How astute. That reminds me of something I've pondered just being in the "normal world." No matter what happens to you, life maintains its rhythm. It's as if we're a pebble skimming along a vast ocean. Those waves emanating from us seem rather significant, no?

I have pondered my contribution to the ocean of life ad nauseum, until I just accepted the fact that life will always be bigger than I am, that it is meant to be that way, and all that's left is to joyously dance with the other waves in the ocean and abandon myself to its dizzying freedom.

Sent by Leonard from Alabama | 7:55 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy:
On the Tree of Life we are all leaves that will eventually fall when our season is over. Some leaves are deep in the center of the tree, sheltered from stormy weather and leaf miners. Those leaves last longer, but they only see- other leaves. You, on the other hand, are living on the outer edge of the tree. Yes, you are exposed to a great deal more dangers, but the view is awesome. Blue sky, people passing, life's storms, are all there for you to see.
Which would you rather be, Leroy? Would you trade your life for that of an inside leaf?
Love, Don

Sent by Don Winslow | 7:58 AM ET | 11-29-2007

There's an amazing popultation living in cancer world. I wonder if there should be "cancer colonies"(like leprosy colonies)so that this special interest group could mix and mingle in their colony town square or coffee shop, on hammocks and lounge chairs, to socialize. I wonder, whould "fitting in" with the general pop. make for a brighter day, or does seeing progress that makes us more like people in the "normal world". I bet that overall the percentage of "quality people" is greater in cancer world! And some may fall into the quality group because their cancer has turned their life around. Anyway, I hope you have a good day TODAY.

Sent by Susan | 8:03 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Hi Leroy,

This time of the year, when it can get so dreary outside, is probably the worst time to feel sick and I know how isolating that can be. I know that when the last drain is removed and that pump is out, you can focus on feeling more "normal" and let the recovery really begin. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your loved ones daily.

Lianne

Sent by Lianne Friedman | 8:14 AM ET | 11-29-2007

I feel the split also and have been thinking I guess it's time to decorate my house for Christmas. It seems the only time I get out is to Dr. appointments but maybe I will get the all clear to drive tomorrow - I haven't felt safe because of my dizziness not that I have been forbidden. I want my freedom back! I'm sure yours will come soon Leroy - don't give up the faith and we are all pulling for you. God Bless.

Sent by Vicki (FL) | 8:36 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Dear Leroy ~ Good morning. An' it does sound like you are "awakening" to the rythym of the World once again! How wonderful it was to read your thoughts this morning. Your world of Journalism is calling to you and that seems so healthy and such a good sign. You have not lost touch with the "outside world". You have remained VERY MUCH a part of it all through your horrific ordeals! Think you are just realizing just how much. This is all so good and I love reading your writings and thoughts. Keep it up, please!

Sent by J C R | 8:46 AM ET | 11-29-2007

I remember how that split between worlds feels. It's a very lonely feeling to be housebound and no longer a part of the daily parade outside the four walls. I spent months alone and unable to drive after the various surgeries I'd had for breast cancer. I was truly in deep water emotionally after my fourth surgery in eleven months about this time in 2004. It was hard being stuck in the house again, and not being able to prepare for Christmas, participate in the parties, etc. It does get better, however. I know that recovery can be frustrating, and that improvements can seem to be glacial in coming, but the nature of our bodies is to heal. The trick is to allow it to do so, and not get so impatient with the process as to try to push past what the body can tolerate and backslide. I wish all of those who are recovering a full recovery, loving and supportive care from family and friends and the patience that is needed for that to happen.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 8:46 AM ET | 11-29-2007

A sense of reflecting upon what's going on in the "normal" world is in your message today. No one lives in the "normal"world...there probably is no such thing as the "normal" world...the "normal" world lives in our mind's eye of the way it used to be and how we wish it was now. "Normal" is how we describe a temporary state in our lives that did have some predictability but was also full of ups, downs and changes. We tended to focus on the predictable parts and just accepted the ups, downs and changes as a part of our "normal" lives.

