Mojo and the Mess

January doesn’t feel like a fresh start when you have cancer.

It feels like punishment.

The calendar flips. Fireworks fade. And suddenly everything costs thousands of dollars again — as if my body checked the date and decided to cooperate with insurance timelines.

Same cancer.

Same appointments.

Same medications.

Brand new deductible.

Premiums go up.

Out-of-pocket maximums reset.

Bills start arriving before the year has even had time to breathe.

There’s something uniquely cruel about being sick in January. You don’t get a grace period. You don’t get a warm-up. You just get handed a stack of statements and told, good luck.

People don’t talk about the mental math cancer patients do at the start of the year.

Can this scan wait until February?

Should I space these appointments out?

Can I afford to feel worse later if it means paying less now?

That calculation alone is exhausting. And it happens while you’re already tired, already scared, already managing symptoms that don’t care what month it is.

Cancer doesn’t reset when insurance does.

But everything else does.

There’s also a quiet shame that comes with this time of year — needing help again. Asking questions again. Feeling like a burden because your illness is expensive and inconvenient and badly timed.

Especially for people who make “too much” to qualify for assistance, but not enough to survive this system without damage. Especially for young patients. Especially for families. Especially for anyone trying to pretend they’re okay while their bank account proves otherwise.

This is financial trauma layered on top of medical trauma.

And no amount of budgeting advice fixes that.

I don’t write this for pity.

I write it for recognition.

If January feels heavier for you — you’re not failing.

You’re navigating a system that asks sick people to start over financially every single year, no matter how much they already paid to stay alive.

New year.

New deductible.

Same cancer.

Still here.

If You’re Struggling Right Now (Resources That May Help)

I know even reading resources can feel overwhelming — so take this slowly, or bookmark it for later.

Hospital social workers / financial navigators You are allowed to ask about payment plans, financial hardship programs, and billing assistance. This is their job. Copay and medication assistance programs Many cancer drugs have manufacturer assistance or foundation grants — even if you think you won’t qualify. Nonprofit cancer support organizations Some offer help with: insurance premiums transportation lodging utilities one-time emergency grants Appeals and billing reviews Medical bills are often wrong. You can ask for itemized bills and request reviews or appeals — even after you’ve paid something. Asking for help is not failure It is survival. Full stop.

If you don’t know where to start, start with one question at your next appointment:

“Is there anyone here who can help me with the financial side of treatment?”

That question alone can open doors.

Subscriber Note 🤍

If you’re here because January feels scary, expensive, or heavy — I’m really glad you found this space.

I write Mojo & the Mess for people navigating cancer without sugarcoating it — the medical stuff, the money stuff, the emotional fallout, and the quiet moments in between.

If this resonated with you, you can subscribe to get new posts sent directly to your inbox. No spam. No forced positivity. Just honesty, solidarity, and reminders that you’re not doing this alone.

And if today is one of those days where reading is all you can manage — that’s enough.

You’re still here.

That counts.