Good Morning Leroy! Bless you for being so candid with us about what you are going through. It is better we realize what a battle you are waging. If Love can move mouontains, then our concern & prayers will keep those treatments from injuring your wonderful mind. I hope that the hair on your head doesn't stand up!
How much of these treatments will you have to have? Do you also have the PT also? Thank you for keeping us with you in this ordeal. I feel very close to you Leroy.

Sent by J C R | 7:40 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy,

It really does seem to be a balance. Today I'll spend 10 hours at my cancer center. 7 different appointments including cycle 9 round 6 of chemo. At the moment, the chemo is working, but it's been a tough trip for over 2.5 years. I often ask myself the same question which you raised today, maybe not as eloquently, but how much am I willing to endure for the chance of saving the village?

Take care,
Ed Steger

Sent by Ed Steger (www.hncancer.blogspot.com) | 7:47 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Dear Leroy,

You are right, sometimes the treatment is worse then the actual disease. And the consequences of not having treatment, I don't even want to think about that.

My dad showed a spark and with me sitting with him during lunch, ate more than he had in a many days AND drank lots of fluids which he needs. After I left I heard a friend of his brought him a milk shake and he drank the whole thing. I guess more milk shakes are in order. I appreciate the outreach and prayers from all and please continue to include us.

Thank you!

Sent by Sue Chap | 7:59 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Buying time is what it is all about. My concern is whether I will know when enough is enough. I know I am not there yet but will I know when I am. We do so many things because the alternative is worse like your radiation. None of the surgeries bother me but I don't know if I can go through chemo again. So what I am doing now and what I hope you will continue to do is living one day at a time, trying to get as much out of each day as possible. Peace.

Sent by Dona | 8:10 AM ET | 03-26-2008

All I can tell you is -- keep fighting. I know that some days it seems that the war against our cancer is all we have. But then I think of my family, and I know that I fight for them and not just myself.

We are all with you, Leroy. In the CT scanner with our arms over our heads, laying without moving for 30 minutes on the hard board of the bone scanner, in the chemo "lounge" waiting for the next alarm to go off on the IV machine, and on and on.

So many tests, so many procedures, so much waiting. But the alternative is unthinkable.

We send you our love and pray that the Lord will give us all the strength to continue the fight against our common enemy -- cancer.

Sent by Carol from Nashville | 8:11 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy , I know I had the same feelings when I went through radiation I also had internal radiation so that scares me everyday to think of what damage that has done. But we have to keep fighting this battle and You are strong!! You make us strong to reading this blog everyday

Sent by luisa | 8:11 AM ET | 03-26-2008

As long as you believe whole-heartedly that "not having it would be even worse," you are absolutely doing the right thing. If the time were to come that you changed your mind, no one would think any less of you, everyone would understand that yours is the opinion that matters. Only you can decide what's right for you. We can only applaud your spirit and your strength. You are an inspiration to many of us and we love you.

Sent by Brenda | 8:12 AM ET | 03-26-2008

For those of us, who have had radiation and chemo, the same thoughts you are having, we have.
So true, we use toxins and the radiation to save us? Just another quirk of life. Again you are right. Is there a choice?
Prayers, Blessings and May The Grace of God Be With You.
Wanda Amorose

Sent by Wanda Amorose | 8:21 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Hey Leroy,

I really enjoy reading your posts and hope that you get the upper-hand in your battle with cancer.

As a lung cancer patient, I've enjoyed a few years of relative stability; not clear of the disease, but the tumors have showed no major growth. That was until two months ago when they found a couple of tumors in my brain. I've since had a craniotomy and am currently undergoing whole brain radiation. I can totally relate to you; feeling the radiation (smelling and seeing the effects of it) and my startle as the machine kicks on and begins to buzz it's destruction. I've only 6 more treatments and the end can't come soon enough.

Sent by Mark McNally | 8:37 AM ET | 03-26-2008

I am so very sorry about your mom passing. The firetruck story was wonderful! No question, cancer and its treatment are perplexing and bizarre at times, but it does often work!

Sent by Susie R. from OH | 8:46 AM ET | 03-26-2008

My sister succumbed to lung cancer last November. Every time one treatment didn't work and the doctor's suggested something stronger, she'd say "Bring it on!". I couldn't help but wonder what all the radiation and chemo was doing to other parts of her body. I knew it couldn't be good. But, if you're fighting for your life, I guess it's best to "Bring it on!"! The only other choice is to roll over and let the cancer have it's way with you. I loved her "I'm not going down without a fight!" attitude. I admired her strength and determination, just as I admire you and everyone else who is fighting this terrible beast. Stay strong and take comfort in the ones who love you.

