That panic you describe, is so very real for patient, family, and friends. When you hear those words for the first time, "You have cancer." Your body, mind and everything else seems to shut down and go into slow motion. Whatever is said after that line, you really don't hear.

Some people will walk out and really appear to be irrational. When alone, they are content or need to have their "pity party", cry, mourn the impact of changes, the affect it will have on their family and friends. And yes, at times the conversation always seems to turn to how is the cancer patient doing and not to others. Perhaps that is because, those without cancer do not think their problems or crises are as significant.

People that work in medicine always seem to talk about things medical. It does begin to define who we are. I suppose that is why most of my closest friends are NOT in the field, so I am not always to medical go to person. We are very capable of pigeon holing a person into a given slot, and that is not always good.

Sent by Sue Chap | 8:17 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Dear Leroy,
I have been reading your bog for over a year now. I finished chemotherapy last summer for stage three colon cancer. My heart goes out to you and I pray for you daily.

Gayle, Saratoga Springs, NY

My prayer is that the eyes of your understanding may be opened. Those days when you longed for a new body moved me the most. Our bodies are just a tent that contains our soul. You have been offered eternal life and a new immortal body. Please don't throw out the promises of Jesus because of what you have seen people do in his name. I pray that you would at least read the book of John with an open mind, and ask God to show you his truth. You have nothing to lose and very much to gain.

Sent by gayle Cohen | 8:20 AM ET | 05-29-2008

In their thoughtfulness, my good friends, when telling me their woes always preface it with, I shouldn't complain with all you have gone through, or this is nothing compared to what you have had to deal with.
Yes, it has been hard and I am tired.
But if we look around, there is so much life. Two doves are nesting on my deck. How precious is that? My flowers are blooming. So pretty. Clearly life goes on, and while we are around...we would do best to enjoy it.
Prayers,
Wanda Amorose

Sent by Wanda Amorose | 8:20 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Hi Leroy,
I like the post today, it's full of hope for me.Kind of reminds me of the song "It's my life"
by Bon Jovi.
I'm glad you spoke with one of your best friends, and you're right, good friends listen all the time, no matter what.
Your attitude is compelling.

Sent by Donato Salazar | 8:30 AM ET | 05-29-2008

The thought of you having cancer never leaves your loved ones or friends hearts. It hurts them. They are probably thinking they wish they could do more to help you or find someone that could make this all go away for you. I guess when they say they shouldn't complain to you it is in reverse of what the cancer patient does to the caregiver. Neither wants to burden the other. It seems those involved with the cancer world are somewhat numb, they are still functioning in the everyday life but more as a robot than a human being. You get through the day because what choice to you have. But your mind is always on the one with cancer. I too remember folks saying "but it's not as bad as what you are going through". It used to bug me as I wanted them to be themselves and tell me about their lives. But now that our son is gone I feel nothing is as bad as losing a child. I wish people wouldn't complain about trivial stuff that means absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. But then I remember, I was like that too pre-cancer. "It" changes everything. Nothing is normal again. But life goes on.

We used to have folks ask, how long does he have. What is the prognosis. How will it end. WHO WANTS TO THINK ABOUT THAT? I tell you one thing, cancer has made me smarter in what not to say...

Thanks again Leroy for letting me rip. You are like a good psychiatrist. How much do you charge per hour ;0)

God bless you.

Judy

Sent by Judy Voller | 8:59 AM ET | 05-29-2008

I know what you mean, Leroy, about the "I shouldn't complain to you" idea. We have to help our friends understand that, even though their compassion and concern are important, the greatest gift they can give us is a good old taste of normal. It's what people whose lives are turned upside down long for. It's like coming up for a breath of fresh air. I think you just have to ask for this. You need to ask them to sometimes forget that you have cancer or to pretend that they've forgotten. Normal is what we miss so much and even a short visit back is delightful. I hope you have some normal today, Leroy.

Sent by Laura | 9:00 AM ET | 05-29-2008

We are all more that this disease. Our family and friends know this as well. Enjoy this beautiful day and thanks so much.

