WOW! There is so much truth to your posting today. Normalcy. My colleagues probably think, I am weird. I am here, thinking about the next two weeks while my family is going to be one less one very important person soon, my dad. He was empathic about wanting to go home to die. I arranged that to happen on Saturday, a 24/7 care giver. Hospice nurse (I recall your meeting not to long ago), equipment delivery, supplies brought in.

Most of the time he sleeps. Hospice is wonderful for him and us. The care giver can do what I am unable to do. Normalcy, what little there is I hold on to.

Sent by Sue Chap | 7:59 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Good Morning Leroy ~ It is April 1st! Looks rather gray and dismal, yet when my husband opened our apartment door here this morning to retrieve our paper, he found that the "Birthday Fairy" had been here while we slept and attached a clump of bright-colored balloons to our door knocker! What a silly grin he came back in with! He never had anyone do that for him. A little thing - yes, but I wish I could capture that experssion on his face. My 87 year old husband with a 7 yr old's grin. Seems there is a little, lovely, woman who lives here and never fails to keep track of the resident's birthday and quietly attaches balloons to their doors !
Yes Leroy, it is the little, normal, things that make life worthwhile. (Maybe balloons would be a solution for Karen). You are so wise to utilize your small trips from chair to bed, from room to room to enrich your mind and memory. Hey, you are moving, thinking, and being "NORMAL" and even bored again.

Sent by J C R | 8:04 AM ET | 03-31-2008

We're listening. Keep talking to us! And I'll "see ya" tomorrow as usual. *smile*

Sent by Susan | 8:05 AM ET | 03-31-2008

I very much agree! When I was in treatment people would visit and start talking about their problems and then stop, saying that they were being selfish or my problems were "so much worse", i would tell them PLEASE, tell me whats going on with you, i want to feel useful and mostly i want to not talk about my stuff, i begged people sometimes to talk about whats going on with them. sometimes it would be hard if it was 80 degrees out and they were talking about how much fun they had on the beach etc... and i couldnt go out, but i still wanted to hear it, it took me away from all the cancer stuff. :)

Sent by Jenn | 8:11 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Well said, Leroy. Really I think the best gift is to be there. Stay the course with your friend. Ask how it is going, listen, and if they move on to the latest news - chat about the latest news.
Meals during treatment time if your friend has a family were very very helpful to us when our son was in treatment.
And seriously - staying the course with your friend during all that is about to happen is the best gift. We lost friends and other folks we thought were important in our life during our son's long treatment perioud. Not sure why but can tell you those that stayed with us - those that responded to our son's website, or called on a treatment day, or emailed us - those are the gems of the friend world.

Sent by Melissa T | 8:22 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy,
That is so true. As well intentioned as everyone is, they seem to be more worried than we are.
I know that I feel good, when things are the way the used to be, "normal". No special gifts or flowers, though they are appreciated. As much is possible, nothing special, but a "regular" day. Oh and treat me the same as "before".
Prayers, Blessings and May The Grace Of God Be With You.
Wanda Amorose

Sent by Wanda Amorose | 8:26 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Dear Leroy.
As a caregiver/spouse, I say "Amen" to people giving me a bit of normalcy. I don't want to be defined as "The wife whose husband has Stage IV Cancer". I don't want to answer a thousand and one questions about scans, appointments, clinical trials, etc., etc., etc. I want to talk to people about books, politics, the weather, anything that reminds me that I still have one foot in the "Normal world". Thanks once more for a great post.

Sent by Elaine | 8:31 AM ET | 03-31-2008

I appreciate today's post so much. Thanks again for doing what you do.

Sent by Nichole | 8:35 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy,you are such a gifted writer. What an inspiration on a dark, rainy Monday morning. I cried when I read your blog today. I laughed about the chocolate. You can bring out a lot of emotions. Hope you pain is lessening and you can enjoy a warm sunny day soon.

Sent by Carol | 8:40 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy, I couldn't agree with you more. Being able to spend time with friends and family and not have to focus on our cancer is all we need and want. Of course we don't want to pretend that we aren't dealing with cancer (well, maybe sometimes we do), but let's not devote our entire visit to it. No one is happy to have cancer and nobody wants to be defined by it. Whether we are sick or not, we are still ourselves and we really enjoy be treated as such. So much of our days is consumed with the disease, ie, treatments, doctor's visits, tests, that we enjoy getting a break and look forward to just being ourselves.

