It’s been nearly a week since my last post, and judging by the outpouring of messages checking in on me, I assume most of you did the math and realized chemo round three went… poorly. Maybe I got a little cocky after the first two weren’t so bad—thought I’d be an outlier who breezed through the whole thing. Or maybe it was the 18 pieces of bacon I had Saturday morning. Who knows.
Whatever the reason, things went south fast. By Saturday afternoon, I was nearly bedridden, and I stayed that way until around Thursday morning, when—for reasons I still don’t fully understand—I thought going into the office was a good idea.
For five straight days, I couldn’t eat. Not like, “oh I’m not hungry” kind of not eating. I wanted to eat. I knew I needed to eat. But for the first time I can remember, I just… couldn’t. Which, if you know me and my love of food, is really saying something.
I’ll do my best to explain why—because saying “I had nausea” doesn’t even begin to capture what was going on. Yes, my stomach was upset. But chemo is also messing with my taste buds. Everything now has this underlying metallic tang, like I’m licking pennies before every bite. Even water tastes off.
Imagine marinating all your meals in a bucket of spare change, and you’re in the neighborhood.
I tried a few things, but the only food that tasted remotely normal was an aggressively sharp cheddar cheese from Antonelli’s. I had originally assumed I’d get by with smoothies or milkshakes—easy calories, right? But nope. Another unexpected joy of chemo: I’ve developed neuropathy in my throat. If I try to swallow anything above room temperature, it feels like my chest is getting stabbed with tiny needles.
Room-temperature smoothies and milkshakes are not a thing one does.
Eventually, I managed to get down small bites here and there—a breakfast taco, some chocolate, a protein drink, and just enough Gatorade and water to keep from dehydrating completely. I tried to avoid throwing up, mostly because I didn’t want to lose the fluids I had managed to keep down. My body, however, did not appreciate the effort. I still lost the fight a few times—usually while brushing my teeth.
Pro tip: if you’re nauseous, don’t use an electric toothbrush. Learned that the hard way. Brushing in the shower made cleanup easier, though. Gross, I know, but I’ve never spared you details before—no point starting now.
At this point, you might be asking, “Why didn’t you just take some meds?” I did. They didn’t do much. And when they did finally kick in, they brought their own set of side effects. I’ll spare you the specifics, but suffice it to say: water can come out of more places than you’d like.
I don’t know if this third round is as bad as it’s going to get—I really hope so. Maybe it’s a cumulative thing, my body not bouncing back fast enough between treatments. Either way, I get why people say the treatment is worse than the disease. And truthfully, I don’t even think my regimen is as intense as what many others go through. Which is… sobering.
Today’s Friday, and I was genuinely happy to get back to work. To see friends. To feel normal. I’m trying to stay positive. This is my first major setback, and all things considered, I still don’t have too much to complain about long-term.
I’m deeply grateful to everyone who’s reached out or offered to help. One of my good buddies—someone I really admire and consider one of the more Godly men I know—told me this week that giving others the opportunity to help is a gift. That stuck with me.
The truth is, I want to take people up on their offers. I just don’t always know what I need beyond prayer. But if you’re looking to do something: I can always use book or TV show recommendations. I could use help watching Tugboat when I travel. And I’m sure other things will pop up that I can’t predict right now.
Asking for help doesn’t come naturally to me. My default setting is to offer help, not to need it. So this whole shift is… hard. But I’m working on it. Just know, if I ever call you at 2 a.m. with a ridiculous request, assume it’s chemo brain and feel free to say no.
Right now, I’m trying to put some weight back on—I lost over 15 pounds this week, which is not ideal. I’d love to get back to working out next week. In the meantime, I’ve got some real-life tasks to handle: cleaning a wrecked apartment, washing some very sad bedsheets, and studying for a grad school final that’s due in two weeks.
It feels good to have goals that aren’t just “eat” and “don’t throw up.” I’m hoping this weekend marks a return to something that feels like normal.
So keep the prayers coming. Call anytime. Text all the time. And I’ll try to write more often so no one has to do a wellness check when the blog goes quiet for a few days.