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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37060.txt b/37060.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f38a58 --- /dev/null +++ b/37060.txt @@ -0,0 +1,20552 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Through these Eyes, by Lauren Ann Isaacson + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Through these Eyes + The courageous struggle to find meaning in a life stressed with cancer + + +Author: Lauren Ann Isaacson + + + +Release Date: August 13, 2011 [eBook #37060] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH THESE EYES*** + + + + + + Last Revised August 5, 2011 + + + + + Through These Eyes + + The courageous struggle to find meaning + in a life stressed with cancer + + + An Autobiography + by Lauren Ann Isaacson + 1961-1986 + + + Original Hardcover Book: Copyright 1990 + Released into public domain: 2006 + Library of Congress Catalog Card #90 93276 + ISBN 0-9628196-0-3 + + This publication is made freely available + to all on the internet, and on any storage + of your choice. You may copy it as often + as you like, and send it in total or in part + to whomever you wish. + + + + + + + + PLEASE NOTE: for your convenience to locate certain chapters, + actual page numbers (as presented in the original hardcover + book only) are listed in this text: + For example - PAGE 1 or PAGE 33 + + To find a given chapter, please hold your + "CONTROL" key, then press your "F" key. + On MacIntosh Computers, please hold your + "APPLE" key, then press your "F" key. + + + In the dialogue box, insert + the desired text or number: + + For example - 111 + + + Press the "ENTER" key. + (111 is found in the Table of Contents.) + + Press "ENTER" again. + (111 is found at the begining of Chapter 14.) + + + You can use this same procedure to conveniently find + any word, number, or short phrase in the entire book + (or in any text file). + + + + + If the text seems to be misaligned or difficult to read, + you might change the font on your text reader program + to these settings: + + Courier (or Courier New) Font + Ten point (10 pt) Text Size + + Select either "Normal" or "Bold" print + depending on your personal preference. + + + + + TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +Chapter 1 Early Years 1 +Chapter 2 My Brothers 11 +Chapter 3 Todd's Illness 16 +Chapter 4 Fifth Grade 19 +Chapter 5 Norm / Marriage 24 +Chapter 6 Norm / Reflections 28 +Chapter 7 Todd / Reflections 31 +Chapter 8 Sixth Grade 33 +Chapter 9 Discovery of Tumor 38 +Chapter 10 Preparation and Surgery 49 +Chapter 11 Diagnosis and Recovery 53 +Chapter 12 Chemotherapy 70 +Chapter 13 Year at Home and Diary 87 +Chapter 14 Summer 1976 111 +Chapter 15 Return to School 114 +Chapter 16 Divorce 119 +Chapter 17 Ninth Grade 127 +Chapter 18 Summer 1977 133 +Chapter 19 Tenth Grade 137 +Chapter 20 Eleventh Grade 140 +Chapter 21 Twelfth Grade 160 +Chapter 22 Summer 1980 167 + +Chapter 23 Black Hawk College 175 + Essays: Views on Choice 181 + Views on Awareness 183 + +Chapter 24 Interlude 187 + +Chapter 25 Return of Cancer 195 + Essays: Suffering 212 + Quality in Life 213 + Bargaining and Prayer 214 + +Chapter 26 Categories of Acceptance 216 +Chapter 27 Frustrations 225 +Chapter 28 Christmas 1981 230 +Chapter 29 Self Imposed Barriers 232 +Chapter 30 Autumn at Augustana 236 +Chapter 31 Depression 243 +Chapter 32 Basic Day 246 +Chapter 33 Treatment / Hoax 251 +Chapter 34 Journey to Greece 254 +Chapter 35 In Limbo 263 +Chapter 36 Reflections 267 +Chapter 37 Zenith of Grief 276 +Chapter 38 Personal Belief 284 +Chapter 39 Reminiscence 286 +Chapter 40 God, My View 288 +Chapter 41 Continuum 291 + + + + + + + +THROUGH THESE EYES, written by Lauren A. Isaacson (10 Dec 1961 - +16 Jul 1986), is rare in several respects. At the age of twelve, +she was diagnosed as having cancer of the stomach; leiomyosarcoma is +a cancer prevalent in older women. She was accepted at the Mayo Clinic +for research, and after a five year period was given a clean bill of +health. During her sixth year following chemotherapy, she was +diagnosed as suffering from the same cancer; it had invaded the liver. + +Lauren decided to write her life story. Her treatment of elementary +school days, junior high, her year of chemo and her home tutor, her +return to ninth grade wearing her wig, the first day she went without +that wig, high school experiences, her modeling contract, the way she +coped with her impending death, the continuing of her college education +until she could no longer physically endure, the trauma of seeing her +32 year old brother die; all relate an aura, a searching for quality +in each given day. + +Her thoughts on acceptance, awareness, anger, guilt, her views of an +omnipotent being, God; her ability to write poetry as she viewed and +photographed life around her; the maturity and depth of her writings +bring with them