How Long?

 
“When a limit has been put on your life, when all of a sudden life seems more urgent.”
 
 

There was really only one question that people were asking yesterday when the news about Ted Kennedy broke: How long?

There were plenty of doctors willing to go on TV to talk about his case, even though they weren't treating him.

Predictions were made. Prognoses given.

For anyone who's diagnosed, the first question they ask is "how long?" I know that was my first question to the doctor who had just rocked my world. And, that's the first question your loved ones want to ask too. How long will I have this person in my life?

You learn eventually that there is no answer to "how long?" Those predictions and prognoses don't mean anything. If I was diagnosed today, would I ask that same question?

Would "how long" be my first concern? As much as I've learned about cancer, as much as I've learned about myself, the answer is probably yes.

When a limit has been put on your life, when all of a sudden life seems more urgent, you want to know.

"How long?"

When I asked that the first time, the answer was about three months. Here I am, almost 30 months later. What's the lesson here?

I guess it's, what's most important is the living, not the preparing to die. I try to remind myself of that every day. No matter how much time I have left.

 

Comments (Send a comment)

"May you live all the days of your life." -Jonathan Swift

Sent by Leonard from Alabama | 8:15 AM ET | 05-22-2008

True Leroy,
It is always, how long. Or will it come back and when. One could actually get consumed with these thoughts. But we can't be the living dead. As hard as it is sometimes to ignore those thoughts, I guess it goes with the territory. Certainly, doctors should not be on TV making predictions. They really don't know for sure. It may be the medical indication, but may not be divine intention.
We have to have "faith".
Prayers,
Wanda Amorose

Sent by Wanda Amorose | 8:22 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, Guess that you are not as good as I thought! My Mother used to say that only the good die young! So, PLEASE STAY NOT SO GOOD!
Seriously, I pray that Teddy Kennedy also beats the odds. He is a good person who has done a lot for this country. And then again, NOBODY DESERVES CANCER.
So, for a change, you put a question out there and I don't know the answer.

Take care and I do hope that this spring is being good to you!
Love, Janice

Sent by Janice Goldberg White | 8:24 AM ET | 05-22-2008

In 2000 they gave me "6 months" and again in 2005 (mets) they gave me "6 months".

No one is willing to give me a time now and it's just as well as I believe our times are in God's hands and only He knows.

Sent by Vicky S (NY) | 8:24 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Ok, I'll cite a commercial frequently seen on TV, but first everyone sit down, remove your shoes and look at the bottom of your feet. If necessary get a mirror, friend, or relative to help you.

"We looked and couldn't find a date stamped on the bottom of your feet."

Here is my slant on life... Live until you die. Because no one here on earth knows just when that will happen.

Sent by Sue Chap | 8:28 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Hi Leroy,
I continue to read the blog, not because of "how long", but because of "thank you for the time I have left".
It was tough for my wife, and it will be tough for everyone else to have to face that question.
I wish I could think of a better way to face it, but I don't.
I do believe everyone should have the opportunity to share that moment with a loved one. Never alone.
Holding a loved ones hand at that time is so important.

In honor of my wife Marina.

Sent by Donato Salazar | 8:31 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, its not about how long, its all about what can I do today! None of us, even those without cancer, know how long.
Neil wrote down on a piece of paper, "memories are moments that are not ordinary". In the cancer world, your life is no longer ordinary. So we try to create those moments that bring us to a better place, help to remind us that we are still here, fighting! We need to wake up and look around us and see the beauty of each day! For that I am always thankful.
May each of you find something beautiful each and every day and find a way to create those moments in your lives that are not ordinary!
Continued prayers!

