Well, like you said, we all knew. Arrgh! Joyce

Sent by Joyce Smith | 7:20 AM ET | 09-10-2007

I know, I know...it's not a sprint it's a marathon. Sigh.

You are a better man than me L. I still struggle with my lack of control and very slowed paces. I'm afraid to let go.

I hope your soreness improves daily and those next scans won't be "out of control".

Hugs,

Lori

Sent by Lori Levin | 7:54 AM ET | 09-10-2007

I was struck with the matter-of-factness of your post this morning, and how it must read to someone new to the blog, or new to cancer world. It's rather amazing what we can get used to- what becomes routine in this situation. I imagine that to someone who has never been in our situation, or been closely involved with someone who is, it could seem unimaginable to wait for tumors to get bigger, or to expect to see more tumors in a few months.
You're right Leroy. There is nothing else to do but to wait, and to deal with it when you and your doctors know more. To do anything else but be patient in the situation would only make life more difficult. To fret, be impatient, try to move things faster would only increase the level of stress. So, you wait for your scans, I wait till Thursday. Then, Rx in hand this time, I'll go for the MRI which, I'm hopeful, will prove that I don't have liver mets. Until then, I just live my life, as do we all.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 7:55 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Hi Leroy,

Patience there! Waiting isn't easy, especially when you suspect the outcome will be anything but optimal. In this "race" perhaps slow and steady is better, longer time to the finish.

My sister had labs drawn, and there is a significant rise in her liver function studies. Of course, I know what can indicate. So, now there is waitful watching at this end as well.

Sent by Sue Chap | 8:11 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Dear Leroy, I really identify with what you are saying today. I too was more in control and have had to learn patience. At this time I am optimistic because the Dr. says my lesions in the brain and back are very small and the raditation should help. I dislike going every day for treatment and haven't gotten relief yet and instead have headaches but when things are time limited (till the end of this month) my husband always told me you can get through it. Thanks again for sharing.

Sent by Vicki (FL) | 8:50 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Leroy:

As I've posted before, the only way Burge got through the waiting was to change worlds and become the turtle, including pulling his neck in and staying safe in his shell. No news, no political reading,just enjoyable TV programs (mindless as some were) staying in the "zone". I think that gave him a sense of control. He treated things like we were on a vacation where his mind was occupied by pleasant things.

Now we all know that was a false world, but I think it helped him cope. He wasn't giving up, he was just on a different path for a few hours.

Now that Burge is gone, I find myself looking for that "zone". I've change TV shows to something different, I'm spending every minute in the yard digging up plants that should have been divided 10 years ago,...just trying to pack the time with everything I can find just get through the time until "normal" returns. Unfortunately, just like those of you with cancer, normal no longer exists, but like the hare, I'm trying anything to keep moving. Perhaps I need a lesson from the turtle before I burn out, but it's so hard to stop and think about all that has happened. I just don't want too.

Nikki

Sent by Nikki | 9:28 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Oh, Leroy, this one hits me where I live.

The waiting is an awful kind of nether life. It's not real life, which to me is most often measured in accomplishments, even if it's just getting the grocery shopping done and filling the car with gas. Cross 'em off my list. But it's tougher to get anything accomplished now, especially when I feel like crap all the time.

For a year I wished for the day I'd be done with chemo. Now I'm done. Huzzah! But I still feel sick. I don't feel well yet. It's so slow. Maddeningly slow. So now accomplishments are tiny. Getting a book finished. Watching a movie. Getting the dishwasher unloaded. These were nothing to me before and now they've turned into my life.

I looked at the calendar again today, checking on when my next MRI is scheduled. It's next week. Then another week before I know what it says. I'm deeply afraid the cancer will return, like it did last time. I know somewhere in my psyche that it will return eventually. Is it now? I'll just have to wait and see.

But what a nasty thing to have to look forward to.

I mentioned a great book I just read, "The Anatomy of Hope," and he said to have hope you must have a goal/a vision for the future. But I'm guessing it must be more than waiting for your next scans.

