Living through chemo is a strange beast. On the one hand, you’re fighting for your life, and on the other, you’re facing a whirlwind of expenses, budgeting decisions, and the temptation of impulse buys that could derail your financial plans. For someone like me—dealing with cancer treatments, mom life, and personal finance goals—it’s a constant juggling act. It’s not just about surviving anymore; it’s about surviving and thriving… financially speaking, of course.
Between the endless visits to the oncologist, dealing with unexpected costs, and trying to stick to a budget, it’s easy to lose track of what’s essential versus what’s too cute to resist. So join me as I walk you through my week of financial wins, impulse buys, and, of course, some good ol’ budgeting lessons learned the hard way. The struggle is real, but I’m here to share it all with you (with a generous sprinkle of humor, because if you can’t laugh at yourself during chemo, you might cry… and let’s be honest, I’d rather laugh).
Fashion vs. Wellness: The Cost of Looking…or Feeling…Fabulous
Ah, Amazon. Where my debit card gets a workout just as much as my emotional willpower. This week, I found myself drooling over an array of colorful wigs. Blue? Check. Purple? Check. Red? Check. I was about to click “purchase” on these beauties when it hit me: Is it wise to buy wigs right now, when my mouth feels like it’s been in a UFC fight with a cactus?
See, my last round of chemo, I had some mouth and throat ulcers that were, quite frankly, what it must feel like to lick a cheese grater 24 hours a day. But thanks to some recommendations from some amazing breast cancer warriors (shoutout to my breasties), I found Healios, a powder supplement that I mix into a mouth rinse that helps prevent and heal those mouth sores. Now, I’m not one to throw around compliments easily, but this product worked so well that I promptly left a five-star review. Yes, I did. It was that good.
So here’s the thing–as much as I want to look like a colorful, whimsical goddess strolling through chemo, no amount of wigs will fix my ulcer situation. So I made a hard choice, my friends. I had to say goodbye to my wig dreams and stock up on this miracle powder that I’m convinced was brewed in a cauldron of mermaid blood and unicorn tears.
Do I regret it? Not even a little. In fact, I started using it a week before my current chemo round, and guess what? NO mouth sores. HALLELUJAH. No amount of wigs could make me feel better than that.
Ice Cream Truck Ambush: The Budget Draining Sugar Monster
Let me set the scene: My 10-year-old is in occupational therapy, and I’m doing my best to act like a responsible adult when, out of nowhere, a vicious ice cream truck starts circling the parking lot. Yes, an ice cream truck. Preying on families with kids in therapy, trying to lure us into spending our hard-earned money on overpriced soft serve.
Did I mention the truck was playing music like a tiny ice cream predator?
I’d like to say I resisted solely on principle, but mostly I said no because I didn’t have cash on me. That truck will be back next week, and I’ll be ready (probably with cash and a game plan).
The Chemo Day Snack Fiasco: Budgeting Fail (But Comfort Snack Win)
Ah, chemo days. To be honest, they kind of feel like spa days–nobody asking me for anything, no chores to tend to, no work responsibilities. I bring my books and coloring books and get to enjoy a day of peaceful solitude. But inevitably, around hour three, I start feeling the hunger pangs. You know that feeling when you’re not sure if it’s hunger or just existential dread creeping in? Well, it’s both. Most of the time, I am prepared for this with an array of snacks I have packed. However, on this day, after checking in for lab work, chatting with my oncologist, and prepping for my infusion, it hit me: I forgot to pack the snacks.
Luckily, I was able to wander into the cancer center’s “Grab and Go” corner before getting hooked up to my IV drip where I was able to promptly load up on pop-tarts, chips, and cookies. The total cost? About $10 of junk food. Yes, I’m aware this wasn’t in the budget nor was it the healthiest of choices, but when you’re spending hours in a chair being pumped with poison, you’re allowed to live a little.
I did end up getting a nutritious meal later when a sweet friend from church visited me with a yummy homemade salad around lunchtime. Sweet, nourishing goodness that wasn’t from a vending machine. Now that’s what I call balance.
Of course, I also treated myself to a cherry limeade slush from Sonic after chemo—because rewards are important.
The Meal Train: A Budget-Friendly Blessing
If there’s one thing I can count on through this cancer journey, it’s my amazing village. Seriously, my friends and family are real-life superheroes. After treatment, the last thing I want to do is cook dinner or clean up afterward, so thank heavens a meal train was set up for me.
Here’s the beauty of this: not only am I saved the mental exhaustion of planning and cooking meals, but I also save money on groceries because people rally around me to provide my family’s meals for the week. Can we get a round of applause for meal trains and community?
So, shoutout to those who have contributed to my meal train: You’re helping keep my budget intact while nourishing my body. Also, you might be keeping me from burning down my kitchen (we all know how easily that could happen).
Preschool Clothing Swap: Free Clothes, Baby!