Sent by Laurie Hirth | 8:35 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Good Morning Leroy~ You are so right, as usual. That first question we all ask or think of is "How Long do I have?" I wonder why. Is it because we think we can cram everthing we haven't acomplished into the time left? What will we do with that precious time IF we knew for sure? The best wisdom I have heard is that if everyone lived each day as if it were their last, wouldn't this be a better world and we, better people? I hate the oft used expression,"Oh well, he (or she) has lived a good, long, rich, life". No matter how long they have lived, who knows what they might have accomplished had they had a little more time? How much is ENOUGH time?

Sent by J C R | 8:44 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy,
I also was given a 3 months prognosis for my breast cancer that had spread to my brain. Here I am 48 months later, doing fine.

However, my father was given a 6 months sentence for 4th stage lung cancer and he died 6 months later.

Was it due to my father's pessimistic outlook, or did the doctor know from previous experience? Don't know.

What's important is to take the prediction and use it to reinforce your dedication to living each day fully.

I don't know how much longer I have, but I can tell you I have lived a much fuller life since I was given the news and I certainly don't waste time sweating the small stuff.

Sent by Cindy | 8:45 AM ET | 05-22-2008

I loved your message today - very beautiful and well said.

Sent by Nichole | 8:51 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Great post Leroy!

The answer given in every case is based on "statistical averages"... when the reality is NONE of us are "average".. we are all different... different specific pathologies.. different treatments... different responses to those treatments.. so many variables... so as you note.. the answer seldom really means much.

It is normal to ask that question of course... but shouldn't we ALL LIVE every day whether we have one or one hundred or ......

I was told I had a less than 10% prognosis of living 5 years.... and that was almost 33 years ago!!!!!

LIVE YOUR LIFE!! No matter how long or short............

Sent by Ron Bye (NH) | 9:01 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, I discovered that I am in the minority. The day they told me about my Stage IV Cancer of Unknown Primary which had spread to my liver, as soon as the doctor started talking numbers, stats, prognosis, both my husband and I literally jumped at the same time and said, "We don't want to know"...from that point on, we have made a little speech to every specialist we meet saying, please don't talk prognosis with us. Just help us. We get odd looks at times, but it helped us. Are we two ostriches with our heads in the sand? Are we ignoring the elephant in the room? Probably, but then again, do ANY of us want to know the ending first? I guess there are people who read the last chapter in a book. My mother in law does. I love that about her.
Frankly, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell me "how long". I knew how bad it was when they opened me up. Somehow though it has really worked for us not to "know". We're creating our own destiny I guess.

You and all of you are true inspirations for me.

Sent by Becky | 9:07 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Your blog today should be read by everyone - no matter their age or health status. Thank you!

Sent by maryz | 9:08 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Your life and willingness to share your thoughts with so many is truly a gift to each of us. May we all "live in the moment" as my daughters remind me.

Sent by Beth | 9:12 AM ET | 05-22-2008

As someone very near and dear to me said to me just a few days ago:
"We each must plant our garden and plan to live forever...and we mustn't ever give up hope of either living forever or passing on to a greater place."
I think there's much wisdom in these words.

Sent by Linda Lee | 9:35 AM ET | 05-22-2008

My first questions were not "How long?" but "how well?" and How Fully." "How Long " is certainly involved, but as you've pointed out here many times, it's certainly not the only one - or necessariy the most significant - at least in my mind.

Vaya con Dios

John Shippee

Sent by John Shippee | 9:38 AM ET | 05-22-2008

I totally agree, Leroy.

I googled Senator Kennedy last night and found that they have set it up to where you can post your best wishes to him. If anyone is interested the website is: www.kennedy.sentate.gov

Janie

Sent by Janie | 9:44 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Ah, yes, 'How long?'. Doctors are not God they are guessing, even with all of the wonderful technology we have. My mother was given less than a year, she lived for more than 5. My brother was also given a year, he's still going strong 13 yrs later. I so agree with the earlier post 'Live until you die'.

Sent by Di | 9:46 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, all of the replies are needed by me.. I tend to say "HOW LONG?" too much.. I need to learn to live today as if it was my last.. Be the person and enjoy life as if today is my last..

