Phase One: Still Standing
- timandcloe
- Jul 3
- 9 min read
Dear Cloe (my future self),
These past few weeks have seen us kick arse…
But at the same time, we’ve definitely had ours handed to us.
Life has started to resemble one long boxing movie. One minute you’re landing uppercuts like Rocky, the next you’re getting punched in the kidneys while the referee pretends not to notice.
But before we get into the latest rounds, a quick reminder.
You started this blog as a diary of our little cancer blip - something to read back on years from now when this is hopefully just a ridiculous chapter in your life. Assuming, of course, we’re still upright by then and not residing in a compostable urn under a park bench somewhere.
Unfortunately, somewhere along the way you also decided to share it with the internet.
Which means people now know things like our questionable hair situations. Such as the fact that there are more palm trees in the desert than we currently have pubic hairs. Also of our lack of dignity during school pick-up, and that the term “dicktim” is now part of our public vocabulary.
So perhaps… just perhaps… show a little restraint moving forward.
Or not.
Round One - Gloves Touched
This round began with post-cycle #5 side effects.
Wham. Didn’t see that left hook coming.
Fatigue hit us harder than previous cycles - chemotherapy’s lovely cumulative effect - along with blurry vision, aches and pains, daily nosebleeds, and random shortness of breath.
Then there was the nocturnal diarrhoea.
Nothing says “living your best life” like waking at 2am three nights in a row, sprinting to the toilet and negotiating with your insides while Imodium takes its sweet time deciding whether it wants to help.
Our blood tests before chemo were equally reassuringly chaotic.
Everything lit up red.
Anaemia from low red blood cells.
Platelets dropping.
Potassium and magnesium lower than our standards after three wines.
Even our liver was asking for attention.
The report honestly looked like a gambler’s bank statement.
But…
Our white blood cells came roaring back. Every time. And that’s all we cared about.
Because it meant our body was still bouncing back between cycles, helped along by the pegfilgrastim injection we stabbed into our own stomach like it was a personality trait.
And even despite all that, our life also just kept moving.
This round - we went to British rapper Dave’s concert looking the part in our oversized bomber jacket and enough swagger to convince ourselves we were cool.
We also got to still be there for Harry in so many ways:
His RSP orientation at Curtin for Semester Two, sitting proudly in full parent mode, politely nodding through university jargon and acronyms we already knew inside out, while Harry sat beside us shaking his head as we quietly geeked out over it all.
His weekend baseball games, where we got to watch him play with his own little fan club cheering him on.
The lengthy trip we took to Kwinana for Harry to buy himself a second-hand set of golf clubs off Marketplace. Which was worth every kilometre, especially when we watched him and his Dad "test" them on the golf course across the road from the seller. They managed to find more bushes and neighbouring fairways than their own driving range... but apparently that was all just part of the warm-up. 🙄
We also worked a couple of weeks again but all in office this time - exactly what our brain needed - surrounded by an incredible team (and their collective existential crises).
And there’s our upcoming date night planned, mainly because we’re being evicted for teenage boys’ casino night this Sunday with Tim deciding that Jackass at Gold Class is peak cinema.
Not exactly our first choice of cinematography…
But the thought of reclining chairs, Tim, and high chance of falling asleep, which is much needed, makes it acceptable.
⸻
Round One Verdict
Our ability to still continue to live a pretty normal life and get our WBC back up, even while being hit harder by the side effects from Cycle #5, justified a win for this round.
So…
Cloe: 1 – Cancer: 0
Round Two - Fair Fight
But just as things were starting to feel under control… Life threw another combination.
Our treatment plan changed.
It turns out that while radiation is often only confirmed after surgery, because of our particular type, grade, and stage of breast cancer, it was always highly likely to be part of the plan. This was news to us!
Which then started the discussion with the surgeon about possibly having radiation before surgery, to hopefully keep everything still to one operation.
But after our case was presented at the multidisciplinary meeting last week, the team agreed they first need to see exactly how well the neoadjuvant chemotherapy has worked before deciding what infusion treatment comes next.
So…
Surgery is back to being first, looking like the second week of August, giving us another week to recover from Cycle Six’s inevitable side-effect beatdown.
But the inclusion of radiation now also changes reconstruction.
Instead of waking up with permanent implants, we’ll have tissue expanders inserted — temporary placeholders that can tolerate radiation and are gradually inflated over months before final reconstruction much later.
So essentially…Our boobs are being downgraded to flat-pack furniture.
To be slowly reassembled over the next year. Across multiple appointments.
With instructions we both know we will definitely not follow properly. Remember the whole banana bread incident?
For someone with an irrational fear of balloons, this also feels unnecessarily personal.
Radiation will now also follow surgery — Monday to Friday for four to six weeks — bringing fatigue and skin changes that have kindly been described as “overcooked roast chicken”.
Which is one way of putting it.
Look - it wasn’t the finish line we had mentally pictured, I get it, and because of this, it’s left us feeling a bit heavier this week.
But underneath it all, the plan is still solid. And we still have one of those, a plan, which we don’t take for granted for a single minute. Even on the days we'd prefer an easier one.
So we’ll keep showing up. It's just different.
But theres one thing that absolutely lifted our spirits during this time of adjustment?
The 100km+ June walking challenge for Breast Cancer Trials.
Our whole 'Noobs with Boobs' team absolutely smashed it and their goals.