Sent by jen barad | 8:41 AM ET | 03-31-2008

You're right; people only need to bring themselves as gift, and know when to leave. Things just become a lot of clutter after a while.

Kate

Sent by Kate Fuehrer | 8:45 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy,
You are so right! When people ask me how I'm doing, I often say "good", followed quickly by "how 'bout Obama's speech" or "I think Davidson has a chance". Anything to feel normal for even a short time! Praying for you, Leroy.

Sent by Bob Clements | 8:48 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Hi Leroy,
I think it really does make a difference if you've been diagnosed recently, are in the intense throes of treatment, or are in longer-term waiting mode. I agree the gift of normalcy is the best - tell me about your life, don't just stare tragically at mine. However, let me talk when I need to - you don't have to worry about what to say in response - just be with me.
Especially during treatment, simple meals, like soup and bread, were always welcome when our household's energy was low. And singular, beautiful flowers - sunflowers, orchids - were lovely images I could focus on when, as you said, reading is impossible.

As always, thanks for your gift in doing this, Leroy.

Sent by jeh | 8:53 AM ET | 03-31-2008

thanks leroy, if i am fortunate, i will not have to worry about this - but, that is not reality is it? when my bestest friend in the world was going through chemo and radiation for breast cancer i always sent her some silly gift for the chemo days. the reality - WE DON'T HAVE A CLUE WHAT TO DO FOR SOMEONE AND WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. for those in my life who i was not so close to i wrote notes a couple of times a week - found out that was really appreciated - not even saying much - just sending love and thougts. and, as you know, only good thoughts and much love go out to you.
love, jan

Sent by JANICE GOLDBERG WHITE | 8:54 AM ET | 03-31-2008

So true, Leroy. A good friend of mine who died of cancer a year ago said during her last months "Cancer gets old. Let's talk about something else." Well, today in Minneapolis we are expecting eight inches of snow! How's that for normalcy? Good thing I did not put the snow shovel away yet!! Take care! :)

Sent by Wendy | 8:58 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Good morning Leroy. As usual when I read your words they are right on. Isn't it funny how we all seem to think we are the only one that seems to feel that way, but your words could be spoken by me.

Hopefully you had a good and restful weekend.

Sent by dorothy in oregon | 9:05 AM ET | 03-31-2008

I developed a late-in-life fondness for stuffed animals. It was like the brave front I had for the world dissolved when I was in my bed and I wanted my teddy bear. I ascribed a certain magical healing property to one of them, because it came from a friend who was wise and spiritual. Another good gift is really comfy bedwear, gift certificates to Barnes & Noble or Borders. A subscription to Netflix or Blockbuster. I watched a lot of movies. Plants that don't need a lot of care. If you're daring, a new kitten is just the thing.

Sent by Alycia Keating | 9:10 AM ET | 03-31-2008

P.S. Pardon me for my earlier post where I said that it was April 1st. It is indeed, March 31st and I have "March Madness!" Loved your message today Leroy.

Sent by J C R | 9:20 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy, something that most folks don't talk about is the "cost" of being a friend. It requires a concious decision to work at keeping the lines of communiction open...phone calls, notes, remembering significant days. And staying the course when that friend is on the roller coster ride of physical and mental changes. Being a friend is never a one-way activity, I would expect that you give as much back to your friends as they give to you. I chose to invest in those friends that have continued to invest in me. lac

Sent by Lou Ann | 9:49 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy-
You got that right, normalcy.

The last few times, I saw my terminally ill father, that was my gift to him, although he heard my harsh worlds to my narcasisstic mother (he was her burden, and she let everyone know it).

You confirmed I did the right thing. An outing to the movies, driving around ,looking at Christmas lights for the last time, a restaurant dinner in his wheelchair. That was my gift to him. Leroy, I wish you some normalcy.

Sue Chap - I am recently on the other side of your journey.