Sent by Patsy Elmore | 9:56 AM ET | 05-22-2008

I'm with Sue Chap 150%! Live, live, live until you die. We're all going to die someday and none of us knows when that will be. I believe that some people actually do as the doc tells them, like one of the commenters stated. Others try to prove them wrong. Whatever the case, I plan to try to make each and every day that I have left, the best that it can be.

Sent by Amy from Minnetonka, MN | 10:13 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Dear Leroy, I am so glad that the docs are wrong a lot of the time when giving a time limit. I hope you are feeling better and that you are more comfortable today.

Sent by Alycia Keating | 10:15 AM ET | 05-22-2008

"Get busy living, or get busy dying."

Andy Dufresne, Shawshank Redemption

Sent by Dan | 10:18 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Living fully right now IS the only way to prepare to die.

Sent by Jane | 10:20 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Great post, Leroy. Having just returned from 10 days in Venice with my daughter (a life long dream of mine), I couldn't agree with you more...it's the living...

Sent by Anita Solomon | 10:27 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy,

"...what's most important is the living, not the preparing to die."

That pretty much sums it up, except that I believe a little preparing doesn't hurt - like wills, services, etc.

Blessings.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 10:42 AM ET | 05-22-2008

I like what someone said yesterday: "Listen to the diagnosis but not the prognosis." My friend Nancy B used to say, when her doctor offered up statistics: "nope, not for me...........I am a study of one and make my OWN predictions."

Sent by Nancy Oliveri | 10:43 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Well said, Leroy! None of my doctors have ever given me an "expiration date". Even when I asked when I had a recurrence of ovarian cancer in 1997, the answer was "well, things don't look good". Here I am in 2008 now wondering if or when the small bowel cancer I had in 2006 will return. I first had colon cancer at the age of 21 in 1961 and I am still here, so who knows. I know people hate that "you could get hit by a bus" but you could; so live every day the best you can and embrace your family and friends.
Charlotte in Rural Ridge, PA

Sent by Charlotte Kewish | 10:53 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Early this morning my uncle passed, living well beyond his predicted end date. And earlier this month my husband was treated by a doctor who was impressed by the fact that he was into the fifth year of a two year battle.

As the question 'How long' will never go away by those who've not stepped over into living in the now, the answer - or mine at least - must be 'as long as we can'.

Living the good fight, but heading for a nap with cookies today... Connie

Sent by Connie | 11:01 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Prayers to all

Sent by sasha321 | 11:05 AM ET | 05-22-2008

That was beautifully said Leroy.

Beautiful.

Sent by Lori | 11:06 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, Preparing gives me comfort. Living is getting harder and harder. The disease takes away so many things big and samll, but the way it alters your life so completely is the most difficult. Like you, they said 90 days, now here we are 480 days later. Sometimes, I think they tell you 90 days and when it doesn't happen they are heroes. Now I don't really belive that, but it has crossed my mind. I continue to do what I can and for now this gets me through. When he decides I can't drive then it will be very much more difficult. I hope it is a ways off. Thoughts. Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 11:06 AM ET | 05-22-2008

I agree that it is important to live fully whatever the prognosis, but it is terribly hard when you don't feel well, and even to get out of bed is a huge effort. I try to encourage my husband, David, but sometimes he is so down. We are having besutiful weather just now however and there have been days when he has enjoyed being outside in the garden, and we have laughed and had some happy times. If only they could last.

Sent by Tina from Alton IL | 11:13 AM ET | 05-22-2008

All though no one wants to be diagnosed with Cancer. I will have to disagree with your first comment that your first question is how long. That was never my first question. You have to have optimism. I am sure Senator Kennedy does - and hope those around him do as well.

