After being told that I wouldn’t need chemotherapy by my breast surgeon, things quickly changed. Long story short, I ended up finding a new oncologist who has been a gift from the heavens and told me my horrifying odds without doing chemo. Having a doctor I trust has made the bitter chemo pill go down a little easier. But it’s still been the toughest leg of the race, because, well… chemo.

So I know what you’re thinking; Why am I doing chemo if my cancer was removed in my mastectomy? Well, my mastectomy samples revealed that 80% of my abnormal cells were likely to have been carried somewhere else in my body through my blood. And that drastically increases my chances of getting cancer again in the next 3 years. Unless I kill them once and for all now. Aside from it being harder to fight cancer the second time around, I also have no way of knowing where those cells could land — next time could be a fatal organ.

Got it? Good. Now here are a couple of things you might think you know about or want to know more about before and during chemotherapy. To be clear, I had 4 sessions of AC (3 weeks apart) followed by 12 weeks of Taxol (weekly).

From Goldilocks to G.I Jane.

Hair

“You’re going to save so much on hair products! Your drain will never be blocked again! You can cut 30 minutes off your morning routine!” None of these are untrue, but let’s be real, none of them make it easier. I guarantee none of these are things that you think about when you’re walking down the street like a skinhead feeling vulnerable (or bad ass, depending on the day). So let’s get down to the facts. Firstly, don’t get your hopes up. I cut my waist length hair down to pixie length on day 1 of chemo, and by day 15 none of it had fallen out. “I’m the exception! Hooray me!” No. No you’re not. Sure as bob, I woke up on day 16 with my pillow covered in hundreds of little hairs.

This is the picture of fear.

After all of 2 hours of weighing up the options of waiting it out and shaving my head, I couldn’t stand to see the clumps any longer. The hardest emotional moment of my entire life — yes I include the mastectomy in this — was this moment. Taking a buzzer to my own head and watching the chocolate brown curls drop to the floor. Many people cannot understand this. “I’d shave my hair off, I’m quirky and cool like that!” Stop it, you are not. Your hair ain’t short until you’ve taken a razor to your scalp, removing the last piece of your femininity. Until that day, you cannot comprehend the emotional torture this stirs up. One thing I will say, is the moment it was finished, I didn’t regret it one bit. The anxiety of waiting for a bald spot to appear was overwhelmingly worse in the long run. You learn to live. You learn to look for other features within yourself that make looking in the mirror more bearable. And before you know, you truly find peace with the new look.

Tip time! I’ve always made a point to look my best during the hardest days so that I feel better about what’s happening. Before I shaved my head, I put on my favorite tshirt, did my make up, wore my good jeans, and sprayed on some perfume. I have made a point to have my nails done every two weeks so that I still feel pretty and in control. Happy girls are the prettiest girls — so do things that make you feel good throughout this time.

Now… Pay attention here. After a few weeks, you’re going to start seeing little bits of fluffy hope appear on your head. Do not get excited! This hair is brittle and uneven. To have it grow back strong and evenly, you’ll need to shave it again once your chemo has ended. I’ve ended up shaving mine a couple of times in between — no one takes ‘bum-fluff-bad-ass’ girl seriously. It’s confusing.

As for other bodily hair — well I’m okay with no armpit hair, but still have to shave my legs every 2–3 weeks (Why, hair gods?!!). Yes, it disappears down there, next question please!?

I have yet to fully lose my thinned out eyebrows and lashes. I can’t prove the reason is this, but nonetheless I’d recommend getting an eyelash serum enhancer. I’ve used Rapid Lash from Day 1, and honestly believe that it’s helped me cling onto what’s left. I am expecting to lose more hair during Taxol though — everyone is different.

Excuse the snot.