Sent by Susan | 8:53 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Oh, how true. Stay strong. Good juju being sent your way.

Sent by anne lumberger | 8:56 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy, doing some heavy thinking this morning. I hope this will help to buy time for you. Just keep working forward, one day at a time. Does the radiation fatigue you like the chemo does? Our thoughts are with you and Laurie.

Sent by dorothy in oregon | 9:13 AM ET | 03-26-2008

I wonder if in 25 years,or so, man will look at treatments like this as barbaric..like we do blood letting. In the mean time I (the nurse) will be cringing in the corner for you. You are being very brave Leroy. XO

Sent by Susan | 9:14 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy: I know that feeling about radiation. Once you are placed on the table and the machine is set, then all the techs race out of the big room. I also remember the talk with the radiation oncologist before any radiation began. The "informed consent" discussion about the possible side effects of radiation for breast cancer. Something like "25 years from now, there is a slight possibility that you could get lung cancer". Daunting, but you are right. Not getting the treatment is worse. I say a prayer for you each day after I read your latest thoughts. Know we are here, caring, and hopeful!!!

Sent by Kate | 9:17 AM ET | 03-26-2008

I can't imagine feeling the radiation. I had 7 weeks of radiation 9 years ago for breast cancer when I was finished with my chemo. I didn't have any problems with it until I was finished with the treatment. The skin just sort of bled for awhile and I had to have keep ointment on it for a long time. Now the area is just red and seems to get redder every year. It apparently doesn't get better. My prayers are with you always.

Sent by Linda | 9:18 AM ET | 03-26-2008

After my friend had her mastectomy, radiation was the next course of treatment and I remember going with her to look at the radiation room. It was our attempt to help reduce some of the gurgling fear in her throat. We had to go through two different connecting rooms before we got to the actual radiation room and, like you, the posted danger signs, heavy thick doors, and cold temperature, and the stacked body casts against one wall set the tone - the experience did not reduce her fear as we had hoped BUT like you, she had no alternative and took each day as it came like you have done and will continue doing. You are always in my prayers, Leroy. Take care.

Sent by Molly | 9:23 AM ET | 03-26-2008

My husband, a cancer researcher, explains cancer treatment like this... 'cancer treatment operates on the premise that the drugs will kill the cancer faster than they kill the rest of the patient.' It's not pretty, but in most cases it's the best option available.

Sent by Anna | 9:26 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy...GOD BLESS YOU!!!! You are a strong being....everyone enduring this "beast" is a strong being, a hero! I can only understand and know what you are going through by remembering whay my dad went through...it all sounds so familiar and although the treatments of the "poison" were different it doesn't change the fact that it is "poison" and it affects you all the same.

It hurts so bad and everytime I read your blog I wish there was something we can all do...like snap our fingers and all be a-ok! But we can't live life that way...we have to take it as it was given to us and know that everything which happens to us is in "His" hands and only He knows why it is happening. We figure it out later. With my dad it was sooo painful to lose him, to watch this monster take away my everything, my hero at such a young age of 48, but we learned to "try" to understand. Now, the more and more time passes by, and it's only been a little over 3 months, I see things that help me to understand my loss more and more. (this is more in reference to your blog on your mom, I am kind of jumping all over here with emotions...sorry!)

BUT for you Leroy you hang in there my friend. You are a fighter and you keep us going each and every day.

Cheering for you!!!!!

Stay strong!!!!

Cristina

Sent by Cristina Gonzalez, Tampa, Florida | 9:32 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Dear Leroy,
Your doctors recommend, prescribe and administer treatment only if they believe you are better off WITH the treatment than WITHOUT, based on what is known about you and the treatment.
When I had radiation therapy, I experienced heat in my skin where the beams were aimed. I was shocked because I thought there would be no sensation, much like having my picture taken. My doctor told me it was because I was scared. He was right: I was scared. The next day I had my second treatment. What did I feel? Nothing.

As a Healthy Survivor, I found it helped me to remind myself that no matter hardships I experienced during treatment or longterm effects I may pay after treatment, it was the best choice for me under the circumstances.