humor as well as pathos. She was concerned about those +who loved her and those who medically assisted her. It was her hope +to help others facing adversity, or who have loved ones suffering +the direct trauma. Her journal was her companion as she coped with life. +It brought her peace and acceptance; she would hope it could +do the same for others. + +Much of her manuscript is complete; it was necessary for her to outline +journal entries she wished copied. I, her mother, have completed those +listings and have related her final two and one half days at Hospice. + +Journal entry June 29, 1986...The night is loud with thunder; the +deep, sharp rumbling that shakes the house as if to remind the world +that it is alive. It is not subtle, but in its brazen clap, I can find +reason to rejoice; I live in the shadows of a wondrous and beautiful +world, yet thunder is one element of nature from which I have not been +excluded, for it penetrates walls. + +Lauren's exclusion began after Christmas, 1985. She was confined to +her hide-a-way in the upstairs of her home until Hospice on 14 of July, +and died 16 July, 1986. + + +Respectfully submitted, + +Muriel K. Isaacson (Mother) + + + + + + + + Dedicated to... + + those who came with culinary delights + who shared of their time making crafts and visiting + who brought lovely plants, curios and books + who shared roses from their garden + who, through Laurie's five year illness, + remembered her often with cards + and gifts of money + and especially those who lifted her name + and her family in supportive love + and prayer. + + + + + +Journal Quotes + + +"Carrying a secret would have been like transporting +a dandelion seed head on a windy day." + +"Cancer. One word, and yet it made such a difference; +it was almost mathematical; just as surely as positive +and negative numbers, multiplied, equaled a negative +response, certainty coupled with uncertainty yielded +uncertainty." + +"Cancer knew no barrier and bore no prejudice; cancer +took the weak, the strong, the indifferent, the proud, +the cheerful, the embittered; it took all, greedily in +an unquenchable hunger." + +"Only acceptance can wash away the flames born of despair." + +"The more the mind grows the more humble its 'master' +becomes, for he realizes that knowledge is infinity +and infinity cannot be encapsulated in the human brain." + + + + + + + +Excerpt from Diary +June 22, 1984 + +...In a relationship, truth can often times hurt. So, I am faced with +the problem of whether to tell the truth or speak nothing. I would +never choose to jeopardize a relationship, yet if that relationship is +full of deception, or other undesirable attributes, and undiscerned by +the other, is it noble to hold one's peace? For to bespeak truths +could lead to ruinous separation...yet, a one-sided relationship is of +no account. + +If I could but harness the energy begotten of my anger towards +self-obsessive persons, I could heat the house for a month. Perhaps, +with time, I shall be able to transfer that energy toward the thinking +of constructive thoughts. Anger cannot be felt without sustaining +internal damage; a raging emotional fire surely must char the mind. + + + + + + + +Prologue + + +DEATH + +Man's basic instinct is to survive, and despite all the civilizing +and technological factors of the present, that basic instinct has +remained. Though the improvements rendered on society through +modernization has allowed each individual to live at a more +leisurely pace, those same devices, conveniences and services +have also separated each life from the healing qualities inherent +in a life lived close to nature. + +So often I have heard the remark, "Nature is cruel," yet I cannot +regard that statement to be wholly true; nature should not be given +a character which is labeled, at various intervals in time, as +"good" or "bad"; it merely functions to the mutual interactions +of all life. For life to continue, there must also be death. +Nature is the intricate mechanism behind all living and dying things; +it is reality in its most elemental sense. Unfortunately, it is +the one reality which modern society has attempted to purge from +all minds, and replace with a perverted idea of life; since it is +nearly impossible for a man to live naturally, society has also +obliterated the idea that one can die naturally, and quietly. + +Even though one is facing death, it is yet difficult to relinquish +that instinct, as well as the instinct to escape pain. One will do +everything in his power to escape a sniper's gun, just as he would +remove his hand from the hot kettle or jump at the prick of a +needle. It is natural to protect ourselves. While sightless and +immobile elderly may "want to die," they would never take their life. + +In the case of disease and debilitation, a line must be drawn. +When no treatment is available, one must say "enough" and