Mojo and the Mess

There’s a word for what’s been happening to me lately — one I didn’t even know existed until my doctors said it out loud: cancer cachexia.

It sounds sterile and scientific, but living it feels like your body slowly forgetting how to be yours. Like you’re doing everything right — trying to eat, trying to rest — and your body still says, “No.”

What It Actually Is (The Medical Part)

Cancer cachexia is a metabolic syndrome that affects up to 80% of people with advanced cancer. It isn’t just “weight loss.” It’s a combination of muscle wasting, loss of appetite, inflammation, and altered metabolism caused directly by the cancer itself.

Here’s what’s really happening inside:

Inflammatory chemicals (like cytokines) are released by the tumor and the immune system. These mess with how your body uses nutrients. Instead of building muscle, your body starts breaking it down, even when you’re eating. The cancer itself consumes huge amounts of energy, but your body can’t absorb or use food efficiently anymore. Your metabolism goes into overdrive, burning calories you don’t have — and no amount of protein shakes or extra meals can fully reverse it.

It’s like your body has been tricked into running a marathon it didn’t sign up for, and the finish line keeps moving farther away.

What It Feels Like (The Human Part)

It’s not just being “too tired to eat.” It’s that food turns to nausea, smells trigger headaches, and even a few bites can send your stomach into revolt. You start relying on IV hydration, not because you want to — but because it’s the only thing your body will accept.

You can feel yourself getting weaker, your muscles softer, your clothes looser. You see your reflection and don’t recognize the person staring back. You wonder how something invisible can take so much from you so fast.

And yet, you keep showing up. You keep fighting. Because that’s what we do — we find new ways to exist in the body we have, even when it’s falling apart.

What Doctors Say (and Don’t Say)

Medically, cachexia is not just about nutrition — it’s about systemic change. It’s one of the reasons why people with advanced cancer lose strength and energy, even when they’re trying everything.

Doctors may talk about palliative nutrition, anti-nausea medications, or appetite stimulants like megestrol or dexamethasone — but none of them are cures. The goal shifts from “fixing it” to keeping you as comfortable and functional as possible.

What they don’t always say out loud is that cachexia often signals a turning point. A stage where the disease is affecting not just one organ, but the entire system. It’s the body’s way of showing just how tired it’s become.

Still, I Fight

Even when my body refuses food, I still feed my soul. I still find moments of comfort — in Mojo’s soft snore against my chest, in Pete’s steady hand helping me up, in the messages from people who say my words made them feel less alone.

The fight doesn’t always look like IVs and hospital rooms. Sometimes it’s choosing to smile when everything hurts. Sometimes it’s whispering to yourself, “You’re still here.”

Because even as my body changes, my spirit hasn’t given up — not once.

If You Love Someone Going Through This

Don’t tell them to “just eat.”

Tell them you understand.

Sit with them. Offer gentle company instead of quick fixes.

Cancer cachexia can’t be reversed by willpower or calories — but kindness still helps. Love still nourishes in the ways the body can’t.

Mojo’s POV 🐾

Mom hasn’t been eating much lately, but I’m keeping watch. I curl up next to her so she knows she’s not fighting alone. When she’s too weak to move, I stay still too — just breathing with her. When she can’t find her appetite, I nudge her hand until she finds a smile instead.

People keep saying Mom’s body is tired, but I know her heart isn’t. I still hear it beating under my chin every night. And as long as I can hear that sound — she’s still here. We’re still here.

💬 Subscribe to Mojo and the Mess

For more stories about the unfiltered side of cancer — the science, the struggle, and the stubborn love that keeps us going.