It seems he LIVED UNTIL HE DIED. He wrote to us so very close to the end. He took us almost all the way with him. It is part of what makes his death feel so sudden, the fact that he was with us almost to the very end. I didn't know the timing was so close to the country's 9/11 tragedy. Must have been an unimaginable time for you, as must this time be as well. Again, thank you for being with us at this time. Joyce

Sent by Joyce Smith | 7:21 AM ET | 09-10-2008

You are so right, Laurie! You and leroy LIVED! You really lived. Focus on that fact and all the wonderful memories that go along with it and it will help you go on.

Sent by Marilyn | 7:22 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Time does fly. But "time" has to be lived, and the best we all can do...is "just live", because we clearly have no control over the "big things" that will happen. To maintain some sort of control, we decide how we will handle things. You and Leroy handled this very well. Time does fly, maybe this time in your favor.
Prayers,
Wanda Amorose

Sent by Wanda Amorose | 7:27 AM ET | 09-10-2008

My Mom and I were supposed to be going to a wedding in Italy when she tripped over the dog, fell down the front steps (3 of them) and ruptured her spleen. When they did the internal x-rays they found cancer.

That was how Mom's journey began. I went to Italy without her, but missed the wedding and desperately missed her.

Cancer changes everything. It ends dreams, cancels plans, breaks hearts.

I remember you wrote in the blog sometime this summer:

We live life here!

Leroy's (and yours!) is the example of living life in spite of cancer.

Sent by Liz L. | 7:44 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,
Leroy did indeed LIVE. He also started this wonderful blog, allowing us to get rid of our emotional baggage............we became a family. I glad that you were able to have good months with Leroy. I had some good months with John, but unfortunately he was never "clean" NED. However, I tried to steal as much as I could on his good days.

I hope we can all find our way through these darkest of times. As always, prayers to all.

Sent by sasha | 7:49 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,

I did something different last night. I looked for the first posts I added to the blog. Why? Just to see how long I have been a participant. May 14, 2007 was my first. I read Leroy's words for the days before and I noticed that he mentioned Hawaii, his favorite place (except I am certain with you) and that his doctors told him when the end was near he would be told to plan the last trip. I guess no one saw the end coming, except you on that last Friday when the monster growled.

One of early posts I describe the doctors visits, scans, appoints as a rat wheel. You liken it to a merry go round. I look at merry go rounds and see fun. I look a rat wheels and see not being able to control anything at least for a while.

Seven years ago, must seem like a life time. At least initially there were some good times, before the beast took a lasting hold. Leroy certainly did live, to the fullest and to the best of his ability. "Hats off to Leroy!"

1-2-3 Lifting.......

Sent by Sue Chap | 7:56 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,
As many have already expressed, it is a comfort to know that Leroy had you in his life. You were his rock, too.

At the funeral of a friend's wife who died in an accident, the minister related asking the husband if he had known the outcome at the beginning of the marriage, would he have married her. It was so powerful because knowing them, the answer was "yes." They truly loved each other and charished their life for as long as they had together. As you and Leroy so obviously did.

Still lifting . . .
Linda

Sent by linda | 7:57 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie, I haven't written much lately because honestly, I haven't known what to say. I'm almost 3 years out and alledgedly cancer-free, so my family and I haven't had to face (yet) stage 4 cancer and all of its consequences. But today, you reminded me how important is to really live in this happy limbo of NED. If my cancer does come back, I don't want to regret the things I didn't do because I was scared and worried.

Sent by Gretchen Hoag | 8:05 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Isn't that the lesson for all of us...cancer or not? We need to live each day to its fullest potential. We need to be mindful of those around us. And we need to be kind to ourselves and our forgive ourselves for not being "perfect." At least we need to try.

Sent by Beth | 8:08 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,

Time does fly. Seven years went by much too quickly, I'm sure.

Thank you for today's post. Leroy did indeed LIVE, and you continue to LIVE, as difficult as that is now without him.

I am one of those who come here as a "lurker," not having lost a loved one to the beast. But I come here to learn more about living. And I learned about it from Leroy, and from you, Laurie, and from all of you out there who are putting one foot in front of the other each day.

I was lucky to be able to spend a day in a retreat recently, without cell phone or e-mail or other distractions, and when I got home, all I wanted to do was read the blog and all of your posts. It seemed much more important than the laundry or the bills or anything else (except my family.)

So I will continue to come here, and continue to lift you up in prayer daily and continue to learn about LIVING from those who really understand what it means. Sending you much love.

1-2-3 LIFT and LIVE!

Sent by Laura | 8:13 AM ET | 09-10-2008

All of it - fierce resistance, deep sorrow, bounding joy, soothing routine, labor and creativity - they go on, somehow, after such a loss as yours, and make healing possible. Life in the face of death, in spite of death, sweetness underscored by bitter, set in a sea of love. We think of you daily, and know that our missing of Leroy's voice in this blog is the smallest sample of your loss.