Sent by Gail | 9:55 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Dear Leroy,
This isn't for posting,but I just finished sitting shiva for my mother and saw that you just lost your mother, too. I want to share my sympathies with you. My 80 year old mother was a survivor of a malignant renal tumor, 30 yrs of coronary artery disease(after 3 heart attacks she was one of the first women who had bypass surgery), osteoarthritis, multiple laminectomies, a stroke, gout...the list amazingly enough goes on. At her funeral,the rabbi said something about her unending optimism - in regard to the saying about seeing the glass being half full or half empty. He said, "Marilyn's gift was that she could look at a glass that was almost empty and see *that* as half full. I, too, will miss my mother. I wish you strength during this round of treatment. B'shalom. Bi'salaam. In peace.

Sent by Terri | 9:55 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Hi Leroy and All -

I agree strongly with the idea but not with the word. I'm afraid "normalcy" has been destroyed for me by the notion of the "new normal." There is nothing normal about cancer just as there is nothing normal about Darfur. Never accept the unacceptable no matter how much we have to accomdate to it. You are a very good example of this.

Nonetheless I do agree with living as much of a life outside cancer as possible and am very grateful for the opportunities I have had to do so. I am extremely thankful for those who have simply accepted me as the person I've always been despie the fact that I have a very threatening and (in my case) potentially deadly but only moderately debilitating condition. It's a great gift to be treated (and listened to) like everyone else rather than as a threatening pariah. Cancer may not be HIV/AIDS in this respect, but there are times, I think, when nearly everyone with a threatening condition has a disease that gives others a sense of dis-ease. It's a great gift when they can treat me just like anyone else.

Vaya con Dios,
John Shippee
Atlanta, Georgia

Sent by John Shippee | 10:01 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Good Morning Leroy, Laurie and All,

Leroy, Your topic this morning of: "What is the best gift?" is certainly one that many people wrestle with so often. My answer came years ago from my own son.

My husband, Tom, was in the hospital with a heart attack and we didn't know if he would ever make it home. Our sons were 14 and 12 at the time and I didn't want to cry in front of them. So I waited until they were in bed. My oldest son, Randy, sensed that something was wrong and he came back downstairs and found me in tears. He handed me a box of kleenex and sat and held my hand until I was able to stop crying. Then he kissed me gently and went back to bed. He never uttered a word. But he was there for me. So I learned that the best gift you can ever give is YOU! It doesn't really matter what you say or what you do. But just be there in whatever form is possible. Never turn and walk away from a loved one who is hurting, no matter what the cause. Also, don't be afraid to laugh and bring back that normalcy that we all crave.

To Sheara: Thank you for the kind words over the weekend. They are deeply appreciated!

To All: Someday we will get the treasured news that Cancer has been defeated. But until then, we have each other and that is the best gift of all. And Leroy, Just to help you out, I'll take the chocolate!! God Bless!

Eileen Pruyne
Charlotte, NC

Sent by Eileen Pruyne | 10:11 AM ET | 03-31-2008

A timely email for me having just finished a weekend where I don't think I talked about cancer with anyone. Although, I am sure it was on some people's mind because I also took off my wig and have very short hair. I retired Friday. I was surprised at a party on Friday night that no one when they were saying nice things brought up my disease but I was thrilled. My son was in for the weekend from NY and we had a great time talking about the turn of events at my former place of employment, attending the opening of our Obama headquarters and laughing about all kinds of things.

I know, for awhile at least, I will want the news from work where there are changes daily but I am also ready to take on some new challenges for as long as I can.

I have said before the best gift I have received was from the person who simply said when I was diagnosed, "I'll be there" and she has been. Peace

Sent by Dona | 10:21 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Dear Leroy,
Thanks for the words of wisdom. Even having been the "patient" I sometimes don't know the right thing to do. I really appreciate the friends who did not turn away and my wonderful quilting friends in Fallbrook, CA who made "chemo quilts" for me and my daughter.
Bless you! I hope you find some comfortable spots today.
Charlotte in Rural Ridge, PA

Sent by Charlotte Kewish | 10:49 AM ET | 03-31-2008

The nicest gift my husband received when he retired, after we received that news that he was Stage IV and had exhausted treatment options, was a gift certificate to a very nice restaurant close to our home. Imagine our surprise when we discovered that the gift certificate would cover not one, but three special meals! We cannot afford to eat at such restaurants since his retirement, and we greatly appreciate the "normalcy" of going out for a special occasion without worrying about the cost.

