it is totally and completely amazing what we learn to accept. but, G-d has taken some of the choices out of your life - so acceptance is a VERY GOOD THING!! Please do take care of you; keep your support strong - you know better than I how very much they love you and just take care - I love reading your blog and I pray for you all of the time. G-d bless you. Jan

Sent by Janice Goldberg White | 8:12 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Oh my. Just like the frog in the slowly heating frying pan, we really do get used to almost anything.

The main thing is that you adjust and keep on going! You are not a quitter and that inspires all of us.

Peggy

Sent by Peggy | 8:28 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy:
At least once a day, every day, I think of you and feel for you. The soul in me acknowledges the soul in you.
Love, Don

Sent by don winslow | 8:29 AM ET | 03-18-2008

You are so brave, Leroy, to keep working through all the steps. Thanks for your writings. I thought, too, after a brain tumor removal over 2 years ago, I was done - it wasn't coming back. Now I learn there is a little something they need to look closer at. I'm not sure what my next steps will be yet, but I'm certain it will be something.....

You continue to give us all so much hope. Thanks Leroy.

Sent by JJG - Minnesota | 8:37 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy, good morning. I do think as a way of surviving we finally meld into the new way of life. We deal with what ever is happening today. Yes we can always look back at yesterday but I think today seems to grab our full attention. And as you said there seems to always be another step with cancer that is waiting to be dealt with. I think after awhile you just deal with it as it comes, not fully accepting it but just dealing with it.

I hope you and Laurie had a good weekend. You sound stronger with the days. Keep on working out. And thank you for shareing with us.

Sent by dorothy in oregon | 8:42 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Good morning Leroy, You are definitely onto something here. I think that we have each ordered the chaos as best we can. That is, the chaos of serious illness. Those of us who have come through the first set of treatments,have mastered the lingo, and had some time to research our situations. We have had the time to begin to reconcile what will work best between our pre-C and in-C lives. And, we focus on getting the most out of what we can in the present and near term. I don't see any down side to that.

Sent by Sheara | 8:56 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy,
Thanks for continuining to blog, I check every day to hear about how what's on your mind and how you are doing. Humans are amazingly adaptable creatures, aren't we? We adapt to good and bad, easy and difficult. I'm glad you have what it takes to make the next step. Kudos to you and Laurie for keeping up the good fight.

Sent by Lisa D. | 8:57 AM ET | 03-18-2008

I think that every problem we initially face is huge and then we adjust. I think people are surprised at how well we do get used to things, but I think that is one of the great things about being human...our ability to adapt. Leroy, keep rising to every challenge, we are right all there with you.

Sent by jen barad | 9:02 AM ET | 03-18-2008

We can't control the changes that cancer has brought to our lives, but we can avoid letting those changes control us! The one thing the surgeries, chemo, radiation, and everything else can't touch is our spirit and our souls. That spirit radiates in you Leroy and remains unchanged!!! Keep in touch with it, as you deal with all the other chaos. We all see it shining in you.....lifting you up in prayer!

Sent by Ruth Chermok | 9:13 AM ET | 03-18-2008

It always surprises me, which of your blogs will make me cry, many of them do. Your walker, a reminder of what has happened. In my house it is a cane leaning up against a dresser in my bedroom that used to be our bedroom, mine and Joe's. For me cancer was a fresh heart break each day. We didn't talk so openly but we both knew. I am still awed at the grace, the love, the strength of character, everything that he was.

Sent by Irene | 9:24 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy, A survivor is anyone who has ever had a cancer diagnosis. I define a Healthy Survivor as a survivor who gets good care and lives as fully as possible. As you have shared on your blog, you have been getting good care. And by letting go of your old normal and getting used to the chaos, you have shown us how to embrace life as it is and enjoy the benefits of Healthy Survivorship. Thanks.
With hope, Wendy
Wendy S. Harpham, MD

Sent by Wendy S. Harpham, MD | 9:26 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy, it is so interesting to realize how we cope and adjust to different phases in our lives. We all have or must change as we journey through our lives. You look at your unfolding life of today and think about your "pre-cancer life". I, for one, would like to hear more about that pre-cancer world of yours. From what you have said from time to time, it sounded as if your Journalism was the chief activity, recording and being involved in many trouble-spots of wars and international intrigue. Is that so? In that case life you faced much danger and decision making, right? So your battle with cancer is continuing this pattern of staying alive and emerging from these danger spots as a changed and different man. We DO play many roles in our lives, don't we? So interesting. It does seem that our lives are constantly emerging and evolving, like a good Novel which keeps us engrossed and amazed as each chapter unfolds. In the book of life, are there really any "happy endings"? Or is it just a succession of exciting chapters?
Whatever, you have certainly kept us involved, thinking. and caring very much about you and your chapters, Leroy.