Sent by Ceese Stickles | 8:30 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie, thank you for the reminder.

Sent by dorothy in oregon | 8:34 AM ET | 09-10-2008

My mother is a new widow too, Laurie. In her grief, she always says, she needs to "keep going", "movie through time with grace". Every day, even the bad ones, are a gift.

My husband needs eye surgery, to delay blindness. I am now his rock. It's not a major role change in a sense, it's just one I can't control the destiny of the outcome. It's a wake up call. I am not in charge.

Sent by Gail - So Ca | 8:36 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie, I really think today is a great post. I love the message. Thank you for writing it. I hope you're doing ok.

Sent by Nichole in FL | 8:36 AM ET | 09-10-2008

As you were describing your wait for the test to be over it brought back so many memories. I too was the last one in the waiting room. Many people who came after me were leaving and I was still there. The nurse finally came to get me and said those same words. The doctor needs to talk to you and Richard. I will never forget that moment. So far we have been lucky the cancer has not returned. When we went in for the next Colonoscope Richard asked that the doctor talk to me to relieve my concerns. I couldn't believe that I was once again the last one there and the nurse said those dreaded words. The doctor wants to talk to you. The outcome was much better this time but for a moment time stood still once again.

I think that as important as this blog was to cancer patients while Leroy was alive it is equally important for the support people now. We suffer along with the patient just in a different way. Too often medical personnel and other forget that we go through this too.

Sent by Rose Welch | 8:45 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie
As a nurse, I've always thought that if I had a cancer diagnosis, I'd be the person who'd refuse treatment, get my affairs in order, sign on for hospice and sail off in a morphine haze. I didn't want to be someone whose life was filled w/ doctor appointments, chemo, scans . . . .and I didn't want to do that to my family.
What I learned, reading Leroy's blog, was that someone could actually LIVE while doing all those things. Your husband completely changed my views and for that, I'll always be grateful.
with love and prayers,

Sent by valerie Longfellow | 8:47 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,
You are so right! Living well is the only way to cope. I am currently NED and perhaps the only real gift cancer has given me is a deeper appreciation for everyone and every good thing in my life. I am fully alive! You can and will be too, even in the midst of your grief. One day at a time!

Thank you so much for continuing to journey with us!

Sent by Kathleen ( Northern NJ) | 9:22 AM ET | 09-10-2008

I'm so glad you had some carefree, wonderful days between the onset of disease and its return. Leroy went through so much bodily invasion and procedures, he gave it all his best shot. Yes time flies whether you're having fun or not. Love and peace from sherri in Texas

Sent by Sherri Eggleston | 9:32 AM ET | 09-10-2008

You are so right, Laurie! It's important to LIVE! Our loved ones knew that...Leroy knew that, God love him; and my precious Dad knew it too. He amazed us at what he did and accomplished, even near the end. I think he knew, until the last breath he drew, it's important to live.
We mustn't forget.
Sending you love today Laurie...Linda

Sent by Linda Lee | 9:33 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Hi Laurie. I was widowed many years ago. I remember feeling like I had died too. That so much of me and my life was HIM, that I wasn't complete anymore. The amazing thing was the realization that I wasn't really dead, I had my life to live, and how very very fragile and precious that life was. We know that of course, but we don't really KNOW it until we are touched by death so directly. Hang in. One day at a time. Cry. Ask for what you need. See friends. Be a friend to yourself. These are the things that will see you through. Much love to you.

Sent by Kody | 9:39 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,
Our cancer journey began in January of 2005. I'm so glad that when Leroy was "clean", you LIVED. Lifting...

Sent by seagull.girl | 9:42 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie,

My heart and all of our hearts truly cry for you daily. We all want to share a bit of your pain just to ease even a small bit of your burden. Leroy will LIVE on in a different way for a long time. He was so blessed to have had you.

May each day be a little easier than the one before.

Sent by Ed Brown | 9:45 AM ET | 09-10-2008

My usual response to postings like this is ugg. We all can re-live that day the doctor gave us the news. I've been much luckier than Leroy and will live through all the lessons he has shared. Both of you have shared. Thank you for continuing.

Sent by Lisa | 9:51 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Thank you so much for reminding us to live. We get so caught up in EVERYTHING ELSE, we sometimes forget to live and enjoy all that life can bring.

Thanks, too, for continuing to share your thoughts.

Sent by Linnea | 9:51 AM ET | 09-10-2008

No kidding does it fly...two years ago I celebrated the 20th anniversary of Robert's death from AIDS...and it truly snuck up on me...I could not believe that 20 years had passed since I and his family buried a young man of not quite 25...

Sent by Sandra Yudilevich | 9:56 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Thanks for this post. We are not passive witnesses to our own lives or deaths for that matter. Tomorrow, the sun will still come up and hopefully shine brighter than the day before.