It's also important that the restaurant is close to our house. We sometimes get invites as "gifts" to events or parties that are a long drive or are late at night or (when he was in chemo) are out in the sun or involve large crowds. Then we have to say no and explain how his treatment or condition limit those things and then we feel bad.

Consider that the person you are gifting may tire easily, nap frequently or need to stay out of the sun or need to avoid crowds.

The most incredible gift that I received as caretaker was the gift of an apartment for two weeks that was a short bus ride from the hospital where my husband had extensive surgery. And this kind friend let me bring the dog, too. This saved me having to choose between an expensive hotel bill in a major city or having to drive two hours each way from the hospital.

Above all, a gift should make life easier for the recipient and their family, not impose social burdens.

Sent by Ricci | 11:20 AM ET | 03-31-2008

There is very little in life that will not be hepled by a kitten.

Sent by Donna in Virginia | 11:25 AM ET | 03-31-2008

You are so right about friends. I've lost a few in connection with my diagnosis. But the best gifts have been the friends who have re-emerged in my life - the friend in lake effect snow who called and said "I think about you all the time." That is a gift of love.

Sent by Dianne (DC) | 11:42 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Good morning, Leroy. That was a very good message today. I believe I'm repeating some information, but it seems appropriate today. A dear friend who had breast cancer threw a party for all the friends and family that supported her during surgery recovery and treatments. She cried telling us we could never know how much the phone calls and visits meant to her, and that she is forever changed, in many ways for the better, because of those that stood by her. She will probably never realize how much her words of love and thanks meant to us all. So, folks, visit and call. You will be forever changed to know you supported a friend through their battle of a liftime.

Sent by Sharon | 11:50 AM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy -your words apply in so many situations. Thanks for taking the time to write, it gives us the routine and "normalcy" that we also look forward to.

Sent by claire | 12:02 PM ET | 03-31-2008

I learned something about good gifts after my Mom died. My Mom saved all of the cards she received during her illness. I read through all of the them and came to realize there was one woman in particular who continously sent her cards. In fact, I, myself, was cheered up by cards and messages this person sent. I tracked her down, told her I read all of the cards, and expressed my appreciation for the friendship she and my Mom shared. It really is the little things, isn't it.

Sent by Holly Gaenzle | 12:30 PM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy,

I have a bunch of trouble with the word "normal." I'm not sure what it means. In the case of someone with cancer, I'm pretty sure it means how things were before cancer. I hear you about wanting to talk about something else. Glad there are people who do that for you.

Blessings

Sent by Diana Kitch | 12:38 PM ET | 03-31-2008

Great post today. The gift of love is the best. Lord be with you.

Sent by Hal | 12:48 PM ET | 03-31-2008

It took a while for my best friend and I to work out whether to talk about her cancer and how much. There were times that she didn't want to talk about it and she found a gentle way to say "I don't want to talk about it". There were also times when I thought she might be sick of talking about cancer and by not mentioning cancer, I hurt her feelings. There were also times when I needed to talk about it and she didn't know I needed to talk. It took a while, but we worked out our "cues". If we missed our cues, we would be quite frank about whether or not cancer was to be mentioned. Most of the time, we chose to talk about other things. Cancer was a part of her life, but it never defined who she was.

Sent by Jen | 12:48 PM ET | 03-31-2008

This seems a good time to ask--because I've been wondering--what would you be writing about if not for...? I think you might have addressed this in your blog before, but now with the fascinating political scene and the five-year anniversary of the Iraq war, you might want to comment further. Do you still have a taste for the news? I have chronic intermittent pain and know what a difference that makes to what you can and want to think about.

Sent by Rebecca | 12:58 PM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy, Normalcy is something everyone with cancer strives to achieve. It is difficult to reach this goal. I catch myself, every now and then, thinking like I used to dreaming really. Is it okay to dream still?? I can't so much anymore, the cancer has taken that from me. I miss dreaming! Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 1:12 PM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy, I recall when a dear friend said he had cancer and we talked over the phone several times. I suspect he didn't want me to see him when he was not at his old, athletic self. Then, he stopped answering the phone, once again, I suspect too tired or unwilling to take calls. I sent cards and notes, short and sometimes with a twist of humor (he had a wicked sense of humor). I have the memories of those "normal chats" about life, his girls, his determination. It was all about being the best friend I could be.