Personally, we reached our own goal of 100km at 10:36pm on the final night, power-walking between lamp posts in the rain like an exhausted but determined menace.
This challenge reminded us that we are still us in all of this — not just appointments and treatment plans, but still capable of showing up, pushing through, and finishing what we start.
Even if we immediately needed Deep Heat and a reminder we are not 25 anymore.
⸻
Round Two Verdict
The change in treatment plan made this a harder emotional round, even though we achieved our walking goal and felt amazing because of it — so cancer took this one.
Cloe: 1 – Cancer: 1
Round Three – Up Against the Ropes
Coming off a loss in the last round… we had thought we were climbing out of the ring.
But our back was again pushed up against the ropes. Why?
Another PET scan.
Less than two weeks away.
This scan will apparently give a much clearer picture of how much cancer remains, help our wonderful oncologist Kelvin estimate our chances of achieving a complete pathological response at surgery, and determine whether we will need further chemotherapy alongside immunotherapy, hormone treatment, and radiation post mastectomy.
Now we’ve been reminded that not achieving a complete pathological response isn’t failure and that it simply means more work still needs to be done.
But achieving CPR post surgery certainly improves our odds of recurrence and long-term survival.
Which… feels fairly important.
On top of this, Cycle #6’s effects have already started like a final boss fight tonight — fatigue, food back to tasting like damp cardboard, and the general sense our body is only being held together by medical intervention and stubbornness.
And we know there will still be harder days ahead, where we’ll probably end up feeling like someone choked unconscious in car jiu-jitsu within the week.
Yes — that’s a real thing.
And yes — we found it on YouTube at 2am. Link here if you don't believe me, as I wouldn't either unless I saw it with our own eyes: Facebook
But throughout the next few weeks, we’ll keep reminding ourselves that we have finished the last of our chemo cycles for this round. We made it. And even if there is more chemo after surgery, it’ll apparently be much more tolerable.
It also doesn’t attack hair follicles, which is great for our cold head.
Though it did have its perks:
We didn’t shave for months. No surprise Chia Pet armpits when we lifted our arms at work. And I won’t lie… the bared "back, crack and clacker look" has been surprisingly liberating.
But I'll still take milder chemo anyday, if required.
Let's however not forever that aside from all this - we do have a strong counter here.
Because right in the middle of all this uncertainty and side effects… Mr Muncy, the tiniest chaos unit from Sydney, will arrive soon. In fact, he flies in next Friday late afternoon. Eep!
Not a distraction. A total counterpunch.
Craziness, cuddles, puppy-breath therapy in dog form. We’re ready. Even if Mookie, the cat, absolutely isn’t.
And in this next fortnight where everything else still feels out of our control and rougher at times… his arrival comes exactly when it’s needed most.
Even with Hank still deeply missed, it’s a very loud, very welcome interruption.
⸻
Round Three Verdict
A chaotic round on both sides — cancer with Cycle #6 and PET scanxiety, and us countering this stressful and difficult period with pure puppy-powered disruption.
So this one is declared a draw.
Cloe: 2 – Cancer: 2
Final Round – Out for the Count
And then there’s the end of it all.
Our final chemo cycle for this round arrived in true Nickoll style — fully committed outfit, fully questionable judgement, fully embraced weirdness.
It was however very well received across the unit though, from nurses to patients, with everyone having a laugh and commenting on how much it made them smile and to never change. Just as we'd hope this final outfit would do.
We also wore another cap which was confiscated and worn by one of the nurses herself and donated the ice gloves and socks kindly gifted to us onto another chemo-goer to help with their neuropathy issues. A great final combined TCHP infusion day.
But the real moment…
As we walked out with a gifted garlic bulb in tow from one of the team (smells amazing), our three nurses who’ve been with us throughout our treatment so far formed a guard of honour to mark the end of Phase One.
While we're still some way off ringing the bell and will be back in the unit in September to recommence treatment, the nurses created a moment for us that was everything.
We didn’t expect it.
And we certainly won’t forget it.
It wasn’t about treatment. It was about people. The ones who showed up every single time and made the hardest days feel human, and made you feel like you were winning the fight, even when the finish line still feels far away.
We cried as we all hugged and said our goodbyes, even if it's just for now.
These ladies deserve so much - recognition, pay rises, and possibly also dancing lessons… because some of those moves definitely need work.
But that walk down the corridor and through their raised arms and big proud smiles…
That was the knockout punch.
Not because our cancer is gone. Yet.
But because we made it through Phase One — and it was celebrated by some amazing people who made us feel like we’re on track, and that this moment was a pivotal point in our fight against breast cancer.
⸻
Final Verdict
A powerful final round win, sealed by the guard of honour moment that marked the completion of Phase One.
Cloe: 3 – Cancer: 2
Winner of the Phase One Fight
With a one point lead in the end - Cloe. Us. You and Me.
A back-and-forth fight through treatment side effects and uncertainty, made easier by incredible love and support (and a lot of patience from those around me). Ultimately, it’s been won through resilience, pushing forward, holding onto humour, and clinging to normal wherever we could.
Now to take that winning attitude into Phase 2 - Surgery.
Hmm but just back on the win for Phase One - maybe we should buy ourself a championship belt for good measure.
Hah who are we kidding? It’s already on order. 😉
Photos from this round, including today's Cycle #6:
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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