Sent by J C R | 9:30 AM ET | 03-18-2008

PreCancer.... my life was so full of hope and happiness. After it took my Neil, my life had no meaning. That was three months ago. I still ache for his touch, his smile, a warm embrace, his words of love....and now, I wonder what God has in store for me. What next?
Tomorrow is full of hope and the faith to make it happen. I keep you and this family in my prayers!
I still wear Neil's bracelet that says, hope, bravery, endurance and courage. Its what anyone that has had to deal with cancer, and even the ups and downs of life, needs to get us through each day. Leroy, and all of this family, you are brave beyond words!

Sent by Laurie Hirth | 9:55 AM ET | 03-18-2008

When I read the intimacies you share, I have slowly come to realize that on some obscure level maybe I'm grateful for your chaos.

....because as long as there is your chaos, your next steps, your small victories... it means you, Leroy, are still with us mind, body, and soul!

and for that I am so very grateful.

Sent by esther louise | 10:00 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy,
Just last week I visited by medical oncologist for a four months check-up. I had my right breast removed last March followed by eight chemo treatments. I also have lung cancer(BAC)and nine years ago was diagnosed with melanoma(no recurrences so far. My oncologist asked if I think of my cancers often and I replied, "Not really. They're always in the back of mind, of course but I just keeping putting one foot in front of the other and continue on." Her comment was, "That's good." This is what you're doing too, Leroy. For me, I just can't allow myself to get all bend out of shape. I can't afford to add to the chaos so tucking things in the back of my mind adds an element of calm to a highly unstable situation. I read you everyday, Leroy, and think of you everyday.
Best,
Cathy

Sent by cathy itri | 10:17 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Hang in there Leroy. At some point you'll have the strength to set that walker aside and it will become just another place to hang wet laundry.

Sent by Sue in Rochester | 10:22 AM ET | 03-18-2008

So glad you've adapted to this new territory as needed, Leroy, and on your own terms. It so beats the wear and tear of upheaval and angst at each new step of the way. That leaves more energy for reflection and PT exercises and mending. It leaves more resources for being you! We are wired well enough to have some adaptive capacity in our make up, and it seems to be a great gift. Walk in beauty today, dear Leroy. Give Laurie a hug for us all!

Sent by Sarah | 10:29 AM ET | 03-18-2008

I guess the "comfortable with cancer" part that has really hit me is the ability to help others who are waiting for biopsy results or are in the initial shock period after diagnosis.
I feel I can validate their fears, hold their hand and try to give them hope as they "adjust"...Do we ever really adjust or do we simply become "comfortably numb"?
What ever it is we do to adjust to all the chaos appears to be working when we can tell another:"I know what you're going through"- and mean it.

Sent by NancyGM | 10:41 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Everything is relative. Lately I've been embracing a stress reduction tip...to start each day pondering things I'm greatful for. Apparently, it's physically impossible for the brain to be thinking greatful thoughts and to be afraid at the same time. We can't always change our circumstances, but we can possibly experience more joy even in unlikely circumstances. Mr. Sievers, I think of you and yours daily(and of people I love who are also facing tough circumstandes)and I wish you improved health, joy and happiness.

p.s don winslow - just wanted to say how much I always enjoy your comments

Sent by Nichole in FL | 11:21 AM ET | 03-18-2008

As one of mankind's more important gifts, adaptability is most often taken for granted. Our lives are constantly changing so slowly that we're not aware of the way our bodies and minds are adapting. With illness, our energy is minimalized and the challenge of change is just that, an extraordinary challenge. Leroy, you're meeting the challenge every day, head on. I admire your strength of spirit, and wonder if maybe you were blessed with an extra dose of adaptability?

Sent by Sharon | 11:35 AM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy,

You are changing with the changes instead of fighting them. That will free you to enjoy what there is to enjoy - and I sense there is plenty.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 12:25 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Ride the chaos!

