Mojo and the Mess

The first round of chemo is mostly adrenaline.

You walk in not knowing what to expect, but believing—at least a little—that you’ll handle it. That it won’t be that bad. That maybe you’ll be one of the lucky ones who feels tired, a little off, but mostly okay.

Then it hits.

Not all at once. Not dramatically. It creeps in.

The nausea that doesn’t care what time it is.

The exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix.

The weird pains that don’t have names yet.

The way your body suddenly feels unfamiliar, unreliable.

You start measuring time differently—by pills, by side effects, by how long it’s been since you last felt normal.

And that’s when the fear shows up.

Not fear of cancer in the abstract.

Not fear of treatment in theory.

Fear of doing this again.

Because now you know.

You know how sick you got.

You know how hard it was to get out of bed.

You know what it felt like to sit on the bathroom floor waiting for your body to decide what it was going to do to you next.

Round two isn’t scary because it’s unknown.

It’s scary because it’s familiar.

You’re not walking in blind anymore—you’re walking in with receipts.

You start thinking:

If this is how my body reacted the first time… What happens when it builds up? What if it’s worse? What if I can’t bounce back the way everyone assumes I will?

People say things like, “At least you know what to expect now.”

But that’s exactly the problem.

Knowing doesn’t make it easier.

Knowing makes it heavier.

Because now the countdown isn’t to treatment—it’s to side effects. To the days you know will be hard. To the parts of yourself you’ll have to hand over again.

And there’s a quiet grief in that.

Grief for the version of you who walked into the first round hopeful.

Grief for the illusion that this would be manageable in a neat, controlled way.

Being scared for round two doesn’t mean you’re weak.

It means you’re paying attention.

It means your body remembers what your mind is trying to prepare for.

And still—you go.

Not because you’re brave.

Not because you’re strong.

But because you don’t have another option.

If you’re reading this while counting down to your next infusion, know this: the fear doesn’t mean you’re failing at this. It means you’re human. It means the first round changed you—and that makes sense.

You’re allowed to be scared and still show up.

Both things can be true.

If you’re here and this felt familiar

If this post hit close to home, I’m really glad you found your way here—even though I know why you’re here.

If you want to keep reading, the Resources page is there when you need it.

If you’re able and want to support this space, the Keep Mojo & The Mess Going page helps me keep writing on the days I can.

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Thank you for being here.

Thank you for staying.

🤍