And it helped to recognize that my emotions could affect my experience of treatment. So if I talked with someone to help me understand and calm my fears. And I learned to see the powerful treatments as harming my cancer cells far more than my normal cells. These measures helped me feel more hopeful about everything. About the chance of recovery. About my current situation. About my healthcare team. And about life.
with hope,
Wendy

Sent by Wendy S. Harpham, MD | 9:35 AM ET | 03-26-2008

You've just captured the irony of the whole process.

Sent by Lisa | 9:43 AM ET | 03-26-2008

You can do this Leroy. Hang in there buddy. My skin was peeling off with third degree burns. I hate this cancer!

Sent by Carolyn Mohaupt | 9:49 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Love and peace to you today. The loss of your Mother must also hang heavy around you during your treatments.
Your thoughts today raise many questions. There are no easy answers. Right?

Sent by Deborah of Asheville, NC | 10:31 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Dear Leroy,
I had radiation for throat cancer last year and hated every minute that I was on the table, but knew that it was the only way to go to fight the evil cancer cells.
This morning I had to break up with my dentist because he wanted to do annual xray. When I explained to him that I felt I had been radiated enough, he refused to clean my teeth, and sadly I left without my cleaning. I shall have to look for a more compassionat dentist that understands the fear of the radiation...hang in there, you are very strong!

Sent by Carolyn, carolynscure.blogspot.com | 10:34 AM ET | 03-26-2008

I'm now 3 years post chemo and I still wonder if it was worth it. Having part of my brain removed, the menopause caused by the chemo and just memory loss from age, I'm trying to get through graduate school for a second or third go at life. Depression still haunts me and if I had it to do over again, I don't think I could. I wish I had your spirit! Your words inspire even those of us that are past inspiring! Thank you.

Sent by Tammy | 10:49 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy, During my own treatments, I read alot about how the way we think about our treatments can affect the way they work for us. If you can find a way to make peace with the treatment, to receive it as a healing tool, you may engage your mind as part of the healing, rather than forcing the treatment to work against the current of your thoughts. There was something in a book years ago about a person getting chemo or radiation and getting terribly sick when told to think of it as killing the cancer cells. Turns out they were a pacifist. When they reframed their image of the treatment as taking out the cancer trash, they had fewer side effects and the treatment was more efficacious(spelling?) for them. Just floating this as food for your thought. I had to work hard to welcome the radiation (which I finally settled on as sunshine) and chemo (which was easier when my sister discovered one of the drugs came from a plant that I could envision as offering me healing not poisoning). Much psychoneuroimmunology seems to say that the messages we give ourselves matter. Having read that, I think more carefully about the self-talk I do, and about my relationship with even more extreme treatments when my rational mind wants to acknowledge "toxic! poison!" and my healing depends on creating a more accepting partnership.

How wonderful that your doc told you outright that as many people die of the treatment as of the disease. We need information like that to make our decisions. There comes a point in many of our lives (with or without cancer involved) where we just have to start thinking about the best death we can have, whether that involves pneumonia or some other venue, and have to decide how much is enough in terms of treatment for progressive conditions, and have to decide which option (treating or not treating) leaves us the most humane path possible. We do not much speak of such things unless our lives have made us witness or the central charzcter in such territory. We'd be healthier if we spoke of all this before getting sick, and if we had a more enlightened understanding of which interventions buy good time and a good ending and which might take us places we never ever wanted to go. I think for many of us, there is not enough hard data to make teh choosing easy. But even so, I think it is important in every decision from when to sign a Do Not Resucitate" order to deciding on new treatmetns, to do the best calculus (emotional as well as rational) that one can do to determine the most humane and self-caring path to take. I with you success with your treatement, with grieving your mother's passing, and with finding joy in each day with spring, and with Laurie, and with all you hold dear.

Sent by Sarah | 10:54 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Oh Leroy, I feel so empathetic for you. You cannot allow yourself to worry about what the radiation is doing to the rest of your body, you must STAY FOCUSED on the radiation killing the tumors on your spine. I know it's awful but just keep dwelling on the fact that you are alive and you can do this.

Sent by Ruth White | 11:14 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Between a rock and a hard place...After more than a year of treatment (chemo, radiation, targeted gene therapy), now I'm having various pains...could be a recurrence, could also be a result of any of those brutal assaults on my body that were meant to "save the village." Just roll with the punches, I guess. You aren't alone when they close those two-foot thick lead doors. We who have "been there, done that" are with you in spirit.

