A Little Quality TV Please?

ABC's LOST is coming back on the air. At least for a while.

I have to admit, I gave up on LOST a while back. But the writers' strike is still going on, and anything new looks shiny and attractive.

There is a lot more reality programming now, too, to fill the holes. I have several friends who are totally hooked on American Gladiators. You all know who you are.

Let's face it: as long as the strike is going on, the TV world is looking pretty bleak. Luckily for me, at least, I sleep pretty well now. So I'm not looking for something to watch in the middle of the night anymore.

Of course, there are always reruns of Law and Order virtually any hour of any day. It's an amazing phenomenon. Even though you've seen the episode, you'll always stop and watch -- every time.

The real purpose of my rant is to speak out for those who are bedridden, or sick, or fighting chemo, or recovering from surgery. We deserve better.

The Mt. Everest show on Discovery is pretty amazing, but I'm never really sure when it's on.

All I'm saying is that when you're sick, you deserve good TV. Even mediocre TV.

And I'm sorry, but those monsters in spandex on Gladiators just don't count.

Leroy Sievers

7:11 AM ET | 01-31-2008 | permalink | comments (74) | e-mail post

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

I was getting better, at least I felt like I was. Moving around more, less pain -- all in all, things this past weekend seemed to be going in the right direction.

But now that's changed again.

The last two days have been a little tougher. A little more pain, a little more discomfort.

It's not that the new pain is so bad. It isn't. I can certainly handle it.

It's more the feeling of one step forward and two steps back. How is it that I could feel worse than I did? It just doesn't seem fair.

My hope is that I'm just in a temporary set-back. Tomorrow or the next day, I'll be better. That's my plan. My hope, at least.

I'm getting pretty tired of not feeling like myself, anyway. Maybe I could just cut to the chase and go back to normal?

Now that's a plan.

Leroy Sievers

7:19 AM ET | 01-30-2008 | permalink | comments (59) | e-mail post

Trying to Get Comfortable

Comfort. It's a hard thing to find. Actually, much harder than it should be.

When I first got home from my second back surgery, there was really only one chair that was comfortable. I spent a lot of time in that chair. Even slept in it for the first few weeks.

Then, as the nerves in my back woke up, sitting in that chair turned to agony. That may be overstating it, but it became really uncomfortable.

So I have been searching ever since for a new place that feels right. The right grouping of pillows on one bed is the current favorite. The right pillows on another bed runs a close second.

And I go back and sit in that original chair, even though it's a little painful. I guess I think that a little bit of pain may be good for me.

We actually went out shopping for recliners, thinking that a new chair would be the answer. But the first one I looked at was too short for me. I couldn't really make it recline. Another one was broken and wouldn't recline at all. I was beginning to feel like Goldilocks.

So until we find that chair that's "just right" I'll keep moving around from bed to bed and chair to chair. I know I'll find the right spot eventually, although it would be a lot easier if my back would just heal once and for all.

Then every chair would be "just right."

Leroy Sievers

7:33 AM ET | 01-29-2008 | permalink | comments (35) | e-mail post

Speaking in Code

She was very nice, as you'd expect. After all, she's a hospice nurse. Her job is to get people through one of the most difficult experiences there is.

This was really sort of a get-acquainted session. For everyone to meet and at least start that conversation. But then she said something that I don't think I'll ever forget.

"Hospice is code for six months."

We had been talking about time and expectations. Actually, we had been saying that we thought it was pretty early to be having this meeting, because we weren't giving up yet.

I don't really remember the context for what she said. When someone says something like that, the other words usually get drowned out.

She did say, of course, that everyone hoped that we would meet, and then never meet again. Again, something I would expect her to say, and mean.

I don't think she was being dishonest in any way. She was being realistic. In her own way, encouraging us to be realistic too.

She may be right. I may have only six months left.

On the other hand, hospice may be code for: "Who the hell knows how much time I have left?"

But it's good to start the conversation. We're going to have to have it at some point, I guess.

I just like my version of what "hospice" is code for better than hers.