Sent by Dea | 11:28 AM ET | 05-22-2008

I found the best answer to this question on a Soprano's episode. Johnny Sack was imprisoned and diagnosed with cancer. His doctor gave him 6 months. One of Johnny's fellow prisoner, a doctor, explained the "how long" methods used by doctor's well. He stated, "If they tell you 6 months and you beat that, well, who looks good then?" I loved it. There is just no way of predicting that answer. Live well because cancer or no cancer, we never know the answer to that question.

Sent by Kathy B. | 11:44 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Loved today's blog AND really loved it when Kennedy went home and immedately went to do what he loves with those he loves. His family, his boat, his dogs, his bay...time and prognosis be damned.

Peggy

Sent by Peggy | 11:50 AM ET | 05-22-2008

Dear Leroy:

I am fascinated by the topic this morning ... fascinated because the question of "how long" has never been top of mind for me during these past two years since I was diagnosed with pharyngeal cancer. My doctors have never once talked about "how long" ... and I have never asked the question "how long." Yes, I've looked on the Internet at those statistics for my type of cancer but I fully recognize that none (!) of those individuals that make up the statistical average is exactly me, with exactly my type of cancer, with my specific medical team and level of care, with my individual medical history, and my current state of overall health. While those numbers can help medical professionals characterize the disease, evaluate outcome analysis, plan research ... those numbers can't and don't represent me. Do I think about the inevitability of death sometimes? Sure! But do I ever ask how long ... surprisingly, no.

Sent by Peggy | 12:01 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy - you, like many of us, our proof that statistics don't always apply.

Becky - if "burying your head in the sand" makes your days brighter and less worrisome, than you go, girl.

Dan - you beat me to my favorite movie quote.

Having been relatively young (36) when first diagnosed five years ago, I knew the statistics didn't apply. Now, after the cancer has metastisized - even though textbooks said there was only a 5% chance of that happening - I understand that no one can predict the course of this disease.

Now I try and remember - today is my day. What am I going to do with it?

Sent by Patte | 12:17 PM ET | 05-22-2008

I guess it is always how long we have, as it is hard to get past that inevitable question. I was diagnosed with NHL three years ago, after origninally being incorrectly diagnosed with sarcoma. That is a pretty severe misdiagnosis, as the time you are given changes from 60+ days to a chance of living out your natural life. Currently I am cancer free, and while I certainly do not know your entire story it certainly sounds like you are a brave, strong and admirable person; quite simply, a fighter. And to me, that is what cancer is all about, fighting. Fighting for one more day, for one more hug, for one more "I love you." Keep fighting.

Sent by Matthew Wick | 12:33 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, your blog today really touched mey heart! My husband was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer, liver & lung just over 4 years ago. He has had 5 surgeries, and practically non stop chemo during this period. By this January he had gone through all approved drugs, and had chosen not to participate in any clinical trials. Throughout these years, we never asked how long he was expected to live. We continued to live our lives traveling (between chemo treatments)and enjoying life. Now it is totally different. The cancer has been spreading, he's lost weight, appetite very poor. His scan yesterday showed our worst fears, and for the first time we have asked "The dreaded question" How long? The answer is maybe 3 to 6 months. It is absolutely devastating when you realize this hard fought battle has got the upper hand. I can only tell you from our experience, I'm glad we waited to ask the question "HOW LONG?"
Leroy, your blog and all the many people who have shared their lives and bared their souls, have been a daily blessing for us. You have been so courageous through your own pain, and I will be forever grateful to you.
Many thanks & prayers for you, Pam

Sent by Pam Lever | 12:44 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, when my husband was first diagnosed he pressed for a time. The doctor told him possibly 6 months, but said "I love to be proven wrong". He was diagnosed just before Memorial day in 2006, and passed away this week. As the dr. told him. Carpe Diem. I believe he did as best he could.

Sent by dorothy in oregon | 1:04 PM ET | 05-22-2008

A great post today. If I get diagnosed at some point in the future with a recurrence (a definite possibility), I know the averages for "how long" for both of the cancers I have had. I also know they donh't really tell you much about any individual case.