-Dan Waeger
26 year old LIVING w/ stage IV lung cancer

Sent by Dan W. | 10:03 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,

Valerie Longfellow definitely hit me where I lived - BEFORE LEROY I always knew that if or when I am diagnosed with cancer I would basically slit my throat - it was my biggest fear. Leroy taught me that there is LIVING WITH CANCER - THERE IS LIFE - THERE IS EVEN SOME FUN. G-d bless his memory and G-d bless you - and I miss him very much and so much appreciate you writing.

Jan

Sent by Janice Goldberg White | 10:13 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie,
Today's post was a gentle reminder to all of us that we can't stop living. We need to move forward, to remember those precious moments in our lives with our loved ones and to start making new ones.
My parents just left after 4 days, it was so wonderful to have them here and to not be alone for those four short days. Now I need to pick up the pieces and start again. Thank goodness tomorrow's another day because I don't think I can do it today.
Continued prayers to all....

Sent by Laurie Hirth | 10:21 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie,
I've read Leroy's blog and now yours for years and haven't written. Today's entry made me cry (as so many have). I immediately shared it with my spouse and told her how much I appreciate the life we share, for however long we have. Thank you for being so honest and for talking about such vital things with all of us.
Thanks,
Cindy

Sent by Cindy | 10:27 AM ET | 09-10-2008

It seems like we get on and off the cancer merry go round every day in our house. The cancer has spread but Dan was not symptomatic and feel good. Now, there is a little cough that comes a couple of times a day. It was spreading slowly but now? Now we wait until mid-October for the scans, we take the Tarceva every morning & we hope that the cough is just due to the change in seasons.

Some days, it's really hard to feel like you are living. I feel robbed of my wedding plans (the cancer spread 2 months after we got engaged). I feel robbed of my career ambitions. I feel robbed of thinking about a future. But I still feel like I am living a good life in the moments at home, the precious moments where the merry go round stops, and we get time to watch TV or do normal things.

You have to keep moving, b/c the world won't wait for you.

Thanks Laurie for sharing your positive attitude. It would be understandable if you curled up in a ball, but you're putting one foot in front of the other. It helps me to do the same.

http://waegerwillwin.blogspot.com/

Sent by M Rodgers | 10:32 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Yes, that day of diagnosis always is clear in the mind's eye. John had been having recurring bladder infections for about two years. At that time, he belonged to one of those HMOs and they told him to stop drinking coffee and gave him some antibiotics. I switched him to my insurance and the bladder problem was back. He went into see my doctor - the very first visit - and he came home and said that Dr Mayhew wanted him to see a urologist. She thought he might have bladder cancer. The very next day we went into see the urologist and the diagnosis was confirmed.

It's been four years Oct 29th. Two days later, he turned 57. Every treatment round we were told NED and then at the next quarterly monitoring visit, it was back. By May the following year, the urologist said that "fired" us and we found an oncologist and a surgeon.

The cancer, however, was unfazed and returned immediately following each treatment. We knew four months before the oncologist gave us the official word that John was in Stage IV with multiple metatasis. That last year of intensive treatment, I counted and we had 52 appointment days that year. One a week! And that wasn't counting the 28 days that he spent in the hospital.

It's been 13 1/2 months since John stopped treatment. As he says, he's doing pretty good for someone's who's "pull by" date expired two months ago.

We have a daughter due to give birth any day (due date was Sun!). It's amazing that John is here to see his new granddaughter. We'll take lots of pictures, because we know that he won't be here long enough for her to remember her "Papa John". We'll have to remember for her.

I stood outside on the porch step alone last night, looking at the bright half moon, enjoying the crisp evening air, so glad that John was inside waiting for me and thinking about the day when he not be there. Two months? Four? Dare I hope for six? Will the moon still look the same?

Sent by Ricci | 10:33 AM ET | 09-10-2008

I think you are right, Laurie - living every moment is very important. I wish I could always feel that - my emotions go up and down and I lose heart, then I try to rally myself again and keep going.

Sasha also was right - we have become a family here and I don't know what I would do without you. Love to everyone.

Sent by Tina from Alton, IL | 10:35 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,
Your last lines really hit me between the eyes. You are so right about that, you need to LIVE. The joy will return and the light will be back, just keep your face to the sunlight. I'm so glad for the joy you and Leroy found together, even in his last months.

Sent by Barbara Langan | 10:39 AM ET | 09-10-2008

How very, very touching Laurie, gosh what a wonderful blog. Life is so fragile. I feel like I live on borrowed time and wasted so much of my life until my eyes were opened by my own brush with death. Yet in my humanness denial creeps back in all too easily. So with this gift of renewed child like wonder that my own near death and the death of those I've loved and lost has brought me I must honor them (and the universe) and show my gratitutde for my life by continuing to live life to the fulllest whatever that means for me! Leroy is another touching example of a life well lived. It helps me to press onward through the fog knowing the sunshine will soon burn through--quicker--if I move towards it. With all Love and Light Graham from Sag Harbor.

Sent by Graham G. Hawks | 10:51 AM ET | 09-10-2008

One of the major positive things that came with the c/d is that you never take things for granted again. A sunset, a baby's laugh, a quiet walk holding your love's hand.