Sent by Jordis | 9:42 AM ET | 09-10-2007

I have always been a planner. I like to plan my day, my weeks, my year. I'm still trying to adjust to Cancer and how that planning cannot be done in the same manner. I am trying to slow down although inside I want to rush through this and get Cancer done with(not really possible).

Today is my first day "off" in a long time. I am out of the hospital and do not have to see and doctors today. I know I will be stuck at the clinic all day Tuesday. All of a sudden I want this day to last forever.

Sent by Jill | 9:57 AM ET | 09-10-2007

So Leroy-- What are you doing while you are patiently waiting? (You may have already addressed this.)Are you reading something great? Do you socialize alot? What activities keep you going?
And,thanks again for your wonderful openness. Sending positive thoughts your way,
Nancy

Sent by Nancy Elzinga | 9:59 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Good Morning Leroy and All,

Leroy, your post this morning clearly states the main issues I have been struggling with since my diagnosis of stage 4 uterine cancer last October. I was accustomed to working independently and setting my own schedule as a nursing consultant, I was in charge. No more, and that is really difficult for me to accept. Some days, at least the top layer of me thinks it has accepted the fact that my doctor is in charge, that I am the patient and I will abide by his orders. But the deeper layers of me still are not sure which way they are going. They still want to run away from this Cancer, but there is no place to go. I guess that is why it is so hard to try to get away from this disease, there is just no place to go. So we stay and we learn to fight, to wait, and at times to grieve. But thanks to you, Leroy. We also learn: to HOPE, to SMILE, to LAUGH and to LOVE, TOGETHER. We may not be in control but we are not alone on this journey through Cancer World.

A special thanks to ALL of you for accompanying me on this journey. And a special thanks to LEROY for making the journey possible! God Bless!

Eileen Pruyne
Charlotte

Sent by Eileen Pruyne | 9:59 AM ET | 09-10-2007

I had an odd moment this morning. I was in the shower and the whiny me said, "I don't want to go to work. I don't feel well." On one side of my shoulder, my Mommy/Angel said, "Tomorrow is another day. Stay home today. Maybe you will feel better tomorrow." The Adult/Devil on my other shoulder said, "There is no tomorrow. Today is all you have. And you probably won't feel any better tomorrow anyway." So I got out of the shower, dressed and went to work.

I feel like Peggy Lee; "Is that all there is?" I think I might be having a cranky day today.

Sent by Stephanie Dornbrook | 10:23 AM ET | 09-10-2007

I was told of my recurrance on March 1st, then time stood still until my surgery in the middle of April. What was upsetting is that it seems no one talks to you. The world continues on, our cancers do what cancers do, but we just wait for the plan. Your right that patience thing is the hardest. Thoughts are with you Leroy

Sent by Rita | 10:29 AM ET | 09-10-2007

This is sort of a weird question - but I'd love to know more about how you are living your life in between scans, procedures, etc. Your blog is very focused on the cancer itself and your thoughts and insights about it... but I'm trying to imagine life as you must be leading it - are you well enough to go out and about, see friends, enjoy the changing weather, go to the movies, or are you mostly confined (for lack of a better, less archaic word)?...I follow your blog not because I have been personally touched by cancer but because I have not, and I want to develop more understanding, insight, empathy... I hope this question doesn't seem inappropriate or insensitive!

Sent by Jenny | 10:43 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Leroy - thanks for your daily post, i take a min to read it everyday and find it helps me understand what cancer patients are going thru. My father was diagnosed w/stomach cancer (stage IV) in April and we just found out that the chemo didn't work for him. All we can do now is keep him comfortable and enjoy his company while we still can. As a family member affected by this terrible disease i thank you for for commitment to post something even on those days you probably don't feel well.

Sent by Heather C | 10:44 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Howdy, All!

If patience is, indeed, a virtue, we here comprise one of the most virtuous populations I've had the pleasure to know!

Today, this patient patient is on her way out to plant some "sub-zero pansies;" mayhaps one of the best gardening cons of the season...? We're told they'll bloom for the rest of the fall -- and again in the spring! Leap of Faith or Gardening Insanity??

Today is probably one of the last gentle rain days we'll be able to garden in this fall. Something very special about gardening in the rain! Something planful and patient in the planting.