And in terms of how much life you actually live in the days you have, they mean even less--since living the day fully is not something everyone does, though it is soemthing people with cancer are more likely to focus on!

Sent by N.R. | 1:09 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Bravo! We all don't know how much time we have left (healthy or sick). You're absolutely right. Thank you for the reminder!

Sent by Dena | 1:27 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy,
From the time I was given the "few months to live" prognosis, to now, I have witnessed the unexpected death of several people I know.

Some of these same people had been devastated about my bad news. Yet, they are the ones who are gone now, and I am doing fine.

It really made me take notice that I am not in a special club, aware of my certain date with death. It can hit anyone at anytime. No one knows. Least of all, TV doctors who are not personally involved with the case.

Sent by Tom | 1:33 PM ET | 05-22-2008

My husband wrote this six months before he died of small cell lung cancer. He was happy to know he had the opportunity to get ready for death and be able to say goodbye. For him the "how long" question meant something. It gave him time.

We take it all for granted, and don't see the stars in the sky
People are too busy with life, to know why it quickly passes by
Every day is a crisis to solve, and time just runs on high
Some people never get a chance, to ever say goodbye
*********************
I look at my life through all the years, seems like I learned a lot
But what means the most now, is to finish out with style, I almost forgot
Memories are all that's left, is what I'm trying to reply
Cause some people never get a chance, to ever say goodbye
*********************
The time I've had with my wife, and all the places we've been
Feels like we've seen the world, and now the end is about to be begin
If only I could be with her forever, and not have to die
Some people never get a chance, to ever say goodbye
*********************
To my wife and best friend I'd really like to say,
You're the Best there is, and I'll love you on past my dying day
We've had great times all along the way, and never had to cry
Some people never get a chance, to ever say goodbye
*********************
And last but not least, to all my special friends
The times were really wonderful, fun was to the end
The Party still goes on, is what I mean to imply
Some people never get a chance, to ever say goodbye
*********************
All of us have to take this flight no mater what we do,
Some folks get to plan the trip, but for most of us, it's too taboo
Every day is a crisis to solve, and time just runs on high
Some people never get a chance, to ever say goodbye
********************
To Family and Great Friends, who stuck with me from day to dying day
I know you didn't agree with me on some of my old hard-nosed ways
but when you get to that point, when nothing means nothing anymore
You'll understand why Some people never get to say Goodbye,
Cause they don't know what their looking for.

Sent by Laurie | 2:04 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Thank you, Leroy. This column brought me back to the day my mother and I sat down with my dad's oncologist, heard his diagnosis, and asked that loaded, two-word question: How long? The answer for us was also two words: Not long. The doc told us that day that my dad - who did not want to be present for this meeting - had stopped him when he tried to discuss the prognosis. Dad knew without being told, I'm sure; he just didn't need to hear it. But Mom and I did, for whatever reason. Then we went home, and spent the final six weeks of my dad's life with him, and that's when I really got to know my father. We finally had the time to talk, and he finally had no reason not to. The "how long" turned into "why not": Why not have a bowl of peppermint ice cream at 6:00AM? Why not stay up until all hours gossiping about the guys in the fire department? Why not watch the Honeymooners Marathon and laugh until your sides ached? Why not?
So, yes: the "how long" is an inevitable question. But the "why not" is a better one, all things considered.
Live every day? Well, why not?

Sent by Susan Crawford | 2:12 PM ET | 05-22-2008

I have to agree with Becky. I've never asked "how long" and have told all the MDs that I do not want to know. It falls somewhere between being susceptible to the power of suggestion and fear of self-fulfilling prophesy for me. For prognosis, I am definitely "ignorance is bliss".

In 1992, on BC day, my resolve became (and remains) that I will NOT make my parents bury me. It carried me to and through multiple myeloma diagnosis in 1999 when the first thing out of the stem cell transplant specialist's mouth was a 33-month expectation. My response: Not good enough - I expect 33 years.

