Breast Cancer Exhaustion – BCD 18
Breast cancer exhaustion is real—even before a single treatment begins. My body wants to nap all day, and then the minute my head hits the pillow, sleep plays hide-and-seek. Between scheduling, driving, parking, repeating forms, and 
surprise bills, the fatigue stacks up fast.
Today’s Adventure
Today’s adventure took me to the Lahey Clinic in Burlington. Not far, not close, and with a 9:15 a.m. appointment, traffic either way. By the time I took my garage ticket, found a spot, and hustled inside, I was already tired.
Vitals. EKG. And—always—the bloodwork. I’ve given so many vials they could probably clone me. Shout-out to today’s phlebotomist for the rare double first-try success. Small wins matter when you’re dealing with breast cancer exhaustion.
Then came a meeting with the patient coordinator: when to stop eating, which meds to pause, what to expect before surgery. Just as we were wrapping up—surprise!—more labs. Apparently 97 million vials weren’t quite enough.
The Parking Ticket Debacle
Ready to leave, I reached into my pocket for the parking ticket…and it was gone. Of course it was. I went to the information desk expecting a lecture and a fee. Instead, the kind staffer walked me to the booth and paid for my parking. I didn’t even get his name. I’ll be mailing the money back to say thank you, because that unexpected kindness cut right through the fog.
The Waiting Is the Hardest Part
I haven’t had surgery yet. No radiation. No chemo. And still, I’m wrung out—physically, mentally, emotionally. Tom Petty was right: the waiting is the hardest part. I wait. I wonder. Then I wait some more. Did I make the right choices? Will I need radiation or chemo? What will the meds do after surgery? How will reconstruction feel? The questions swirl, and that invisible mental load is its own kind of breast cancer exhaustion.
“The waiting is the hardest part.”
Tom Petty
Finding Small Anchors
For now, I’m collecting anchors: a first-try vein, a stranger’s kindness, a decent night’s sleep when it shows up, and writing it out here. If you’re walking this road—or loving someone who is—please know the exhaustion isn’t weakness. It’s part of the journey.
Helpful Resources
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