It sure is a high price to pay for this lesson.

Hugs and lifting prayers...

Sent by Kathy B. from Michigan | 10:51 AM ET | 09-10-2008

I'm glad you mentioned this, because I've been impressed all along, by how you two were a shining example of how to continue to live life after the cancer diagnosis. I imagine it's hard to remember the extent to which you did this, and I don't imagine it's any kind of substitute, but hopefully you can take a bit of comfort in the knowledge you lived life. And will again.

Sent by LindaK | 10:55 AM ET | 09-10-2008

1 2 3 Lifting Laurie and so glad for phrases like In The Living Time and No Bad Days and "....slide in sideways, body all used up saying God, what a ride!"
All perfect reminders to keep LIVING, to honor those who have passed before, to keep the legacies, the momentum, the life force ALIVE to pass along to more.
My Da's cancer took him in six short dreadfully painfilled months 21 years ago, I still hold his mantra "God doesn't give you anything you can't handle" as my motto, and the grandkids he never got to meet have had that instilled since birth.
1 2 3 LIVING LIFTING

Sent by Stitches | 10:56 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie, Oh boy - that one went right to my stomach. Leroy was so blessed to have you by his side from the inception. When I saw that look in the doctor's eyes and he said, "we found something", my brain froze and from that point on I didn't hear a word he said. Well maybe I did but it sounded more like what the parents used to sound like in the Charlie Brown shows. To have gone through that with the person that meant more to me than anything in this world would have made it so much easier. Unfortunately I was going through a terrible divorce at the time and learning my independence so when I was called back for more images, then an ultrasound on my breasts, I didn't think anything of it.
Lesson learned - your life can be changed in a split second and nothing is ever the same after that. But to be able to lean on someone during what's probably the most important time in your life is truly a blessing. Be thankful that you were there for each other. I really believe that everything happens for a reason. My heart full of love and prayers go out to you and all of us out here who have those same memories. But to turn a negative into a positive - I have truly taken a new approach to life and am thankful for every day and find joy in the little things.

Sent by Jeanne Stevens | 10:58 AM ET | 09-10-2008

You are sure in my thoughts Laurie. You are so strong and so brave as you make your path without Leroy's physical presence.

I've been living with cancer for 5 years. In a sick sort of way, I consider it a gift because it has taught me to LIVE. And boy do I live fully. There are hardly ever wasted moments or things put off until tomorrow. Some people think it is reckless but they haven't had the chance to stare cancer in the face and even for a moment think they beat it. It sounds like you two LIVE the very same way.

While it would be great to have those moment without cancer in the picture, but it is the cancer that often provides the catalyst (and clarity) to take the leap and LIVE on the edge.

I hope your memories bring you warmth today and a full heart.

Lifting...1...2...3

Sent by Alexis Redmond | 11:01 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Hi Laurie,

Please give yourself some credit too. While as the caregiver, you might think that your life was stalled, and it does feel that way, actually it was the beginning of the life-changing event for you. You have witnessed first-hand what a monster cancer is. As you wade through this grief, memories will present themselves differently simply because you have the time to think through them. The learnings of surviving this horror will be many. And, it is my belief, as we rise like a phoenix out of the ashes, we rise as a stronger and wiser person. I'm hearing that from you today. It's good.

Sent by Kathy B. | 11:02 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie,

If we enjoy the blessings of health and find ourselves left behind, then our diagnosis is also terminal: life. It can be as frightening and daunting as any diagnosis. But the gifts are many along the way. If we can cope with the hardship of life's trauma and heartbreak, we can surely revel in life's joy.

Life, itself, is a terminal diagnosis. Why not simply LIVE along the way? Finding joy amidst sorrow is the happy solution to the human puzzle. If we can find the means to do that when our health is failing, how much harder can it be to find it when we enjoy the blessings of good health?

Sent by Cory from Cowboy Country | 11:25 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Thank you so much for that reminder. I've had breast cancer with metastasis for 8 years and the best times in those years are when Tony & I keep that in mind. It helps you to refine your goals for the rest of your life, to better focus on them - and when playing you play with much greater awareness/appreciation of the beauty and wonder of life.

I was about to vacuum. Actually I was choosing between that and going out on the deck and watching the sky that is clear and bright today, feeling the fresh fall (yes! I love autumn!)air. I decided to check in here first, and Laurie you have sent such a great reminder to us all. Guess which I am about to do, vacuum or go outside to drink up the day?

I'm sure your loss would be even greater, and Leroy's life would have been much less rich, less full of good moments if you had not walked down the path of "live NOW!"