I believe that I have a "normal" life. I just happen to have encountered some significant and life-altering ups, downs and changes caused by cancer. I understand your message today and I believe that some years from now, you'll reflect upon these traumatic and life-altering times as a part of the "normal" life of Leroy Sievers.

I realize that there are things you would much rather be able to do...your work, your travels, being fully active... BUT I also believe that what you do each day for us is SO-O-O much more important at this time than anything your could possibly contemplate. Maybe you think that you don't live in the "normal" world as you remember it to be, perhaps that's true, BUT you live in OUR world and we are so grateful that you came our way!!!

Blessings and prayers.

Sent by Al Cato | 8:48 AM ET | 11-29-2007

You are so right (again) LeRoy. I was talking about the same thing yesterday but from the other side. I was mentioning how guilty I felt for complaining that the "regular world" was too overwhelming these days as I'm still not feeling too well but I'm not really part of the "cancer world" in terms of activity as my treatment is over it seems. Even though treatments and such were awful and exhausting, it was a different kind of stress where I was the center of it all.

I guess what I get from all of this is no matter what world you are walking in at the moment you are a part of the world and it is your thoughts and actions that make the difference. Ok, maybe that sounds stupid but for myself, if I don't try to make lemonaide out of lemons I just feel sour. Ha!

I hope your pump and drain are removed next week and you can focus on a new phase. I know that will make all the difference in "your world".

Hugs,

Lori

Sent by Lori | 8:48 AM ET | 11-29-2007

I am straddling both worlds too and somehow Cancer World seems richer, deeper, more real. Not sure why, perhaps it just seems to matter so much more what happens there. Peace on us.

Sent by Kathleen | 9:01 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Don Winslow
I have not heard it put any better!
God bless
David White

Sent by David White | 9:13 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy, I have not posted in quite some time, as the rhythm's of my own life have kept me busy. However, I read your blog each day and keep you and your readers in my prayers constantly. Keep plugging along with your recovery and know that, this too shall pass. Blessings!

Sent by Karen | 9:15 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy,
You have mirrored by thoughts so eloquently today. Now I get what has been 'eating at me' lately.
I feel others are defining me by my cancer. While I am not fond of this, are they really wrong???

Hang in there Leroy - thoughts & prayers are sent your way on a daily basis.

Sent by lisa | 9:23 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy,

The tone is solemn of today's post and that saddens me.

I can remember 2 years ago, when my sister was diagnosed. I lived with a calendar,steno pad in my hand, and cell phone in ear. An attorney was coming to draw up her will and power of attorney, witnesses were needed, and suddenly dad wanted to make sure his paperwork was all in order too. The funniest memory I have of that time was taking my sister home from the hospital, everyday meant another couple of thousands of dollars she didn't have, and being ill prepared for home care. I was on my cell phone using an earbug, my dad was talking to me thinking I was I talking to him, my beau was wheeling my sister out one door, I was heading with dad out another. The conversation was setting up things like a suction machine, catheters, gloves, dressings, and I all could do was laugh to keep from crying in public. And at that point was were not concerned about cost. I was juggling her schedule, my schedule, making tables for my dad and I so we knew exactly what we were doing, where we supposed to be and at what time. We even tag teamed trips, I would do one leg, he the next. What constitutes "regular" for some is so very very different for others. I could not or would not go anywhere without my cellphone.

Keep thinking ahead, Leroy. Try to look past right this minute. Bundle up and stick you nose out to get a whiff of fresh crisp air. If you have snow, throw a snowball.

More importantly, take care of yourself.

Sent by Sue Chap | 9:27 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Is there such a thing as being "NORMAL"? Even if a person is not in cancer world do they not worry about what is going on inside their bodies? About every ache and pain and wondering if it means there is something going on inside there. Or after going to the doctor for a check-up and getting a good report but then wondering on the way home....DID THE DOCTOR MISS ANYTHING? So, I have to wonder....is anything ever really normal for anyone????? Just a little something to ponder on. God Bless you all today.