8 1/2 years later I am NED. Like everyone else, I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but today is good.

Leroy and Laurie, thank you for sharing your journey.

Sent by Judie in CT | 2:15 PM ET | 05-22-2008

I was given two years to live after my tongue was mostly removed with cancer. That was 22 years ago!

Sent by John Wherry | 2:31 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Apparently, my Doctors all attended the same redirection techniques seminar for that "how long" question. So I've asked my primary care for his candor whenever he thinks its best.

In 2010 I plan to graduate in the top 5% of the stage IV colon cancer class of 2005. My next milestone is in 2012 when the Maya Calendar is set to recycle


Hold Fast & be sure to climb the pyramid at Chichen Itza before noon.

Don MacLeod

Sent by Don MacLeod | 2:38 PM ET | 05-22-2008

I recently had this conversation with my PA discussing what is ahead beyond the treatments, etc.~~her answer was, "we don't know, nobody knows; why not live in the moment and enjoy each day and not ASSUME the worst is going to happen." Great advice...I think I'll take it and agree with Cindy's comment, and not sweat the small stuff.
God Bless You!

Sent by Leslie | 3:17 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, I certainly hope Sen. Kennedy checks out this blog. He will find a lot of information, wisdom and Hope here.

I also wish him the best. We all have some idea what he and his family are going through right now.

Sent by Marilyn | 3:21 PM ET | 05-22-2008

To Dorothy in Oregon,

My sympathies for the loss of your husband. Happily he did prove the doctor wrong.

Sent by Sue Chap | 3:58 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Hi Leroy- thank you once again for such inspiration. Since 2 people quoted "don't sweat the small stuff" I want to tell your readers that Richard Carlson, the author or that book by that name, died suddenly and without warning at a young age. His wife has just published a small book re his letter to her on their 18th
anniversary.I highly recommend this book to read and pass on to friends and loved ones.
All of you are more inspiration than you can imagine.Yes- Carpe Diem.

Sent by linda h. | 4:16 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Hi, Leroy, I don't think my son, Andrew, ever asked how long. He died this morning after a two year long ordeal. He knew the end was near for some obvious reasons: his short term disability was for 6 months this time and after his brain seizure and operation, he was put on hospice. Hospice was a great help. My husband, Andrew's father, quit his job and stayed with Andrew in his condo the last two months. He took excellent care of his son. I liked your note about Ted Kennedy. Very sad to learn his news. He could feel comforted reading your blog. Thanks so much. It has helped me.

Sent by maureen | 4:24 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Dear Leroy,
The docs my husband was using were never willing to answer the question of "How long" because they said that they really do not know. They believed in focusing on the here and now. The hospice nurses that we are dealing with seem more focused on the end. They told me that when my husband's mind catches up with his body, he will then relinquish to the disease. I just bought some Hostess Cupcakes for my husband which he ate and enjoyed. I'm going to keep trying to keep his mind on the side of living.

Sent by Elaine | 4:37 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Nobody knows when anybody else is going to die, whether sick or well. And, that's all there is to that!

Sent by Marcy in NJ | 5:48 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Maureen,
I am so sorry.

Sent by jen | 6:18 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Dear Leroy,
When Melody was diagnosed at the first hospital, they were already hammering the nails in the coffin. But when we brought her to Northwestern Memorial in Chicago, they never gave her a timeline EVER. Their attitude was "So, you've got cancer. We've got something for you!" They were always positive (except for the oncologist). When Melody wanted to go holistic, the oncologist said "anything you need, we'll help." But when we needed something, it was weeks to get them on the phone. I had to go in kicking and screaming...then I got things done for her!
How long is never an exact science. But one thing is for sure, we are ALL on borrowed time. SO live for the here and now. 18 months seemed a long time some days, and after she passed, it was a very short time.
"Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we may die."

My love and prayers are with you always!