Leroy Sievers

7:39 AM ET | 01-28-2008 | permalink | comments (152) | e-mail post

Quality vs. Quantity

My meeting with the hospice nurse is this morning. I should be meeting with the physical therapist soon, too.

It's actually sort of amazing how many people get involved in trying to make us better. Or at least feel better, even if it's just for a short time.

I'm even meeting with an acupuncturist. To be honest, that makes me a little nervous. She'll have to be careful not to put the needles anywhere near where the surgery was done.

Will any of this cure me? Make the cancer go away? NO. But it may lessen the amount of pain I feel.

This all brings us back to the first issue that most cancer patients face. Quality of life vs. Quantity.

I would gladly trade quantity for quality. A little less pain, a little bit of "normalcy." That all sounds pretty good right now.

But talk is cheap. It's easy to say, you'd make that trade, until you actually had to. That's one of the ways that cancer is so cruel.

No choice is easy. No decision is obvious. It's all hard, every step of the way.

All you can do is make the best decision you can, and then move forward. It doesn't do any good to second-guess yourself.

Like I said, it's a cruel disease.

Leroy Sievers

7:39 AM ET | 01-25-2008 | permalink | comments (68) | e-mail post

How Long Until Healing?

Shouldn't I be well by now? Or at least better? I ask myself that question at least once a day.

The staph infection clearly slowed down the healing process, but I would have hoped that by now my back would be in much better shape. At the same time, I think everyone always says that back surgery takes the longest to heal.

I'm trying to be patient. But, as I have confessed here before, I'm not a very patient person.

So I take my pain medication. It seems to work reasonably well these days. I use those backache patches they advertise on TV. And I wait.

I expect to wake up one morning and feel just fine. I'm not sure if that's the way it will work, but that's what I'm expecting.

On the other hand, what if it never gets better?

I guess that's a possibility, too. But I'm going to choose to ignore that one for now. No, I think that it's still just a matter of time.

I have improved some. I can walk a little better, stand a little straighter. So I think I've done my part.

I expect to be healed tomorrow.

Or maybe the next day.

After that, my back and I are going to have a little talk.

Leroy Sievers

7:15 AM ET | 01-24-2008 | permalink | comments (42) | e-mail post

Following Doctor's Orders

I'm going to meet with the hospice folks in the next day or two. My doctor has been urging me to do this for more than a year.

Not because he thinks my death is imminent. He doesn't.

It's because he thinks it would just be a good idea to meet and talk to each other.

I have to admit I don't know all that much about what they do. I know most people assume that a visit with the hospice nurses means the end is near.

But I think it's more about what they can do for us.

There are a lot of questions to be asked as people near the end of their lives. Sometimes people simply say, "Thanks for the offer, but I don't need your help."

I'm trying to go into this with an open mind. If they can help, great. If not, at least they offered.

To be totally honest, though, I'd be lying if I said that this didn't make me a little nervous.

After all, we're going to be talking about my death. Who really wants to do that?

Leroy Sievers

7:43 AM ET | 01-23-2008 | permalink | comments (123) | e-mail post

Counterattack?

I'm beginning to wonder if I've run out of miracles. For a while, it seemed like whatever the cancer did, we could come up with something to counteract it.

Tumors in my lungs? We could burn them out with Radio Frequency Ablation.

On my rib? Well, we'd just freeze it.

Cancer in my vertebrae? We'd inject hot glue directly into the bone to seal it.

The final one, cancer moving towards my spinal cord? Take out the cancerous vertebra and replace it with a synthetic one.

A lot of this sounds like science fiction, but it's not. It's real and it worked. At least it has until now. Now, we seem to be running out of tricks.

I've always been an optimist, always thought that there's a solution. So I'm not giving up now. But we haven't had any of those conversations recently when the doctor says, "Oh, I can fix that," or, "I've got a new procedure that would be perfect for that."

Maybe we're not looking hard enough. Maybe we're not asking enough questions. Maybe we're not being as aggressive or risky enough.

I don't know the answer to that. But I do know that we'd better start finding some answers soon, because the clocking is running.

That's one thing that is not changing.