try +to find peace. Perhaps mercy will one day be a part of medicine. + +Death should not be shielded from the young, and borne solely +by the old; when death is faced, one can better learn to live. + + + + + + + + + + + +Overcoming Disability and Death +The True Hero + + +Some may argue that the only true heroes confronting a terminal +and/or disabling disease are those who have overpowered that disease. +May I respectfully disagree? + +Lauren fought valiantly to retain a best level of health and ability, +in spite of day after day, night after night, of chronic nausea, +sweating, and fatigue. To give courage to anyone facing chronic +disease, she fought to continue writing, even when physically +and mentally exhausted. She continued to write, even up to her +very last days of life. She was, and is, the true hero. + +If you have faith in a higher power than either yourself or humanity +in general; and if you have overpowered your disease or disability +by faith, you are to be highly commended. If, by the grace of that +same power, you have given your best effort, and your disease +or disability either totally destroys your capacity, or demands +your life; you are also deserving of honor. + +Even those who found healing through faith in a higher power +eventually met their earthly death; most likely by some disease +that they could not, in spite of their faith, overcome. And death +is a blessing, a relief from earthly suffering, not a horrid finality. + +Faith in a higher power can afford courage in death, +and timeless eternity in love. + + + +Lauren's brother, +Todd Isaacson + +Monday, April 3, 2006 +Revised November 29, 2006 + + + + + + + + + + + +Spanish Letter (from a pen-pal from New Zealand) + + +Hola! + +Me llamo Dean +Soy de Nueva Zelanda +Tengo 29 anos + +Hay cuatro en mi familia, Mis padres, mi hermana y yo. Mis padres +viven en Auckland, Nueva Zelanda. Mientras mi hermana vive +en Wigan, Inglaterra con Su familia. + +Mi padre Uama Merv. Fune cincuerta y cuatro anos. Frabaja en La +policia. Habla Maori y Jngles. Juega rugby y tenis. Foca La +guitarra. Es muy simpatico, generoso, introvetido, sincero y +sentimental. No es cruel, terrible y impulsivo. Se gusta viajar con +mi madre. + +Mi madre Uana Jan Fiene cincuerta anos. Habla Jngles, no habla Maori. +No trabaja tambier. Se gusta nadar y beber. Es muy simpatico, +generosa, servical, impulsivo y guapa. No es cruel, introvertido y +rebelde. + +Mi hermana Uama Tracy. Tiene Viente y seis anos. Tiene un esposo y +dos ninos. La nina el mayor que la nino. Habla Italiano y ingles. No +habla Maori. Es guapa, simpatica, maravellosa, Trabajadora y +divertida. No es optimista, terrible, cruel, y aburrida. + + + + +Letter as corrected, with gratitude +to Esther Erbele, Waterloo, Iowa, +April 19, 2006. + + +Please note: Since the English alphabet lacks certain features +commonly used in Spanish, the following words are given below, +with explanation: + + +llamo - pronounced YAH-mo. + +anos - requires a wavy line (tilde) over the n, + pronounced AHN-yos. + +nina - requires a wavy line (tilde) over the second n, + pronounced NEEN-yah. + +nino - requires a wavy line (tilde) over the second n, + pronounced NEEN-yo. + +ninos - requires a wavy line (tilde) over the second n, + pronounced NEEN-yos. + +Ingles - requires an accent mark over the es, + pronounced een-GLES. + +simpatica - requires an accent mark over the at, + pronounced seem-PAT-ee-kah. + +simpatico - requires an accent mark over the at, + pronounced seem-PAT-ee-ko. + + +Punctuation: In Spanish, the exclamation point (and the question mark) +appear at the end of the sentence, and "upside down" at the beginning +of the same sentence. + + + + +Hola! + +Me llamo Dean +Soy de Nueva Zelanda +Tengo 29 anos + +Hay cuatro en mi familia, Mis padres, mi hermana y yo. Mis padres +viven en Auckland, Nueva Zelanda. Mientras que mi hermana +vive en Wigan, Inglaterra, con su familia. + +Mi padre se llama Merv, tiene cincuenta y cuatro (54) anos. +Trabaja en la policia. Habla Maori e Ingles. Juega rugby y tenis. +Toca la guitarra. Es muy simpatico, generoso, ocupado, sincero +y sentimental. No es cruel, terrible o impulsivo. +Le gusta viajar con mi madre. + +Mi madre se llama Jan, tiene cincuenta (50) anos. Habla Ingles, +no habla Maori. No trabaja tambien. Le gusta nadar y beber. +Es muy simpatica, generosa, servicial, impulsivo y guapa. +No es cruel, introvertido o rebelde. + +Mi hermana se llama Tracy, tiene viente y seis (26) anos. Tiene un +esposo y dos ninos. La nina es mayor, que el nino. Habla Italiano +e Ingles. No habla Maori. Es guapa, simpatica, maravillosa, +trabajadora y divertida. No es oportunista, terrible, cruel, +o aburrida. + + + + +Letter translated by Esther Erbele, +Waterloo, Iowa, April 19, 2006. + + +Hello! + +My name is Dean +I'm from New Zealand +I'm 29 years old + +There are four (4) in my family, my