Sent by Doris | 11:25 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Today, in my heart, I declare it to be "Leroy Sievers Day" ... And I will do so tomorrow, and the next day and the next ... My thoughts and prayers remain with you and your family every day, in the village of Leroy, which reaches far across the land and touches us all so deeply. As always, thank you ...

Sent by Kim Forester | 11:40 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy,

I believe you are doing the right thing in continuing treatment until the law of diminishing returns kicks in. If/when that happens, we're not leaving you. I believe everyone will want to support you whatever your decisions may be.

Blessings

Sent by Diana Kitch | 11:43 AM ET | 03-26-2008

Just passing through today, en route to other stuff that seems to look important to me today. In the scheme of things, it's just what I do for a job, not my life. I really need to remember that on more occasions than I care to admit.

But beyond that crap, I just wanted to convey my encouragement, best regards and good thoughts your way. I'm not religious, so I won't give you those platitudes. Rather, I'll thank you for the very honest, real thoughts and feelings you share here.

Thank you.

Sent by Dave Utrata | 12:16 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Wish I could send you a large box of patience and some sort of numbness to go along with the affection and admiration your receive from your readers. Deep breaths during the day include thoughts and prayers for you.

Sent by Marilee Kaufman | 12:17 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Hang in there my friend. I can corroborate the radiation illness. After 3 wks of rads, I ran fever/chills for days w. nausea/vomiting. I felt it was the rads, the medicals didn't believe me. They tested me for flu, negative. The rads were on my breast and axillary areas, i was burnt to a crisp and basically exhausted. I'm sure it was doing something evil to my insides too. But, no regrets, they gave me antibiotics for the illness (and a few days vacation from rads) and extra rest helped w. fatigue. It's more than a year later now, no hair at the rad. site/underarm...powerful stuff!! Love you all who post to blog. From Sherri in Texas, BC dx 4-06

Sent by Sherri Eggleston | 1:40 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Good Afternoon Leroy,
When my Dad was undergoing chemo for colon cancer his doctor told me the chemo could kill him before the cancer. I did not feel that was something Dad needed to know at that time and I am glad now for that decision. Dad still had his cancer when he passed away from a heart attack at 77. Never give up the fight...which reminds me of a saying I heard once..."It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the fight in the size of the dog". Love and Prayers to you and Laurie and all those on the Blog.

Sent by Teresa in WV | 2:39 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Hi Leroy,

We are with you. You have taught us so much about how to fight. You have also enlightened and educated us that there are options and the patient makes the decision, not the doctor.

We are all praying for you and hope that prayer comforts you during the radiation.

Sent by Marcy in NJ | 4:27 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Hey Leroy,
Keep on keeping on. Our thoughts and prayers are with you and all who are suffering without reason or justice. As others have pointed out we have the Hobson's choice between longer life, better life and (often) affordable life. You are an inspiration to all who read you. I was verry sorry to hear about your mother. Mine at 89 is still a wise and energetic inspiration to all who know her.

Vaya con Dios

John Shippee
Atlanta, Georgia

Sent by John Shippee | 4:37 PM ET | 03-26-2008

dear mr. sievers, i will try again as my first attempt to post was lost.several months ago ,november of 2007, i wrote a posting after your piece:back to normal.in it i typed the entire :daily survival kit for serious illness by thomas l. mcdermitt.i then sent you a package with a note and the "portable" card of the same. everytime i read what you write tom's card stands out as an enormous support in a gentle,kind,accepting,and encouraging way. luxury is soooooooo important in everyday living.it is,in my mind,part of what propells one forward,no matter how tiny the "movement"(physical,emotional). i cannot know how it is that you feel,only you are in your skin. i hold deep respect for your words and the feelings that they express.the enormity of your sharing is not measurable. truth is wonderful,scary,necessary,uncertain. take good care ,as you are doing.in the hardest moment it is still your best. this day is cold,bright,windy,and the clouds keeps changing. warmly,hope

Sent by hope | 4:44 PM ET | 03-26-2008

I had radiation to the left side of my face (temple area) down to my collarbone. The doc made a mask to fit over my face and it had a hole in it so that the beams could do their work to kill the cancer cells. At each treatment the mask went on then it was bolted to the table so that I could not move. The claustrophobia was the worse. I finally convinced them to cut 2 holes for my nostrils so that breathing was easier.