May all the healthful seeds we plant remain eternally healing.

BTW, I'm one of those who secretly sided with the tortoise *blinks*

Be well, and stay hydrated!!

-dp

Sent by dp | 10:57 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Dear Leroy,
Patience is a virtue, right? Its hard to be a patient, patient. I had to look that up to make sure those words are spelled the same, its weird that they are the same word, im not even gonna go into what Webster's describes as patient. When Im well I take summers off, this summer they see something weird so I have a CT scan in 2 days of my lungs, xrays in my case, are pretty useless hence the CT scan, and Im pretty sure what the xray shows is where my doc put the drain in my chest. I had a small window this summer to travel so I took off to Central America and dodged 2 hurricaines, and a roadblocking strike with machete weilding teachers that wanted a raise, I never saw any of that just got a little rain from Felix, and my friends say that wow, how could you even deal...and im thinkin' thats nothing even close to living with cancer. I met an older guy that knew my family and when he needed to get from La Ceiba to Tegucigalpa he went by burro and it took like 2 weeks or months I cant remember now, and I thought wow what a patient man and so hard on the body. when Im on an airplane over 2 hrs Im in so much pain usually I need a wheelchair at my destination just to get off the plane. I try to do as much as I can when I can, non cancer friends/fam, dont understand that I feel the clock is always ticking. I went to Austin for cancer camp for young adults, I desperately needed to feel not so alone. What was great is that if any of us were sick or needed rest etc. we never had to explain, no backstory necessary. It was such a relief. My anxiety is not really what the results are in my case is the anxiety of taking the tests, I dont like being in tubes and having my blood levels checked every 3 months, but when I go to the hospital I see the suffering of others and my cancer which I have had twice is slow growing and I see it more as a chronic condition, I thank God and pray for those who are suffering way worse than me. I get so angry that Im on meds that keep me alive and the leash to my docs, sometimes I just want to run go somewhere that no one knows me and forget what has happened and not take my pills but realistically that would be suicide and Im a survivor for a reason I just havent figured out that yet. I just wanted to let you know Im out here reading your blogs. And thank you for posting them and for all the other readers I wish you the best of health.
sincerely
Leela

Sent by Leela | 11:02 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Hey Leroy,
Isn't it funny how we seem to become passengers in our own body. Maybe we always were, just thought we had control. I am am a year out of radiation and still clear, but as I try to get into shape, as you said, my body doesn't necessarily do what I try to demand of it. It's definitely a clean slate. It lets me know what it wants to do and then relays to me what I can expect. Kinda sucks, but, there is still communication. Maybe once it completely heals, we'll, (the mind and body that is), will become more sympatico. It is a long, slow journey. It may be tough to agree with it now, but thank god it is long, slow and arduous. It gives us a chance to steal those precious moments.
Stay safe, stay strong,
Lance

Sent by Lance Carlson | 11:19 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Good morning Leroy,

I know this is somewhat off topic; but, I wanted to share a small unexpected jerk back into cancer world that happened to me yesterday during NFL football watching. Two years ago I turned from a casual viewer, into a Sunday-Monday regular, when I joined the office weekly pool. Last night, the game to watch was the Dallas Cowboys vs. the New York Giants. It was a high scoring game filled with many highs and many lows (sometimes both on the same play). For the record, the Patriots come first, next the Phila. Eagles, and then all others. So, this was my third game of the day, and I was kind of half reading bits of the Sunday paper at the same time. All of a sudden my ears picked up a color snippet about "tumor." Tumor? I had to backup and give it a look. It turns out that the Giants have a wide receiver named Amani Toomer. That's right, Toomer, as in tumor. Oh, I thought, how horrible it must have been for him to go through childhood. And how ironic that he is a wide receiver, a position known for speed and tenacity.