parents, my sister, and I. +My parents live in Aukland, New Zealand. Meanwhile, my sister +lives in Wigan (Manchester), England, with her family. + +My father named Merv is fifty-four (54) years old. He works +in the police department. He speaks Maori and English. +He plays rugby and tennis. He plays the guitar. He is agreeable +generous, involved, sincere, and sentimental. He is not cruel, +terrible, or impulsive. He likes to travel with my mother. + +My mother named Jan is fifty (50) years old. She speaks English, +does not speak Maori. She does not work also. (She is not employed +outside the home.) She likes to swim and drink (refreshments). +She is agreeable, generous, a helper, impulsive, and good looking. +She is not cruel, introverted, or rebellious. + +My sister named Tracy is twenty-six (26) years old. She has +a husband and two (2) children. The girl is older than the boy. +(Tracy) speaks Italian and English. She doesn't speak Maori. +She is good looking, agreeable, marvelous, a good worker, +and enjoys herself. She is not opportunistic, terrible, cruel, +or boring. + + + + + (Lauren's trip to Mexico is presented on PAGE 160 + Chapter 21 - Twelfth Grade.) + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 1 + +Chapter 1 + +Early Years + + +"Having no definite values, one is nothing, insubstantial +and devoid of character." + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +Early Years + + + + +Long before I entered the world, my family indulged in activities which +germinated lasting memories in their minds, and though I do not +personally recall such events, their existence often touched my life in +some way. Had my ancestors lived differently over the course of time, +the most insignificant alteration could have impeded my very life. +Such is the delicate thread from which humanity is suspended and on +which we depend to obtain, and retain life. + +The two individuals to whom I am inextricably bound, are, of course, my +parents. Through their childhood reflections, I have been able to meld +history into my being, for their past is part of me. + +I always loved older people, especially those who had not allowed +themselves to become embittered by time and the changes it renders upon +all living and inanimate things. Too often, old age is maligned, as if +it is a communicable disease that, avoided or ignored, will never touch +more than that which it has already claimed. Reacting thus, an +individual gains nothing and loses the joy begotten of the remembrances +related through wrinkled smiles and twinkling eyes. Older people have +much to give; love, which like a fine wine, matures and is sweeter with +age; reflections of the past that, unheard, will be buried and +appreciated by no one; and the wisdom and tranquillity of character +that comes with the acceptance of death and the ability to live. + +Many times I hear the complaint that an older person is "set in his +ways" and will yield to no fresh mode of thought. To me, this +indicates that the older individual has an established ethical and +moral code which evolved through a life-long struggle for inner peace. +Predictability, under these conditions, is earned; each of life's +problematic questions had been meticulously solved, carving daily the +beliefs which became the man. Having no definitive values, one is +nothing, insubstantial and devoid of character. + +I cherish my father's childhood memories, and always listen with +fascination when he tells and retells past events. Through his speech, +I am able to grasp the bygone years and color the family portrait of +which I was never an active part. + +My father's father died before I was born and his mother shortly +thereafter. John Emil and Hilda Isaacson; ancient names, they seemed +to me, yet Dad's memory brought life to their photographs and instilled +in me a wish that I could have known them as had my father. John Emil +was a character; and insatiable tease who provoked the more serious +Hilda: he made dandelion wine and tested it so frequently that it was +entirely consumed before attaining an alcohol consistency. +He ice-sailed on the Mississippi, showing little concern for the dangers +of air holes and thin ice while traveling at a high rate of speed. +He had learned to swim by being pushed off a river barge. + +Dad never learned to swim, perhaps because he was never given as good +an opportunity as his father. This served as no impediment to fun, +however. He was always busy; if he did not have toys, he made them, +setting to work with a natural expertise for the mechanical realm. +From the Buddy L and other junk yards and garbage heaps, he and his +brother salvaged rejected parts and recycled them into usable toys. He +fashioned bicycles in the same manner; later, parts were gathered....a +scrapped frame, a model T motor from a neighbor, a coupe body from +another area....Bravo!...the finished