Welcome to Chemo
A Totally Chill, Not-At-All-Terrifying Survival Guide
Ah, chemo. That
magical time in your life where you willingly let people inject you with
poison and take enough meds to qualify as your own personal drug store.
Lucky for me, I got to enjoy CHEMO 101, a 90-minute crash course
on how this circus is going to unfold, complete with a pharmacist giving me sad
puppy-dog eyes as I picked up my arsenal of drugs.
Retail Therapy, Chemo 101, and the Grand Plan for Surviving the Shitshow
So, now that
I’ve had a few days to process my 90-minute Chemo 101 crash course,
picked up all my meds (while the pharmacist gave me sad puppy-dog eyes),
and attempted to make sense of it all, I figured it was time to start
ordering things to make this whole experience slightly less horrifying.
Yes, I picked
up the wig and you may have noticed I conveniently crossed out
the part on the previous blog where I was supposed to get "the haircut
and color I always wanted." Whoops. But that's okay—because
instead of a haircut, I’ve taken a deep dive into the chemo world of
head-covering wizardry.
๐ณ Enter: My Temu & Amazon shopping spree
Because if I can’t control
cancer, I sure as hell can control what ridiculous things show up at my
door in two-day shipping (and giggle as I watch Chip hold his shit together, wanting to ream me out for yet, ANOTHER, Amazon box).
What’s on the haul list, you ask? ๐️๐️
Oh, just a carefully curated (read: panic-ordered /up all night) collection of chemo survival essentials:
✔ Hats with hair (yes, that’s a thing)
✔ Satin-lined beanies (because apparently, my
scalp deserves luxury?)
✔ Chemo beanies (different from regular
beanies, obviously)
✔ A headband with hair (because why not?)
✔ A cheap wig (for when I don’t feel like
committing to the wig)
✔ Eyelashes (magnetic, because glue + chemo sounds
like a disaster waiting to happen)
✔ Tattoo eyebrows (eyebrows that don’t ghost
me halfway through treatment)
✔ Lotion, oils, and chemo-friendly makeup
(because hydration is now a full-time job)
And let me tell
you, TEMU might actually beat Amazon because some of my Amazon orders
are taking weeks to ship. Weeks. Sure, my hair hasn’t started
shedding yet, but still—cue panic-ordering more. Logical solution?
Absolutely.
๐
Did I need all of this? No.
๐
Did I buy it anyway? Absolutely.
๐
Did I spend all night scrolling for more “hats with hair” options? You
bet your bald head I did.
And yet, as I
sit here writing this, surrounded by my soon-to-be collection of head
accessories, I feel… horrible. My mom tried to talk to me about all of it,
and she got my standard, patented two-option response:
A) “I don’t
want to talk about it.”
B) “Read it in the blog.”
And I know it
hurt. Because she’s my mom. And watching me go through this is its
own kind of torture for her. But talking about wigs, hats, and The Shit Show
known as 2025? Nope. Not ready. And having people try to discuss it
before I’m ready? Sorry, but you’re going to have to wait for me to bring it
up.
For now, I’ll
be mentally preparing for my transformation into a human chameleon,
thanks to my extensive collection of chemo couture. Stay tuned. ๐ฉ๐ค๐
So, let’s break
down the plan—because if there’s one thing I need (besides anti-nausea
meds and a nap), it’s a solid, well-laid-out plan.
True Story:
During the call, the nurse casually dropped, "After your first
infusion, be careful when you get up—you might feel like you've had a few
drinks."
Umm, hold
up. A few drinks? Ma’am, I would BLACK OUT from a few drinks.
What is she sipping on, and does it come with a survival guide? But I digress.
She went on to
warn me to hold on to a steady surface—and not the IV pole (because
apparently clinging to my medical lifeline like a drunken koala is frowned upon).
So, in summary:
✔️
Docetaxel (Taxotere) = built-in booze
✔️
Possible side effect = feeling tipsy without the fun
✔️
Action plan = avoid face-planting into the nearest nurse
So, if you see
me gracefully wobbling post-infusion, just know I’m not drunk—I’m
just medically intoxicated. ๐ธ๐
The Chemo Cocktail ๐น No, You Can’t Order a Different One (unless your tumor doesn’t shrink)
- Taxotere & Carboplatin – The tag team
responsible for fatigue, hair loss, and your new career as a couch
potato.
- Kanjinti & Perjeta – Think of them as the
“nice-ish” ones, except when they’re causing heart issues and diarrhea.