Sent by Teresa in WV | 9:44 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Leonard???s response (#1) made me think of a conversation I had with a friend a couple of days ago. I was saying something about how hard it is getting back in to the river of life and how odd the holidays seem this year, and she said ???Look, you can mourn and sit shiva in the middle of the river for as long as you want or need, but remember that the river is continuing to flow around you all the time.???

Sometimes people say just the right thing.

Sent by Bruce | 9:45 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Recognizing the normal world, makes you a part of it. Remember, just because you may feel sidelined, I would like to remind you that nothing is further from the truth. What you have done is merely shift from one occupation to another. And this new quest is hard work. More than any of us have asked for. Your contributions to the Cancer world, the medical world, the normal (whatever that is) world far exceed any contribution you could have made without having had cancer. Everyone of us are laying the groundwork for better cancer solutions for our next generations just as the cancer heroes before us had done. Can there be a better contribution to the future than this?

Sent by Kathy B. | 9:51 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy, perhaps as you continue in your recovery you'll see that the two worlds are not that far apart. Remember that today an untold number of people will find out they too have cancer. You are only as isolated as you want to believe. The hum of the world is happening here and you are a part of it.

Sent by Leah | 10:13 AM ET | 11-29-2007

But you are a part of the outside world. Reading your blog is a part of my morning routine -- at the office. You are serving a purpose; you are serving the rest of us a hearty dose of courage and tenacity every day. Thank you.

Sent by Linda | 10:17 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Dear Leroy,

I feel like JCR...you, of all people haven't lost touch with the outside world. You have touch so many of us with your great look on life. We are all with you through happy days and sad days. I am sending much of my love and caring thoughts to you today.

Sent by Gail Hunsberger | 10:24 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Maybe cancer world and normal world aren't so far apart, or perhaps normal world is more heterogeneous than you think it is, Leroy.

I don't have cancer or a major disability and yet the outward pattern of my life is much like yours at the moment. I'm 45, I don't work or have kids (both by choice), I am home most hours of most days, I rarely shop (and when I do shop for anything but groceries, it's online) ... I don't do most of the 'usual stuff' either -- and neither do many of my friends.

Not everyone who's hale and hearty is at the Mall, or working 9-5, or running around busily, even at this time of year, which strikes me as a season to hibernate and conserve energy ...

I wish you all wellness ...

Molly

Sent by M Wms | 10:47 AM ET | 11-29-2007

I identify with your comments. Sometimes I feel as if I'm now living someone else's life, not my own. Medically speaking I'm doing pretty well, which is saying a lot. My insurance coverage is very poor (I owe so much I cannot even imagine how to ever pay it all) and I'm losing my job tomorrow. Yesterday I was in the drugstore getting prescriptions refilled. I walked around the store until they were ready and I was aware by all of the Christmas things that I have no interest in this year. It didn't bother me that I can't afford anything. It just drove home the feeling that for years I've been naively taking health and financial security for granted.
How do you feel about snow? Some hate it (if they have to shovel it) but others enjoy its beauty. The leaves may be gone but snow will follow, and then Spring!!! The time of renewal. I'm hoping things will all fall into place for you by then. I want to see you and Ted Koppel on TV laughing together.

Sent by Joan F | 11:01 AM ET | 11-29-2007

The post about normal in the minds eye really resonates. When my husband was diagnosed with Parkinsons, I was scared and sad, my vision of our present and future hijacked. It forced me to develop mental agility to a rapidly changing circumstance. When my aunt died last year, I want to scream "stop" to the world--take note and mourn her passing. Can you imagine if the world did stop? Now that's scary! There is a comfort in the constant hum of the world going on its way even if I am sometimes nostolgic for what might be now or in the future.

Sent by heidi | 11:10 AM ET | 11-29-2007

I just returned from our annual Thanksgiving family vacation in Hawaii at the Mauna Kea. I drank several Mai Tai toasts to you. I remember your comments over a year ago about settling in on the beach with Mai Tais.
I received the results of the third post op PSA tests yesterday. The reading was zero which is good news. Next test is late February. That is my calendar.