product...a car! When the gas +in the tank was low, it was necessary to go backwards up the hill, +allowing gas to flow into the carburetor. + +Dad told of dares waged between himself and a neighbor boy wherein each +boy jumped from one large tree to the branches of another tree; he +laughed about the crabapples which he blew sky-high using firecrackers +and a metal pipe. He recalled holidays, from the Christmas when his +father told the children, "There will be no toys this year because +you'll have a new baby brother," and his accompanying joylessness +toward that news. Joy returned, however, when he received a wind-up +train and the accompanying round track. He reminisced about the Easter +egg hunts where the hoard was heaped upon the table, and, under four +watchful sets of eyes, divided by size and color until the remaining +odd number of eggs were given to his mother. I heard of the one +valentine which he received in second grade that had been used and +reused countless times. I learned, also, of the severe case of +diphtheria, which at six, nearly claimed his life. He related actually +seeing fiery flames leaping from his bed sheets while struggling to +overcome his high fever. + +About the time that my father had reached ten years of age, my mother +was born in Elgin, Illinois. I was privileged to interact with my +mother's parents whose heritage was somewhat different from that of my +father. My grandfather, Leslie Howard Anderson, was a descendant of +Mary Chilton, who crossed the ocean on the Mayflower with her parents +James and Susanna. She became the wife of John Winslow whose family +came from Dartwich, England. There follows such historical places as +Plymouth and Bridgewater, Massachusetts; the era of the steamboats and +Mary Chilton's name gracing one of the boats; the name "Howard" down +through the lineage to my uncle, Leslie Howard Anderson, Jr.; the +descendants move from Bridgewater to Detroit, Michigan and on to Dixon, +Illinois; the trek from Illinois in a covered wagon to lay claim to a +quarter of a section in Ole Brul County in South Dakota, and the +stories of homesteading in the little sod house whose walls were +papered with newspaper...all fascinating! + +My Grandmother Anna's parents came from Germany to America before they +were ten years of age. In the 1800's the Kaiser was mobilizing his +forces. Immigration was popular during this period. Grandma tells of +fighting with her sister over who was to control (by hand) the dasher +for the wooden washing machine; of hitting a fellow schoolmate over the +head with her lunch pail because of his incessant teasing, of the +shoulder that was a little lower than the other, and how her brothers +would sit in church and keep moving their shoulders up and down to +remind her to hold that shoulder "up" while she led the group in +"Opening Exercises." Church school was an important part of her life +and she served as a Sunday School teacher well into her 70's. + +It would be nothing short of a lie to say that I actually remember my +first years of life, having, as it was, little to do with life's crises +except assuring myself of thoughtless comfort. I indulged in the selfish +desires that typify the usual child, gleefully absorbed in play until +I discovered that I had soiled my diapers or was shot with a pang +of hunger. + +Perhaps it would be accurate to say that my earliest memories were not +truly remembrances at all, but rather, images that were repeatedly +described to me until I finally adopted them for my own. + +My earliest actual memories evolve around the age of four years. By +that time, I was capable of performing many duties for myself, and my +vocabulary was developing rapidly. I had the ability to form +conceptions of others, and thus relationships began to materialize. +I could now be considered an active family member, for I was no longer +solely dependent upon my parents, or my siblings, to be the mechanism +behind my existence. + +I suppose that one might say I was spoiled to the extent that good +loving can spoil a child, although each member of my family agrees that +I was not spoiled in the obnoxious sense of the word. I was never a +nuisance, either to other children or to adults. I promptly did what +I was instructed to do; so obedient was I, in fact, that a strong word +or tone of voice had the ability to bring tears to my eyes. I caused +no trouble, nor did I want any trouble. + +I recall an encounter with Great Uncle Gust in which I was bidden to +sit on his lap. Upon close observation, however, I was appalled to +discover that the elderly gentleman had only four fingers on one of his +large hands. I shied away from him. This was a rather traumatic sight +to deal with at that age, for I had only been exposed to the facets of +life which would be classified as "normal." + +Despite my timidity toward sharp words and unusual events, I