Sent by Pat Z | 1:14 PM ET | 03-31-2008

recipe swap is always a good conversation....or any stories shared from our childhood....I love distraction! Great message today. Many thanks for sharing.

Sent by Karen | 1:41 PM ET | 03-31-2008

What an excellent post. I remember seeing my grandfather for the first time after he had his bladder removed in hopes of squashing his cancer. I brought him a plant to decorate his room and some water guns to harass people with (he was always a joker, and I knew he was bored), but later my Grandma said the greatest thing I gave him was the visit. My only piece of advice to add is to take care of the person's spouse. My grandma suffered Grandpa's cancer nearly as much as he did. My mom traveled the 5 hours to the hospital with a hot, home-cooked meal and took my grandma on a picnic to remind her of the normal life. Grandpa felt better when someone was taking care of Grandma since he knew he couldn't.

Sent by Jessica | 1:47 PM ET | 03-31-2008

one of the most lasting gifts we continue to give to our friend who passed last year d/t malignant melanoma (an awful beast indeed) is that we have rekindled relationships with his family. we help his sister take care of his folks by visiting mom in the nursing home (suffered stroke 6 mos after mark died), changing his dad's urostomy bag (bladder cancer 10 years ago. that was one of mom's jobs), taking him for errands and, once a week, my husband and his buddy take the dad out for "boys night out" and they enjoy a couple of pitchers and the company of friends. we told mark we would help robin take care of their folks and that gift meant more to him than any material item possibly could have. every moment i spend with the dad leaves me happy because i know mark is happy.

Sent by susan | 2:21 PM ET | 03-31-2008

mmm... "just act natural..." so true. sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves and others, is forget. forget past slights. forget assumptions. forget during a visit that your loved one has cancer. in fact, the ability to focus on what we have in common is a gift. and we all have that ability, if we really put our minds to it. because no matter what, something we all have in common, is that we are all alive. and there are lots and lots of fascinating 'alive-people' things to think about and talk about.

Sent by mary | 2:28 PM ET | 03-31-2008

My diagnosis came three weeks before the end of the semester, and both my husband and I had dozens of projects to supervise and papers to grade. We had to fit a dozen scans, tests, etc., into those three weeks as well (including two trips to Seattle, 12 hours roundtrip from our home, for 7:00 a.m. scans). What we needed most, especially when we were on campus, was respect for our time. Everyone in the department wanted to come by and hug and cry and chat and give advice, and after the first hour that first morning, I just sent out an email that said, Thanks for your good wishes. What we need is normalcy. You can email me anything you want, but please don't come by and please don't call. I felt kinda bossy, but it was all true, and being honest was very effective. Our friends didn't feel slighted because I'd told them exactly what I wanted, and it was something they could do.

I suppose that's the best present: something I want, as opposed to something the giver wants. People have visions of what might be nice, but those visions often don't match with reality. Long chatty visits *sound* sweet, but after chemo, I was grateful for a 5 minute, Here's some wine for your hubby and some nice handcream for you...well, see ya! kind of visit. Some were so brief I didn't even have time to think about getting up off the couch, and that was just fine.

And I will never hesitate to call/write to someone I haven't seen in a while, maybe a long while, who's just entered this world. Maybe mine is just one of a hundred messages, but maybe I am the person to whom they know they can put questions and fears without reservation. Thus, I call, I write, and I remind them that I have walked this path (thus far successfully), that I have fallen along the way, and that I am still here, trudging.

And then we gossip and kvetch and do all the things we'd normally do!

Peace
jj

Sent by Joan Jones | 3:12 PM ET | 03-31-2008

I have a suggestion for a gift for the caregiver, usually the spouse. When my husband was just too worn out for visitors and the smell of food nauseated him, I found having someone come to visit him for five minutes and then take ME to dinner was a wonderful break. I got to eat food that was tasty, have conversation, and it made Tom feel like I was taking care of myself which is a concern for the cancer patient.

Sent by Carol Egan | 3:43 PM ET | 03-31-2008

I have a very dear friend whom is terminal... I have had my own experiences with cancer.. and yet we almost never talk about cancer.....

I do hope and pray I give her that sense of "normalcy" if only for short periods of time when we can just be two very good friends.....

Eileen... the chocolates are on the way! :-)) that was a VERY touching story.. so poignant... it would seem you have a very insightful son!!