Sent by John McCrillis | 11:19 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy,
Funny, I have been thinking on 'normal' for quite a bit now. What I figured out, for my husband and myself at least, is we are AT normal, it's just a 'new' or 'different' normal than it was a year ago prior to the beast entering our lives. It isn't a bad normal, just takes some getting used to, getting rid of the old ideas in our heads, learning new ways of doing things.
I'm just SO incredibly thankful my husband is here with me to be able to even MAKE such adjustments.

Sent by Diane | 11:19 AM ET | 11-29-2007

Hello Leroy, I'm just starting to get one big toe back into that "normal" world. Some of that hum and rhythm that I feel and see seems a little scary now. The idea of getting back differs from the reality of what I'm able to do, with both mental and physical stamina limitations. It's taking awhile for the brain to get back into high-tech gear. And, the view from cancer world makes me realize that some but not all of the holiday rushing around and the work deadlines are reasonable expectations for anyone, let alone those of us trying hard to heal.

Sent by Sheara | 11:21 AM ET | 11-29-2007

I doubt this comment will alleviate your feeling of separation from the non-cancer world, but I want to say THANKS so much for sharing your experience. I am 42 years old, and I have never had cancer nor known anyone with cancer. But I am very aware that before long I or someone I love will go though cancer world. Yet people do not seem to want to talk about this. So your blog is invaluable to me. I am sure you sometimes have a hard time figuring out what to say, but I find all of your posts valuable. I very much appreciate your work.

Sent by John (Bethesda, MD) | 11:30 AM ET | 11-29-2007

I know the way you feel...i'm a stage Iv
colorectal..2 surgery since march 07 and wating for a third one...if the chimo works...Boy doe's it change a guy's life..one day at a time.My prayers are for you Leroy...Thank's to your blog the guys at work understand a bit better what were fighting against...

Best of Wishes... Marcel

Sent by Marcel | 12:09 PM ET | 11-29-2007

I think the difference is perspective. Because we have cancer, we can now see life and death in a truer perspective. Before one has a life threatening illness, time looks different. Death is far ahead in the future or so we think. It is easy for us to continue to deny death and American culture is deeply into death denial to aid us in this perception. However, we are all on a finite timeline and those of us who always had a more metaphysical bent to things, probably always appreciated the finite aspect better. I can especially see how someone working for network news would be tempted into the denial state as you are are constantly tempted to look at the world through the eye of the camera or the television. So cancer has actually given you a truer perspective of life and death and that may not be such a bad thing. In other cultures the people address death a lot more directly as part of their daily lives and this is helpful as one ages and gets ill. For those who die young, many of them have never even had the opportunity to reflect on the true nature of the world and their lives and deaths. The "examined life" is far from theoretical for cancer patients! carol

Sent by carol irvin | 12:10 PM ET | 11-29-2007

You are so right about the tensions between the regular world and the cancer world. My husband and I had less than 24 hours in the regular world over Thanksgiving but it was priceless. It was the best Thanksgiving ever and that was the position of all of the family. Since Thanksgiving, I've been leading a "more normal life". My husband and I go places and do things. Wow! Of course, I've been off chemo for over 2 weeks now so my body is almost feeling normal. What's hanging over my head is tomorrow. If my test results are good and if I am not running a fever, I start back on chemo. I need to get going again but now I know just how bad I can feel after chemo. In any event, I know that I won't be feeling as well as I feel today. So, I go back into cancer world and drag my husband back with me. That part really bothers me.

Leroy, just keep focused on getting better and I will try and focus on staying in the regular world as much as I can.

Sent by Carol M | 1:24 PM ET | 11-29-2007

I think it took a bit of time before I realized I am on a completely different time line. I use different words, I tell people I live in God's Time. I see the things going on in the world and sometimes I still do get involved but I have come to understand I exist outside of "the world time" be it corporate time, buying cycles, the dow jones, IRS, all of those artificial times. My roses are still blooming, the cactus are still sending out shoots, last night we lit the chimenea in the backyard & watched the fire, I wrote some poetry. I live in God's Time and when he needs me to attend to those other time lines I do but I am becoming more at peace. If this is our destiny I am glad we (cancer patients) live in this special place.