cannot say +this trait carried over into the physical world of scrapes and bruises. +I rarely cried for bodily injury, electing on most occasions to laugh +and exclaim about the stupidity of my lack of coordination. A case in +point, falling off of Mary's bicycle into her father's bed of roses. +I was willing to testify that rose bushes have plenty of thorns; however, +I felt no use for tears. + +A very early and, at the time, quite unpleasant instance would have +to include an ill-fated picnic at a local park. After having eaten my +fill of grilled pork chops and corn on the cob, I gingerly led the way +down a well-worn trail. As I descended, I gradually gained momentum, +eventually finding myself duly out of control of my legs. +Consequently, I hurdled over a projecting tree root and landed in a +ditch of broken beer bottles. I rose in terror, admonishing a true +battle scar on my right hand. + +Once at the hospital, a doctor was doing his best to aid my injury. +I considered myself to be in terrific pain, and when he began attempting +to clamp my wound, I felt that he was doing me no service. Outraged, +I bit the doctor squarely on the arm. Apparently he didn't relish my +lack of enthusiasm and quickly bit me back. I was a trifle shocked; +however, I accepted the unspoken truce with no further outbursts. + +I was also given to occasional inexplicable fears, such as a fleeting +intolerance for what I considered "fast and dangerous vehicles," +including sled rides and motoring about in our home-made go-cart, +dubbed "the chug." My mom would soon tire of my ridiculous reactions +to those things most children would consider fun, and override my +stubborn insecurity by making me ride. The other kids were right. +It was fun! + +More than anything else, I liked to be at home. I loved to romp +through the woods or busy myself indoors. Aside from my neighborhood +friends, I seldom sought interaction with others of my age; spending +much of my time with adults or alone. I was content with my crafts, +swing-set and the like. This attribute may account, to a degree, for +my shyness and lack of enthusiasm for group activities. On the whole, +I found it very difficult to speak at gatherings unless a question was +deliberately pointed in my direction. + +As do most children, I enjoyed Kindergarten, although I did not mingle +with others during free-time. I found the various activities to be +interesting and to my liking. I loved the many art projects, except +those in which we were forced to use messy paste pots. I detested +sticky fingers, and was shocked to discover that some children liked +paste to such a degree that they would eat it. I recall stringing +beads to create necklaces through the duration of many play-times; +the teacher would sometimes suggest that I play with the other children, +but that idea I strongly opposed. I would, on occasion, join the group +at her bidding, but shortly I would excuse myself to once again make +necklaces. I simply did not relish pandemonium. + +Grade school proved to be neither a happy nor unhappy affair. +I considered it an integral part of growing up through which every child +must pass. I made acquaintances, for I could not truly label these +individuals as friends, so cruel and insensitive they often showed +themselves to be. Many would mock less fortunate children, reasoning +that their standing amongst their peers would undoubtedly be raised for +their unjust behavior. Only once did I resort to such base +inclinations for the supposed purpose of gaining popularity, and once +was enough for me. Coupled with the fact that I was nearly "caught" by +the subject of my ridicule, I despised myself for behaving in such +a lowly manner. From that day to the present I have kept my comments +hidden, or if I do speak aloud, I am prepared to stand behind my +statements. I speak only of my distaste for actions which I personally +regard as wrong or spurred through a lack of control; any further +comments are of no consequence unless the subject is able to change +those things about which he is being ridiculed. + +Although I excelled academically in school, I was always content when +the time would come to be dismissed. I liked school only in the sense +that I enjoyed the result of successfully completing my assignments. +I felt a certain compulsion to produce perfection: I believed that if +I was to engage in an activity at all, I should do my best, or my time +thus engaged would be without worth. + +This desire for perfection had a price, however, because certain +activities conflicted with my personality. Although physical education +was my ultimate terror, the only subject with which I grappled +considerably was mathematics. After the most elementary techniques of +addition, multiplication, and their counterparts were mastered, I found +myself to be floundering in a sea of the seemingly "unknowable." I