Sent by Joseph Lampert | 12:50 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Yes, there is no denying that having cancer changes things. Some good, some bad. Definitely we are different and we can't go back.
You are a brave man Leroy. Clearly all of us who write you everyday take some feeling of strength from you, and we appreciate it so much. Please be assured we care for you. Truly and deeply.
Prayers, Blessing and May The Grace Of God Be With You.
Wanda Amorose

Sent by Wanda Amorose | 2:40 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Hang in there dear friend...........still hoping and praying. Prayers and healing energy to all.

Sent by Sasha | 3:12 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy, You sound vry upbeat today, acceptance is a good thing. Spring is coming, rebirth. Take care.

Sent by Ruth White | 4:12 PM ET | 03-18-2008

I seems like all the cancer crap just creeps up on you and integrates itself into your life. At first you think it will be short term and you work your schedule around it. Unfortunately for some of us it starts to become primary. Keep trying to get that normal stuff in there with all the treatments/ inconveniences.

Jill

Sent by Jill | 4:46 PM ET | 03-18-2008

I think the chaotic aspect of cancer sneakily inches along and ultimately prods people to learn to put the breaks on worry once in a while and treasure the more mundane aspects of life. Mundane ain't half-bad. Appreciation -- real appreciation -- for your toddler's sneaky (and chocolately) grin after he's stolen two (or 6) cookies, for example, is delicious. Learning to grab whatever you can from each day is another gift that our troubles can give us. We will undoubtedly come away with more some days than others, but the point is to DO it: just as Leroy so beautifully illustrates with his blog.

Sent by Karen Laven | 5:17 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy, one of the 'notes' that has come through the last several days is that talking about all the changes you are working through has given lots of others in the 'extended family' the chance to talk about their life changes and the adjustments made. What a gift from all of you making the adjustments to those who are following along on the journey. Blessings to you and yours and the community keeps lifting all of you!
Laurie Hirth, it is good to hear the note of looking forward to tomorrows with hope and the knowledge of your inner strength.
It is reassuring to 'hear' voices that have been absent for a while. Lou Ann

Sent by Lou Ann Caywood | 5:23 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Sometimes the "fundamental changes" to one's life with cancer are more mental/emotional than physical. In my case, almost 3 years from my cancer dx, I am physically doing fine. But - most unfortunately, my husband's response to my cancer (after initially being wonderful) was to turn to drugs. The extremely bitter silver lining here is that I rarely have time to think about cancer; I am too busy dealing with the fallout from his drug use.

Sent by Kathy | 5:42 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy,
I think of my life in 2 terms, BC and AC.

Sent by Mary Cannon | 6:55 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Hey Leroy! My thoughts and prayers are headed your way. I'm just hoping that today was better than yesterday. And, well, if it's not, that tomorrow is better than today. What's that old phrase (and where did it come from??!!) -- All will be well. Dunno if I actually believe that as a general rule, but by golly, if anybody deserves that, you do. Thinking of you.

Sent by Victoria Ferreira | 7:11 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Leroy,
Find out what you have to do next, then do it with your usual courage and grace.
Laurie Hirth, you expressed my feelings exactly about losing my husband (the day before Easter last year, April 7) when you spoke of your Neil. Leon, like Neil, faced his cancer each day with such courage. He always felt his life was in God's hands. Do you think they know how much we miss them?
Jane

Sent by Jane from Arkansas | 7:25 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Hello Leroy. I commute by train now so I miss hearing your voice on NPR but just discovered this format. I was caregiver for my Dad. Once they finally discovered his illness - which turned out to be cancer - he only had 4 weeks to live they correctly predicted. When I read your sentence about you looking up and seeing your walker, it reminded me of my father. I hope you don't mind me talking about this.... He put his foot down when the hospice nurse suggested he begin using diapers. No way, he said. He was quickly losing his strength and everything was an effort - especially that short walk to the bathroom. I didn't blame him - he said he wanted to die with dignity and for him, personally, diapers would not make him feel very dignified. He went into a coma that evening so he never knew that the nurse had to go against his wishes. He died two days later with his dignity fully intact. It's been 9 years this July and I miss him every day. Thank you for sharing so much. I have a dear friend struggling with lung cancer and your words have helped me in my phone calls and cards to her.
LouAnne

Sent by LouAnne Cappiello | 7:32 PM ET | 03-18-2008

Hello, Leroy,

I've been trying to answer your posts last week and this week, but most of March has been stop and go between doctor appts (3 people), cancer center (my 3 month or 15,000 mile checkup), out-patient procedures (husband's back), and those other things we do like sleep, eat, and, .... well you know what I mean. I have pieces of written comments to your posts that were interrupted that are now sitting in my emails attached as replies to your posts for those days. I would complete and send them, but I don't know if you have something like an archived email dump and only fresh emails get noticed. So, they become bits of my journaling that seem to help my mind stay out of the anxiety zone.

