I have been through hell.

I’m not talking about cancer; I’m talking about life. The stuff I don’t usually share here, in a blog.

However I’m going to give you a little window. Yesterday I paid a visit to a dear friend who just got out of almost two weeks of intensive care. She is yet in hospital, but out of crisis. Sort of. Cancer is always a crisis.

Her husband has been by her side throughout this ordeal. His love for and dedication to his partner are a joy to behold.

When I got to her room in Lunder yesterday she was drinking a big assed root beer float, not typical hospital faire. Her husband sourced that root beer float himself, assembling ingredients from Whole Foods and CVS.

The last time I went through chemotherapy I was still married. My husband drove me to chemo essentially because a close friend told him he had no other choice.

My side effects after the first session were so severe, it was thought I might have an allergy to carboplatin. I was tested but the results were negative. However, at the next round my dose was titrated, just in case. And a crash cart was at the ready.

As infusion began, my husband stood and said he was going to get some lunch. I asked him if he would bring me back a coffee from Starbucks. His response was ‘I might and I might not.’ And he didn’t.

In retrospect, we had a bit of The War of the Roses going on. But I was vulnerable and seemingly dependent upon this person, my partner. And I thought chemotherapy was sufficient cause for a truce.

Because I was married, friends and family were under the impression that my needs were covered. In truth, it is far better to be alone and to understand fully who I can count on. Me. Myself. I.

Or you, if I ask for help. Or for coffee 🙂


12 responses to “This

  1. What an asshole!! You were right to get rid of him!

  2. I drove myself to chemo and would rather spend the few days afterwards alone or with my dog. I wasn’t nice to be around on the steroids. You have to go thru’ it but you fucking don’t have to like it.
    Xxx –

  3. Ask me for coffee! Or for a root beer float! I’m here – unmarried, childless and living in Boston – which means I have free time and proximity to doctors and hospitals too. I won’t know when you need it so when you do, or think you do, please send some kind of alert or just ask. I’m here and want to help! You’ve got an army of people who love you and want to help. ❤️

  4. Karla Castro-Frenzel

    Linnea, I am still you are having to go through this on your own. You deserve more than just coffee for the sheer courage and inspiration you manifest into this world! I am indebted to your light. I wish I could be physically present for you. Know that I am thinking of you and praying that your body prevail, as I know your spirit will. Sometimes our bodies surprise us. Mine surprised me by being able to run 12 miles a week with a hemoglobin that plummeted to 10 … it took 10 days for this body to adjust to running with anemia. Sometimes, you wake up and realize that you inhabit a Tesla, oh and Ludacris mode just got added to the software in the latest “upgrade.” That’s my interpretation after 13 years marriage to Olof, Tesla enthusiast. Hugs!


  5. I am so very sorry Linnea that you did not have the support and caring that you needed at that time. Having seen the effect chemo has on the person receiving it, I can’t imagine being so cold hearted that someone would refuse the smallest of comforts that take so little effort to give.

  6. Well, I’m glad I never faced a passive-aggressive relationship like that, but I haven’t had the early joys of marriage or children or local extended-family either. On the up-side, I’ve always like being independent, and am glad to be my own caregiver (for better or worse) for as long as I (and eventually home aides) can keep me going. So I’m with you in that boat — stubbornly independent.

    I hope your grown children will be able to give you safety net of support to the extent possible while pursuing their own education & careers.

    Best hopes,

    Craig in PA

  7. Your ex husband sounds a joy…..not.
    I cannot quite grasp the enormity of your strength and tenacity. I would hope I would fight like you but I am not sure that I would. Keep fighting lovely lady. You are a million times better than this man who was lucky to have you as his wife. This low life who isn’t fit to lace your shoes.
    Keep up the great work. You are an inspiration. A legend and we all love you.

  8. I am so sorry you had such a f#ck for a husband. There is absolutely no excuse for treating you, or any cancer patient so badly. I hope his nuts fall off.
    I am fortunate that I have someone loving and caring to be my care taker. Until one is diagnosed, with this dreaded disease, one has no idea how important it is to have someone by your side. Even the little things, like a ride somewhere, a quick text or call to see if you’re okay, or even a cup of coffee.
    I have been reading your posts, since I was diagnosed in July, 2017 and I want to let you know that your posts really help keep me going! Your strength, honesty, tenacity, and sarcastic whit, are the reality checks that I look forward to when I read your blog.
    My only hope is that I wished we lived closer, I know that you live(d) in the Lowell, MA area and I have two very good friends I could introduce to you who would be glad to meet you. Who knows, maybe they will even bring you that cup of coffee.
    Keep fighting and know that there are others who support you.

  9. I’m so upset. I just read your last post. You barely know me, (I met you once at 7B when I was there with Peter, and have posted other comments), but I care so deeply about you. In the big picture of everything you’ve been through, what happened with your ex, was minor, but clearly, it had a deep impact on you. It is so upsetting to think that someone you once loved can be such an asshole.
    I was in Boston most of last week. And I thought of reaching out to you to see if there was something I could do for you. But I chickened out; I thought of you saying: “Now who are you?”
    But, I would have loved nothing more than to bring you a cup of coffee from Starbucks, or bring you a bag of groceries, or walk your dog. I’m sorry for being such a wimp.

  10. Well, I’m still in that situation. Too scared to lose insurance, money, etc. It’s been a long 9 1/2 years, but I’ve got some really great friends. I need to tell them the truth, but I guess I’m a wimp and embarrassed to think I’ve allowed this to go on this long.
    Love all your stories. I’m glad one of us has balls!!🤪

  11. I will bring you a giant, Moca-Frappacino, and a double espresso…. Just ask!✊🏼❤️

  12. I would have brought you coffee anytime!

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