Just Another Friday (Chemotherapy Edition)
- timandcloe
- Mar 22
- 4 min read
Updated: Mar 22
Friday, 20 March 2026, was unlike any other Friday I’ve ever had.
Yet we tried to treat it as normally as possible - a new routine, guided by a friend’s advice to make it “just another day” and to focus on controlling the things I can control.
“Small gestures, familiar rhythms, and tiny moments of normality made all the difference.”
So naturally, in the spirit of keeping things “normal,” our day began with absolutely none of what we’d planned...
The days events:
12:00am
Cheeky, impromptu “last hoorah” swim, talking through the panic for the day ahead and the changes to come. No swimwear was planned - but thankfully Harry was fast asleep with his blinds down, or we might have needed counselling for a whole other reason…
1:30am
Lights out. A bit of reading and… some highly urgent drawer reorganisation. Because clearly that couldn’t wait.
4:00am
Tim jolted awake to wipe a cockroach off his hand. A completely unnecessary (and frankly rude) addition to the day.
5:30am
No getting back to sleep after that. The “sleep-depriving steroid gremlins” had already clocked on, leaving me feeling like I’d had five coffees. Fully wired. 🤯
By 8:15am
Breakfast done, cat fed, five words exchanged with the teenage son (standard), some aimless pacing, school drop-off… and off to GenesisCare.
From 8:45am
After a quick rundown, my first cycle got underway. The regimen for my particular “invaders” is a four-drug chemotherapy called TCHP. Each infusion ran separately across the day, with short breaks in between and thankfully, everything went smoothly.
I also started the Paxman cold cap - 30 minutes before and 1.5 hours after treatment. The first 15–30 minutes were a shock (hello, 7/11 slushie brain freeze), but it settled quickly. My chances of keeping some hair sit around 50%, but even if it all goes, it should help with faster regrowth. Worth a shot - and I’m not entirely mad about the Avatar look.
Throughout the day, Tim - my chemo sidekick - kept me steady: tea on repeat, food when needed, and just being there. My rock. The day flew… although I suspect his back might disagree. He did, however, tick off three of his words: soggy, noodle, and snorkel.
Harry also checked in throughout with messages of love, strength, and a few threats of sock wars for when I got home. My world.
The nurses were incredible - funny, calm, kind, and attentive. Warm blankets, snacks on hand, and conversations that almost made you forget where you were. Almost.
They even managed to make me look forward to coming back - which feels like a very niche talent.
We also had a visit from a Cancer Council volunteer, and a call from my Breast Cancer Care/McGrath Foundation nurse, who aim to ensure our whole family feels supported through this blip. I’ve already been enrolled in the Look Good, Feel Better program and referred to local support groups and the wig service, should I ever want to explore those options.
By 4:00pm
Done and out the door. Home to Harry, dinner, a nice evening walk, and then the couch for some Netflix before attempting sleep (where those jacked-up, small-testied gremlins were at it again).
But the best bit?
It’s one down, baby! Whoop!
“Just this one. This cycle. This step forward.”
So, what’s ahead?
From what I’ve been told, the tougher days tend to land around days 3–10 of each cycle - but everyone’s different. So while Day 1 was kind, there will likely be days ahead that are a little less cooperative, especially as things build over the cycles.
At the moment, it’s Sunday, 2am, and I’m rotating heat packs on my hips from my next-day self-injection to boost white blood cells from my bone marrow (neutrophils - over to you).
But I’m trying to stay on top of what I can control - finding the joy in each day, such as:
a swim under the shaded sun
a hot coffee over a good read
a shared joke with my boys
the same evening walk I used to take Hank on
staying connected with this beautiful village (shout-out to our Ross Realty family, who surprised us by wearing pink bracelets that day in support), and
plucking a few pesky under-chin whiskers on the first try… (if you know, you know).
Because right now, that’s the focus - not the whole six cycles, not the what-ifs, or the hard days that might be coming.
Just this one.
This cycle.
This step forward.
Five more to go - but who’s counting.
(…me. I’m definitely counting.)
☝️
This blog is to allow me to write a little more about it along the way. Partly to keep friends and family updated, and partly because writing has always been how I make sense of things.
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