Chemo Brain Meets New Technology

Chemo Brain Meets New Technology

🌼 Date: Tuesday, August 25, 2026

⚡ Energy: Technology training with a buffering brain

💗Status: Absorbing what I can

🧐 Outlook: Do my best. That is all I have to give.

Today was all about learning the new technology at work.

And my brain was not having it.

Was it age?

Was it chemo brain?

Was it the fact that I am still recovering, still tired, still rebuilding stamina, and still trying to convince my body that Callback week is not an actual Olympic event?

Hard to say.

Could be all of the above.

Because here is the thing.

I can build and run a blog.

I can post and keep up with multiple social media accounts.

I can write posts, schedule things, upload pictures, manage my website, check stats, obsess over visitor numbers, and somehow reach twenty-seven countries with the contents of my crazy ass brain.

Mrs. Worldwide, thank you very much.

So how hard can using a tablet with a new software program be?

It is a tablet.

With a route system.

In theory, this should not be the thing that breaks me.

The new program is supposed to be a GPS and mapping system that has each vehicle’s route loaded into it so drivers can follow along while driving.

That part actually sounds useful.

Helpful, even.

A route on a tablet?

Directions?

Map?

Okay, sure.

In theory, beautiful.

In reality?

My brain looked at all of the steps leading up to the driving part and said:

“No thank you. We are closed.”

It is not even necessarily the driving piece that feels hard.

Once I am behind the wheel and doing the route, I think it will probably make more sense.

At least I hope so.

It is all the before stuff.

Logging in.

Finding the right route.

Understanding the screens.

Remembering which button does what.

Listening to instructions while trying to follow along.

Watching someone demonstrate something while my brain is still two steps behind, holding a tiny confused clipboard.

That is the hard part.

And when you add chemo brain to new technology, it feels like trying to download an update on hotel Wi-Fi.

Technically possible.

Painfully slow.

Highly likely to freeze at 87%.

I hate feeling like that.

I hate feeling slow.

I hate feeling like everyone else is clicking along and I am still trying to figure out where the thing went.

I hate wondering if this is just age, or chemo, or fatigue, or stress, or my brain still recovering from a year of medical chaos.

I hate that I even have to wonder.

Because pre-cancer Tina would have figured it out.

Pre-cancer Tina would have probably helped other people figure it out.

Pre-cancer Tina would have absorbed it, organized it, translated it into normal people language, and been ready to explain it to the next person.

Tina 2.0 is still smart.

Let’s be clear.

She is still capable.

She still knows how to learn.

She still knows how to figure things out.

But she needs more time now.

More patience.

More repetition.

More notes.

More grace.

Possibly snacks.

Definitely water.

And probably fewer people talking at once.

The hard part is accepting that needing more time does not mean I am stupid.

It does not mean I cannot do it.

It does not mean cancer won.

It means my brain has been through a lot.

My body has been through a lot.

My nervous system has been through a lot.

And apparently new work technology during Callback week is not exactly a gentle re-entry.

So for now, I am going to absorb as much information as my chemo brain will allow.

I am going to ask questions if I need to.

I am going to take notes.

I am going to practice.

I am going to remind myself that nobody becomes fluent in a new system in one day.

I am going to trust that once school starts and the tablet is connected to an actual route with actual roads and actual turns, it will probably make more sense.

Hopefully.

Please let it make more sense.

Because right now, it feels like another reminder that I am not the same as I was before.

And maybe that is okay.

Annoying.

But okay.

Cancer changed my body.

It changed my energy.

It changed my priorities.

It changed my tolerance for nonsense.

And apparently, it also changed the way I learn new technology in a crowded room while trying to pretend I am not overwhelmed.

Cool.

Love that for me.

Not really.

But I am trying.

That is the important part.

I showed up.

I listened.

I learned what I could.

I did not flip the tablet across the room like a Frisbee.

Growth.

I am going to do the best I can.

That is all I can do.

And honestly?

That is all I have to give.

Not the old Tina’s endless supply.

Not trainer Tina’s “I’ve got it, I’ll handle it” energy.

Not eleven-hour-day Tina.

Not yes-to-everything Tina.

Just this Tina.

Tina 2.0.

Learning the tablet.

Managing the chemo brain.

Trying not to panic.

Trusting that repetition will help.

And hoping that once the wheels are rolling, the route will make more sense than the training did.

For today, that has to be enough.

Because my brain may have been buffering, but I still showed up.

And sometimes, after cancer, showing up is the whole damn victory.

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One Badass Day at a Time