Hats & Wigs

This is a personal choice. I decided to purchase a wig that I started wearing to work even before my hair started falling out. For me, consistency with my colleagues was important so that I can maintain the most normal environment possible. Questions, drama, attention is literally the last thing you want during the longest 6 months of your life. I considered a real hair wig until I HEARD THEY COST THE SAME PRICE AS A TRIP TO THE EIFFEL DAMN TOWER! Not just the flight tickets to Paris, but also the Uber Black to the gates of the Eiffel Tower, people. No thanks. I ended up getting a synthetic one that everyone tells me looks like real hair. Don’t waste too much money on something temporary.

I am almost always bald on the weekends and after work, but religiously carry a beanie with me because, guuurl, sometimes it’s cold out!

My sister got this hedgehog beanie made for me, because she knows what happiness really is.

Moisturizing

Dry skin is pretty common when on chemotherapy, especially on areas usually protected by hair, so lather up ladies! Sounds (and feels) weird at first, but putting a plain, nourishing cream on your head, arms, shoulders, and legs is really important during this time to protect your skin. If you’re lucky like me you have someone willing to give you a scalp massage (when else in your life?!). On the research I’ve done, many women have also recommended moisturizing your scalp with coconut oil — can’t say I’ve tried it yet but it’s certainly something I’m willing to try. I’ve also heard coconut oil can cure canc… oh wait… Never mind.

Water

Drink it! Drink it all! The same as your skin, your organs need nourishment. Let’s take a second to recap here. You’re on chemotherapy. That’s a poison. Your body and your organs are being poisoned. Drinking water helps to flush out some of the toxins while it’s working through the chemo, especially your kidneys and liver that are working overtime. A minimum of 2 liters a day is recommended by oncologists but I try get 3 in. You know, overachiever.

Eating

Sometimes, if you don’t raid McDonald’s for every nugget they’ve got, you just won’t make it through the day. Other times, if you put a chocolate near my nose and told me to eat it, I might very easily puke on you. Every day is different. And there are things to consider like sugar is bad, vegetables are good. But the best advice my oncologist gave me was eat what you want otherwise you’ll only want what you can’t have.

Some things to bear in mind though, bacteria ain’t your friend right now. You have a pretty pathetic immune system. Think new born baby. So raw fruits and vegetables need to be washed properly every time you touch it or eat it. If you don’t believe me, see my next point on Neutropenia. I also did some extensive research on this, and the non-negotiables I’ve decided to stick to include NO SEAFOOD. I didn’t say raw fish and sushi, I said seafood as a whole. I know it sounds extreme, but the chances of bacteria in seafood, especially if you don’t live right near the harbour are just too great, and I’m not keen on setting my schedule back to get sick on seafood. And secondly — NO ALCOHOL. I shouldn’t even have to tell you that. Wine will miss you, but it understands. Your liver just can’t handle the poison and the passion at once, so it has to wait. And if it really cares for you, it will wait until you’re ready to go back down to fun-town.

Your best friend during this time is Mr Ginger Beer, anyways. He’s an anti-nausea trickster, and you two will become close.

Neutropenia

(Dafaq is that word, I hear you say?!)

Every time you have a chemo session, you need to have blood tested beforehand to make sure your platelets and white cells are strong enough to continue on. Every time I had my blood tested, my oncologist told me how strong my bloods were. Fighters. Ready for more action. Bring it, world! Then one day (2 weeks after my fourth session) I had a stomach bug and a bit of a puke and next thing you know my temperature is 101 degrees and I’m rushed to hospital. Well well well, white cells. Not so reliable after all. Neutropenia is essentially what happens when your white cell count is so low that you cannot fight off anything at all. I was kept in isolation for 2 days while they cleared up my infection and boosted my cell count. Like I said, wash your vegetables, folks.

Nausea, Aching & Breathing

As my oncologist rightly said, “the best advancement in cancer and chemo treatment over the last ten years is in nausea management.” (Well, if they could work on the hair thing next that would be superb!). Most doctors will ensure you have more than enough nausea meds to get you though the 9 days following your session. I have yet to experience any nausea post that. Aside from occasionally being short of breath, the only thing you need to brace yourself for is the 4–5 days post your chemo session. A bus against your body is really the only way I know how to describe this. Mine have gotten progressively worse, but other women say session 2 is the worst. Others say session 1 is. As I’ve mentioned, everyone is different, but you will experience some form of weakness/aching/chemo brain (like pregnancy brain) at some point or another. JUST REST. Your body has to heal and the quicker you rush back into your routine, the longer the healing takes. Sleep, watch series, and let the time pass — there is no shortcut through this pain, unfortunately.