Sent by Cherie Brown | 1:25 PM ET | 11-29-2007

hi there, fortunately, you are still kind of connected to the normal world via this blog. you are part of a daily routine for many of us. thanks so much

Sent by Sarah | 1:34 PM ET | 11-29-2007

how right you are, leroy, they are so far apart these two worlds. but there was a comfort to be had in the cancer world; i met some of the kindest, patient, considerate people i have ever known. i sure don't miss the uneasiness that cancer brought into my life but i sure do miss the people that helped me cope with it there.

Sent by jessie | 2:09 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy,

Your message today seemed so sad and wistful. You're in a situation you don't like and you can't get away. The cancer is always with you. I hope you mend enough to distract yourself with the holidays. Most of all, I hope you are surrounded by love. If I could, I'd drop by and give you a hug!

Sent by Diana Kitch | 2:21 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Dear Leroy,

Hang in there. You are loved. I know once you get that drain out, and are more mobile, get some peaceful sleep, and get out and about more (besides going to doctor's appointments) you'll feel more yourself.

Prayers for you, and everyone here, as always.

Sent by Connie E. | 2:27 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Yesterday was my first radiation treatment for my prostate cancer. I had my prostate removed in June, but the pathology findings and positive margins after the surgery suggested it was out of the prostate capsule. Three months ago I started hormone therapy and now my wife and I are enjoying our hot flashes together. The literature suggests that combining hormone therapy and radiation give me better long term survival odds. Leroy I must admit that I don???t read your column everyday, but the days I do it brings me closer to my own feelings and to the fact I am not in this alone. The cancer journey takes us down trails we would not have chosen, but the spirit of the people, acts of caring and kindness and at times the joy I have found or been given help it become ???my journey???. Each day we have choices that paint our walk and I try hard to make my daily walk one that was mine.

Sent by Swamp Rabbit - Houston | 4:31 PM ET | 11-29-2007

All very interesting reactions to your morning message today Leroy. Isn't it wonderful how some interpeted your mood as optimistic while others called it "gloomy & sad"?
How different we all are and how good to be able to "talk" like this and express our individual views. SEE what you are bringing out of us Leroy?
You ARE in the "normal world".

Sent by JCR | 4:32 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Hi Leroy,
I'm thinking of you and am just happy to read your blog. You are getting stronger and it will just get better and better from now on. When yu are stronger, have a sleep party- have friends over- give them a drink- and you go to sleep. We all ove you Leroy.

Sent by linda h. | 5:04 PM ET | 11-29-2007

your post today struck a chord with me. Having been in cancer world for the last 7 years, I no longer work but am relatively stable right now. I miss the comradarie of my colleagues at work. Today I stopped by a restaurant to pick up lunch for a friend who broke her foot. As I waited for our lunch, I witnessed several groups of business people, with their id badges, coming in to meet for lunch. I felt wistful as that used to be me, in a suit laughing with colleagues or customers. I don't miss the stress of my work, but I miss the companionship and the sense of accomplishment.
Its a galaxy far, far away.

Sent by cv | 5:04 PM ET | 11-29-2007

I certainly know how you feel. I have recently found out that the cancer I have fought for the last 20 months now has a companion in a new cancer that has shown up in my throat. I seem to handle it better than the rest of my family, but it is only because I am used to being in Cancer World. The rest of the family just doesn't know what it is like, but I will continue to fight the war that has become a part of our world. The appointments, the treatments, and the hopes that at some point we can reach a place of normalsy.

Sent by Steven Schneider | 5:15 PM ET | 11-29-2007

After reading your blog today it reminded me of the day I buried my Mother. My husband stopped on the way to the funeral home to get the car washed. I saw the man take the money & start washing our car & all I could think of was "What is wrong with that man, doesn't he know I am burying my Mother today." That is when I realized the world didn't know or care that I was burying my Mother. The world just keeps turning. That was almost 15 years ago & I remember it like it was yesterday. I feel the same way now. I want to say "Don't you know my husband has lung cancer?" Truth is the world keeps turning.

