Mojo and the Mess

You can always tell when chemo week is coming at my house.

The grocery order gets bigger.

I wash every last piece of laundry because I know there will be a few days where carrying a basket feels like carrying a refrigerator. I clean the house, change the sheets, make sure there are easy meals in the fridge, and stock up on the random things I’ve learned I always run out of at the worst time. Ginger candy. Gatorade. Crackers. Diet Coke. Paper plates because dishes can wait.

I refill my pill organizer.

Then I double check it.

Nausea meds. Pain meds. Migraine meds. Steroids. Mouth rinse. Everything gets lined up where I can reach it without thinking because chemo brain is real, and by the weekend I’ll probably be asking myself if I already took something… or just thought about taking it.

Three weeks goes by so much faster than people think.

It feels like I just started feeling like myself again.

Just enough energy to leave the house without calculating where the nearest bathroom is. Just enough appetite that food actually sounds good again. Just enough normal that I almost forget what week it is.

Then Monday shows up.

This round starts with filgrastim injections. They’re meant to push my bone marrow to make more white blood cells because chemo loves to wipe them out. After that come the labs.

Chemo isn’t as simple as showing up and getting an infusion.

My blood counts have to prove my body can handle another round first. My white blood cells, platelets, hemoglobin… all of them have to be good enough to earn another bag of medicine.

Every morning this week also starts with methotrexate.

Then later this week comes Enhertu.

I’ve stopped wondering if I’ll feel sick.

Now I just wonder how sick this round will be.

That’s a weird place to get to mentally.

You stop fearing the unknown and start preparing for something you know almost too well.

So I clean.

I organize.

I buy groceries.

I charge every fan in the house, throw an extra change of clothes in my chemo bag, make sure Mojo’s treats are stocked, and quietly hope this round is a little kinder than the last one.

It’s funny how much life can revolve around three weeks.

Not birthdays.

Not holidays.

Not seasons.

Just the next treatment.

Here’s hoping my labs cooperate, my body hangs in there, and next week I’ll be writing to you from the other side of another round.

Until then, it’s time to get ready all over again.

Thank you for following along with this messy little life of mine. If you’re new to Mojo & The Mess, you’ll find honest stories about living with stage IV cancer, resources for patients and caregivers, and plenty of Mojo reminding us that even on chemo weeks, there’s still room for a little joy.