I have always been about quantity when it came to life. More, more, more, more, more.
And I recognized that I might learn something from current circumstances, I just could not have anticipated what that might actually be.
Quality, my friends. Quality of life.
I never met a side effect that I couldn’t overcome before. But then again, I have never met said side effect while also experiencing the social isolation and general deprivation that is part and parcel of a pandemic.
In two weeks I shall have scans again. I have already decided that if there is not some compelling reason to continue this treatment regimen, I am out. Mucositis sucks more than I could have imagined. To the point that I would rather be sleeping than awake. Morphine has become one of my best friends. And that’s not a life of quality.
If there is something else to try with more tolerable side effects, I shall consider it. But I am also thinking—for the first time ever—that this might be a good time to bow out gracefully.
And that is part of my lesson. That just being alive is not necessarily enough. That sometimes the price you pay might just be too high.
Quality. The essential nature of being.
life and breath: outliving lung cancer 
You have always been so positive & resilient. I sense a bit of
negativity in your words. I agree, quality trumps quantity. But this pandemic won’t last. Hand in there. Maybe this trial isn’t right for you…maybe another will be. Don’t give up hope. There’s always hope….
Linnea, Your words throughout your cancer have been gifts to many ears, forcing us to be present, giving quality of life to us all. Everything changes, even these times. It’s possible there will be lightness and laughs and even quality again. I’m sorry you suffer so much today. Tomorrow might be different. I’m grateful for your teaching how fragile life is and hope you can feel how much you are loved. Hand on heart, Wendy
On Thu, Apr 30, 2020 at 6:12 PM life and breath: outliving lung cancer wrote:
> linnea11 posted: ” I have always been about quantity when it came to life. > More, more, more, more, more. And I recognized that I might learn something > from current circumstances, I just could not have anticipated what that > might actually be. Quality, my friends. Qua” >
Linnea, Who am I to question your feelings and experiences, or your decisions? I know that over the 7+ years we have known each other I have been so amazed and impressed with how you are living your life, yes :”Your Life” and the magnificent adventures we had in Italia. Selfishly I want more..but, I understand, through my own life experiences and Lens, how you may feel and ultimately I support any decision you make❤️✊🏼(Don’t forget those mushrooms in my freezer though)
I do not know what to say, but your words have always hit home and I have such admiration for you, respect and gratitude. 💖💖
As always, you express yourself so eloquently l. I wish you good scans and for quality to return to your life soon, Linnea. What you’re going through now sucks.
I’ve been following your for only a few months, but have hung onto your words, admiring your resilience, your insights, your openness and your self-awareness. Sending you love.
I love you Linnea.
Linnea, here are the first two paragraphs of the tribute that I wrote in honor of my wife Suzanne on the first anniversary of her passing almost three years ago, perhaps you will find meaning in them as well…
It is hard to accept that on June 30th it will be a year since Suzanne passed away. 365 days since we as a family gathered around Suzanne’s bed, holding her hands, consoling her, all sobbing uncontrollably as we watched her go. Saddened by her passing, yet somehow relieved that her suffering was over. After all, at what point does the unrelenting and torturous journey of cancer become so untenable that you say, “I have had enough. Please no more.”
For Suzanne that day was Tuesday June 27th of last year. During her morning consult with Oncologist, Dr. Jessica Lin, and with her family by her side, when asked how she was doing, Suzanne replied, “I don’t want to do this anymore, I want the pain to stop. I’ve had enough.”
Sending you love, Linnea.
I really have no words, except that after all you have gone through in your amazing journey, I hope things get better. After reading your blog, I just sat down and let out a big long sighhhhhh. Oh, no, I thought, please do keep going on your journey. Thinking of you.
You have persevered through a hell that most could never understand. I am in constant astonishment of your strength & courage. I hope you can hang in there until things turnaround.
Sending much love & good energy to you! ❤️
Hi Linnea, I found your blog 8 years ago when I was diagnosed with ALK+ lung cancer and have followed it ever since. You have been an inspiration to me through my journey. Thank you!
I believe that we should listen to our bodies and what our intuition tells us. This trial may not be right for you.or anyone A recovery room nurse told me years ago, be grateful for what you have, stay in the moment and never ever give up. Stepping out of this trial is not giving up. You know how it makes you feel and you are listening.
I find it the hardest to stay in the moment….which I believe is what gives life QUALITY!
You are in my prayers. We are all in this social isolation together. 😷Tomorrow is a new day! I know you’ll be ready to wiggle your toes tomorrow morning 💐I’ll be doing it with you 🦶
God Bless, Liz
Sending you love and support, Linnea, always. ❤
Only you will know the answer for you. You are a true inspiration