Thank you so much,
Nancy O

Sent by Nancy Oliveri | 11:29 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie,
You are feeling better today! I love your post, its an important lesson in life. Thanks for sharing with us. It is so true. Each day is a gift, no matter what. Live, love and laugh....

oxoxo Diane

Sent by Diane | 11:32 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie, When I was in High School I was up almost every morning at 4AM to get to the Beach and Surf for a little while before school. I think back on it now and it gives me so much happiness. Seems as though it would be hell having a day that long, but it makes you alive! It is very good to have and do things which contribute to the quality of your time. Yesterday was a Chemo day, all went well, but you know what it does to the fun. So I will wait for a day or so and try to get back to living. Thoughts, Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 11:38 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Great post, Laurie. It brought back my memories of the day that we learned we had to deal with the beast head on. We had a good two years after - great memories - great times.

Sent by Deb from Michigan | 11:45 AM ET | 09-10-2008

I gave a friend a bracelet that said "Live, Love, Laugh" on it a few years ago. And, when I was on the tennis team in college we used to tell each other to go for it and that this was not a dress rehearsal.

I think you and Leroy did just fine. He really lived these last few years. I'll miss his posts. I know you'll miss him always but I hope for you to live on and cherish his memory, and then live on some more.

Sent by Andrea | 11:55 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie,
Leroy taught each of us a valuable lesson in living. Yes, it is important to LIVE each day. Really live!!!

It has been two years since my world changed with cancer. Chemo, shots, surgeries and all that goes with it. Well,I decided it was time to get away and live a little. I am leaving for Hawaii Thanksgiving Day. When I am at dinner at Mama's Fish House on Maui, you and Leroy will be there with me. We will take a quiet moment to be thankful for our friends, family and our lives. In that quiet moment we will remember Leroy and will toast to you. You will never know the impact that this blog has had on my life. I am greatful that I had the priveldge to read about Leroy's journey and be inspired by his strength and determination. I am confident that between the tears and heartache, you will find a way to "LIVE" again.

We, the Readers are all better people for having the opportunity to be in you and Leroy's life. For that I thank you. There will be aa very special toast for you on Friday Nov. 28th on Maui.

Thank you Laurie. You continue to inspire me and give me strength!
Live Laurie, LIVE!

Sent by Amy Welbaum | 11:57 AM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie,
Leroy did indeed live and will continue to live on in the hearts of many. After a cancer diagnosis, life is never the same as we know it. I remember after my Dad's diagnosis I had a feeling inside of me that I never lost until sometime after he passed away (this was a 3 yr. battle with colon ca). I have had that feeling since then when a best friend was told she had cancer (the same type as my Dad). She is in the process of having her every 3 months checkups. Life is never the same after you hear those words "you have cancer".

Sent by Teresa in WV | 12:00 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie -

I tried commenting yesterday, but got all tangled up in what I was trying to say...
I was acknowledging Doug's comment (12:37 yesterday), and sharing how I feel about the shifting focus of this blog.

I am the one with cancer (chronic 8 yrs), and the outpouring of support to you, from the many surviving life-givers has been powerfully instructive. And it has shifted things from living with cancer, to living beyond cancer and Leroy's earthly presence.

Today you echo what I was getting at...live, live, live...we grieve and live. I don't blame cancer, it's just the thing that challenges me and my family...it could be a zillion other things...we are all fragile and strong...we must not tune out the magic of living! Forge on.

Sent by Joan S. | 12:06 PM ET | 09-10-2008

So glad you're continuning to write, Laurie. You have your own authentic voice, plus I am reconnected to Leroy...That day when the news suddenly hits after a test, and the drs tell it like it is, yes, we will always remember. My husband had an OK colonoscopy but another scan came back with bad news. The whole week of tests to figure out what was going on, I remember distinct moments, alternating relief and dread. You and he really LIVED with and separately from the illness, seven years, and so many good times in between. We are blessed that you continue to write here and share.

Sent by Sally in Spokane | 12:23 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie, I am on vacation- NED in the Seattle area. I'm having fun, relaxing and am away from my usual schedule and responsibilities. It's hard to plan the next trip or a major move to a better place while living from scan to scan, but, I am really starting to get the "be here now" concept because that's all I really can do...and I'm having a great time (finally) living.

Sent by NancyGM | 12:23 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,
What great words and thoughts you have for us today. I am NED but there are those nagging little thoughts that come since I am two years past Stage III small bowel cancer. I don't let them stay. My recent scan and scopes were clear...HOORAY. This is the fifth time I have been NED over 47 years since my first cancer. There have been many blessed and good days with family and friends. Each one is a treasure of memories.
Leroy was a fortunate man to have you in his life!
Charlotte in Rural Ridge, PA

Sent by Charlotte Kewish | 12:53 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Once again I am sitting here with tears in my eyes - and too many swirling thoughts to know what prompted this mood. To the nurse who did not think she would ever choose treatment for cancer: I am in my fifth year of weekly chemo and all the accompanying medical appointments, scans, etc., that rule my days (and no NED). It's hard to imagine how I have actually adapted and am enjoying life. I hope my family feels the same. ... To Laurie, please keep sharing your feelings - it's important for us to understand and appreciate what the "rock" feels, too. Love to you.

