Anxiety before chemo is completely normal—especially when it’s your first treatment. You hear all the horror stories before you’re even diagnosed, and somehow those stories stick like glitter. No matter how hard you try, they’re impossible to shake at first.
Before my very first chemo infusion, I was terrified. I was walking into a world of unknowns with nothing but a pamphlet and blind optimism. My doctors explained the possible side effects, but since every body reacts differently, I had no clue how my body would respond. Was I going to feel fine? Was I going to feel awful? Was I about to discover a brand-new allergy? (Spoiler alert: yes.)
Surprisingly, my first round of chemo wasn’t terrible. I did have the start of an anaphylactic reaction, but my nurses—absolute ninjas in scrubs—handled it before things got scary. After that, it was just some annoying allergic reactions. Chemo has a way of teaching you fun new facts about yourself, like how you’re apparently very sensitive to medications you’ve never thought twice about before.
That first infusion was Taxol, which I was promptly taken off after Day One: The Adventure. The rest of my treatments switched to Paclitaxel, which my body tolerated much better.
Today, I started the chemo I’ve been dreading the most: AC chemo. I actually slept well the night before (thank you, nightly sinus meds), but anxiety still found me first thing in the morning. All those memories from my very first infusion came rushing back—the fear of starting something new and not knowing how the day would go.
When my doctor offered me a low dose of Lorazepam, I pretended to think about it for roughly five seconds before enthusiastically saying, “YES, PLEASE.” And honestly? Huge help. It may not be for everyone, but for me, it took the edge off enough to breathe.
AC chemo is more aggressive than my previous treatment and can really put your body through the wringer. The list of common side effects includes extreme fatigue, significant hair loss, nausea and vomiting, mouth sores, and low blood cell counts—just a casual checklist of things no one wants.
Thankfully, there are plenty of medications to help manage nausea, so for now I’m cautiously optimistic. That said… OH MY GOSH, I really hope I don’t throw up!!!
A few months ago, I talked to my dentist about chemo and my fear of mouth sores. He’s worked with cancer patients for years and told me the key is avoiding dry mouth. Still, because I hate mouth pain with a passion, I asked my doctor for backup. Enter Nystatin: a magical little mouth swish that I would now like to nominate for sainthood.
Low white blood cell counts with AC chemo get some help from a white blood cell shot the day after treatment. I’m also doing my part by focusing on protein, vitamin B12, zinc, and vitamin C. Sleep shouldn’t be an issue—I could nap competitively lately—and I’m hoping to manage some light exercise if the fatigue allows.
Another goal? Staying on top of hygiene, no matter how tired I get. I genuinely believe the zombie apocalypse could happen, and I’d still be washing my hands, brushing my teeth, and washing my produce. Once you see a dude sneeze into their hands and then play eenie, meenie, miney, moe with the apples, you never skip produce washing again. If you do… honestly, we can’t be friends.
I’m now nine hours past my first AC chemo infusion. I immediately took a five-hour nap, with a brief lunch intermission. Even though I’m still at the very beginning of this phase, I already feel like the next infusion will go better—hopefully with less shaking and a calmer heart rate.
It’s one more treatment crossed off the list, and one step closer to the finish line.
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