Over the 2.5 weeks of high dose radiation I went from slightly red to purple. The aloe gel helped soothe the burning. I have no beard on that side of my face (thats' good), lost a 2 inch swath of hair behind my ear, my left sideburn was removed in one of my previous surgeries and replaced with a skin graft, was tired so I napped but got through it ok.

Immediately after completing the radiation, I had another recurrence in the irradiated area. Have continued to have recurrences in this area so my assessment is that it didn't work. Would I try radiation again, you bet!!! You never know what the key will be to bring you into the presence of NED (no evidence of disease).

Leroy, today's strategy is radiation and we'll hope and pray that it is successful for you. Don't look beyond today but trust that it'll do the job.

We are here everyday sending best wishes and prayers for you and Laurie.

Sent by al cato | 5:00 PM ET | 03-26-2008

I had six weeks of head and neck IMRT at UPenn. I had the mask and was bolted down to the table. My sessions lasted about 25 minutes. I came to HATE the machine. Although it was really my friend, I looked at it as my enemy. Here I was literally bolted to a table by the head and this machine was free to have its way with me for almost 30 minutes. It was like some kind of Dark Ages torture device - the rack meets Hiroshima. The mask was so tight that when it came off my face looked like a honeycomb. I also went from white to red to purple - eventually. I would close my eyes and listen to music and try to ignore what was going on. I would even talk to the machine sometimes...calling it unflattering names. Even with my eyes closed I could see the purple and dark red flashes of light through my closed eyes. You got to know the pattern of the machine as it went from one part of my head to the next. To use your analogy, it was like I was a village getting shelled and when the machine would move from one part of my head to another was like a 30 second break in the shelling. Even though I had no sense of smell because they removed my olfactory nerves in surgery, I swore I could smell my flesh burning. It is unnerving to experience all these sensations. Why is everyone on the other side of the 2-foot thick lead door? I was lucky that I am not claustraphobic because this would have been enough to push you over the edge.

Okay, now they payoff. Almost three years later I am still clean. My enemy maybe was my friend. I do hope that some day we look back at these methods of treating cancer and say how barbaric they were. That will mean that a more gentle treatment option was invented. But, I did my "time" in 2005. As the saying goes, it is what it is.

Sent by Dave U. | 6:02 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Geez............it does make me very angry though that relatively speaking, we spend so much money in Iraq to kill mothers and fathers, sisters, brothers: all of them part of the human family, when it's a fact that the same funds spent on cancer research, Parkinson's research, MS research, ETC., would make a positive difference in millions of lives, maybe even fund a cure for some of the diseases we suffer.

I've heard it said several times that cancer IS CURABLE given enough money for the work.

Well what are we doing with our money?

We don't even spend the necessary funds to take care of the deeply emotionally wounded women and men who have returned from Iraq.

It really is a sad comment about our priorities. And I am sorry to be political but someone , lots and lots of "someones" need to speak up. What has happened to our voices?

I'm sorry Leroy that you have to go through the radiation as it is affecting you. Your courage is immeasureable...but I wish you and all of us who deal with recurrences in cancer and some of the tougher treatments did not have to go through them at all...because our research in these areas was better funded than this war.

Sent by Nancy Oliveri | 6:20 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy... you will know when "enough is enough". That inner voice you have listened to all along will tell you.... but in the meantime--the old cliche'one day at a time!

Sent by Jo Ann Baswell-Margate, FL | 6:48 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Dear Leroy,
How I hate those thick heavy doors. They are the ultimate simple of aloneness. Please know, that you are never alone but in all of our thoughts and prayers---always

Sent by Mary Cannon | 7:27 PM ET | 03-26-2008

That buzzing is pretty unreal. I had radiation for breast cancer (after 2 surgeries and chemo) and while I lay on the table I had a little chant I used to do. When the buzzing started I would say in my head "kill the cancer, its all gone, kill the cancer, its all gone". Of course this was inside my head, not that the techs could hear me anyway, they were behind that really thick door. This way I could pretend that I was sending the beam after the cancer and it was not hitting anything else (yeah right, tell that to my funky looking 'girl' who definately looked like something had been after 'it'.) Keep your sense of humor Leroy, it really helps to laugh at all this crazy stuff.

Sent by Cindee | 9:19 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy:
I've had computer problems for over 10 days now, but was happy to see you are still going. I was a little worried.