Sent by Karen in Sacramento | 12:53 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Hi
Great post today.

I hate cancer, and I really dislike the people who are taking the millions of dollars in donations for research and not finding a cure, something is not right here.

You get the diagnosis, you enter the cancer tunnel and hope that you emerge on the other side unscathed. In between there are many months/years of terrible treatments just to get one more month of living. I often wonder what I will do if God forbid I am given the "talk". I do not know if I would be brave enough to go thru all the crap associated with the medications etc. I think however that human nature takes over and we go into fight mode.

Laurie I feel for you, life will never be the same, it will forever now be different. You have the memories though of the man you loved and these are what will keep you going thru the dark days ahead. Just one day at a time, it will get better I promise. It will eventually get to the stage where you will just smile and remember.
Peace to all fighting this disease, I hope your journey is pain free and that you come out the other end of the tunnel kicking and fighting.

Sent by fay, az | 12:56 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie - I think about you every day, even when I don't post. I know what an empty feeling you have inside, and I wish there were something I could personally do to fill it up, but, as you know, I can't. I remember the days well (after Paul died), calling the people on those important "lists" only to repeat over and over "he died". Maybe we have to say it over and over and over just to believe it ourselves. And then, just as I thought I was past that part, people who somehow didn't hear about his death would call to ask how he was. Then the tears would come again. I don't really clearly remember those days from the first month or so, I just remember that they sucked so bad. Somehow I feared that it would Never get any better, and I didn't know how I could possibly live like that the rest of my life.

You bet, Leroy lived. He lived the best life he could, and most of it was because of you. You are the one who brought joy to his life to allow him to live it to the fullest. And I know he was truly grateful for that.

I just think that it's a shame that sometimes we don't remember to live each day as if we were dying unless we actually are. I think that those days since he got his diagnosis years ago were especially meant to give you time together and to really experience living first hand. I know that the memories of what you did will always be with you. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other........

Jeanette Carney

Sent by Jeanette Carney | 1:05 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie, thank you for a great sentiment today. All that wonderful life you shared together. I hope all the energy and joy of those days, so full of life, will help lift you up when you need it most. Time does fly, and you and Leroy are examples to all of us to live with all we've got. Love & peace,

Sent by Kellie | 1:07 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie: thank you for the so needed reminder to keep on LIVING...
with love

Sent by Francesca | 1:16 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,
My husband and I fought a 4 yr. battle with Pancretic cancer. He passed last Christmas morning. Laurie he too LIVED his life to the fullest. A week before he passed he was out playing his guitar. He was a musician.
I recall him telling me "You can be sad for 3 days, then get back to living" Well that was just nuts. His point however was that cancer had turned our lives upside down for those years and although we "lived" we had limitations.
So now 8 months later and very much alone I feel that I would be doing my husband an unjustice if I buried my head in the sand because he fought so hard to LIVE. How can I be alive and not LIVE?. It is early for you but I know that his spirit will someday grab your hand and show you how to live again.
KB

Sent by KB | 1:43 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Hi Laurie,
Thank you for reminding us to live. Cherish these days--it's so important. Best to you.

Sent by Paulette | 1:51 PM ET | 09-10-2008

...I remember the day of my husbands colonscopy. Even though he had some problems going on and I should have known, I still went alone with him, didn't even think what I'd do if it was bad news. I had told them at work I'd be in by 12:30 p.m. I remember calling and saying the words for the first time "David's got cancer". I called his sister next and couldn't say anything, just stammered something out and she knew it was bad and said she would be right there. I was in some kind of daze, didn't know what to do, think or say, How could this be? But yet it had been staring us in the face. Like Leroy said, "it'a day you never forget".

My husband never really was NED and for over four years we lived cancer. One thing I am glad we did and it seems unreal that we even tried but we wanted to do something really special for our 25th anniversary. It was just 2 months after my David had open field RFA and just before they were going to do another CT. We put the CT off for a week. We had talked about going on a cruise, never had been on one. We talked to a travel agent and she got us booked for one to the Bahamas. I am so glad we did it. When we were gone the thought crossed my mind what if something happened to him while we were out there? But fortunately it didn't. We got great pictures, he didn't even look sick at that time and it had taken almost 2 years of chemo to get him to the point where they could do the RFA.

I am so glad you and Leroy went to Hawaii. It made you some great memories I'm sure. It is very hard to really "Live" with cancer hanging over your head. I hope that any that are going through it can take the time to do something really eventful. You will never be sorry and the memories will help sustain you when they are gone.

Thank you again Laurie for sharing your feelings. They matter to us.

Sent by Janice from Troy AL | 1:56 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie,
i didn't realize that the blog has been 7 years old already. i feel that ignorance is bliss. i always have this question in my mind, will i be better off not knowing that i have cancer? Thank you for still sharing your thoughts with us. God bless.

