January 27th — I hate radiation. Mentally, it’s worse than the chemo. I cried all the way to radiation after dropping Daniel at preschool and all the way home. Then, I made homemade pasta dough and ravioli with preschoolers. What a strange world I live in. The radiation experience pushes all my buttons the wrong way. Perhaps if I were an engineer, I would find the mechanics of the cancer treatment interesting. I think it’s scary. If I were an introvert, I might find the solitude calming. I’m just lonely. My head knows that this treatment is not as bad as the chemo but my heart hates every single thing about it. With chemo, at least I was drugged up and surrounded by people. With radiation, I’m immobilized in a surgical gown alone in a windowless room with a door like a bank vault unable to even speak to the techs because that would move my carefully positioned body while a big scary machine whirs around me and fills the air with burning dust smells like when you first turn on a space heater. Forgive the run-on sentence. I’ll keep it simple. Subject, verb, object. I hate radiation.