Now, for non- football fans, I've selected a few lines from the Wikipedia description: "Wide receivers...are among the fastest and most agile players in the game...First and foremost, the wide receiver's job is to catch passes from the quarterback. On passing plays, the receiver attempts to avoid, outmaneuver, or simply outrun defenders...Some receivers are perceived as the deep threat because of their speed, while others may be possession receivers known for not dropping passes and converting third down situations...Well-rounded receivers are noted for blocking defensive backs in support of teammates in addition to their pass-catching abilities." I'm thinking, how close to defining cancers is that? Cells that manage to progress as far as possible, either quickly and aggressively or slowly and steadily. They are dedicated to 'scoring' no matter what defenses are put in their way. They are among the most difficult players (oops, cells) to contain. So, there you have it, a perfectly rainy Sunday afternoon, perfect for at-home game watching turned into another cancer moment.

On the positive side yesterday, how about that Randy Moss?

Sent by Sheara | 11:40 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Leroy,

For some reason you sound to me as if you have adjusted or accommodated to something that you hadn't before. A new lifestyle, perhaps? A new sense of yourself? I don't know but I detected a peacefulness that hasn't been there recently. If I'm right, I'm glad.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 11:55 AM ET | 09-10-2007

Good morning Leroy....just a hello...I'm chuckling; I actually sided with the tortoise, being a natural slowpoke. I like to take it easy, I don't get high on stress or speed. I like to watch the flowers unfold and the sun set. I am fortunate that I am considered *different* enough that I can do all that (although it comes at a price). Today is all we have
Hugs

Sent by Alycia Keating | 12:04 PM ET | 09-10-2007

I don't feel like racing, but I guess your are right. Leroy, it hardly seems fair, when you need all your strength to fight, it is not there. Lonely trail, this race with cancer. Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 12:09 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Dear Leroy,

I am sorry to hear that you are still feeling pain from the after effects of your procedures. As far as the "Limbo" period, I don't think anyone of us is ever spared from that. I still suffer from anxiety with a conscious awareness every day that my husband is terminally ill. There are days when I write in and profess to have gained strength to accept the situation, which is probably on one of my good days, when I truly believe myself. But, most of the time I am still very weak and terribly sad and afraid.

I would like to make a statement without offending anyone and I am going to do it because I consider this blog as a family a "safe place"

When posting our thoughts on this blog everyone refers to " Living with Cancer " I tend to disagree with that title. I feel that it should be "Existing with cancer " because right now I don't feel like this is living.........I feel more like my husband and I are existing...........we are so limited as to what we can and cannot do. Life is not normal. As you stated in your post we don't have a choice but to accept things as they are; and things are pretty rough. We all travel the same road and let's hope that it's still a long way ahead of us.

I hope your pain starts to subside and that your scans come out better than you anticipate. Be well my friend. I admire your strength.

Prayers to you and Laurie.

Sent by sasha | 12:28 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Leroy et al.....

I am struck by a couple thoughts here.....

First.. I am not so sure it is "slow and steady" that wins the race as much as persistence!

Next... stop being "patient"!!!

While you are waiting for the next scan or plan or procedure or what have you.....

LIVE LIFE!!!

Go after and do what ever you want and are able to do! If you can't do something due to physical issues... find something else to do!!

SMELL the roses!!

Find the positives in the life you still live and go for them!

Of course there is always the stress and such of waiting for the next scan or precedure or what have you... but in between

LIVE!!!

If you allow the cancer to completely control your life and thoughts.. it will do just that.. it will destroy you from the inside both physically and emotionally

So just don't forget to LIVE!!

Sent by Ron Bye (NH) | 12:45 PM ET | 09-10-2007

"Patience", or "Patient"? I wrote to you all about that sometime last week. Leroy, I DO think that we all have had patience.
Is a long lifetime of Patience long enough for them to have at least come up with some new "causes and cures" instead of just lots and lots of new drugs and methods of treatment??
I think that this world has been very Patient with Cancer and the raising of funds for it all of these years. Keeping us always waiting, hoping, and yearning for some peace of mind - still waiting - - -
I have come to believe we need to put some pressure on the powers that be to spend some of the drug money on more research! Are they afraid that a cure MIGHT be found and they will all not be quite as rich as they are on all the treatment money?
Yes, I am bitter with the Medical Profession. I have not had a recurrance that I know of - yet -, but if I do, what is in store for me? MORE CHEMO!
Oh Leroy, I admire your patience.