Sent by anne lumberger | 9:02 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Good Morning Leroy, Laurie and All,

Leroy, I am so glad to see that you are able to feel that things have returned to some portion of normalcy. Even if it is just a tiny bit. We will take every bit of "Normal" that we can find! It is hard to look around the cancer and see that other things are going on. And it seems even harder for others to look at us and not just see Cancer. So any portion of normal is wonderful, indeed!

Laurie, I know that you yearn for the more carefree days before Leroy's
illness. And hopefully, as his status improves more of those times lie ahead.

To All, As we continue our journey together, I hope that we can find ways to stay involved with the world around us and ways to add more meaning to our lives and the lives of those we hold most dear. There is still so much living to do!

Yesterday was Chemo day for me and for anyone who is on the chemo medication, Doxil. I have found that lotions containing Aloe and Chamomile help to relieve the burning sensation in the skin that so often accompanies this therapy. My wish for everyone is HOPE,
STRENGTH and LOVE. God Bless!

Eileen Pruyne
Charlotte, NC

Sent by Eileen Pruyne | 9:03 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Dear Leroy,
Yes, life if full of interesting things and people. You are one of those special gifted people. I am sorry I know about you and read your writing because of cancer. But, I am glad to "know" you through your writing.
I, too, am blessed with good friends. I moved from California last December. Today some California friends I have known since grammar school are stopping to see me on their way from Boston to California. It will be wonderful to see them and have a chance to talk.
Wishing you a wonderful day.
Charlotte in Rural Ridge, PA

Sent by Charlotte Kewish | 9:08 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Life does go on. Mine for the last 2 months has been centered for the most part on my mother and her health. I've moved to North Carolina to live with her, and to care for her. My cancers have taken a back seat, which is fine, since they're not bothering me for the time being.
Mom has endured several falls, viral pneumonia and a severe internal bleed in these months. She knows that she has mild Alzheimers' disease, and that it'll only get worse. She talks about how much time she may have left. Having the focus taken off of me is a good thing. Cancer, for now, is background hum. It's there, below the radar, but with any luck, I'll be well enough for long enough to see my mom out when her time comes. That's the way it should be, after all. Parents should die first, and not watch their children die from cancer. In a perfect world, no on would have to watch anyone die from cancer though, would they?

Sent by Nancy K Clark | 9:08 AM ET | 05-29-2008

When I found out that my sister was diagnosed with lung cancer, my world tilted. After the initial shock, we spent the next 3+ years making memories. We did things together that we would have never done before we (she and all who love her) entered the cancer world.
There were times when my mind optimistly thought "she's going to beat this". My heart reluctantly told me otherwise. But even up to her final days, there were times she had me convinced she was going to beat the odds (which were not good).
She lived her life with abandon and joy. She taught me so many valuable lessons about really living each day to the fullest - not taking a minute for granted. She also taught me about loving and appreciating your family and friends.
She passed with a quiet dignity last November. Although my world is still unbalanced (once there were two, now only one), the lessons she taught me in that too short amount of time were probably the most valuable ones I've ever been given.
Yes, friends and family do always have cancer and the possible outcome lurking in the back of their minds. But, in my case, there were times when we were having so much fun that for just a while I was able to forget. That in itself was a blessing.

Sent by Susan H from Michigan | 9:12 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Hi Leroy,

I must tell you, my husband is a Rabbi, and his quote is that life is terminal. Therefore you are NOT that different than anyone else! Yes, you have had Hell and more worry and the pain is what I pray is lessening for you. But, we all have only one way to get out of here.
You are such an incredible person, we all know that, and you are such a terrific teacher of what life is about - the worse parts as well as the good parts.
Take care, G-d bless you and just love to you and love to Laurie

Sent by Janice Goldberg White | 9:32 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy,
Once again it's about adapting when you live in this world isn't it? I often wonder if my husband ever forgets but my heart won't allow me to ask the question. I never forget about it but sometimes I am busy with something non-cancer related and I don't think about it. My husband is in a nursing home getting therapy to learn to stand from a month in bed in the hospital so for the moment that is the crisis and the everyday dealings with the cancer itself are on the back burner lurking and I know when he comes home the cancer will once again consume our daily lives. He,like you, has such a wonderful attitude about all this and accepts each challenge as just another thing he has to get through. You guys are pretty amazing. God bless.

