husband have been experiencing does happen to some couples. My advise is to get to a counselor, be it Psychologist or Social Worker, who has experience in the Oncology field. Blessings to you both....and to Leroy and Laurie and this amazing cyber community that we are all a part of.

Sent by Karen | 3:15 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy,

Your blog today was hard to read, brutal truth for most of us in cancer world. We each wear this disease in a different way, as do our caregivers. I have to remember that I'm going through a process, a journey, if you will. To guage where I am, I use the Kubler-Ross description of response to death, dying and stressful situations, particularly situations where I feel a loss of control. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and lastly, Acceptance.

I'm reminded of an old-timer in a twelve step program. We nicknamed him "Wild Bill". Bill rode his Harley to meetings and his grey hair was long, in a ponytail down his back. His Johnny Cash face was wrinkled and tanned from many hours riding that Harley up and down the Pacific Coast and far into the desert where he would sleep when he was tired. His clear, bright blue eyes could stare holes through you and frequently did. Behind the eyes was a compassionate and totally self-contained man who would spend hours with a new person, patiently leading, teaching.

We were having a smoke following the meeting, Bill pulling on a unfiltered Camel, when a new man approached, intent on blurting his sorrows. The new man explained that he had lost his family to drinking, then house, job, car and self-respect. Bill listened carefully as the story unfolded for several minutes, culminating in the tearful statement, "I have just lost everything."

Bill's blue eyes twinkled for a moment, then a broad, cheerful smile came. "That's wonderful!" he said. "Now you have nothing more to lose."

In that statement, he summarized the true meaning of Acceptance.

"See", he explained, "all those things were gifts. Now that you no longer have them, there is rooom in your life for other gifts. Nothing, and I mean nothing is ever taken away. Something else, another gift, is always substituted. The challenge is to find the new gift. You never really owned the other gifts, they were just on loan. God never, ever, 'promised' you a damn thing"

I can't tell you how many times those words have helped me over many years. Thank you, Bill, wherever you are...and thank you Leroy.

Michael Lewis
Seattle

Sent by Michael Lewis | 4:14 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy - you are in my thoughts and prayers, and I have "adopted" you as a personal honoree for my current Team in Training marathon endeavor.

Sent by Art Ritter | 4:40 PM ET | 07-11-2007

I understand where your head is, Leroy - the can'ts really do stink. And even though I'm sure you know how to find the postives, make the best of things, etc., it doesn't change the fact that sometimes, you just want and need to bitch and moan. I think all of us here know that feeling, and it can be hard to find the right audience for these kind of complaints. Either people don't know what to say, or they insist you find the silver lining. I think that sometimes, it's okay just to be pissed off, even if it's just for a little while.

Sent by Gretchen Hoag | 5:43 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy, I haven't stepped into a rollercoaster since I was eleven. Forty pound backpack??? Dude, in Bagdad yes, the neighborhood no. Let's get a spin on this that says, you are walking, talking, writing, loving, seeing, hearing, yeah and still living. Love that part the best.

Sent by Pat Z | 6:20 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy, Those of us with the disease suffer enough, but thos with StageIV are in for a long rough ride. I have StageIV too, so I know exactly what you are saying. Cancer takes and takes, it never seems to give back. Yes, there are breaks, periods where you feel, well, almost normal. But you know you are not normal anymore. Cancer has taken that away for good, at least, for those of us with StageIV. I don't like being classified, or labeled, I never have, but now I am in this world and that other one, for good it seems. I have lost a step or two over time, but this has taken more than age, more than wear, it takes pieces of your Heart, your Will, in such insidious ways. I hate Cancer!!!! Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 8:47 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Hey Leroy,
Add these to your list:
Can't give up.
Can't stop encouraging others.
Can't stop being an example of a life well lived.
Can't stop all the people who read this blog from caring for me.
I'm sure we could all add a few more to your Can't List.
It is so rare that one person touches so many people so deeply. I CAN'T express to you how much you mean to us all.

Sent by Sandi Li | 10:07 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Thank you, Michael, for the Bill story and for sharing his words of wisdom. They are a good reminder that nothing that we have in this world is ours because we own or deserve to have it.

And thank you, Jan, for sharing Anne Rudloe's video. What comforting words from such an articulate and deep-thinking woman!

This blog, Leroy, is a rich, rich resource for life. Thank you again for doing it.

Sent by Sandra Shuler | 10:27 PM ET | 07-11-2007

Leroy,
I am fully aware of how you feel regarding your new limitations. You have led and extremely active "CAN DO" kind of life. Finding limitations must be like hitting a wall for you now. However, I do not believe that those limitations are real. I believe that your duties, so to speak, have just evolved into something else. Maybe you can't schlep a 50 pound weight around, but you have managed to get people together, talking, communicating about a horrible illness that weighs far more than 50 pounds around our necks.
I suppose some folks would use the God opens doors , closes windows analogy, I prefer to think of it as a shift in priorities...
Thanks for all that you do to carry all of us thru this time in our lives.You are far more needed than you realize.

Sent by Liz Zimmerman | 5:25 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Let's hope for an exceedingly LONG and extremly SLOW decline.

You have already touched so many people with this blog. I think you are refining not declining.

Sent by Jill | 7:06 AM ET | 07-12-2007

I have been reading your blog w growing dismay and sorrow. It all seemed so unfair, yet as a fellow cancer patient I know many, many things are simply NOT fair.

