Chemo survival guide
We hope you don’t ever need this. But just in case, here is Zach & Zelda’s chemo survival guide: Our top 20 tips for surviving chemo together, compiled by Zelda, and endorsed by Zach.
- Do your research. Learn everything you can about chemo therapy from your oncologist and from the web. Go to trustworthy sources like the American Cancer Society or the National Cancer Institute and medical centers like Stanford and Johns Hopkins. Show up to every appointment armed with questions for the medical staff. And don’t leave your appointment ‘til you get answers.
- Keep a chemo diary. I sometimes think, “I’ll remember that.” Come to find out, I FORGET! There’s a lot to remember, from medications and food to activities, symptoms, and appointments, and it’s easy to lose track. Or worse, I’ll remember something one way, and Zach will remember it completely differently. If it’s written down, there’s a single source of truth, and it settles the argument. Usually.
Most predesigned chemo diaries let you track each day of treatment in succession. That's fine, but I wanted to compare the same day across rounds, so I customized ours: Zach is scheduled for 8 rounds, and there are 21 days in each round. So our diary has 21 pages, and each page has a section for each round. - Bring on the fresh linens. If possible, have a couple sets of sheets and towels you can rotate through. And be ready to change them often—it makes a world of difference. Bonus: Line-dry linens outside whenever possible. They’ll smell amazing!
- Kill the chill. It might be 75 degrees, but a chemo patient can still cop a chill. Here’s one of our favorite chill killers: Toss a blanket in the clothes dryer on high for 10 minutes, then wrap up and warm up. Repeat as needed. Also great for targeted heat therapy: Heating pads, gel packs you can warm up in the microwave, and space heaters.
- Splurge on a new lint roller. Yes, a lint roller: The kind you use to get fluffy’s white fur off your black pants. It works great for those days when the chemo patient’s hair is falling out seemingly everywhere. You can also use it to gently remove dead skin from arms, legs, backs, etc. And you can even roll it over a mostly bald head to remove the stragglers, and provide much needed comic relief. For one of you, anyway.
- Clear out your bathroom. Like many of us, chemo patients spend lots of time in the bathroom. And you want that room to be conducive to working things out. Our bathroom was not entirely conducive. We had a clothes hamper, a magazine rack, and dozens of “backups”—a years’ supply of toilet paper [we stocked up after the pandemic], disposable razors, lotion, shampoo, and various other bath products—pretty much everything but Top Secret government documents. To unclog the space, we removed everything that wasn’t related to getting shit done. That gave us room for a dedicated medicine, hydration, and iPad station within arms’ reach of the throne.
- Get a spray bottle of hydrogen peroxide. It’s great for spot-cleaning blankets and carpets, and works well on organic stains, like blood. Warning: Don’t spray it on a white blanket and leave the blanket in the sun to dry. Hydrogen peroxide turns white fabric yellow when exposed to bright sunlight.
- Be ready for when the shit literally hits the fan...and the floor...and the wall. When shit happens, it helps to have antibacterial wipes and a small trash bag handy for quick cleanups.
- Rethink area rugs. We’ve always heard they’re a tripping hazard. And now that we’ve either slipped or almost slipped on them, we’re ready to retire those nasty little bastards.
- Reserve chairs for sitting. If there’s an empty space in our home, we tend to fill it, and that goes for chairs too. We hang coats and jackets on their backs. And often, we fill the seats with bags, backpacks, groceries, and other sundries. But these days, we never know when one of us might need to sit down fast (so they don’t fall down flat). Our chairs are now “no dumping zones” so they’re always available when they’re needed.
- Pad the corners. From nightstands and dressers to countertops and tables, our home is filled with sharp corners. I never gave them a second thought until balance became an issue. And now, all I see is a bunch of sharp corners someone could hit their head on. Even our couch has an armrest that would hurt if you fell on it just right. I’ve moved some of these items to reduce the risk, and padded others with throw pillows (which I now consider decorative and highly functional).
- Be ready with first aid. If the patient does take a tumble, have plenty of Band-Aids, Neosporin, and alcohol wipes on hand. For bumps and bruises, it’s also nice to have a reusable ice pack or 2 in the freezer.
- Hydrate! It’s important for chemo patients to stay hydrated (helps flush toxins, improves kidney function, and protects joints.). And since Zach likes his drinks to be cold, we got insulated “sippy cups” and he fills them with ice, electrolyte drinks, flavored sparkling water, 7-UP, or still water and they stay cold for hours. Plus, it’s really hard to spill ‘em (‘cause they’re sippy cups).
- Give (and receive) rubs. While whoopee might be off the table, massage is definitely on it. And according to Zach, it helps with pain. We use Argan oil to reduce friction and nourish the skin.
- Use a whiteboard. A whiteboard is a must for highlighting appointments and other reminders. Plus, it’s a good place to test out one-liners.
- Encourage chewing. Zach used to love crunchy foods. But lately, he’s been avoiding them. He says chewing feels like too much work, and he’s been eating soft foods, like yogurt, applesauce, peanut butter, and ice cream. All good. But then we realized, jaw muscles need exercise, just like other muscles. And, as the saying goes, if you don’t use ‘em, you lose ‘em. So he’s chewing gum to keep his jaw in shape. We’re hoping he’ll be back to crunching celery very soon.
- Order protective underwear. This is one we haven’t tried yet, but seems like a good idea. I might have mentioned it before, but Zach prefers to ride commando. Getting him to wear any kind of undies is nearly impossible. However, there’s about a week in the chemo cycle where he can’t get to the bathroom fast enough, even if he’s just a few feet away. Protective underwear might be just the ticket for those days.
- Swear. We use the hell out of this one! Give yourselves a shitload of permission to swear. Swear all the damn time. Studies show that the smarter you are, the more you fucking swear.
- Stock up on essentials. Make sure you have enough empathy, humility, respect, curiosity, courage, common sense, and the magic words, “Please, and Thank You” (you can’t hear them too often when you’re around someone 24x7).
- Most important: Put in a standing order for patience, hope, and humor. You'll need them all to survive!
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