Sent by kathie | 9:43 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Friends are helping us even when they do not realize it...by aloowing us to be "normal" when we talk about things other than cancer. Sometimes the grandparent stories uplift us as do the potty training or teenage woes ...gotta be grateful for any story that takes us away from C world. Without realizing it, when they talk about their lives, it enriches ours.
love
liz z

Sent by liz Zimmerman | 9:44 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Hi Leroy! As usual, you expressed this basic flow of kind of stages so well and so simply. You know there are stages of grief you go through, and I think there are definitely stages you go through when you find out about the cancer diagnosis. Dad was diagnosed with stage 4 small cell carcinoma and is now half way through his 6 chemo cycles. There will be no more treatment after these 6 cycles. Life pretty much HALTED at the time of the diagnosis and has ebbed and flowed kind of frantically since, and yes we were all disoriented. I can't say that has all gone away, but Mom said that Dad is out in the garden planting his favorite sweet corn (KandyCorn). Life is cautiously resuming, and we laugh and worry about small things somewhat again...but tentatively. You said it well. Blessings to you today Leroy.

Sent by Linda Lee | 9:46 AM ET | 05-29-2008

I had to laugh about the "I shouldn't talk about this to you"...

In the past few years, I've simply told my friends, "Hey, sucks SUCKS".

Like you, I enjoy still being able to be a friend and to listen. Somehow, it makes things a bit more "normal".

Hang in there and keep writing, Leroy. You're a blessing and a voice for all of us.

Sent by Heather | 9:48 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy,
You've always been so good at expressing exactly where I am before I even know it. Sixteen months into this 'journey' and I actually forget sometimes. And that's a wonderful thing! I can only hope that my friends and family are able to do that, too. It so helps to diminish the isolation I sometimes feel as an inhabitant of Cancer World.

Sent by Anita Solomon | 9:58 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy,

This will be a little off the wall, but with all the conversations around "normal" in today's blog, I am reminded of Marty Feldman's character, Eye-gore, in the movie, Young Frankenstein. Perhaps you know the scene? ... Where Eye-gore responds, "Normal ...Abby Normal"!! I can't tell you how many countless times this phrase (and the vision of the wonderful Mr. Feldman) has eased the edginess of "abby-normality"!

Best wishes for whatever normal is today,

Kim Forester

Sent by Kim Forester | 10:11 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy, I count myself lucky, I have friends with me since before High School. I wonder how they put up with me all this time, but I am glad they did. I don't think they identify me by this battle I'm in, at least I hope not. It is enough they are here. Maybe I'll get lucky and for a time all that I am will not be defined by Cancer. One can hope. Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 10:22 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy, you are a class act. You are teaching us all, every day. Thank you

Sent by Wendy | 10:43 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Dear Leroy,
Talk about anything you want. just talk! When I didn't see your post early this morning, I got worried. I checked a few times and was so relieved when it appeared. So many of my friends are reluctant to discuss their problems. They preface everything with, "Compared to what you're going through" but I always ask them not to keep things from me. It helps me keep one foot in the "Normal world" and also everyone's problems are troublesome to them. Life is not a competition. Voices are comforting to me. It's not so much the content as it is the human connection.

Sent by Elaine | 10:48 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Gotta say, I was also diagnoised about 3 years ago, spent at least the first two years trying to maintain some sort of normalisy along with freaking out and crying ALOT. But now I try not to bore people,(or myself) with the cancer conversation, and when asked just give em the facts. when faced with new issues I often think to myself," hum what would Leroy do?" Fight, Fight , Fight!!! Just love your tude man.You inspire me

Sent by sarah | 11:00 AM ET | 05-29-2008

A good friend has a daughter who is married and the mother of three young children. She's scheduled for a bone marrow transplant next month. Instead of asking how I can help, I volunteered to take over her position in our women's group so she is free to be with her daughter and grandchildren whenever she's needed. I've learned not to say "what can I do?" but to just do it. I mention her daughter whenever I'd do the same with other friends and that lets her decide how much she wants say at any particular moment. We've become closer friends because of working together on her project that will soon be mine. And, no, I don't always think of her as the mother of a cancer patient.

