Three months of tracking is done. I've got the data, I've analysed it, and I've had the conversations with my medical team about what it all means. So here's the honest bit: tracking doesn't cure anything. But it does something quietly powerful—it gives you a sense of control in a situation designed to take it away.
What the Data Actually Showed
My WHOOP data painted a clearer picture than I expected. HRV patterns told a story my body was trying to tell me three days before I felt it—drops in recovery scores preceded nausea spikes by about 72 hours. It sounds small, but when you're on chemo, knowing what's coming is worth knowing.
The CEA marker improvements were real. Three months ago, it was elevated. Now? Down. Not dramatically, but measurably. My oncologist said the combination of interventions—domperidone for nausea management, dropping the dexamethasone that was wrecking my sleep, strict keto diet experimentation, and WHOOP-guided exercise timing—was "a reasonable cocktail of supportive care." That's doctor-speak for "I don't know what worked, but something did."
Sleep hygiene improvements showed up first. When I stopped taking dexamethasone on the wrong days (steroids make you wired, and I was taking them when they made the least sense), my sleep quality jumped from broken 4-5 hour nights to solid 6-7 hour stretches. That single change rippled through everything else—recovery scores improved, nausea was more manageable, and the mental fog lifted slightly.
The keto experiment was the wildcard. I wasn't religious about it—maybe 70% adherence on a good week—but the days I stayed strict, symptom severity ratings dropped noticeably. Was that placebo? Possibly. Was it the reduced glucose availability to fast-dividing cancer cells? Maybe. Either way, it became a tool in my kit, not because it's a cure, but because it measurably made some days easier.
The Interventions That Actually Worked
Domperidone. This one was game-changing. Nausea breakthrough after switching from standard anti-nausea protocols was significant. Not gone, but gone enough that I could eat without thinking about throwing up for the first time in weeks.
Exercise timing via WHOOP. I stopped exercising when my recovery score was below 60%. Sounds obvious, but when you're trying to "stay positive" and "keep moving," it's tempting to push through. The data gave me permission to rest. My recovery scores improved, and I actually felt better—not from forcing exercise, but from strategic rest.
Sleep protocol optimization. Once I fixed the steroid timing, I added magnesium glycinate in the evenings and stopped all screens two hours before bed. Again, nothing groundbreaking. But the combination worked, and the data proved it. Sleep consistency went from chaotic to predictable.
Why It Matters (And Why It Doesn't)
Here's the thing about tracking: it doesn't change your prognosis. It doesn't cure cancer. What it does is give you granular visibility into what actually helps you feel less shit. That might sound like a small thing, but when you're living through chemo, "less shit" is the whole game.
The real value emerged in my conversations with my oncologist. Instead of walking in and saying "I feel terrible," I could say "My recovery score dropped by 25 percentage points three days before nausea spiked. Here's the pattern." That changes the conversation. It stops being abstract and emotional, and becomes data-driven. Doctors respond to that.
Tracking also meant that when I tried something new—a supplement, a timing adjustment, a dietary experiment—I had a baseline to measure against. Did it work? The data told me. No guessing. No wondering if it was just a good day.
The hard truth: tracking takes time. It takes energy. There will be days when you don't feel like logging symptom severity or pulling WHOOP data. But if you can push through the first week, it becomes automatic. And once you've got three months of data, you start to see the patterns that make the whole exercise worthwhile.
I'm not saying everyone should track everything. But if you're going through chemo and you want to know what actually helps you—not what helped someone else, but what helps you—this is how you find out.