Now, computer problems are no where like cancer problems, but today I tired to fix it myself and ended up losing everything. It was so disappointing to boot up and find everything I was working with only hours before gone...for good.

It made me think about what cancer does. One minute you are trucking along doing your thing, pictures on your desktop so to speak and the next it's the blank startup screen never to return to the past.

Guess we just start from there and reinstall what we can. Computer crashes and mice are great decision makers sometimes. They make your mind up for you pretty quickly as to what you keep and what you throw away.

Keeping up good thoughts for you.

Nikki

Sent by Nikki in Kansas | 10:32 PM ET | 03-26-2008

Leroy,
As someone mentioned in a previous post, it may be helpful to think of the radiation as healing. I tried to and at the same time I would laugh at the absurdity of radiation "helping" me. Yes, it is scary when everyone runs out of the room and the big thick door closes. What is good for one of us may not be good for all of us I guess. Cancer as you know is awful and relentless. You are such a fighter.

I was diagnosed w/early stage breast cancer two years ago and all is well now. I do wonder though if I could do it again. I am afraid I might not be able to. It really broke me down physically, mentally and emotionally.

I did find a silver lining in it though... it really brought out the best in people. My neighbors made dinners for months on end for my husband and I and our 18 month old twins, my parents flew from the East to the West coast multiple times during treatment to help. LIVING in the MOMENT had never been more clear to me. Love the people that you love the best way you know how right now.

I have wondered if I would know when "enough is enough." I think we will. You still have fight in you. Sending positive energy and saying lots of prayers for you Leroy.
Hugs, Jennifer

Sent by Jennifer in CA | 11:49 PM ET | 03-26-2008

You are a brave man Leroy. After watching everything my husband went through trying to fight his cancer, I know for a fact, I would opt to not receive treatment at all if I was ever diagnosed with this monstrous disease. Bless you.

Sent by Cindy | 4:52 AM ET | 03-27-2008

I had mouth and neck radiation three years ago too with the whole mask that bolts you to the table and fits so tightly it leaves marks on your skin (and sedatives which helped me sleep through the 25 minutes on the table every day). And I'm also cancer free for 3 years now BUT my village is kind of permanently damaged.

I joked that I was taking a scorched earth policy towards my cancer and 3 years later my tongue, where the cancer was, still feels literally scorched--I have the sort of pain one would associate with a badly burned tongue every single day. Then there's the dry mouth, the fact I have scar tissue in my jaw that prevents me from opening my mouth very wide, and the major swallowing problems.

But as long as I don't have more cancer, the way I look at it everything else is gravy. There aren't any really good options in the cancer battle, though some people are definitely given worse choices than others. I'm sorry your options both suck right now, Leroy, but if it's clear the radiation is better than the alternative at this point I think you're doing the right thing. I hope the feedback you get here helps give you some strength each day.

Sent by N.R. | 7:36 AM ET | 03-27-2008

Leroy, It's been awhile since I have posted, but I follow the blog somewhat religiously. Your post today about the radiation and the poisons got me to thinking on my own treatments a year ago. I had the 30 plus zaps after chemo. When you mentioned "feeling" the radiation, I was trying to remember if my hair stood up while being zapped. Then I realized that it did not. Chemo poisons killed any hair I had on my body. Yes, these are powerful poisons we are using on the village to save it.

Sent by Susan P. | 11:52 AM ET | 03-27-2008

Leroy,I read your comments every day.It breaks my heart to see you suffer. I would not put too much into anyone predicting the future for you. I was given 4 to 6 mos. four years ago and now have been clean for that long. You are here by the grace of God and your own determination." Keep the ball pumped up" And you will not have your life predicted by anyone. My life has been changed by your daily journey through "Cancer World". For some it is a lonely trip,but your journey has uplifted so very many of us. Thank you, Thank you. I will pray for you, please pray for me. Respectfully, Ted Kindler

Sent by ted kindler | 11:18 AM ET | 03-28-2008

Hi Leroy, I've been reading your blog for quite a while for no-reason-what-so-ever but that I was interested in you and hoping you'd do well. Now a friend has called and he has lung cancer with mets to his spine. I want to send him a gift but I want it to be useful, I don't care about meaningful (he knows he's so loved) so much but want to make things easier or better for him. Do you have any suggestions?
I do pray for you and can almost hear (in your words) you getting better each and every day. God bless you.
Karen B.

Sent by Karen B. | 10:43 PM ET | 03-29-2008