Sent by Janet | 11:10 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy and All:

This is my first post, although I have been following the blog since hearing a podcast nearly two years ago. I have Stage IV colon cancer (original Stage III dx in May 1996, followed by surgery and one year of chemo; recurrence (mets to abdominal organs) in November 2007, followed by liver and small bowel resections + intraperitoneal chemo). I made the decision not to seek further treatment (chemo) and to live my ordinary life as long as God allows. I chose quality (as I defined it) over quantity. So far, so good. I work full time, I feel very well and have not regretted my decision. My doctors respected my decision and my family and friends (for the most part) have accepted it, too. I am a widow now, although my beloved husband nurtured me through my first occurrence. I called it my "Year of Fridays" as I had a weekly infusion every Friday.

I have no desire to live anything but an ordinary life. No urge to see exotic places. I do live in the moment, taking great pleasure in small things - the glory of flowers, a good program on PBS, a good book, a good meal, a lovely day spent with friends. I believe in the hereafter and that I will be joyfully reunited with my beloved Richard when it is my time to leave this earth. I also believe that our lives unfold as they are meant to. And that our lives have a purpose and a plan known only to God.

I have been employed by the same law firm for 28 years. Many, many people here know my medical history and my decision and inquire how I'm doing when they see me. I always reply that I'm doing well (which is true). I have a few close friends here who see beyond my cancer and we do not even make a passing reference to it. I am now a permanent secretarial floater, and I meet many people who have no idea I have Stage IV cancer. And I don't impart that information to them. I simply want to do my job and live my ordinary life and not be treated in any special way.

Leroy, you are an amazing human being and an extraordinary journalist. As many others have said before me, this blog is a gift to all of us and one of your legacies. Your endurance and battle against your cancer is an inspiration to so many who post here; I admire your and everyone else's endurance and battle, but I have chosen another path. My love and prayers to you and Laurie, always.

Marsha Hogarth

Sent by Marsha Hogarth | 11:10 AM ET | 05-29-2008

During my NED vacation-from-dealing-with-rotten-
melanoma, I have noticed that some friends and acquaintances have stopped asking how I'm doing. I love this cause I get to feel "normal". Some of them know the facts about stage IV melanoma, yet, they still act as if I "beat this thing" cause of my "great attitude".
I enjoy this lift from my cancer prognosis constant reality.
I do not have a great attitude all the time. I am so grateful for this time that has been bought for me, yet, I do get anxious about it returning, spreading further and worst case scenarios. What is weird is that I don't talk about "it" so much anymore. I would so much rather talk about anything else. This blog and the melanoma on-line forum, MPIP, are my little corners of cancer world that let me take off my brave mask and feel at home with others who can relate. Thanks.

Sent by NancyGM | 11:12 AM ET | 05-29-2008

I don't know if David and I ever really forget that he has cancer, but we have adjusted to that new normal. It is an integral part of our lives (we wish it weren't!) We are very blessed with two dear friends with whom we can laugh but who don't shy away from mentioning cancer. They help us be ourselves, and have seen us through the the good and bad times. I have found that I truly see life in a different way now and though some times are scary and sad, I notice and appreciate so much more - the world is beautiful and I am grateful for being part of it.

Sent by Tina from Alton IL | 11:13 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy,

My husband is 2.5 years into his second remission. From discussions we've had through the years, I know that I think more about "his cancer" than he does. Do I think about it every day? No, but when I see him overextending himself I worry that he doesn't think about often enough.

Sent by Rhea Montague | 11:17 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Yes, friends tendency to minimize (and hold back) their own problems and complaints is a common syndrome! I wrote about it on my cancer banter blog last year.

http://cancerbanter.blogspot.com/2007/04/minimize-maximize-equalize.html

Sent by Susan C | 11:21 AM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy,

Since this blog is about cancer, my wish for you is that you talk about it HERE and that this leaves you free to enjoy life with those who are dear to you. That may be one of the things the blog does for the rest of us as well.