Michael

Sent by Michael (Caregiver Survivor) Chicago | 7:30 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, maybe it isn't the question of 'how long', but 'how can I make my time left mean the most'. And unlike many in this world that don't know the impact they have made on it and the people they share it with, you have proof through these comments and other emails that you have let your voice be heard and have made a significant difference in many lives. This may sound weird, but I am glad I waited until 2006 to be diagnosed - I found your blog soon after, and knew that life was not over, that I had time to let my voice be heard as well. I have kept my own blog up, passing on the positive message http://cheekylibrarian.blogspot.com. Thank you for showing me that life goes on.
My sympathies to Maureen - how strong you are to have written in on the day you lost your son. I join you in being comforted by this blog and Leroy and the people that join here daily.

Sent by Teresa | 7:32 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Hi Leroy,

Yep and Yep and Yep. Baseball analogy would be that you almost always hit the ball out of the park. Thank you, Slugger!!

Lovin' ya out here in cyber-land!

Carpe Diem,

Namaste,

Heartlight,

Gracie, Virgie, & Kim

Sent by Gracie, Virgie, & Kim | 7:45 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Maureen,
My deepest sympathies to you and your husband on the loss of your son, Andrew.
I hope you feel comforted knowing that you both devoted yourselves to loving and caring for him as you did.

Peace,
Katie

Sent by Katie | 8:34 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Leroy, a great post as usual.

Dorothy in Oregon, my prayers are with you and will continue to be. Almost 14 months I've loved and missed Leon every day.

Maureen, so sorry for the loss of your son--I can only imagine the pain.

Tina, I can tell you that your happy happy times will go on forever--in your heart. So make all the memories you can...

Jane

Sent by Jane in AR | 9:05 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Maureen,

I am so saddened by the loss of your son Andrew. A loss I can't even begin to imagine. Please know our thoughts and prayers are with you.

Sent by Robin L. Fairfax VA | 10:00 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Dear Maureen,
My heart aches for Andrew and for you.

Sent by Doris | 10:42 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Amen.........Leroy - as always you have the right words and are right on the mark!!!
Maureen, so sorry about your son - there are no words - I pray for your peace and healing.

Sent by Ruth Chermok | 11:34 PM ET | 05-22-2008

Our problem was...the dr's never would say "how long" until it was too late. Then the prediction they may came short. They don't know, we don't know. Only the cancer knows.

Sent by Cindy | 5:24 AM ET | 05-23-2008

Leroy: I know I've told this before, but in 1995 my Mom had a stroke for which she was offered brain surgery. They told us without it, 95% of the patients didn't live a year, and the max was three years. Well, her blood system did not match the requirements so she did not have the surgery.

Today, my Mother is 95 and will be 96 in August. We are so glad she did not have the surgery which ended up being very experimental with most patients dying. Oh so many years we would have missed had we proceeded.

It's so hard to keep living when you know the odds are against you. Burge's odds were actually 68% cure, but he wasn't to be in that group. We had lots of great moments in the three years he was in Cancer treatment. Mostly we stayed close to home and finally did nothing more than hold each other and watch TV, but you know, somehow being together was all that mattered.

Love to all

Nikki

Sent by Nikki in Kansas | 10:11 AM ET | 05-23-2008

Maureen : May you carry the spirit of your son, Andrew, with you always. Peace to you and your family

Sent by Patte | 12:38 PM ET | 05-23-2008

Having seen 2 close family members (husband and mother in law) with the same type of brain cancer as Ted Kennedy, I can say "nonsense" to all of you who compare other types of cancer to brain cancer. From the "get-go" brain cancer is different. The brain controls EVERYTHING: personality, moods, bodily functions, etc. If you have not cared for someone with brain cancer who has had surgery (or two surgeries, as had my husband) you cannot imagine how impressed one is with the changes. Fortunately for us, the changes were more positive than negative. And while there are a few people who survive for longer than 6 to 18 months with a glioblastoma (particularly if multiple lesions are found on diagnosis), you would not want to be one of those who survived (had you the faculty, which you would not have, to see where you have gone and whom you have become) and your caregiver, while being pleased to still have you alive, would be caring for a totally different person, possibly a totally dependent or very aggressive person.
Brain cancer, particularly glioblastoma is unlike lung cancer or breast cancer. The brain IS who one IS (grammar?).
Please do not impose your platitudes about cancer on those of us who have dealt with this particularly nasty form of cancer for which no significant progress in treatment has been made in 30 years.

