Walking into your first oncology appointment can feel like walking into a storm. You don’t know what’s coming, and half the time your brain can’t process what’s being said anyway. I wish I had gone in with a list of questions in hand — because sometimes, when you’re overwhelmed, your voice feels too small.

Here are questions worth asking (and bringing with you every time):

About Your Diagnosis

What stage and type of cancer do I have, and what does that actually mean?

Has it spread, or do we need more tests to know?

What’s the prognosis — and what factors could change that?

About Treatment

What treatment options are available to me?

What are the goals of treatment (cure, control, symptom relief)?

What side effects should I expect in the short term and the long term?

How will treatment affect my daily life — work, family, fertility, etc.?

About Care and Support

Who do I contact if I have questions between visits?

Are there clinical trials I qualify for? What supportive care (nutrition, pain management, mental health) is available?

How can I get help with the financial side of treatment?

About Next Steps

What should I do before treatment starts?

How will we measure if treatment is working?

What happens if this treatment doesn’t work?

Bring someone with you, if you can. A partner, a parent, a friend — someone to take notes, to remind you what to ask, to catch the things your fogged brain misses.

And please remember: there are no “stupid” questions when it comes to your life.

👉 If you’ve been through this and have a question that really helped you, share it in the comments — you never know who might need it.

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I’m Izzy

Welcome to mojo and the mess, This isn’t the blog I ever expected to write — but it’s the one I needed.

I’m Izzy, a twenty-something living (and dying) with terminal cancer, navigating the messy, heartbreaking, unexpectedly beautiful in-between. Here, you’ll find raw reflections, real talk, dog snuggles (shoutout to Mojo), and the unfiltered truth about what it’s like to face the end of your life before it really got going.

This space is for the ones who’ve felt forgotten, the ones who don’t know what to say, and the ones who are still holding on. It’s not always pretty, but it’s always honest.

Thanks for being here. You’re part of the mess now — and I mean that in the best way.

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