Chemotherapy: Championing the Last Day of My First Chemo Cycle

Guess what? Tonight marks a major milestone for me—it is the final night of my very first cycle of chemotherapy. I call this the end of my “First Cycle” of Temozolomide treatment, also known as TMZ or Temodal. This moment feels big, not just because I made it through, but because I did it with purpose. It is about honoring what my body has endured and what my heart continues to carry forward through each challenge.

Living with brain cancer, specifically Glioblastoma, means chemotherapy is part of my survival strategy. This treatment plan involves a two-phase approach. The first phase includes a lengthy combined cycle of daily radiation and chemo for about six and a half weeks. That initial stretch is rough—not just physically, but emotionally too. It is a routine that takes over your calendar and your mindset. But once that ends, there is a break, and then the second phase begins: six shorter cycles of just chemotherapy. Each cycle feels like a hill to climb, and now I am standing at the top of the first one.

The Temozolomide Journey

Understanding the Treatment

Temozolomide, my daily partner in this battle, is not just a pill—it is a lifeline. After the initial combo cycle with radiation, I moved into this second phase: five days of chemotherapy followed by 25 days off. It is designed to hit the cancer hard, then let the body rest. What makes it even more intense is that with each new cycle, the dosage increases. That is the tricky part—it gets more challenging as you go, but the idea is to do as much damage to the tumor as possible.

Finishing this first round has been surreal. There were some rough nights, nausea here and there, but overall, the side effects have been surprisingly manageable—something I do not take for granted. I am grateful for every moment where I can still function, still think, still be me. Chemotherapy is no joke, but neither is the power of hope. Hope carries me through every tablet, every moment of queasiness, every sleepless night. It is the fire that keeps my fight alive.

One thing I have learned about this medication is how important timing is. I take it at the same time each night, with anti-nausea medication and on an empty stomach. I mark it on my calendar, and I try to keep it sacred. The consistency gives me a sense of control—something that often feels in short supply during chemotherapy. That small act of preparation is my way of saying, “I am showing up for this fight.”

Why I Chose Chemotherapy

Not Just a Personal Choice

People often say that going through chemotherapy is a deeply personal decision. And yes, it is. But I think we should also talk more about the reasons we choose to keep going. For me, there was never really a question. I want to live. I want more time. I want to do everything I can to fight this. And that means embracing treatments—even the hard ones. There is no shame in doing what you must to survive.

I am not pushing through this because I enjoy suffering. I am doing it because I have people who love me. I have a husband who supports me in ways I could never describe fully. I have a small but mighty family that checks in regularly. I have friends who make me laugh and remind me who I was before chemotherapy became part of my vocabulary. And of course, I have my little dog Peanut—my ride-or-die furry best friend.

They are my “why.” They are the reason I keep saying yes to hard days and harder nights. Every pill I take is for them, as much as it is for me. Because I want to be here for as many birthdays, holidays, quiet mornings, and chaotic family dinners as I can. Chemotherapy is the path I take to get to those moments.

Championing Each Milestone

This first cycle ending is not just the end of a week—it is the celebration of a choice. A choice to show up. A choice to endure. A choice to believe that chemotherapy is not just something I have to survive, but something I can take pride in navigating. These victories may not come with confetti or cake, but they matter. They are hard-earned. And they are real.

Every pill swallowed. Every nap recovered from. Every side effect that did not knock me down permanently. These are wins. And today, I am celebrating that. I am a chemotherapy champion—not because I never struggle, but because I do, and I keep going anyway. The battle may be invisible to others, but for those of us living it, each milestone is monumental.

Looking Ahead

The Road Continues

There are still five more cycles to go. I know they will get harder. I know some days will test me more than others. But I also know I am not alone. I have built a network of care and community. I have my voice—and this blog—to process, reflect, and hopefully inspire someone else going through the same thing.

I plan to document each cycle—not just the science, but the emotion, the nuance, the grit. Because chemotherapy is not just a treatment. It is a journey. And I want others to see what this really looks like. Not just statistics or side effects, but the strength it takes to choose treatment again and again, knowing full well what it demands from your body and soul.

If you are just starting your own chemotherapy journey, know this: it is okay to be scared. It is okay to cry. But it is also okay to feel proud of yourself. You are not weak for struggling—you are strong for continuing. This path is not linear, and it is not easy. But you are not alone on it. And neither am I.

We are a community of fighters, believers, and survivors. We are chemotherapy champions—not because the road is easy, but because we refuse to stop walking it. Every new cycle is a reminder that we are still here. Still trying. Still holding onto hope.

Helpful Resources

• National Cancer Institute: What Is Chemotherapy?
• Coping with Nausea During Chemo
• JohnVsGBM Blog: My Cancer Journey

Tags: Chemotherapy, Temozolomide, Chemo Cycle One, Cancer Treatment Journey, Brain Cancer, Glioblastoma, Fighting Cancer, Chemo Side Effects, JohnVsGBM, Cancer Support