And these are life lessons

So. I want to have a little chat about love and will. Love first.

The last five years have tested my heart in ways I never imagined. My interpersonal relationships, once tied up in a tidy package called family, totally unravelled in the summer of 2014. My mother died several days after I took my first dose of lorlatinib. A month later, I was served with papers and my divorce moved from somewhat amicable to highly contentious.

The initial side effects of lorlatinib (I entered trial in the third cohort, dose escalation phase) were unanticipated and horrific. Arthritic neuropathy so severe I awakened one morning to hands that felt like blocks of wood. Hallucinations at night, a sense of disorientation and unreality during my waking hours. Emotions that were both unfamiliar and impossible to modulate. An inability to recall much of anything including wide swathes of the past. And my short term memory was totally fried; I could no longer think in a linear fashion and became incredibly disorganized.

I was alive but a friggin mess. Struggling with the details (cooking, paying bills, getting through that awful divorce) while also adjusting to a totally different lifestyle.

Eventually I began to revel in my freedom and the fact that I was feeling physically strong again. Sadly, my increased irritability and lack of inhibition meant that I got into arguments with far too many people. Some would come to understand that this was beyond my control, others have yet to forgive me.

It was, at best, an imperfect life. At times I was incredibly sad. But I would drag my ass out of bed every single day and go outside and walk. Sometimes for miles and miles, taking in the (also imperfect) world around me.

I was learning about unconditional love. I didn’t need to be cancer free, my relationships didn’t need to be shipshape, my home could be in disarray. I loved life and eventually came to truly love myself as well. Before long I realized that simply being ok was enough. More than enough.

And of course while I was being schooled in unconditional love I was also coming to understand the role of will. There were times (many times) where I thought it was all too much. One crisis would be followed by another and I was dogged by depression. However, I began each day with ‘I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive’; my form of litany and a sincere expression of both wonder and gratitude. I also kept walking–convinced that being physically strong was one way I could take back some control.

Eventually my brain began to heal; old memories like a field that had been scorched but now sending up fresh shoots. And just as I was growing stronger physically, all the trials and tribulations were building emotional muscle as well. When I would go to the gym with my son August he would encourage me to always push harder. ‘It’s not going to help until it hurts’ he would say. Oh how true; how applicable to life itself.

So here I am. Once again facing the unknown and yet, as prepared as a person can be. If will alone could keep me alive, I’d be immortal. It can’t and it won’t but I have no doubt that a strong will is only a good thing. And life? Well, as my love is unconditional, it shall not disappoint.

5 responses to “And these are life lessons

  1. Way to hang in there through it all. Your determination and positive outlook is inspiring. Thank you for your courage in being real no matter what.

  2. What a message for us all! Deep and personal yet universal. I truly hope your blog becomes a book because the world deserves to read what you have to say!

  3. Linnea, I know first hand how amazing and strong you are, climbing the Duomo was a piece of cake compared to the numerous heights you have conquered! I am very proud to know and love you!❤️✊🏼

  4. I love the way you write, unfortunatley I am not as eloquent. Can I ask if you are still on Lorlatinib? 5 yrs?? I have just started this as 2nd line TKI and feeling hopeful. Alectinib failed after around 10 months
    Thanks
    Roz x

  5. I love your writing–even when it’s hard or sad or angry or (rarely) a bit irrational. This is a life lesson for the ages. Love you, Linnea.

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