The Rest of Me · Life after cancer

Brain Fog and the Frustration of Not Feeling Sharp

By Vicki

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Thinking matters to me

I like understanding how things work. I like spotting a connection, following a question and getting far enough into a subject to discover that the original question was only the beginning.

This is how an innocent bit of curiosity becomes an evening, several open tabs and a new area of interest.

So brain fog has been particularly unwelcome. When using your brain is one of the things you enjoy most, not feeling sharp affects more than your ability to get through a task. It gets tangled up with how you recognise yourself.

Still interested, less clear

Brain fog has been part of my experience after cancer treatment. It has improved, which I am pleased about, but it belongs in an honest account of the aftermath.

I am not going to pretend I can neatly separate every possible influence. There has been treatment, ongoing medication, menopause symptoms and the ordinary demands of living. I can describe what I have experienced without claiming to know the exact cause of every difficult day.

What stands out is the gap between having the interest and feeling able to think as clearly as I want.

That gap is frustrating. I can be keen to learn something and still find the process harder than I expected. The enthusiasm has not disappeared just because the thinking takes more effort.

Learning while life is still untidy

Starting a degree has given me something substantial to get my teeth into. Finance, investment and banking involves plenty of questions I actually want to explore.

That matters. It is easier to want to return to a subject when I am curious about it, even if I need to give myself more time.

I also have to remember that reading a page and understanding a page are not always the same job. Getting to the end is not much use if I have hurried past the bit I wanted to grasp.

I want room to ask questions, revisit a point and work through it properly. The aim is to understand the subject, rather than perform an impressive imitation of somebody who understood it immediately. If you prefer working on paper, a pack of Oxford Campus pastel A4 lined notebooks (Ad) is one option for keeping questions and study notes together.

A closed green clothbound book, a blank note card and a pencil on a desk in dappled sunlight.
AI-generated illustrative image.

A difficult day doesn’t describe the whole person

There is a temptation to take a frustrating experience and make it a much larger verdict. One difficult stretch of concentration can start to feel like a statement about what I am capable of altogether.

I am trying to resist that leap.

My interest in learning is still real. So are the things I have already learnt and done. Having difficulty now does not erase them.

I can acknowledge that thinking has sometimes felt harder without treating myself as less intelligent or less worth listening to. That distinction matters to me.

There are still questions I want to follow. Still subjects I want to understand. Still an alarming number of possible rabbit holes.

I would just appreciate a little clearer visibility on the way down.

This is my personal experience, not a diagnosis or medical advice. I cannot identify the cause of someone else’s difficulties from my own.

Part of The Rest of Me: an honest account of life after cancer, learning and rebuilding. This blog shares personal experience and is not medical advice.

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