Sent by Donna | 12:06 AM ET | 05-26-2008

Leroy,

I realize that this is an old post, but I've only just come across your blog and felt compelled to respond.

4 days ago, my confidant and best friend in the world, my beloved mother, died after a 16 year battle against Stage 4 breast cancer. Her doctor told us he thought she had a couple of years, even though we never asked for a timeline. She swore then that she would live to watch her children grow up. I am 28 years old. graduated from college 6 years ago, and own my own home. My sister is 21 years old and plans to being nursing school soon. Mom got what she wanted, the way she always did--on her terms. Through her remissions and recurrences--breast again in October 2000, reproductive system in March 2007 and bone, lung, brain and lymphatic in September 2007--she was determined to fight and never asked 'how long?'. Time was only important to her in terms of getting everything she wanted accomplished. And she did.

She deteriorated quickly--on Mother's Day, she was sitting up in bed mocking reality TV with me, and last Thursday she was barely coherent. It was shocking to see how quickly time passes when the end is near, but time is always such a blessing. I was given enough time to reach my mother's side to hear her tell me 'I love you' one more time, and I had enough time to be beside her, holding her hand when she took her last breath. Though I will never forget the bolt of sheer agony that ripped through me when she died, I'll always be grateful for the chance to say goodbye.

She never wanted to know how long she had because she never wanted the finish line to change the way she ran the race.

I know that time is now on my side as well, as I get the chance to spend it with people who loved my mother as deeply and as fiercely as I did, evidenced by the fact that her obituary appeared in our newspaper the day of her visitation, and over 100 people from our small town came out to celebrate her grace, dignity, beauty and spirit. She was the best person I've ever known, and I'll spend the rest of my own life making sure everyone I know knows that.

Time will become my friend in dealing with my grief as well. I'm prone to fits of tears and obnoxious sobbing (including one spectacular weeping collapse in the middle of the kitchen floor while making lunch), and I know that only time will bring me healing and peace. In the meantime, I talk to my mother every day, just as I did when she was living, and I never fail to tell her I love her, just as I did when she was living. I feel her inside my heart every minute of every day, and I'm so grateful to carry her with me.

Leroy, your blog is a blessing, and your strength and humor a great inspiration. Mom would have loved it.

For my Mama...I love you.

Sent by Bria | 10:25 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Hi Leroy,
my mom has stage IV lung cancer. When she was diagnosed, asking that question to her doctor did not even cross my mind until my sister whispered to my ear and later mom asked in a form of "if I refuse any treatment how long would I live" format. I think in a way having a date given empowers the patient to beat the date and add more to it. And like in your case and many others I read here that when they beat the due and live more, they can proudly brag about it because it is a very hard thing to do. I appreicated your comments on one day at a time. Do you know what; whether one has given a date or not, as you said we should appreciate every day we wake up. We do not know how long any one of us will live, cancer or not. Every day we can hear, see, talk with a loved one is the one we can cherish. thank you and God bless you.

Sent by Dee | 12:32 PM ET | 06-02-2008

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My Cancer will be updated Monday through Friday with posts and commentaries from Leroy Sievers. A journalist for more than 25 years, Leroy has worked at CBS News and ABC News, where he was the executive producer at Nightline. You can follow his story through this blog, his weekly podcast and his monthly series on Morning Edition.

 
 

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