Mojo and the Mess

There’s a strange kind of quiet before another round of chemo starts.

Not fear exactly.

Not shock anymore either.

More like this heavy awareness that you know exactly what’s coming… and you’re about to do it anyway.

I’m starting another round of treatment, and the biggest difference this time is that nothing about it is unknown anymore.

The first time you start chemo, everything feels chaotic. You’re scared of what it will do to you. You’re googling every side effect. Every appointment feels overwhelming because you have no idea what any of it is going to feel like.

But when you start another round, the uncertainty is gone.

Now you know the routine.

You know the infusion room. You know the machines. You know the way the nurses hook everything up while making casual conversation like it’s just another Tuesday.

And you also know what comes after.

That’s the part people don’t always realize.

Before another round starts, life turns into preparation mode.

The house gets cleaned up a little more than usual. Laundry gets done. Blankets get washed. Groceries get stocked.

Not because I’m trying to be productive, but because I know there are days coming where I might not have the energy to do much of anything. When your body is about to go through chemo again, little things like having a clean space and easy food around suddenly matter a lot.

The fridge starts looking different too.

Less random stuff, more simple things I know I might actually be able to eat when the side effects kick in. Foods that are easy on my stomach. Things that won’t make me gag just thinking about them.

And hydration becomes a whole strategy.

Water bottles everywhere. Electrolytes. Bone broth. Anything that might help my body get through the next few weeks. If you’ve done chemo before, you learn quickly that dehydration makes everything worse, so I try to stay ahead of it as much as I can.

It’s strange how cancer makes you start thinking about things like hydration and protein and electrolytes like they’re part of your daily survival plan.

But they kind of are.

And the side effects… I know those too.

The kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix. The weird taste in your mouth that makes food unpredictable. The days where your body just feels off in ways that are hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t been through chemo themselves.

Starting another round means agreeing to all of that again.

That part is heavy.

But life is still happening around it too.

Pete still checks on me to make sure I’m drinking enough water. Friends still text. Mojo still follows me around the house like I’m the most important person in the world.

To him, nothing about me has changed.

I’m just his person.

And honestly, that simple kind of loyalty helps more than people probably realize.

So here we go.

Another round.

Not because I’m fearless or inspirational or any of the things people like to say about cancer patients.

Just because I’m still here… and I’m not done trying yet.

Some days the fight looks strong.

Other days it just looks like getting through the day.

Both count.

And right now, that’s enough.

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