Leroy Sievers

7:13 AM ET | 01-22-2008 | permalink | comments (53) | e-mail post

What Do I Make of This?

When I first got cancer, I put on about 30 pounds. Now, it was Christmas time and my doctors had me on steroids, so I was eating everything in sight ... and unfortunately, there was a lot of food in sight.

In the last few months, I've lost about 35 pounds. I thought that was great, but it may not be. The weight loss may actually be a sign that the disease is still pretty active.

My doctors told me that as the disease progresses, you can lose your appetite and start losing substantial amounts of weight.

Well, they're right about one thing. My appetite has definitely decreased.

So what do I make of all this? Should I be loading up on ice cream and cheeseburgers? Or should I just accept the fact that my disease is simply moving forward?

Ordinarily, I'd be thrilled to be losing weight. I have to admit that right now it's making me a little nervous.

I guess I can worry, or I can just have another piece of pie.

Seems like a pretty easy choice.

Leroy Sievers

7:30 AM ET | 01-21-2008 | permalink | comments (57) | e-mail post

I Can't. I Have Cancer.

It snowed today. Not a lot, just a couple of inches. Enough to be pretty without being a nuisance.

One of my immediate thoughts was, I can't go shovel snow, I have cancer. It's the perfect excuse. Who could argue with that?

But almost as soon as I thought it, I wished it weren't true. Of course I wish I didn't have cancer. That's obvious. But I also wish I didn't have the limits that cancer puts on my life.

After my last surgery, my doctors told me no BLT -- no bending, lifting or twisting.

Well, I want to BLT. I want to lift heavy objects. I want to work out again. I'm so tired of being told what I can't do because I'm sick.

Then I have to bring myself back to reality. The cancer does prevent me from doing a lot of things. Some that I want to do. Other things, like shoveling the driveway, that I have mixed feelings about.

The program Inside the Actor's Studio asks each of its guests the same questions. One is, "What is your least favorite word?"

I've realized that mine is "can't."

Leroy Sievers

7:11 AM ET | 01-18-2008 | permalink | comments (45) | e-mail post

Slow Healing

I went back to see the infectious disease doctors yesterday.

There's not a lot they can do from the outside. They poke me and prod me and ask if it hurts, but that's about it.

I seem to be healing up pretty well. I have to take their word for it because I've never seen all the scars on my back, although I've been told they're impressive.

We keep doing blood tests, though we've learned in the last few weeks that they can be wildly inaccurate. But I guess it doesn't hurt to keep taking them.

And we decided I would stay on the antibiotic. I tolerate it pretty well, so there's no harm in continuing to take it.

So all in all, it was a pretty routine day at the doctor's office. No new crises. No new problems. We seem to have this infection pretty much under control.

It's the annoying cancer that causes all the problems.

Leroy Sievers

7:15 AM ET | 01-17-2008 | permalink | comments (42) | e-mail post

A More Mundane To-Do List

It's hard to think of things to write about some days. More than two years in, cancer has just become another part of my life.

I mean, what else can you say about it? I wish I didn't have it, obviously, but simply wishing it away hasn't quite been perfected as a therapy yet.

I still find myself surprised that I have cancer sometimes. I mean, how could that have happened to me? As the same time, I've outlived the normal projection for the disease, so I really can't complain.

The disease seems to be picking up some steam recently. I find that sort of annoying because there are other things I'd like to do.

Not things like in that movie Bucket List with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, where they go off skydiving. From the ads, it looks like they go hunting, too. I don't think I'd like one of my last acts on earth to be killing something, but I may be misunderstanding the ad.

My list of things I'd still like to do is much more mundane.

There are good books to read, you all know how much I love going to the movies, good conversations to be had, good wine to be shared.

That's the kind of thing I'm going to miss, I think. I don't think I need to go skydiving.

Leroy Sievers

7:11 AM ET | 01-16-2008 | permalink | comments (83) | e-mail post

Redefining the Wounded Hero

I was a huge Civil War buff when I was little. I couldn't read enough about it. I had hundreds of toy soldiers and I would recreate entire battles with them.