It is true.. there is no better gift than that of yourself.............

Sent by Ron Bye (NH) | 3:53 PM ET | 03-31-2008

How right you are. I remember, back in the midst of my chemo, when a couple of high school friends I hadn't seen in years came by. There we sat - they looking strong and healthy, and me with no hair. We talked about the cancer very little. Just reminiscing about the old days was a precious gift.

Sent by Carl Wilton | 4:23 PM ET | 03-31-2008

Amen. I was on vacation at a place I've frequented many times. So I knew the people but they had no idea about my last year. It was great!!!!

Sent by Lisa | 4:25 PM ET | 03-31-2008

This is why I started my blog.(coffeeandchemo.blogspot.com)

I write all my cancer thoughts on my blog, so that the rest of the time I can talk about things that really interest me: parenting, swimming, Sci Fi, theatre, art, Israel, Judaism, etc.

Life is too busy to be talking about cancer all day long!

Sent by Rivka with a capital A | 4:34 PM ET | 03-31-2008

I've always appreciated the sentiment behind the pink bears, green tea lotions, etc. ... but have always wished people wouldn't give them. Because then there are the obligatory thank you notes to write ... and frankly, that requires energy that I don't always have. And I know these people care and think about me. But if someone MUST give a gift, how about lunch - where a verbal thank you does the trick???

Sent by julie | 5:51 PM ET | 03-31-2008

Thank you, Leroy, for today's blog. I've often wondered if connection to the world outside of illness is important to loved ones who are in the midst of the fight. You have given me the answer.

Sent by Paulette | 6:09 PM ET | 03-31-2008

Sue Chap, my prayers are with you and your family...
Leroy, what a wonderful post today. We used to send cards to Neil every week. His daughter would write about a moment the two of them shared. It was a special moment watching him read those words. The dogs in the hospital his last week, It always brought him back to us for a short period...tomorrow is his birthday and it will be 4 months since his passing, so for me, I will reread all those cards I sent and relive fond memories.

Sent by Laurie Hirth | 7:18 PM ET | 03-31-2008

Leroy,
It is so important to feel "connected." I loved when people would write to me a/b the normal things going on in their lives... going to Christenings, traveling, painting, updating me on family members. It drew me out of my cancer world for a short period and gave me a feeling of connection.

Jennifer

Sent by Jennifer in CA | 12:01 AM ET | 04-01-2008

Hi Leroy,
I've been listening and reading for over a year now. I don't have cancer, but I am doing my first Half Iron Man race in June. I just did my first triathlon this weekend. In fact, I have only been swimming for about 6 weeks. The half ironman swim is a mile, should be interesting. : }
Anyway, I'm dedicating my race to you. You can't do it, so I'm doing it for you.
So far training is going well. I had a blast at my race this weekend. It was a pool swim, so I havent' had to jump in a river or the sea....yet. I had a great bike (second in my age group on the bike) and my usual run, that is to say slow. Good Times.
Now back to half ironman preparation. I biked for 3 hours on Sunday and ran 6 miles and swam 500m today. Training plan calls for a big week this week!

Sent by Rose Patterson | 1:09 AM ET | 04-01-2008

Great gifts:
- gift cards for those out-of-state trips to hospitals, etc. (cards for restaurant chains, long-distance cards, gasoline...)
- a hospital survival pack for patients and/or spouses - a grab-and-go emergency bag with toiletries, vending machine $, snacks, etc.
- a binder with paper and dividers for keeping notes about doctor's visits, questions, addresses/ph. #'s, medical histories, and meds
- music for long hours in a chemo chair (an ipod, itunes card)
- Reading materials should be very easy. Stress seems to shut down the ability to concentrate. Books and movies with lots of humor are great. Laughing is theraputic.
- a gift certificate for a massage The hot rocks massages are fantastic.
- a new recliner, a neck pillow, a microwave heating pad for those "just can't get comfortable" nights, car trips
- Take their car for an oil change.
- Mow their grass. Feed their pets. Water their plants.
- Forget the usual "possession" types of gifts for those whose time with us may be short. Think of "living in the moment" gifts like tickets to a performance or performing yourself if you have a talent. My daughter spent lots of time playing her grandfather's favorite songs with her cello. Think food, fun, flowers, fireworks.
- For families who are overwhelmed by phone calls, there is an online service called Caring Bridge (caringbridge.org) which allows you to post journal updates about a loved one's condition so that family members and friends can stay in touch and post comments without burdening you with constant calls. Some families might need your help in writing those updates or organizing friends to take turns bringing meals or doing errands.
- Don't say "Let me know how I can help. People often won't ask or are too stunned by a new diagnosis or crisis to think of ways you could help. Be creative and think of a way. Then do it, checking with them to make sure it's okay, of course.
- Leroy's right. Hang out with your friend. Let them be themselves and have a taste of old times. Tell them you're thinking of them, but don't ask for details they don't offer. Talk about the neighbors, kids, office gossip, sports, whatever you've always talked about. A few minutes of forgetting about cancer are like coming up for air - a precious pleasure.