Sent by Kathy | 5:20 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Hang in there Leroy. You will be back in the normal world very soon...as soon as you get the drain and pump out. That's less than a week away, right?

Sent by Marcy in NJ | 6:05 PM ET | 11-29-2007

We do travel by a different clock, don't we.

I read somewhere that the time horizon narrows as one's cancer advances, and if there is only bad news ahead. I don't look forward anymore, just backwards, reflecting on the life gone by. I wonder if this will be my last Thanksgiving, my last Christmas. I'm still working because I can't afford to retire, but I have to deal with pain (luckily mostly manageable in nature) every day.

Cancer is a tough foe, and research is so s-l-o-w. I like to say that the researcher's timeline is much, much longer than the patient's. My doctor is very empathetic, but I'm concerned that they've given up on me.

I would love to live long enough to vote in the next election!

Sent by Scott S. | 6:24 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy,

I understand exactly what you mean about the two different worlds. I used to work around the cancer world, but now I live in it. I haven't been able to work in quite awhile (I have colon cancer, too) and work is what seems like a normal world to me. I miss my old life, but it's getting to be a distant memory. I actually look forward to my doctor's appts. because I know I'll have something to do those days. Just know that you're not alone in that cancer world, there's so many of us in there with you.

Sent by Tanya Garced | 7:04 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy,

I think of you everyday. As soon as I get home from work, I check in to see how you are doing. I admire and appreciate you. And I wish for you to have some happiness, some comfort each day. You are an inspiration to all.

Sent by Carol | 7:17 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Don ~ I loved your analogy of the leaves in the middle of the tree vs. the trees living on 'the edge'. Never quite thought of it that way. Hopefully it will bring some of us in the CancerWorld some solace, especially our dear Leroy who is not in the best place these days.
Leroy, I hope you are feeling more up in the near days to come.

Sent by Geneva | 8:34 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy,
If I could rescue you out of cancer world I would...in a heartbeat. I know you're not asking for that, but I(and I'm sure many others) would love to be able to wave a magic wand and return you to your life before cancer. But the sum of ALL your experiences contributes to the person you are today. Though certainly not where you want to be or had planned to be, perhaps this place you now find yourself is exactly where you are supposed to be. I agree with Diana though; you do sound sad and wistful and my heart goes out to you. Hang in there Leroy and know that much love and many prayers and are being sent your way each day.

Sent by Cindy C. | 9:01 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Hi Leroy, I have been thinking about people, perhaps with some illness, or ache or pain, but who are not diagnosed with a terminal illness. They do not know what will cause their deaths or when it will happen. What freedom they have, what possibilities for living. But, I suspect most don't experience the freedom, don't feel it on the level that would cause them to reflect on how they live, what is important, etc. Being in touch with mortality separates us, but also gives us an awareness of what it means to live. This brings sadness, but I think if we try, we can tap into the depth and richness of this awareness.

Sent by Linda | 9:03 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Dear Leroy, I am saddened by your sadness. Chronic pain and the loss of normal everyday stimulation is hard to take--I don't really have anything consoling to say other than that you provide a relationship to all of us through your posts and I treasure what you have revealed about yourself. Salee

Sent by salee | 9:41 PM ET | 11-29-2007

The hustle and bustle of the material based world is not normal in my opinion. The valuing of each day, appreciating each moment - whether pain based or not, living the seasons and within life's pattern is the truly normal. My cancer has put me back in touch with what is real and what is not. How grateful I am that I can truly live on life's terms and not try to force life to be on my terms. Maybe I've only got the 9 months they've prognosed - but those 9 months will be fuller for my knowing the limit.

While you miss the friends and social life which are part of the unreal man-made world (and isn't that what we truly miss?), and being part of their hectic lifestyle, pity them. For they will never know the true beauty of living each moment fully. I cannot drive anymore, but I can sit on the porch and enjoy the seasonal changes. The quietness of the first snowfall.