Blessings.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 12:10 PM ET | 05-29-2008

18 months ago my doc gave me hope about "living with cancer". While I'm not complaining and happy to be here, they forget to tell us about the quality of life part. Yes we are living, but it is not the same as carrying on with the life we knew before. I would love to travel back in time to experience just one day when I was simply living and not fighting to live.

Sent by Shaun | 12:24 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Oh, I've been the recipient of that "I shouldn't complain to you" remark too and although I know it is well-intentioned, it's always hard to take. For one thing, no one wants to be the person in the room with the largest burden to bear--even if somehow all our burdens could be objectively quantified enough that they could be compared that way (which they can't).

I currently have no evidence of disease but I do have one whopping disability and some chronic pain as a result of my treatment and there are times when I am so frustrated because I seem so utterly reduced to the issues around those things that I have no choice but to deal with every day. But at LEAST I can be more than that to other people - if they are willing to let me.

Sent by N.R. | 12:36 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Dear Leory~ I am beginning to believe that one of the purposes for some disease like Cancer to attact and change our lives, is to halt us in our tracks, make us come off our high horses, wake up to reality, and take stock of what life is all about. We have ALL been through a transformation and hopefully come out of it with a deeper understanding of ourselves and others. Nature seems to not want us to get too self-assured and complacent.
My cancer has been in remission for quite a while, with just these occurances of skin cancer. Now, it may be my beloved husband's turn, we hope not. After years of wonderful health, always taking care of me with my many health problems, it appears that he has Prostate cancer which is posing other problems. Oh yes, he is old, but what a healthy looking 87! Doctors are telling him that he is to old for surgery and some of the standard treatments, but there is one option they are talking about and we are willing to try anything! IT IS rather daunting to listen to them tell us that he is too old and that age will get him before the cancer does. Rather sobering after a long life of being so health concious and "Macho". So Leroy, what is Nature telling him?

Sent by J C R | 12:39 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Your post this morning made me laugh -- at myself. On the one hand, like you, I want friends to feel they can tell me about their problems and not feel they have to minimize them because cancer is so much worse. But at the same time, when I hear someone groaning about something trivial like a little sciatica or a bad cold? I DO roll my eyes a bit (privately)! At one year post-treatment, I am fortunate to be back at work, where most people don't even know about my cancer. Conversations there and elsewhere are usually about "normal" stuff. I imagine a few friends and relatives are aware (and never really forget) that the likelihood of recurrence is very high, and that it never really leaves my mind. But even with them, we're able to laugh and talk about other things like baby birds, politics, a new book or movie, etc.. As you say, the world is full of far more fascinating topics than cancer.

Sent by Doris | 12:41 PM ET | 05-29-2008

I'm often asked by friends and acquaintances who know my history "How are you doing"? My new answer is "I'm doing well 'cause no one has told me differently today so I take it that I'm doing ok". I know that they ask out of concern and care but I try to deflect the question with some humor, lame humor admittedly.

TO: NancyGM... I also visit daily and post occasionally at mpip.org. I am Stage IIIb (melanoma) and have visited there since 2001. Another refuge in the cancerworld.

Blessings and prayers for you and Laurie.

Sent by Al Cato | 1:03 PM ET | 05-29-2008

I was always there to listen to my sister, whatever she wanted to talk about. Most days she was OK with talking about her cancer. However, there were days when I knew she didn't want to talk about it. But for us (family and friends) cancer was new, political and serious. We didn't mind listening, after all it was a disease that was killing her; how could we not listen. It was nice to talk about other things though, to get her mind off of cancer. I was just there to listen.

Sent by Kristina Murphy | 1:56 PM ET | 05-29-2008

I was able to ultimately talk with Mom about normal, everyday things after the initial shock of her terminal diagnosis had ebbed, but I really don't know that I was truly able to really forget it was lurking there. Maybe in brief snippets of time when she'd be beating me at Scrabble, for example, it might have felt almost like it had before...but never completely. Seems like I never know how much I want it to "be like before" until it's already after...(if that makes any sense).

Sent by Karen Laven | 2:23 PM ET | 05-29-2008

So many of the replies to your postings are amazing - the courage and wonderful thoughts that they express. For some reason Marsha's statement about living an ordinary life was especially poignant. Even though I've been fortunate enough to take some wonderful exotic trips since my dx, I'd trade them all for my ordinary days pre-cancer.