You heard of the Red Devil? That’s this sack of shit.

Work

With the above in mind, yes it is absolutely still possible to maintain your full time job during chemotherapy — IF they are flexible enough during your session times. The only times it is impossible to work are the 3–4 days following your session. If you still plan on working, I’d recommend booking your chemo on Fridays, giving you 3 days to recover, and then sometimes it’s necessary to take the Monday off too. This isn’t too bad when you’r going every 3 weeks (AC chemo). During weekly Taxol sessions, it becomes a bit trickier as it’s more often, but chat to your workplace about potential contingency plans (working from home, unpaid leave days, taking extended leave that you can work back, expanding on sick leave). Don’t worry, most places either have or will consider a special policy for cancer employees. Life is shitty enough and they usually understand that.

Weight

There’s a funny myth that you get really skinny when you start chemotherapy. “You’re going to have a Victoria’s Secret body, guuurl!” Um, no. Cancer makes you skinny. Chemotherapy makes you fat. Why? Chemo is always chased with numerous cortisone drips to ensure you don’t have an allergic reaction. Cortisone makes you swell up like a Manny Pacquiao opponent. I’m not saying you don’t lose weight — you can, I have. But you ain’t skinny. The cortisone is apparently more noticeable during the weekly Taxol sessions. Exciting times ahead for me! Being healthy is really the important thing to focus on at this point in your life.

Fertility

See my post on IVF here.

Support

I did a couple of therapy sessions. Sometimes it works, sometimes it makes you cry more than you would’ve without. The important thing here is finding some kind of support system that you can lean on throughout. I’ve had remarkable support from my partner, family, colleagues, and friends. On the occasion I have a mini meltdown, there is always a hand to pick me up, tell me I’m an ugly crier, and help me move on. Find your tribe, don’t be afraid to call on them. You can’t do this alone, and the people around you are the only way you’re going to maintain the right attitude to get through all 162 days of this.

Look at this great guy who shaved his magical hair so that I wouldn’t feel like a lonesome freak. Also, Pokemon.

People

Okay so let’s start by recalling the person you were before you had cancer. Did you glance a little too long at the bald cancer child? At the man with cerebral palsy? Not because you were judging them or trying to be rude, but we’re human. We’re curious by nature, and we’re sadly less accepting of things that are out of the ordinary than we like to admit. There are going to be days that it feels like everyone in the world is STARING AT YOU LIKE A GODDAMN ALIEN. And there are days you’ll smile it off, and days your better half might need to hold you back from flipping the bird to unlucky gawker number 10 for the day. You know better than anyone that life is too short to be angry, irritated, resentful. And on the up side, there will be days that strangers come up to you and say how much you suit being bald, and how fearless you are. And days when children in all their innocence will ask why you have no hair and you’ll smile and say, “it’s just too hot this summer”. Believe me, you’ll never spend another minute of your life giving a shit about what strangers think of you again. (But seriously, staring for more than 2.6 seconds is rude. And so is tapping your partner to have a stare with you. ALSO RUDE.)

Finally…

If you’ve got this far, hooray for you! But here is the biggest warning of all — ALL OF THE ABOVE SHOULD BE IGNORED. Everyone’s experience of chemotherapy is so vastly different. So although I can share my journey thus far, yours will be easier in some cases and more challenging in others. Just be prepared to get out the other side. Set calendar reminders for milestones. Half way. Day 100. The destination is always clearer when you’ve got check-in markers. And remember… you’re gonna save SO MUCH on hair products, gurl!

Hairspray for days, guuurl!

Read more on my cancer diagnosis here.

Read about my mastectomy here.

Read about my fertility preparation here.