When I got older, I read Stephen Crane's The Red Badge of Courage. I have to admit it confused me. How could the ostensible hero of the story be a coward?

Once he got his "red badge of courage" though, things became a little more clear. After all, I think most men identify with some form of the whole "wounded hero" idea.

Well, here I am in my own war now. I have plenty of scars, plenty of "badges of courage." And I realize they don't mean all that much.

They're not how I measure what I've been through. The scans, the tattoos, the radiation marks -- that's all really evidence of one thing: Trying to get well. Because that's really all we're talking about here.

I want to get well.

And if my body gets beaten up in the process, well, that's all right.

This isn't a contest to see who looks the best at the end. This is all about making it to the end.

Leroy Sievers

7:12 AM ET | 01-15-2008 | permalink | comments (51) | e-mail post

Finding the Right Cocktail

I'm experimenting these days. Different drugs, different painkiller. Different heat patches for my back.

The whole idea is to find some relief. We're doing better on trying out the painkillers. Right now, a cocktail of a couple of different drugs seem to dull the pain.

I have to admit, I'm a little skittish about taking too many narcotics, but hey, it seems to be working.

I've also been having lower back pain. That could be part of this whole situation, or it could just be because I'm 52 years old and my back hurts.

There seem to be an unlimited number of patches for your back that generate healing heat. Some work better than others, and I can't get the image of bursting into flames out of my mind!

All in all, I feel better than I did a week or so ago. But if I stop taking the pills, the pain comes back almost immediately.

I never used to take painkillers, even after operations. For some reason, I thought it was better to just tough it out. But I've changed my mind about that now. If there's something that can help, I'm going to try it. That just seems to make sense.

It just took me a while to learn that.

Leroy Sievers

7:05 AM ET | 01-14-2008 | permalink | comments (70) | e-mail post

The 'Run Away, Run Away' Response

I'm a huge Monty Python fan. Just say, "Run away, run away," and the image of the knights running away from the killer rabbit immediately comes to mind.

Sometimes, "Run away, run away" is the best response.

I don't mean to say here that I think the right response is to really run away from your problems. I just think that sometimes you need to take a step back from the situation you're in and take a deep breath.

That's pretty much the way I'm feeling right now.

Maybe it's exhaustion. Having cancer is tiring. The therapies wear you out. The procedures can knock the heck out of you. Having cancer is hard work.

So it would be nice to be able to really step away from the disease. But that's not practical.

"Run away, run away," can seem like good advice.

I just wish it were possible to do.

Leroy Sievers

7:13 AM ET | 01-11-2008 | permalink | comments (87) | e-mail post

Cancer Is Relentless

It's one of those things you do when you get bad news. You say, I'll put off thinking about it until tomorrow. Except that doesn't always work.

In fact, I don't think it ever works.

The news we got yesterday still seems just as bleak today. It's not that there was any one thing that had gone wrong. No one new crisis. It was more that they're sure the disease is catching up to me.

Let's be honest here. We knew this was going to happen at some point. Short of a miracle, there was going to come a point where the cancer just becomes too much for my body to handle.

Except for the last two years or so, we'd been finding those miracles. RFA killed some of the tumors in my lungs, and I hope it worked for some of you, too. Hot glue in my spine, freezing a rib -- all those were short term miracles. All ways for the little boy to stick his finger in the cancer dike.

But if we've learned one thing, it's that cancer is relentless. It doesn't lose a battle here or there and then give up. I wish it did. I wish all you had to do was kill a tumor or two and then the cancer would throw up its hands and say, "Okay, you win."

But we all know better. It never gives up.

Now, that doesn't mean we give up either. I think it just means that at some point, the cancer wins.

I don't plan on that happening soon.

When it does, I hope that someone looks at my cancer and says, "Well, maybe you won, but he sure beat the crap out of you before he went down."

Leroy Sievers

7:19 AM ET | 01-10-2008 | permalink | comments (98) | e-mail post

Running Out of Miracles

This was a bad day.

We started out to treat the pleurisy, the fluid in my lungs. First off, for any med students reading this, the two shots to numb the lung areas were probably the most painful things I have ever felt. Just thought you should know that.