Sent by helen miao | 1:58 PM ET | 09-10-2008

And you are still living, Laurie, although he is not physically beside you, he is in your every action and every thought and he would want you not to miss a minute of the time that you have. Even the tears and the sorrow. We are all on the same road with you, sometimes drudging through a lot of rocks and potholes but between such times viewing such awesome scenery! Love to all

Sent by Lucy Groh from Alaska | 2:01 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Living with cancer and living in spite of cancer is the same, it's living. I'm reading The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch who died from pancreatic cancer. His quote "We don't get to choose the hand we are dealt but we choose how we play the cards" seems applicable. He like us chose to Live until he drew his last breath. During those months, he made a difference in many lives by illustrating that he was playing the cards he was given to his best ability.

Leroy, like Randy, epitomized Living. He showed us how to live each day with cancer and in spite of cancer. I am grateful.

Blessings and prayers as always, Laurie.

Sent by Al Cato | 2:11 PM ET | 09-10-2008

This is one of the things I've learned over the past few years from other people's battles with cancer, other diesease, and their own basic fears. I see several people around me, women mostly, who just seem to be waiting for something. And I can't help but think that when the time comes they're going to be feeling let down, as in "That was ALL?!?" I don't want to get to the end of my life, either earlier or later, and be let down. I want to know I LIVED, and I want everyone else to know it, too.

Sent by Jody in PA | 2:14 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie ~ Your advice is good for everyone on this blog. Live in the moment. I think AA has it right: One Day at a Time.

Sent by Marilyn Trujillo | 2:20 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Wow! You two had a great life together, didn't you?

Sent by Madeline | 2:27 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie,
Yes, time does fly, but you also need time to rejuvenate. It has been 6 months now since my husband died and although I have been living, I think I am getting closer to really LIVING now, in honor of my husband and for myself. I wish you the best in this long painful process. Take time for yourself---you deserve it. And thanks again for sharing your journey with us. I don't know if you realize how helpful it is to all of us.

Sent by Betsy in Oregon | 2:28 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie -

Thank you for the reminder that it is important to truly LIVE each day to the fullest! My thoughts and prayers are still with you. Thank you for continuing to share your thoughts and wisdom with us.

Sent by Jill in Madison, WI | 2:33 PM ET | 09-10-2008

This very moment is all we have. There's nothing like a terminal illness to help you stay grounded in that truth. Simply living in the here and now is tough for all of us, but for those who are grieving, it's harder still.

Sent by Gyla Fowler | 2:58 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie, I so loved your post today. I am gearing up for my fall women with cancer retreat and, in the past, have used a number of Leroy's blogs as a jumping off point for discussion, journaling or just reading. I will continue to use those blogs, but will add your blog today to the group. It is all about living every day that we have. Thank you.....blessings.....

Sent by Karen | 3:13 PM ET | 09-10-2008

This is my first time reading this blog about Leroy or visiting NPR's blog. I like and want to remember your quote, "Our life was good. We did fun things. We worked hard. Had a lot of adventures." I am 33-years young and was diagnosed with Hodgkins Lyphoma a little over a year ago. I am doing well, finished treatment, but still need the reminder to live this life!!! I too have a blog that has been helpful for me. Thank you:) I

Sent by Daphane Johnson | 3:18 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie, Hooray for life. That is perhaps one of the great things you and Leroy both did--you lived as best you could even with the cancer. Good for you for making that choice along with Leroy

Sent by Martha C. | 3:40 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie:
As the "patient", your recent messages and those of the rest of this family are now enriching me in a new way. I'm currently NED and hope to remain that way. My husband is sick to death of hearing about "cancer". I shake my head and try to figure out why he's so intolerant of anything to do with 'that' word. After all, I beat the beast -- right??? Well, reading the recent blogs and all of the beautiful replies has helped me understand why he doesn't want to hear anything about "it".
When you write about the period of time when Leroy was NED and all was well in your lives, I feel a small nugget of fear in the pit of my stomach. I wonder, am I there now? Will I take the same path Leroy took? I was stage III colon cancer. Is my husband destined to go through all that you have as a caregiver? I don't know. Only time will tell. Time that we need to look straight ahead and LIVE.
So thank you for a very enlightening message today. It's a beautiful day here in Iowa so I think I'll head outside to do a little LIVING.
Thank you for your beautiful message. Count me in as one who dearly appreciates them -- and you!!! I wish you much sunshine on your cloudy days.
Sent with love...
Rhonda H

Sent by Rhonda Howard | 3:50 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Yes, time does fly. I was just thinking yesterday that it's been almost 20 months since I was widowed. That almost seems impossible.

Sometimes it seems like just last week, and other times it feels like a lifetime ago.

Sent by Bruce | 3:52 PM ET | 09-10-2008

That's all you can do is live each day well. Time will fly no matter what. I'm glad you are remembering the good living Leroy shared with you today.

Sent by N.R. | 5:06 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Laurie, thank you for writing. You are a gift. Take care of yourself!