Who doesn’t love free stuff? Specifically, who doesn’t love free clothes? Well, my son’s preschool held a clothing swap where families could donate gently used clothes and shop for new-to-them items. Naturally, I was ready to score some serious deals. I showed up with a giant bag of toddler clothes which no longer fit my two-year-old and entered the swap with high hopes.
But alas, the toddler clothes market was barren. There were no items in his size. Cue the dramatic music. But did I give up? No! I kept going, knowing the universe had something else in store for me. And you know what I found? A treasure trove of clothes for my 10-year-old daughter. I walked out with a full wardrobe upgrade for her, and it didn’t cost a single cent.
That, my friends, is the true power of a clothing swap—and a very solid budget win. Sometimes, thrift is the best way to shop.
The Emergency Fund: A Budget Hero
Here’s where my financial planning came into play. This week, I got a lovely letter from my HOA stating I had to trim my trees…within a week. Normally, this would send me spiraling into panic because, honestly, tree trimming is not in my budget (who even budgets for this?)
But wait! I had something even better than a panic attack—I had an emergency fund that I’d carefully built up for just such moments. I found a reasonable company that could trim my trees in time and paid for the service without breaking a sweat. The key here? I didn’t have to put it on a credit card. That’s what the emergency fund is for: unplanned expenses that would normally throw your budget into chaos. So while it sucked to spend that money, at least I knew I had it set aside—and I didn’t have to break the bank. Yes, I’ll need to refill that emergency fund, but I used it for its intended purpose—what a win!
Walmart Impulse Buy: The $50 Slip-Up
Walmart. The land of never-ending deals—and even more never-ending temptations. This week, I went in with a mission: buy flea medicine for the dogs and leave. Simple. Focused.
Guess what happened? I walked out with $50 worth of toddler clothes. They were cheap. They were cute. And I am weak. There were some really cute summer outfits on sale, OK? And my toddler needed clothes (I didn’t find anything in his size at the clothing swap, remember?!).
In the end, I irresponsibly blamed the entire impulse buy on the fact that I had “unsuccessfully” shopped for him earlier in the week. But my budget? Crying a little.
The Community Yard Sale and Vendor Market: How I Almost Became a Dog Mom (Again)
Alright, folks. If you’ve never had the thrill of a community yard sale, let me paint you a picture: it’s like a treasure hunt where you’re both the pirate and the reluctant target for every piece of random junk someone’s trying to unload. And guess what? This particular Saturday morning, my treasure map led me to every single yard sale in my neighborhood. I didn’t need anything, but does anyone ever really need anything at a yard sale?
I had $40 in my Fun Money cash envelope, and I was ready to unleash it on some great deals. Was I on the lookout for anything specific? Absolutely not. That would’ve been too smart. No, I was just on a mission to see what I could get for a steal. So, I happily stumbled from sale to sale with the kids and my dad in tow, grabbing a few clothes for my daughter and some books for my toddler. I mean, when a book is 50 cents, it’s basically a crime not to buy it.
But here’s the moment of glory: My daughter—bless her bartering soul—managed to talk a vendor down to $13 for a motorized scooter. She just gave the guy a knowing look (like she was some sort of small-town negotiator), and BOOM—$13 scooter in her hands. Honestly, I was impressed. And slightly scared for the future.
But folks, that’s not even the best part. No, no. The best part came when we hit the vendor market later in the day. I was minding my own business, enjoying my popcorn (you know, just chilling), when I walked past a dog adoption booth. And there it was. A sweet, wide-eyed chihuahua who looked up at me as if to say, “I’m perfect. Take me home. Your budget can handle it. Maybe not your sanity, but we’ll figure that part out later.”
And for one brief, magical moment, I filled out the adoption application and started planning for the future. I was all like, “This is it. I’ll take her! I’ll just get another dog. Who needs a budget when you have puppy love?!”
But then reality set in. I took a deep breath. I’m already fighting off a few financial temptations this week, including that random $50 Walmart splurge, and adding a third dog was… maybe not the best decision. I mean, can you even imagine? Three dogs, two kids, AND fighting cancer?!
So, I did what any responsible, slightly overwhelmed person would do—I pulled back and emailed the adoption folks to kindly retract my application. That was a close call. I’m telling you, folks: It’s a slippery slope from “I’ll just pet the puppy” to “Here’s your new home, Buster.”
To the dog adoption people, I’m sorry. But I’ll pass this time. My budget says no, but my heart says maybe later.
Life with cancer is tough, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find the humor in it. Whether I’m debating between wigs or wellness, hunting down free clothes, or almost adopting a third dog, there’s always something unexpected on the horizon. So here’s to the laughs, the lessons, and the little wins that keep me going.
If you need me, I’ll be over here, working on my emergency fund, avoiding ice cream trucks, and maybe, just maybe, resisting the urge to buy another wig.