But once the doctors got in there, they discovered that the fluid was not one big pool like it looked on the scan. Instead, it was divided up into lots of little pockets that they really couldn't do anything about. We also realized that the tightness and pain I'm having is coming from both sides of my chest. The fluid showed up only on the right side in the scan. So, clearly, we're missing something.

Then we had a long talk with my oncologist and my nurse. That was the hardest part of the day. As they see it, there's just too much stuff piling up. I'm losing weight pretty quickly. That's not a good sign. I have a lot of pain and we can't figure out what's causing it or how to blunt it.

All along, we had figured there was a way out. New procedures, new ways to attack it. But we may be running out of those. The box of miracles may be emptying out.

We're not giving up, but it's getting harder to stay optimistic on a day like this.

Like I said, this was a tough one.

Leroy Sievers

7:11 AM ET | 01- 9-2008 | permalink | comments (250) | e-mail post

Message from the Dornbrooks

We received these notes last night from Stephanie Dornbrook's family:

To all of Leroy's bloggers and to Leroy too. I am Stephanie's husband Dustin. I have never entered into this site as I did not wish to intrude into her private thoughts with all of you out there in similar situations as hers.

When I learned of your special outpourings of love and support towards me and our children and Stephanie, I wanted to express our warmest love in return. Without much detail I can say she now has an eternal smile on her face. She wrote a short farewell and some advice to all. As usual, she was short and to the point. She used three words and said, "goodbye....forgive everything."

I know she cherished this blog site and all of you were loved by her. I am grateful to Leroy for making it available. It makes me happy so many of you will keep her alive through your memories. I wish you all well on your journeys.

-- Dustin Dornbrook

My family and I have been deeply moved by the response that we have received from the online community. Thank you, everyone, for your support at this time and, as well, for the support of my mother and the constant cheering on that she received from you these past two years. I am proud to say that Stephanie is my mother and, while, as her youngest, our relationship had only recently matured into a mutual adult relationship, that she was a most outstanding soul, remarkable for her constant service and warm and loving personality.

Thank you.

-- Mendon Dornbrook

Maeve McGoran

9:47 AM ET | 01- 8-2008 | permalink | comments (18) | e-mail post

Losing Good Friends

I have high hopes for today.

I'm supposed to have a procedure that will eliminate, or at least lessen, some of the pain. Basically, the doctors will stick a needle into my chest and drain fluid from the lung we think is causing the problem.

If it works, life will become much, much better.

If it doesn't work, I'm not sure what we'll do. I'm not sure that there will be anything to do.

But it's hard to really concentrate on all this. I've lost several friends in the last few weeks, and I guess I'm still trying to make sense of that. Trying and failing.

I don't think the loss of a good friend ever really makes sense. I think it's more a question of finding some way to accept it. That's the hard part.

We still pick up the phone to call them, only to have to remind ourselves that they're gone. Especially when they're young, it's hard not to dwell on how much life went un-lived.

Actually, it all pretty much comes down to one thing: There's never a right time for them to die.

No ... old or young, accident or illness, sudden or expected, it all comes down to the same thing. When we lose someone, we miss them.

Leroy Sievers

7:00 AM ET | 01- 8-2008 | permalink | comments (43) | e-mail post

Sad News

It is with great sadness that I have to pass on the news that the My Cancer community has lost a great friend.

We learned today that Stephanie Dornbrook has passed away. Her insights, her humor and her bravery that she expressed so often on this blog will be sorely missed. Stephanie's funeral is this afternoon at the Brunner Funeral Home in Mentor, Ohio.

Our thoughts are with her family and friends.

Leroy Sievers

11:18 AM ET | 01- 7-2008 | permalink | comments (30) | e-mail post

There's Still More Living To Do

When I was first diagnosed two years ago, I spent a lot of time thinking about how to tell people. How do you break that kind of news? How do you put that fear and sadness into words?

Well, it's two years later and I'm still here.

Let's face it, I didn't expect to still be around. My doctors certainly didn't expect me to be. My friends and family were scared that I wouldn't still be here. But here I am. So how do I explain that?