- Dexamethasone (Steroid of Doom) – Keeps nausea
away but makes you eat like a teenage boy and stay up all night writing
new blogs.
The
Treatment Plan: Aka, The 8-Hour Energy Drain
☑ Regimen:
TCHP, every 3 weeks
☑ Drugs Involved:
- Docetaxel (Taxotere) – The
hair thief, neuropathy starter, and overall life-ruiner. 110 %
GUARANTEED to lose my hair
- Carboplatin (Paraplatin) – Tag-teaming
with Taxotere to make sure I never feel normal again
- Trastuzumab (Kanjinti /Herceptin
biosimilar) – May or may not try to mess with my heart, TBD
- Pertuzumab (Perjeta) – Just
here to extend my IV time for an extra hour
⏳ Infusion Duration: Approximately 8 hours (including labs) — because clearly, my Tuesday Pilates Crew will not miss me at all
๐ฅ
Post-Infusion Observation: Because they want to make sure I don’t
spontaneously combust.
Side Effects: The Fun Stuff
Let’s talk
about what this toxic juice cocktail is about to do to my body.
๐
Nausea & Vomiting: Because nothing says "self-care"
like hugging the toilet.
- The “We Got You” Meds:
Zofran, Compazine, Ativan (yes, the same one they give anxious people
on planes – Hi Mom! Definitely a story worth hearing if you haven’t).
- Pro Tip: Eat small, bland
meals and pretend you enjoy ginger ale.
⚡
Fatigue:
- Peaks Days 7-10 (aka, my be
really, really nice to me if I lay down on the floor while teaching Pilates Days).
- Best days? Days 5-6… so I get
about 48 hours of pretending to be a functional human before the
next round. (Watch out Monday Crew!
I’ll be coming for you!)
๐ฆด
Body Aches & Pain:
- Worst Days: 3-5 (Thanks,
Taxotere + Neulasta!)
- Coping Plan:
- Ibuprofen/Tylenol
- Claritin (why is an allergy
med the hero of this story?)
- Warm baths (wait, I still can’t
submerge my incisions on my butt) and praying to the pain gods
๐ฅ
Neuropathy (Tingling & Numbness in Hands & Feet)
- Typically starts around Round 4
(so I have time to pretend it won’t happen to me).
- Preventative Measures:
- Avoid walking barefoot (sorry,
summer)
- Monitor for the moment when my
fingers and feet stop working
๐ฉธ
Low Blood Counts & Infection Risk:
- Highest Risk: Days 7-10
post-chemo (aka, my official use lots of Purell and if you are not feeling
1000% “stay the hell away from me” days).
- Survival Tips:
- Wash hands like I’m scrubbing
into surgery
- Avoid crowds (this is where my
extrovert/introvert ninja skills come in hand)
- Monitor for fever over 100.4°F
(because if that happens, I get an all-expenses-paid trip to the ER minus $500 co-pay).
๐
Mouth Issues:
- Mouth sores? Yay, another
thing to look forward to! (and No Dentist until it’s over)
- Prevention:
- Swish baking soda + bottled
water
- No alcohol-based mouthwash
- If sores show up: Call for Magic
Mouthwash which is prescription only (ummm…why not just add one
more to the list).
๐ฝ
Diarrhea vs. Constipation: Because as someone with IBS-C and a hernia, my
digestive system just loves surprises.
- Diarrhea? Hello, Imodium
& hydration (but honestly, I wouldn’t mind).
- Constipation? Miralax
+ waiting for nature to do its thing.
- Enemas & suppositories?
Hard pass—infection risk is too high.
Hair, Swelling & Weight—Oh My!
๐ญ
Hair Loss:
- Starts between Week 2/3 (just
in time for my 2nd infusion).
- Wigs (I think we have already
covered this, see older blogs)
- Cold caps Cold caps might
help—if I wanted to drop a fortune just to keep random, patchy tufts
of hair. I pulled Taxotere, the undefeated hair loss champ, so let’s be
real—freezing my skull would just leave me looking like the top of
Chip’s head (hard pass).
This is on my timeline, Cancer. I’ll go bald when I
say so. ๐ช✨
๐ง
Swelling (Edema):
- Prevention:
- Limit salt (no problem here).
- Elevate limbs (time to lounge
like royalty).
- Compression garments (sexy).
- And of course, there’s a drug for
that!
⚖️
Weight Management: Loss vs. Gain
– Place Your Bets!
