It Begins - November 28, 2025

Hello, out there! Hope you and yours had a Thanksgiving full of amazing food and all the things to be grateful for! 

Time for another installment of Adventures with Murderous T*ts. To everyone who is just joining in now, welcome and thanks for coming along for the ride. There’s a summary at the bottom as usual.

Well, we’ve officially reached the part where we get to murder them back. I had my first AC infusion on Monday morning (11/24). The weeks leading up to treatment felt like standing in the path of an F5 tornado watching every awful what-if and unfair certainty barrel toward me. And now that I’m actually in it, I finally know what that storm feels like. I’ve also met a few others who’ve been pulled into it too, and the consensus is weirdly the same: there’s a certain relief in finally being here, even though the whole situation is still pretty nightmarish. Lol.

The infusion rooms at Cape Cod Hospital are brand new and have heated recliners, snacks, drinks, big TVs and even a view of Hyannis harbor (hey, it’s Cape Cod. We have to keep things on-brand here). For as uncomfortable an experience as it was, it could have been way worse. I’m so glad I was able to have one of my favorite people with me too. But before the chemo, I got a port installed in my chest to help administer the medicines easier. That was last Wednesday 11/19. I’ve named it PORTicia Addams. Why, you ask? Because it’s going to kill cancer with a potent concoction and it was installed on a Wednesday. It’s healed up pretty nicely already—I’m beginning to forget it’s even there now. I choose to take that as a good omen…

…just like the wig consultation I had on 11/20. The idea was to create a wig that looks a lot like what I have naturally—but when I walked in, a mannequin was sitting on a shelf wearing MY HAIR. I thought about going with something different just for the fun of it, but this looks and feels like me, and that just feels comforting and what I really need as I get through this. 

When I picked up my wig today (11/28), I made the decision to fully buzz my hair. There’s a lot of elements at play that are completely out of my control, but buzzing it now feels like it gave me just a little bit back. I am not happy about it but it was going to rip me to shreds watching it all fall out in a few more days' time. I’ve been told it actually hurts more and more as it comes out because of your follicles shutting off, so now I don’t have to go through that. In a way, it's okay that the hair loss was pretty immediate because the hormonal disruption was causing some sparseness over this summer into now. A saying vaguely comes to mind…something about ripping a bandaid off, I think.

We’re 4 or 5 days in right now, and one of my biggest concerns is this: I am so freaking tired and aching all over. How can anyone keep all these medications straight when they all sound like Harry Potter spells or names of obscure Pokémon? Adriamycin. Dexamethasone. Cytoxan. Who comes up with these names? Lupron. Am I a werewolf now? Seriously, if I chant my medications list near a lit candle, I’m afraid I’ll accidentally open a portal to an alternate dimension. Fun fact: Did you know the allergy pill Claritin helps with chemo-related bone pain? Me neither. Alternate dimensions indeed. 

Anyway, it’s winter in New England and it will be until June, but that just means it’s time to get cozy. I’ve said it a lot but of course, thank you for being here with me through this. Even if it’s not physically, it is definitely felt emotionally. While none of this was on my bingo card for 2025, I definitely knew what to be grateful for this year yesterday. Stay tuned for more, and remember to share juuuust a little bit of your turkey leftovers with your dogs for me 😉 

Love you more!! 

Caroline 🩷