had +extreme difficulty accepting the various theorems and equations without +asking the method behind their stated form. I was alarmed to deal with +absolutes, finding it hard to believe that any subject was so +unyielding and allowed no room for error, however slight. + +In my inability to accept the laws of mathematics "wholesale," I soon +discovered that there were those teachers who disliked students who +failed to grasp their subject matter. Perhaps they felt that one who +did not understand was undoubtedly inattentive in class and was +therefore undeserving of any further assistance outside of class, +especially when the extra time was the teacher's own. In many +instances, I would seek the mathematically inclined intelligence of my +cousin, Gary, or attempt to work out my disaster through additional +reading and calculation, rather than face the malignant stare +of an insensitive instructor. + +My other enemy throughout school was, as mentioned, physical education. +Although I was not uncoordinated, I was unfamiliar with many of the +sports, and my lack of social aggressiveness affected my performance in +a way which could only be described as unfavorable. I felt the class +to be senselessly competitive; so concerned were my schoolmates with +winning that to say we were involved in a "game" was totally +incomprehensible. Except for running, and a somewhat comical aptitude +for standing on my head, I dreaded the activities, and detested any +sport which dealt with balls. The teachers augmented a student's frail +self-image by allowing individuals to choose their own teams, +resulting, of course, in the less able participants being chosen last. +Once the game began, I felt besieged by paranoia; my blunders were met +by icy glances of derision, despite my desperate attempts to perform in +an admirable fashion. I soon learned that sports were not games, but +battles in which winning meant everything. Under such conditions, +I had absolutely no hope or desire to fight. + +I have always found it quite interesting that children will attack one +another about many short-comings, but will say nothing of certain other +equally embarrassing occurrences. My observations include those bodily +accidents which could be avoided, such as dirtying one's pants or +vomiting in the classroom. One is always amply warned, but sheer +embarrassment often will not allow the child to mention his predicament +before the entire class is visually aware of it. + +I once vomited in second grade, too afraid to raise my hand to ask +permission of the substitute teacher to be excused. I was always wary +of substitutes, and perhaps I also thought that my nausea would +eventually subside if I remained very still. It did not, and I spewed +gastric liquid all over my book and desk. I was allowed to go home, +pacified only by the fact that my "boyfriend" happened to be absent +that day. On my return to school I found that my anxiety was needless, +for no one mentioned my catastrophe of several days earlier. No one +ever ridiculed another person for those types of accidents. Perhaps +there exists an unspoken truce amongst children to avoid such +harassment because each child knows that it could have happened to him. + +I fostered a slight fear toward substitute teachers throughout grade +school. They often tended to be rather insecure, a trait which I felt +they were justified in having. Substitute teachers paralleled chaos; +either the class would be utterly uncontrollable and would be allowed +to do as it pleased or the teacher would be unreasonably strict and +foreboding. More than the substitutes, I hated when the regular +teacher would return. Inevitably, he or she would verbally lash the +class, leaving my spirit crushed, albeit the fact that I deserved no +such punishment. Those who do not need chastisement, and for whom it +was not intended, are always the ones who take it to heart. + +Throughout my earlier years, my main playmate was Mary, a girl who +lived several houses up the avenue. That her age bested mine by four +years did not seem to restrict our friendship in the least; I had a +habit of better enjoying the company of those older than myself, +and obviously this was no exception. + +Much of our play involved the riding of our tricycles, which placed us +under the fire of the neighborhood boys, who were sporting bicycles at +considerably younger ages. We would ride our trikes despite the +ridicule, however, as they afforded a modest degree of mobility and +could also be manipulated to serve as reasonable scooters if one so +desired. + +One of the boys whose tongue was particularly keen happened to acquire +a bicycle after a mere six years of life. He would fly past us, +wearing a smile of overt superiority, as we tramped our much slower +vehicles up the avenue. We bore his stately self-assurance as if it +were an inherent factor of childhood