Sent by J C R | 1:15 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Dear Mr. Sievers,

Just a quick note to say how much I admire your blog -- it's the best one on the Internet, and I just wanted to let you know that it's inspiring. I published an op-ed in the L.A. Times yesterday on cancer and politics and thought that perhaps you and some of your readers might be interested in it.

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/sunday/commentary/la-op-dalleck9sep09,0,720179.story?coll=la-sunday-commentary

Yours,
Matt

Sent by Matt | 1:27 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Yes, Life just keeps growing us up, doesn't it? I am glad you are now able to feel okay about no longer controlling your schedule. In my life, that idea is mere illusion, and while I know that, medical adventures are always instant refresher courses in the way that the universe (versus my little want-to-think-I-am-in-charge of something ego) works... It is heartening to read that you are finding mroe peace with the process of protecting your health. I hope that leaves you energy and glee for your favorite joys!

Sent by Sarah | 1:43 PM ET | 09-10-2007

I have a thought for Nikki. It is so obvious from all your emails how much you loved Burge. There are many people, some in long term marriages, that have never had such a love. And those people do not experience such a loss. You pay a terible price for knowing love but please remind yourself it was worth it. I know it was for you- I can tell from your posts. Burge is looking out for you and wants you to be happy- a return to normal may not be possible - yur normal is gone. But you an return to happiness.

Sent by Linda H. | 2:10 PM ET | 09-10-2007

It seems that the longer I deal with this disease the more patient I become, especially when it comes to scans. At first I couldn't stand the idea that I had to wait to see if things grew. I wanted to deal with any possible problems immediately. No such luck.

I don't get as panicky as I used to waiting for scan results, either. That's very nice.

I go in for a bone scan tommorrow. I'm not anxious about it. I hope that things will go well. If they don't, well, I'll deal with it.

To Ruth W.: Thanks so much for your support last week. It really helped.

Sent by Laurel M. Jones | 2:15 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Leroy
Please consider trial treatments. Maybe there is something that can slow all the cancers rather than just target one at a time.

Sent by Mary Scruggs | 2:16 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Nikki

Aren't you just exhausted from all you've been through? You wont escape, more tears will come. So be nice to yourself.

Love
Irene

Sent by Irene | 2:17 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Patience my eye! If I have time, I want to fill it. Between scans and therapy is our time to live and do what we can. Read a book, build a model, write a blog, or sweep the kitchen floor -while I am still able.

A year ago, I would not have imagined I could get satisfaction from a clean floor. It was just a chore. Now, it is an accomplishment. I deserve ice cream.

keep livin'
Gary

Sent by Gary Miller | 2:29 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Dear Leroy,

My mother has 2 more treatments left in a summer full of chemo for her third recurrence of colon cancer that went to her lungs. It is hell, and we can only pray there won't be any cancer when she is done. I don't even want to think about how quickly it might come back when she stops the chemo. Too scary right now. Now going there. She is not the type of person to read this blog, or comment - I do that. What she does is joke and kid with the doctors and nurses, and calls her oncologist by his first name. They kid each other, and he recently went to Hawaii and brought her back (as I am sure he did many others) a little fresh water pearl bracelet. I know I'm rambling.... Sorry. Anyway, to make a long story short, she had my brother bring back from Florida, a gift for him, her oncologist, - a shell - a Chambered Nautilus, just because she thinks it's a pretty shell, but which prompted me to read that poem again by Oliver Wendell Holmes. I think that poem is so relevant for cancer patients and the people who love them. It really hit home, and "somewhat" ties in with your "tortoise and hare" blog today, because the little cephalopod, the Argonauta, must build slowly, and well, but as it does, it seals off the past and moves forward. I'm going to add the last stanza here:

"Build thee more stately mansions, Oh my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave they low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!!!

I can't tell you what that poem means to me, and I just wanted to share it. I also want to reiterate my deepest respect for every member of the community here, and say that I pray for you all daily, for both healing and comfort. God Bless.

