It is only 10:30 a.m., but I already feel overwhelmed. I am trying to ease back into working a few hours every day, but my body is rebelling. I am trying to get things pulled together but it seems they just keep unraveling. Or maybe it is me who is finally unraveling.

Today has been a difficult one for me. I have been experiencing hot flashes for a while; they increased during chemo, but since starting the Tamoxifen they have reached a whole new level. My temperature ranges from freezing cold to living in hell. I can go from shivering one minute to having beads of sweat popping out all over my bald head with the rest of my body on fire. This continues throughout the day and night, so getting enough sleep is difficult.

I think the lack of sleep plus the mental and emotional roller coaster are finally catching up with me. This morning during my radiation treatment, I think I felt more alone than I ever have. Being alone in the room – lying there on the table – staring at the ceiling – listening to the buzz of the instrument – I thought I was going to start crying. Not just little tears but big, sobbing, hard-to-catch your breath crying.

Then I thought about the techs who were behind the closed door running the instrument and I pulled myself together. Since I was already at the hospital I did not want to give them any reason to send me on up to the mental health ward. But even later in the day, the sadness has veiled my heart and I feel alone.

I think one reason the radiation is hard for me is because I am alone. Lying there with one breast uncovered while the radiation works its magic, I feel vulnerable and exposed. During chemo, Lorene sat there with me and nurses were in and out of the room. The time was filled with lots of conversations and laughter. The radiation treatment does not take much time at all, but during that time I am alone with just my thoughts. It is hard just staring at the ceiling, and I am still somewhat in disbelief that this (cancer) has happened in my life. Sometimes it is really hard to wrap my head around the whole situation.

I will go back tomorrow and for the next 24 treatments. Maybe I should grab that coat of armor and wrap myself in it. I don’t know; I suppose this time of feeling raw, vulnerable, and exposed might be part of the healing process. I prefer the warrior role – the battling role. But all good warriors need time to heal.