I have good doctors, the best in the business. And they're willing to try new things. I'm willing to try new things. If a new procedure sounds like it might work, I'm all for it.

I have the thoughts and prayers from all of you. I am truly blessed. Or to put it another way, I am truly well-armed when it comes to this fight with cancer.

But how have I managed to beat the odds? Why didn't I just die when my first doctors predicted I would?

I don't really have an answer for that. I'm stubborn, and I'm sure that's part of it. I'm pretty strong, and I'm sure that's part of it, too.

And I still have more living to do. More blogs to write, that keeps me going too.

But when I stop and think about it, I realize it's just not my time yet. I still have too much to do.

Leroy Sievers

7:05 AM ET | 01- 7-2008 | permalink | comments (44) | e-mail post

Painful Preparation

It's never easy.

I've had to stop taking the ibuprofen that was doing a good job of controlling the pain. I'm having the fluid drained from my lung next Tuesday and you have to be off aspirin or ibuprofen for five days before the procedure. Then they give you a little local anesthetic, stick a needle in and hopefully that's it.

Except that it's never easy, remember?

It turns out that the fluid comes from cancer in the sac around my lung. It's not harmless like I thought. There's a good chance it will come back, although it can be drained again.

What this shows is that the cancer is still attacking my lungs. We're going to have to find some kind of solution for that.

In the meantime, I've got my old pain back for another five days or so. The other drugs help, no question, but until I stopped taking the ibuprofen, I didn't realize how effective it really was.

But I've been through this pain before. I can get through it again.

I do have high hopes that draining the fluid will end the pain, or at least most of it. But I guess I'll have to wait five days to find out.

I can do that.

Leroy Sievers

7:08 AM ET | 01- 4-2008 | permalink | comments (49) | e-mail post

Beyond 'Why Me?'

The big thing now is for channels to show marathons. I'm a big fan, but I'm not going to spend New Years' watching 30 episodes of the Twilight Zone. So I don't know if they showed one of my favorites or not, but I'll bet they did. They usually do.

It's set in the Korean War, or World War II, and one soldier realizes that he can tell who's going to die in combat. There's a glow in their faces when their time is up. He tries to warn them but it never works. In the end, of course, he looks in a mirror and see the glow on his own face.

But that's only TV. We live in the real world where we have to try to make sense of what happens. A good friend of mine just passed away suddenly. He was in his 20s. How do you make sense of that?

Three friends just told me they've learned that three of their friends have advanced cancer. How do you make sense of that, either?

I know that if you believe in any religion, one of the tenets of just about every faith is that God's plans are beyond our understanding. That's hard to accept. Our rational minds want to understand, to know why a life was cut short.

Now most of us who have been attacked by cancer stopped asking, "Why me" a long time ago. We accept that it has happened to us. But sometimes I feel like that soldier in the Twilight Zone. I know when people are sick or dying. They tell me every day, and that's what I have trouble understanding.

How could this be happening to us? To so many of us?

Leroy Sievers

7:11 AM ET | 01- 3-2008 | permalink | comments (54) | e-mail post

Dropping the Gloves in 2008

It seemed to be all about football yesterday.

A couple of fights broke out before the games even started, always a good sign. They made me think of the famous scenes involving the Hanson brothers in Slap Shot, one of the greatest sports movies ever made. Those of you who know the movie should already be laughing. Those of you who don't, should go rent it today.

The message of the movie, ostensibly about hockey, is that fighting is good.

Now, I guess this blog should be about the coming year. How does that tie in with sports violence? It doesn't, really. But it does tie in with fighting in general.

So we're starting another year of fighting with the "beast." To my mind, that means fighting dirty. Hit it when it's not looking. Jab it with chemo when it doesn't expect it. Zap it, fry it, freeze it. This is no time to shake hands.

As we start this new year, it's a time to remember that everything is riding on this fight.

This is the time to make the Hanson brothers proud.

Leroy Sievers

7:00 AM ET | 01- 2-2008 | permalink | comments (40) | e-mail post