Today I received a call I thought I would never receive. My internal medicine physician called because my oncologist is out of town on a much needed & deserved vacation. I had a PET/CT Scan done on Tuesday...she called laughing and crying & giddy...the report showed I have no residual cancer in my body. I who had stage 4 colorectal cancer w inoperable livers mets...had beat the odds. I cried and laughed and thanked God for this blessing. I ask her "what is the game plan from here?" She said, "I have no idea Cherie, I have never had a miracle before." I know this will begin rounds of tests and tests of tests but I never ever thought I would feel this way or that I would now have so many choices about my future. All I know for sure is tomorrow is my husband's b-day and we are taking my son, his wife and our 3 year old granddaughter to the beach (beautiful condo on the Sea of Cortez on our annual vacation)...this year we have MUCH to celebrate. You will remain in my prayers because in this age of much science and theory, God still works in mysterious ways.

Sent by Cherie Brown | 7:13 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Thank you, Michael Lewis, for that great big gift of a story (and Bill.)

Sent by Nancy O | 9:51 AM ET | 07-12-2007

During the 1st year of my mom's stage IV Breast Cancer her list of "can't" was fairly short, can't walk without a cane and can't work (she loved that one). Of course the list of what she didn't feel like doing because she felt so sick from the chemo was much much longer. During the 2nd year of her illness that all changed and her list of "can't" far outweighed her "can" list practically overnight. In her private moments I'm sure she mourned those things but the majority of the time she told me she concentrated on the fact that she still COULD spend time with her children and share in our lives and that was what was most important to her. I'd be willing to bet, Leroy, that you are still able to do those things that you hold close to your heart and at the end of each day that is what is important.

Sent by SA | 10:20 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy,
I never cease to be amazed how your blog resonates with all of us. I just read over the comments contributed to the blog and I feel such a unity with this community.
Recently, (4 days ago) at my appointment with my oncologist I heard for the first time the phrase "palliative treatment". I wasn't startled or reactive to the phrase but it did sink in deeply. Yes, the new treatment, the use of radiation to attack an ovarian tumor that threatens my bladder, is not curative. The goal is to relive pain and to prevent trouble.
At a community function recently, I bumped into a mother of a friend of mine who I knew had struggled in her recovery from a kidney cancer last year. She said she was fine and doing well and asked about me how I was doing. I relied that I was still in treatment. She startled me with her response "Well, that gets old". Well I suppose it does get old but I'm still here and I am still able to do many of the things that give me joy. The reality for us with a stage IV cancer is that we all know that one day we will hear that phrase "There isn't more we can do". So being able to do something is often not only a "good deal" or but a "damn good deal".
Until that time I will continue to do what I can and to enjoy things and saying "no thank you" to those things I just don't want to do. That is liberating. My time is precious and my time with loved ones is very precious. While I slowly recovery my energy with each chemo treatment, I start planning on how I want to use the returned energy. As I regain my strength I focus on what I can do and enjoy planning on doing those things. In Spanish one says "Manana es de nadia" which roughly translates to ???No one owns tomorrow. So knowing this I will make the most of every good day.

Sent by Susan M | 11:04 AM ET | 07-12-2007

Dear Leroy,
I like the idea of the PT evaluation... just to give you a strength maintenance program if there are options. And I don't think you (or cancer patients in general) are the only ones facing a growing list of "don't do's". I'm 49, I have rheumatoid arthritis, and since the age of 34 the list has been growing. I ran 20 miles a week for 20 years and then one knee said "NO". I started lap swimming at that point, for 10 yrs, until one of my shoulders voted "NO". Now I cross country ski like a fiend, when my energy allows, and some hiking and some gym machines. You get the picture. Some of the "NOs" are about not being 19 anymore. It might be a more loving and compassionate way to look at your own limitations, not as failings but as part of the process of having an (extended past 40) lifespan.
Take good care - I love your wisdom and never miss a day on the blog.

Sent by Shawna Ramsey, Reno, NV | 3:45 PM ET | 07-12-2007

Leroy,
I have bone mets from lung cancer all through my ribs, spine and pelvis. Shortly after I was diagnosed, I had severe lower back pain. My oncologist started me on once a month infusions of Zometa which rebuilds/strengthens the bones. You might check and see if your doctors think this would help you as well. It made a dramatic improvement for me - months of no pain at all.

Sent by John | 2:48 PM ET | 07-13-2007

Since being diagnosed with a brain tumor on Aug. 24.I have had many people that do not know me tell me I can't do some thing, even the Physical Therapist with out meeting me,decided that 2 scheduled sessions. should be postponed,until later when I would be stronger. Even my wife, tends to hold me back from doing things, I believe I could do without any danger to my self (her main concern as translated from my doctor's concerns)These activities mostly have to do with taking a walk around the house/neighborhood
Good luck on the new treatment!
I am now settled into the chronic treatment regimen of MRI followed by results (6 months apart)which while I still feel pretty normal (pre-diagnosis)is kind of hard for my family to deal with esp. my daughter.It is heartening to me to hear how much better I look than expected whe meeting someone for the first time in a long time.
Regards,
Brett
Meacham
bmeacham@canby.com

Sent by Brett | 2:08 PM ET | 07-14-2007