Sent by Laura | 1:43 AM ET | 04-01-2008

One of the best gifts we received when my son was first diagnosed was a box of pratical things. It came from a friend who is a cancer survivor. The box had a book of stamps, our return address labels, a box of blank note cards (which I used for Thank You cards), a pocket calender to keep track of all the appointments, a 3-ring binder to keep track of all the medical bills, and a list of local cancer support groups. It was not a very warm and fuzzy gift, but it was the most useful and practical gift. There were nights after my son was in bed and instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I would organize the bills, send Thank You cards, etc. The box of "practical" things were really appreciated.

Sent by grace | 11:11 AM ET | 04-01-2008

The gift suggestions by Laura were great, we can all use them,thanks.

Sent by Hal | 1:53 PM ET | 04-01-2008

Such a great posting, Leroy.

Here are the three things I remember that friends did to help me through the tough days:
1. A friend visiting with her knitting. She sat and knitted and talked. She showed me the galley of her new book, complete with knitting projects to think about.
2. My colleagues arranging to have someone clean my house every two weeks. It was such an amazing treat. It's the only time in my life when I have not cleaned my own bathrooms and kitchen. Heaven.
3. The parents of the children in my class bought gift certificates to the local grocery so that my relatives and friends could just grab a card and pick up what they needed. They also bought certificates for an online delivery grocery. It was a LOT of fun to order fancy groceries for my husband and caregivers.

I loved having friends drop by when I felt well enough. But, sadly, it was hard to handle social obligations when I felt crummy.

Hang in there, Leroy. We all think of you.

PS Have you seen "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill" from Netflix. I learned to love documentaries--a blessed 80 minutes rather than two hours--when I was sick. You guys should see "Once." Great story, great music. Also short enough to stay awake for!

Sent by Robin | 7:53 PM ET | 04-01-2008

I went to a cancer center almost two hours away. My husband's job prevented him from being able to take me for all of my treatments, etc. My friends, family and co-workers divided up all of my appointments and drove me the 150 mile round trip. My co-workers surprised me with tables of snacks and food outside of our offices when I finished chemo and again when I finished radiation. Another co-worker ordered 100 pink breast cancer bracelets. She and others sold the bracelets and then turned around and gave me the cash. That co-worker three years later still wears her pink bracelet. I have never seen her without it. I had a wonderful support system and I realize a lot of folks are not so fortunate. Some of my gift thoughts are:

-gift cards from Wal-Mart, a grocery store, a drug store.
-a long distance pre-paid telephone card for calling out of town doctors or loved ones.
-make a payment on their utility bills or telephone bills.
-have a bake sale or take up a collection to help pay their rent, mortgage payment or a car payment.
-take their car for an oil change.
-magazine subscription.
-a good old worn soft bandana is wonderful for a tender bald scalp.
-cards and not just one; keep sending them so the person knows you are continuing to remember them. It is a long hard battle and they need your continued support.
-prepared meals, pizza delivered or how about a good cold milkshake?
-pray warriors, let them know you are praying for them daily and be faithful in this promise.

Sent by Janie | 9:56 PM ET | 04-01-2008

I'm a little behind in your postings and just read this. The gift of normalcy--so well put. I think I will tell people that when they ask me the same thing. I liked when people told me their problems, their dilemmas, it got me away from mine.

I must admit I also loved the dinners people dropped off at our door. My family ate like kings! It really helped my husband.

All the very best to you and your family!

Sent by Sarah J | 9:33 PM ET | 04-02-2008