Today was supposed to be episode four of chemo season two. Instead, it turned into a reminder that some setbacks are self-inflicted.

In a previous post, I wrote about the pain I’ve been dealing with. Turns out, part of it is on me. On Friday, I did an upper-body workout and pushed too hard. I’ve been trying to keep things conservative—only two gym sessions a week, low weight, and only during my good week. Mondays are lower body. Fridays are upper body. Simple. Controlled. Sensible.

Or so I thought.

Going into today, my biceps were still burning—a soreness I hadn’t felt since starting chemo. My neck and back were another story entirely: constant pain, tightness, no relief. Too many reps. Too much weight. Or both. On top of that, I’d been taking creatine, a supplement meant to support muscle mass.

All of it showed up loud and clear in my bloodwork when I met with my oncologist.

My creatine kinase (CK) level came back at 1123. Normal range: 46–171. That’s not elevated. That’s off-the-charts high.

• Interpretation: Acute skeletal muscle breakdown (exercise-induced, drug-related, or metabolic).
• Risk: Sliding toward the rhabdomyolysis spectrum, with potential kidney stress if it persists or rises.

Lesson learned: I didn’t ask my oncologist about creatine before starting it. I thought I was being smart—doing my own research, trying to be the CEO of my journey. But doing *too much* can be its own problem. Even CEOs rely on specialists. This one’s on me. I’ll be updating my Med / Supplements page and striking creatine from the list.

So much for “gentle strength work,” as I confidently claimed in my last post. I pushed it too hard—and now I’ve pushed out my next chemo treatment.

I learned in chemo season one that this happens. You cannot plan your life around a scheduled infusion. Delays are part of the deal. I had to pause multiple times before, and here we are again.

Still, it’s a mental mind-fuck.

You gear up for it. You prepare for nausea and fatigue like an athlete preparing for a race. You eat right. You stretch. You get your head straight. You brace yourself. Then, thirty minutes before the start, the coach walks over and says: *You’re not racing today.*

That creates a different kind of pain—the one you didn’t prepare for.

And that’s what I’m calling this:

Chemo Blue Balls.