I could focus on the possesions I'll never have - my own home, a newer car, a WII...... but it isn't those things that define who I am as a human being. Cancer gives us a chance to fully appreciate the life given us because it shows how quickly it can be taken away.

The fact that you can feel shows you are improving, if no where else but in your soul. **gentle hugs**

Sent by Linda | 9:49 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy,
While I am not in your shoes I do remember what it felt like to sit sort of on the sidelines of the everyday hustle and bustle of life. In some ways it was lonely, and in other ways I felt like I got to see and notice some of the important things that others missed out on. I hope the gap shrinks as quickly as it can.

Sent by Beth S. | 10:27 PM ET | 11-29-2007

Leroy:

Thought our family was starting to find the normal life again until tonight. Burge's chocolate Lab, Cletus, died just hours ago and oh how it has upset our reality.

It seems to have started very early this morning when I thought I heard Cletus in the garage only to find him down. He was OK most of the day but at 4 pm my youngest called me to come home. We rushed him 90 miles away to the only vet who seemed to be available, but it was over by 8 pm. I think we all knew it before we left, but we still had to do what we could.

Coming home was the second hardest trip the boys and I have made this year. It has been especially hard for the boys.

I just hope Burge was waiting for Cletus at the gate. They used to walk together during Burge's hard journey. Oh! but I wish I could talk to Burge right now and tell him how much this hurts. No matter what your situation tonight, hug those you love an extra moment just for me.

Nikki

Sent by Nikki | 12:07 AM ET | 11-30-2007

Dear Leroy,
Honesty, that is what you have, Integrity is what you are.
Sometimes I am frustrated because even here, we pressure those in the cancer world to be positive and upbeat, no matter what is happening, thinking that an admission of discouragement,acknowlegement of pain, grief over the circumstance, will somehow speed the journey to an untimely end. That is not the case! I have suffered 3 types of cancer with a smile, with courage, but also with truth. At the same time I was going thru one of the cancers I had, another neighbor was experiencing the same cancer, same stage. As the year ended, and I went into remission, Warren died. I remember at his funeral, some angry statements made about him: "He didn't try enough. Did you hear him all month long complaining, his glands hurt, he was tired, he wasn't sure he wanted to go on any more? He just gave up, with his attitude, he didn't have a chance!!!"
I thought hard, and I knew in my heart that I didn't survive by smiling through every pain, protecting the feelings of others. The truth as I see it, is that Warren knew in his heart that his time was done, and his words reflected that.
The truth is that cancer is a horrible disease that causes feelings of isolation, separation from the "normal" business of life without cancer. It is ugly, and those who experience it need to tell it like it is. Does that mean we give up in despair? Of course not. But we should be careful to let the persons tell the truth about their experience and not unintentionally try behavior modification to ease our pain of realizing the truth of what is experienced.
You, Leroy, have given us a treasure of telling the truth as you know it, and I hear you loud and clear, and I hope with you for a much more comfortable week ahead.

Sent by Karen Casey | 9:06 AM ET | 11-30-2007

I know exactly what you mean about the "hum" of the outside world. I am 26 yrs. old and have been in remission from leukemia for over 3 years...and that line about the outside world brought me right back to my hospital room during my first round of chemo. It can be such an eerie feeling and I remember thinking I would give anything to be anyone, any person on that sidewalk outside my hospital window. I try to remember that now, when I'm stressing over things in this "outside world". I hope you will be able to do this same thing someday soon.

Sent by Laura Shelswell | 7:53 PM ET | 11-30-2007

Leeeroy:

Today is my birthday. As I have written before, Cancer World is a new world for me. I have much admiration for your open and streight forward conversations about your journey. Sharing with us what you see and feel as you go through each day. I am reminded of my return home after my radiation ablation after thyroid surgery in August. Piering out the hospital room for three days was lonely, and still, and quiet. My only complaint was drinking lots of water day and night. I think cancer world teaches quietude and patience. I like both. Fold your arms around you and know we are here for you, even during the cloudy days of s l o w going.
mattie,

Sent by Mattie Joyce Hervey | 12:57 AM ET | 12-04-2007