Sent by Connie E. | 3:33 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Leroy,
I have written you a few times and share so much of what you are going through. I have been fighting stage 4 lung, liver and colon cancer for the last year. They just discovered new growth of the tumor inside my colon which means it is not responding to chemo like the other parts of the tumor.

I have a blog- for friends and family but like you (but at a much smaller scale) have been surprised and encouraged by the community of people it has created from people I never knew prior to my cancer.

Your transparency is such an encouragement. I do hope that the spinal tumors shrink and the small lung tumors disolve and all those other circulating nastys looking for a home in your body get fried as well.

I often think of this journey is a little like Alice in Wonderland- we are always racing down another rabbit hole looking for answers.

Here is a link to my blog if you are interested in reading my Alice in Wonderland post:

http://donvalencia.com/?p=371

Blessings to you and the community that is a part of this blog that ase also fighting their own battles with cancer.

Sent by Don Valencia | 3:33 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Hi Leroy,

I hear a different tempo in your words today. If you were playing a musical instrument, I would say you've shifted into a different key.

Well, I've always rooted for the tortoise. (I enjoy the rabbit's ability to run fast, always wished I could.) But the tortoise appeals to me because it always has a place in which to take cover when necessary. Sometimes I really just want to hide. Put my head under the covers, stay there until it's safe enough to come out.

Glad you are giving your body a bit of a break. You and Laurie take care.

peace,

Kim

Sent by Kim Blankenship | 3:46 PM ET | 09-10-2007

WAITING is the name of the game! Waiting for the next scan, next symptom, next appointment, etc. I always "ran my own show" and now I feel that I can hardly take care of the main issues. It is difficult to think too far ahead anymore. Cancer gets in the way of everything. Having patience to this point is not easy, but no choice but to adjust.

My warmest thanks to Leroy and the rest of my cancer family!

Love
Betty

Sent by Betty Lewis | 3:49 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Nikki, far be it from me to tell you how you "should" grieve, but if you're not already participating, a grief support group or a counselor may be really helpful in coping with your loss, and being able to slow down, and not need to keep active all of the time to keep your pain at bay. Consider yourself hugged.
Stephanie, next to the word "fortitude" in the dictionary is your picture. I know how difficult it is to go to work when you're not feeling well, and hope that you're not pushing yourself too hard to do that. Hugs.
Everyone else.....GROUP HUG!

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 3:55 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Leroy,

Reading your blog, and the comments you inspire, has helped to give me the courage to keep trudging forward on these numb feet.

I've been a lurker, but I just wanted to chime in, and thank you for all you have written and said.

Sent by Mike J | 3:58 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Cancer World. My brother had cancer last year. He had a malignant tumor in the left ventricle of his heart. What it caused him to suffer with was congestive heart failure. That sent me to the Internet, where I found a Web site called chfpatients.com. I learned that there's a "CHF World," not unlike Cancer World. I'm sure there are Renal Failure and Stroke Worlds, too. Nevertheless, I agree with you that somehow Cancer World is the worst. It's scarier. Why do you suppose that is?

Sent by Marion | 4:20 PM ET | 09-10-2007

This blog is such a haven. It feels like a real place. I'm waiting for results and am a complete nutcase. Leela, your writing is so beautiful and graceful. Save every word. I'd love to see it between hardcovers. All of you are amazing.

Sent by Michele | 5:03 PM ET | 09-10-2007

you are an inspiration my brother

Sent by Dan Friend | 5:07 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Matt D's LA Times Op Ed piece is powerfully stated. I would urge anyone who reads this piece to send it to candidates w a note that indicates the ways you've been impacted by cancer, letting them know that you plan for this issue to be a decider for you.

Sent by Sheara | 5:16 PM ET | 09-10-2007

You're amazing! Your daily blog always capture the cancer experience in the most poignant way for me and so many others. You have validated my thoughts and feeling with your writing capturing every nuance of this experience no matter what gender you are, type of cancer or career one has.