Sent by Mary | 5:15 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Yes Laurie, You are sooo right. It is all about how we choose to live, given whatever choices are available to us at the time. I believe that putting cancer out of minds when we can is healthy, while ignoring cancer is not. Even though I am another one who is currently NED in the face of an advanced stage diagnosis, I carry some thoughts with me everyday. And, although research progress is slow for treatment of my ovarian cancer, the potential breakthroughs have never looked more promising than they do at this point in time. So, I have let myself plan and act on those plans with my husband for our future. It is not the horizon that I had BC. It is foreshortened by some 15 years or more. But, it is still going to be as good as I can make it. Your post is another inspiration that we need to try to make the time fly while savoring each moment.

Hope that you can feel 1, 2, 3 lifting from Massachusetts.

Sent by Sheara | 5:18 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Today, I feel as if I am reading Leroy's own words, spoken in his voice. It's like ... home. Thank you, Laurie.

To LIFE and LOVE, forever and always~

Sent by Kim Forester | 5:35 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Thinking of you often, wishing you well, hoping every day I log on here and find another entry. Thank you for that. Cancer has taken away too many things. I hope, that for awhile, this isn't one of them.

Sent by JaeMoyer | 6:29 PM ET | 09-10-2008

I remember when I saw the blog the Friday before Larry died, it said, "Larry expects to return to the blog on Monday." We all learn in cancer world. Other times that Larry was gone it said, "Larry will return on Monday". I knew then, that the journey was ending.

My friend Nancy stopped by to see me one day on her way home from chemo, she was telling me how good she was feeling, and that she was tolerating the chemo so much better "this time". When she looked at me I saw that her eyes were unevenly dilated. The unfortunate side effect of being raised by a nurse, I knew that meant she had brain mets, and wondered if she knew yet.

I looked back and saw Larry's quote from Hunter Thompson, "You buy the ticket and you take the ride."

The hard part is accepting that, despite our limited vision, it is all equally good. Light and Dark. Fear and Joy. Sunlight and moonlight.

It is that midnight of the soul: four a.m. that is still hard . . . the rawness of fear at that time is visceral. Hard to remember then, that this TOO is part of "living life to its fullest".

Peggy C.

Sent by Peggy Carey | 7:57 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Dear Laurie,

You and Leroy have taught me the lesson. I am trying everyday. Thank you.

Sent by Mary C. | 9:02 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Wonderful post Laurie. Again, thank you for continuing to share with us. I think its so cool that there are people commenting who just found the blog or who didn't know about Leroy before now. What an amazing web of love and support this blog is-I'm so glad you are all here!

Sent by Merin | 9:52 PM ET | 09-10-2008

Yes, good remonder for all of us - live while we live. And I don't think we ever shake diagnosis day memories. I haven't, even though the time kerry lived after diagnosis was also - some of it - really good time.

Sent by Victoria Hendricks | 10:21 PM ET | 09-10-2008

FILOLI= To fight, to love, to live.
From SF Bay Area, my appreciation for your words of courage today. Thanks for giving us a voice and sharing the love and life you and Leroy lived. You continue to inspire.

Sent by Lisa | 3:20 AM ET | 09-11-2008

LIVESTRONG, Laurie, LIVESTRONG !

Lifting, lifting

Sent by Jack | 5:47 AM ET | 09-11-2008

It was almost exactly 9 years ago today that my husband's and my journey with cancer began. We hardly had the chance to fight the "beast" because by Christmas of that year he was gone. For the 18 years that we had been together we lived, loved and laughed. The only thing I could have asked for was more time, but that wasn't meant to be, so I am grateful for what I had. From the "beast", I learned what's important, and what doesn't really matter. I learned what to fuss over, and what to ignore. I learned what to accept and what to fight. I know you, too, Laurie, are thankful for those years and will look back on the time with Leroy and smile...but the tears will always be there somewhere. I guess I'm even thankful for the tears, because they remind me of what we had. Something I'll never forger.

Sent by Cindy in Virginia | 11:00 AM ET | 09-11-2008

Laurie - bless you for your words of fierceness and strength. We who are left behind have a tendency, I think, to go in the other direction, and it's a struggle to look to the light. Peggy - thank you for opening my eyes up to the fact that "living life to the fullest" also includes grief and mourning. I've been thinking that I needed to take up bungee jumping or mountain climbing - not realizing just being, communicating, loving, working IS living life to the fullest. Marsha

Sent by marsha bacenko | 3:03 PM ET | 09-11-2008

Dear Laurie,
Still lifting...........
Prayers to all.
Sasha

Sent by sasha | 4:28 PM ET | 09-11-2008

Laurie, every time I work up the courage to read through your thoughts, I find myself uplifted, challenged and ashamed that I take my own journey so seriously. My colon resection was 30 months ago, next week we have a little "ablation" done on my liver. The beast re-appeared last October, but some new drugs killed it that time. I treasure your thoughts, commitment and compassion...thanks!

Sent by Mark Chambers/Portland | 6:40 PM ET | 09-11-2008