Sent by Marcia | 2:26 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Dear Leroy,

With a heavy heart today, I mourn the passing of a dear, dear friend, and surrogate grandmother, not taken by cancer, but by her beautiful, loving, giving heart finally giving out two weeks before she turned 90 years old. She was such an inspiration to me and my family and has given us so much support and love during my mother's continuing battle with cancer. She was such an inspiration to my mother, who watched her walk bent over double from room to room, in constant pain, yet she never complained. Her mind was as sharp as a tack, right up until the end. As a former nurse, she had seen it all, and was always there with common sense, a caring word, and encouragement. Miss Daisy.... you'll always be in my heart and soul and I will never forget you. Thank you for your love. We love you and miss you.

Sent by Connie E. | 2:55 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Hi Leroy,

I feel like I know you. I guess I kind of do know you. I finished treatment last year for rectal cancer and I'm a nurse. Thank you again for articulating so gracefully what I can not.

Sent by Joanne Bergamini | 3:01 PM ET | 05-29-2008

I'm always grateful when a good friend shares a life challenge and gives me the opportunity to put my issues aside focus on someone else. These are the friends who always ask how I am. I am grateful for their love and commitment.

However, I sometimes find myself listening to someone complain about what seems to be a rather small issue and want to shout "Give me a break - I have CANCER!" These are the people who rarely ask how I am. I am grateful for their lessons in perspective and tolerance.

Sent by Patte | 3:37 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy,
I agree with you, whole-heartedly. Cancer does not make up the person. During the last two years of my brother-in-law's life, he and his wife took a trip with my husband and I. It's something I will never forget. He was always a good natured, friendly person. The fact that he got sick repeatedly, did not deter his enthusiasm and interest in experiencing Paris, Venice, the Black Forest, et.al.
He had compassion for others and was an inspiration for my husband and I.

Sent by Paulette | 3:41 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Kristina:
You have said it all! Listening is the key. Whatever the survivor chooses as their topic of the day, Cancer or not-Cancer, the true friend listens.
Your sister must have loved your presence, and loved your caring.
Namaste, Don

Sent by don winslow | 4:20 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Leroy,
I have been reading your blogs for about 1 year. I was daignosed with Infalmmatory Breast Cancer StageIII in Oct 2006. I have completed all chemo,surgery,radiation, as of January. Seem to be doing OK.
I enjoy your Blog and the inspiration that it gives. I will continue praying for you, Mircles happen everyday.
Page Hendryx-Gresham, Oregon

Sent by Page hendryx | 8:40 PM ET | 05-29-2008

Dear Leroy,

I've read every one of your entries on this blog and a lot of the comments, and derived wonderful help from both.

Today, your blog is especially meaningful and helpful to me as we are at the same juncture in the fight with our cancer. Your brief statement about what to say to people when they all suspect or know that we are in the end stages, but are at a loss for words to express concern. I feel so sorry for them feeling sorry for us. You gave me the perfect answer!!
My heartfelt thanks to you.
Betty Pratt,
Stage IIIC, now IV Ovarian Cancer, 3/2/2005.

Sent by Betty M. Pratt | 10:48 PM ET | 05-29-2008

My parents really struggle with my canser. They cannot find a way to deal with their baby girl who has an expiry date. My dad can barely look me in the face and when he does his eyes well with tears, my mom is open about her depression and is seeking help. Its very sad to watch them. As a mother myself of 4 boys.....I cannot imagine yet I see it almost daily. Its very hard to explain.

I hate every part of canser.

Sent by carrie Belair | 11:17 PM ET | 05-29-2008

I love your blog, Leroy. My husband and I were explaining to a friend just last week that our marriage is about "more than cancer," although sometimes I feel like cancer is the perennial centerpiece. I just got my third diagnosis last week. This damn thing keeps coming at us; we have to find creative ways to learn to live with it. You continue to inspire me and you're always in my prayers even if I don't get a chance to stop by and read.

Sent by Lisa Lindstrom | 11:20 PM ET | 05-29-2008