Being born and having grown up in NY, efficiency was everything in my family.
My uncle Lawrence M. Rheingold even invented an Internal Combustion Engine (ICE) patented in the U. S. Trademark and Patent Office # 4,043,301 on August 23, 1977. Known as the Rheingold Rotary Reciprocating Engine (3-R), it graced the cover of Science & Mechanics magazine in 1978 being not only described as ingenious, by the author of the article Bob Fendell, but declared as so admiringly simple (not one exotic component) according to a most respected Detroit engine consultant. It was further stated that it was baffling no one had thought of this in 100 years of patents but also that no one in Detroit would even have thought along these lines. General Motors wasn???t interested.. we all now know why and how we got into this war but that???s another story. Getting back to my response..

My husband used to say that my family was like a time and motion study in how everything should be done- with such precision and efficiency.
Cancer changes that and I too have learned to become more patient...Seeing the flip side of things, eking out as much life on each treatment as one can tolerate. And yes, I think the tortoise was right at least from where I'm now sitting, too.

All my best regards,

Sent by Janet Rheingold Nafissi | 5:41 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Leroy, Are you kidding about the tortoise? Surely everyone sided with him, didn't they? How else would the adage have been born??? (LOL)

Cancer sucks. Did anyone say that?

Have finished all chemo and feel better than I did before I had it, just about better than I have ever felt, I think. Everyone tells me how terrific I look, even younger! which is reason for another round or two. (Kidding)

Do I have to tell everyone and my own body that this is just BS? That cancer is still in there (lung) -- alive and well and waiting to say 'hello' when I have my next scan in Oct?

Honestly, I wish I felt and looked like crap. Then, truth would paint a picture. This present picture is utterly false. Ugliness lurks within, just waiting to rear its hideous head.

I take back that first part, about wishing I felt like crap. I am thankful I don't. But none of this is true. The truth is Stage 4 lung cancer.

Cancer sucks. Did anyone say that?

Sent by joanne | 6:00 PM ET | 09-10-2007

I hate the waiting. I'm an action person, type A+, whatever you want to call it. I make plans, figure it out, take action, get it done.

Very early in the game, my husband bought me an electronic time waster. OK, it's a PDA but I mostly use the games. I can spend the 4 hours at chemo rather painlessly. I can emulate a patient person while in the waiting room. I can also get all wrapped up in bubble breaker or solitaire while waiting for scan results.

I keep wondering, when it's time for hospice, will I be sitting there in bed, waiting for death, meanwhile trying to beat my old score.

Sent by Karen D. | 6:12 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Waiting. And waiting. I know it is hard for the cancer patient -- they don't ask for this disease and they fight it as best they can.

But consider the waiting for the spouse, the significant other - the being healthy and yet waiting for some way of being able to plan something as simple as a haircut -- something that used to be so easy.

It's not only the cancer patient that is suffering.

Sent by Sandra | 7:29 PM ET | 09-10-2007

I'm a tortoise kind of girl. Slow and easy, however, I would like a hare kind of cure for cancer. Love to you all.

Sent by Teresa in WV | 8:09 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Waiting is always hard, but living the now is more important. Take enjoyment from your present strengths. I thank you for all your postings; they have been so very meaningful to me.

Sent by Ginger Dykstra | 9:55 PM ET | 09-10-2007

To Sasha and Nikki too
I feel how hard it is for you right now, and i know the things you and yr husband can enjoy are scarce, but try to find ways to rejoice together. I'm sure you do, but i remember so vividly when my husband was dying. Everything became black and white it seems, when he was feeling poorly, but color came back into life when he felt better. and then he died and i was so scared of going down that road. Just know some of us have been there and our hearts are with you. Love to all from Sherri in Texas, BC dx 4-06

Sent by Sherri Eggleston | 10:38 PM ET | 09-10-2007

Wow! Todays blog is what is on my mind. I am in the wait and see mode. I am also now faced with options. Before I was told what had to be done. Now 4th line Chemo is one of several options. I have to be the researcher now. With the help of my doctors, I will hopefully make the right decision.

Hang on everbody

Sent by Betty in Germany | 2:14 AM ET | 09-11-2007

Good luck, Leroy. I'm thinking of you. I'm currently waiting for some blood test results and I'm not very good at waiting myself.

Sent by Lisa Lindstrom | 2:17 AM ET | 09-11-2007