๐ If chemo kills your
appetite: You’ll lose weight while surviving on water and scrambled eggs
๐ท If steroids turn you
into a snack monster: You’ll gain weight but swear it’s just “water
retention”.
Either way, you’re tired, bloated, and feeling fabulous
(JK, you feel like trash). There is no
in-between.
Neulasta: The "Don’t Touch It" Device
๐ฏ
What It Does:
- Boosts white blood cells so I
don’t get wiped out from chemo.
- Kicks in 27 hours after infusion
(automatically, because science).
๐จ
Rules for Survival:
- DO NOT TOUCH IT. DO NOT REMOVE
IT. DO NOT SCREW THIS UP.
- Side Effect: Bone pain so
bad it feels like a werewolf transformation. (Thanks, Neulasta.)
✨Survival
Strategies:
✔
Eat what you can, when you can. (Calories = survival. Even if it’s sweets?)
✔ Stay hydrated. (Even if water tastes like a
rusty nail.)
✔ Find the right people to vent to. (Because
you’ll need to.)
✔ Ignore unsolicited advice. (Still looking to
be heard and hugged ONLY.)
✔ Laugh when you can. (Because crying and
nausea is a rough combo.)
When to Call
for Help ☎️
๐
Emergency Hotline: Because sometimes things go south.
⚠️
CALL IMMEDIATELY IF:
- Fever 100.4°F+ (do not
pass Go, go directly to the ER)
- Severe nausea (aka, I
can’t even keep water down)
- Persistent diarrhea (7+ times a
day) (basically, if I’ve moved into the bathroom permanently)
- New/unusual symptoms (because
my body is now a science experiment)
Final Thoughts
Chemo isn’t
fun, but neither is cancer. One day at a time. One treatment at a time.
One snack at a time. ๐ช๐ And if all
else fails, just remind yourself: I’m a badass, and bald is beautiful.
Would You Rather – Chemo Edition ๐๐ญ
Alright, who hears me?! Let’s see if you’re up for this one…
You must choose one—or hit me with an equally brutal “Would You Rather” of your own. (No skipping! ๐ฅ)
๐น
A. Keep your eyebrows but lose your eyelashes—or—keep your
eyelashes but lose your eyebrows? (Either way, prepare for
some wildly expressive looks.)
๐น
B. Have chemo brain turn every thought into a blank slate
mid-sentence—or—have taste bud betrayal where everything tastes
like cardboard?
๐น
C. Rock an obviously terrible wig (think Party City, fresh out
of the bag) for the duration of chemo—or—let your friends/kids/spouse
draw a new “tattoo” on your bald head every day? (Bonus points for
creativity?)
๐น
D. Battle uncontrollable steroid-fueled snack cravings but never
feel full—or—sleep through every treatment but wake up at 3 AM
every night, wide awake and wired?
๐น
E. Fill in the blank—What’s your ultimate “chemo would-you-rather”?
๐ฃ
Where are my people at? Who’s with me? Let’s hear your answers! Text me or Comment ⬇️⬇️⬇️
Would you rather be constipated or have diarrhea BAD?
ReplyDeleteHi Zoe!! ❤️-Mom
DeleteI’m with u, J! We all are! U are not on this ride alone! #JJthebadass #baldisbeautidul!
ReplyDeleteThank u for keeping us up on all the details! ;) Love what an eloquent writer you are.. and also what a badass!!!!!!!
๐ค๐๐
It’s Laurie/Lorraine
DeleteA combo, of course!
ReplyDelete• Paste-on eyebrows to match mood.
• Multiple colored wigs and caps/beanies/berets with hair to use as disguises by day and a bald canvas for children to practice pineapple drawings by night.
A: Keep the lashes - You can color in different eyebrow styles each day, like angry ๐ or wtf ๐ณ or Mr Spock ๐คจ so you don't have to expend the energy.
ReplyDeleteLashes, cardboard, tattoo, sleep
ReplyDeletekeep my lashes; chemo brain (because - being old - I am halfway there, brain-wise!), I'll take the bad wig I guess ; And, definitely diarrhea over vomiting any day!
ReplyDeleteI think I'd get a kick out of the wigs. Cheap & cheesy; red hair I always wanted to try; braids like when we were little; really, really long like Cher's; dread locks! And I'd love to try the hat with the hair. We were convinced the florist from my wedding had a hat with hair attached. I wish I had a pic of him.
ReplyDeleteJJ, I'm in Boston a lot, so if you'd like company during part of your infusions or just someone to deliver a treat of some sort while you're there, please please let me know. Hugs to you, warrior princess.