Oh shit.

Really.

Believe it or not I harbored this little teeny tiny hope that my biopsy results would come back negative for cancer. That they would be positive for infection or some sort of mold or tuberculosis or aspirated noodle.

Hope is a glorious untamed thing that lives outside the boundaries of reason.

Reality is a bossy bitch that likes to play by the rules and this morning she told it to me straight.

INTERPRETATION:
POSITIVE FOR MALIGNANT CELLS.

Alright. Fair enough. I could dream but hey, this was the not-just-likely but assured outcome. However, the next part caught me up short as my histology has progressed as well: adenocarcinoma with acinar and micropapillary patterns and mucin.

That’s all I know thus far and it is information gleaned from Patient Gateway without the benefit of my dear oncologist’s insight. Therefore, I shall refrain from interpretation until we have had the chance to discuss.

Well, I had just finished reading the path report (followed, of course, by a little bit of panic inducing googling) when I opened an email from my landlord. There has been a bedbug situation in our building and the current ground zero is right next door. When first apprised of this state of affairs I was assured that exterminating my loft was an option but only if I was able to prep it first. Prepping included moving all furniture two feet from walls, washing all clothing/fabric items, removing all hanging pictures. Etc…etc…

This news put me into a bit of a tizzy. I have way too many books, lots of art, heavy antique furniture (I now feel anything bigger than a breadbox should be on wheels) and…my vintage clothing stock. In other words, NFW. So, instead, we installed a bedbug monitor/trap at the head of my bed. Once it gets dark, this little carbon dioxide operated monstrosity makes a loud clunk and flashes a red light every couple seconds. All night long.

Now I honestly believe I have PTSD associated with the 42 brain MRI’s that I’ve undergone. Any sort of loud, repetitive percussive noise sets me HIGHLY on edge. And when it’s right next to my head while I’m supposed to be sleeping? It’s been a rough couple of weeks.

However. The good news is no bed bugs have been caught and I have not lost my mind. The bad news is that the unit next to me is being exterminated again and my landlord feels it would be prudent to also treat my abutting wall. A wall that runs the length of my loft. A wall that has all my bookcases on it as well as a massive antique hutch chock full of stuff.

I don’t even know what to say. But I better get busy.

29 responses to “Oh shit.

  1. Oh Linnea, my heart hurts for you. I’ve been praying for a very different result as all of your friends have. You have endured so much to date AND will continue to fight. As for the awful bed bugs, I can’t believe you are dealing with that crap too!!! Your stellar oncologist will find treatments. All my love to you. xoxo Linda

  2. More trouble than one can imagine on the bed bug front…or, side wall. You need manpower. Free. The American Cancer Society just ran a TV ad about all the living assistance they provide free. Try them. The cancer report. Not what we wanted to hear for you. Dr.Shaw will have to produce a good idea. Love to you, valiant Linnea.

    • I need both man/woman power and someplace else to live. Perhaps I shall call them and see if they have ideas on either front.

      xo Linnea

  3. Colleen Broughton

    Linnea, If teleportation existed, your 🌀Tribe would be helping you move right now, and making you laugh.

    Sending hugs of support, and an intention of “she’s had the fuck enough already” could 2019 please arrive and be uneventful!

    Well aware Hope is a frenemy, and still… hoping for you anyway 💖 – C

    On Friday, December 28, 2018, life and breath: outliving lung cancer wrote:

    > linnea11 posted: ” Really. Believe it or not I harbored this little teeny > tiny hope that my biopsy results would come back negative for cancer. That > they would be positive for infection or some sort of mold or tuberculosis > or aspirated noodle. Hope is a glorious unt” >

  4. Linnea, I have no doubts that your crack Medical team will figure a way to deal with this latest invasion. Of course you have “Us” as well to endlessly offer whatever is needed!❤️👈🏼

  5. I am so so sorry to hear this. My thoughts are with you <3. I hope the bedbugs stay away and that your dog is giving you the best snuggles. I hope you are able to find something in each moment to make you smile.

  6. When it rains … it pours. I have a met on my medulla. It’s almost funny.

  7. I’m so sorry to hear this Linnea!!

  8. Would you like help moving stuff? Let me know.

  9. Thanks for sharing this Linnea. I wish i had something incredibly insightful to say – but i do know you have a great team. And Shaw and her crew probably already have a plan ready in anticipation of this report. When i was first diagnosed and was being wheeled out from a mediastenoscopy at the Winship Cancer Center at Emory, this wonderful nurse told me “i have a good feeling about you – but remember, healing happens when you give love AND when you receive love.” My guess is she told every patient that – but it always stuck with me. You are evidence that she was right. You can see here – and on Facebook – the healing energy system you have created over time by giving of yourself to so many of us. But i think (hope) you are feeling and receiving that love back your way. please know we all care. LOVE! LIVE!

  10. Linnea, So sorry about the latest news. Call on me in any way to be helpful. Your descriptions always blow me away, a window into your thoughts, the terror, and yet so witty and compelling. Sending hugs, Wendy

    On Fri, Dec 28, 2018 at 12:25 PM life and breath: outliving lung cancer wrote:

    > linnea11 posted: ” Really. Believe it or not I harbored this little teeny > tiny hope that my biopsy results would come back negative for cancer. That > they would be positive for infection or some sort of mold or tuberculosis > or aspirated noodle. Hope is a glorious unt” >

  11. I hope the treatment is effective for all, and I hope you can get a protective perimeter insecticide in place before the exterminators start motivating the bedbugs to scramble next door.

    Best hopes,

    Craig in PA

  12. Oh damn. And bedbugs too. Sorry to hear.

  13. I too had been hoping for a different outcome for you Linnea, and will continue to do so. Menu find many people in your gym to help you move bookshelves & furniture.

  14. Linnea you are an inspiration to us all! You have given me hope to move forward & stay positive & even humorous despite the difficult challenges of this horrible disease. I’m on Alecensa for 21 months… grateful I’m doing well but very tired & I feel like my brain doesn’t work the way it used to…. but I’ll take this any day over conventional chemo.. always the fear of resistance when this amazing drug will no longer work..
    I’ve researched doctors all over the US & no one comes close to Dr Alice Shaw… You are in great hands! Hang in there.. sending you good energy & much love ❤️

    • Jade, my oncologist is one of those bright lights that gets me through. I do know how fortunate I have been to have her. 21 months is great—I am sorry for the fatigue and fog.

      xo Linnea

  15. Linnea, you’re continually in my thoughts and have my continued best vibes, wishes and whatever else I can muster in support of you. Cyber-bear-hugs to you. ❤

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