One thing I have noticed in your posts is that you never quite use the one word that describes what we humans (cancer or no cancer) and every living thing on this planet does every day of our lives and we do not realize that we are doing it.

As changes come no matter what they are, we ADAPT.

One more of my favorite sayings is: "The only constant in life is change."

From the day we are born, maybe before for all I know, we adapt to our lives. Those may just include moving to new cities, new jobs, loss of jobs, marriage, new schools, deaths, or even those war zones you covered as a journalist. Those are the adaptations that we decide to do or just do because it is where life takes us.

Then there are the changes in our bodies due to aging, injury, or illness. The aging we sort of expect and hope for the best, but the disabling injuries and the long list of illnesses like ALS, MS, RA, Lupus, Alzheimers, and the big C, to list just a few, are traumatic changes for the person afflicted and the folks (family, friends, and co-workers) who go through the shock and then have to make the changes in their lives to live with whatever changes those bring. We adapt. No one ever said we have to like the changes and we have two choices; we can give up or we can keep fighting and change what we need to change to keep going. I don't like giving up and it sounds like you and everyone that comments in this blog family don't either. Those that have died didn't give up either. They endured to the end the best way they could and are at rest.

Those changes can be a little weird sometimes, too. One would never really expect in ovarian cancer surgery (or maybe they would, I'm no genius) to wake up and find colon plumbing rerouted. Mine was relocated to a place on my abdomen lower-left, 2 to 3 inches to the left of my naval and about 1-1/2 to 2 inches down and that is where my colostomy stoma is located (I prefer a two-piece). Talk about adapting to something that others with normal colon plumbing are not exactly thrilled to talk about. I have now talked to others with even more bizarre (to me), but lifesaving ostomies. They have adapted, not happily, but have learned how to take care of the things. We do what we have to or we give up.

Unfortunately with some of those changes come a tendancy to look back at what was and what we have lost. I admit I do it just like everyone else. I would love to go dance, but my legs can't handle it anymore. I used to do calligraphy, oil and acrylic painting, but those days are gone due to illness and now chemo side-effects. I have had to settle my mind and change the regrets and sorrow at the loss of those abilities at a younger age to accepting that I was darn blessed to have been able to do those things in the first place. Otherwise all I see is major depression and I've been there and I don't like that place at all. So I look for what I can do. I can still type at least which means I can bug you a little. I can do plastic canvas needlepoint where the holes are easier to hit and I help a few folks get their family history going on computer.

I am very aware that things will be changing and I will still do my best to adapt and fight until the day my body says "I'm done with this," and shuts down, but that part happens eventually to everyone.

From your posts, Leroy, if I am right, you are feeling the sorrow and grief for what is past and that is normal, but you are beginning to look forward now, too, and that is the good sign that you are adapting to life now. Comfortable with Cancer? To me, that is another way of saying it is part of our lives and we're stuck with it for the duration whether it is in remission or still active and so we learn to live as cancer survivors and try our very best to see beyond the cancer and find and try new things.

I once told you in a comment that it was easy to give support to someone from the safety of my home and laptop, but I wondered if I had the courage to do it to a stranger in person. Well, I am relieved to say that I can. I did it unintentionally at the cancer center after I saw my oncologist. It started about my ACS 2007 Relay For Life purple cancer survivor t-shirt. Hugs and tears were involved between a man with throat cancer, his wife, and me. I won't go into detail, but it felt good to know that cancer actually gives us a strange gift of extra compassion for people we don't even know walking the cancer road. Cancer is a hard way to get it, but the compassion and understanding is a gift that is a pretty neat fuzzy, warm, feeling to give and to receive.

Prayers for blessings for us all as always and happy or greetings of whatever everyone celebrates this time of year. I say that since this is the World Wide Web.

Sincerely,
Bobbie in Texas

Sent by Bobbie Hollis | 7:00 AM ET | 03-19-2008

Courage? Adaptability? We are surviving and trying to live our lives in the best way we can. Everyday.

Sent by elm | 9:55 AM ET | 03-19-2008