which would one day be +relinquished for a more affable character, as eventually, it was. + +We looked on as he joyously raced through the neighborhood amid a cloud +of arrogance; he circled, and returned, then lifted the front wheel off +the pavement a trifle too far, causing an irreversible conjunction with +the unyielding cement. His back found the street as his bike crashed +to its side nearby. I believe the entire neighborhood must have heard +his pride dissipating into the humid summer breeze; after that +decidedly rough lesson, he no longer jeered at our mode of +transportation. + +Mary and I rarely played with dolls, although we were both fortunate to +have them. Playing with dolls, for us, consisted more of dressing our +"Barbies" in their various costumes, and perhaps, dreaming that we +would one day appear as shapely and attractive as they, rather than +actually involving ourselves with dialogue. + +We would often gather together an assorted array of trinkets and +gumball machine prizes for the purpose of trading those we no longer +treasured. Although I admired the appearance of certain "stars," my +devotion was more pretense than real: I could not love an individual +simply through reading a handful of trivia gathered by prying, assuming +publications. The inclusion of an idol in one's imaginings could +result in nothing short of disappointment, and is therefore a cruel +waste of time. Thankfully, I was free of any form of infatuation for +those in the midst of stardom by the time I reached junior high school. + +Mary and I shared many entertaining hours, but the most memorable +occasions were those of our overnight slumber parties. I loved going +to her house, as her parents maintained a different store of food than +did my own. We would often eat "Wonder Bread" spread with butter, +accompanied quite nicely, we thought, with a bottle of Pepsi. (My mom +always bought the kind of bread that would not stick to the roof of +one's mouth, but, as she put it, "would stick to your ribs!" Health +bread was not my idea of a good snack.) As we munched on our favored +snack, our mothers would wince, believing that our combination was food +fit for convicts. We were undauntedly convinced to think otherwise. +Occasionally, we tossed a frozen pizza into the oven to complete our +late night feast. + +During these affairs we would occupy our time in idle conversation, +watch television, or involve ourselves in a singular form of diversion, +paging through the telephone books in search of the city's strangest +names. + +When the party was held at my house, the usual schedule was not +complete without my father grabbing our legs and dragging us from the +couch and across the carpet. Rarely could we walk our arms fast enough +to avoid a slight case of "rug burn." + +Instead of bread and pizza we had popcorn and homemade cookies. As my +mother was never an advocate of carbonated beverages, soda pop was +seldom seen in our refrigerator. (To this day, she will bristle at the +mention of "cola.") If we did have pop, it was the less-revered Lady +Lee or Jewel brand. + +Mary and I got along quite well, as neither of us possessed any fiery +attributes. We were both mild mannered and soft-spoken; to my great +relief, she shared my lack of enthusiasm for sports. + +I was always amazed at her capacity for food; she ate heartily, yet +remained a mere wisp of a shadow. Another of her characteristics which +I deemed truly awesome was her ability to sleep undisturbed while her +mother vacuumed around her bed. + +It is difficult to venture those attributes which Mary may have +associated with the essence of my character; maybe it was my joke, +instead of tears, after an injury, or the humor which would evoke her +smile and easy laughter. At any rate, I could have had no finer friend +throughout the initial stages of my life, and although we now are far +apart, and living in our separate worlds, those memories of our +companionship shall persist for all time. + +Steve, my other neighborhood buddy, lived next door. We were much +closer in age than Mary and I, with our birthdays being only six months +apart. I spent quite a bit of time with him, though more so during the +summer months; we were in separate grades in school and that seemed to +make a slight difference in our friends. In grade school, more than +any other higher school of education one is more aware of age, somehow +relating that directly to one's social status; in effect, a person of +a higher grade should not be caught dead conversing with his younger +neighborhood friends, at least not at school. + +Once apart from our peers, we were the greatest of friends. We often +sought out windfalls in the woods, which made terrific "camps," or +simply hiked along the creek bed. Names were bestowed upon various +landmarks according to their appearance; one drop-off was christened +"dead man's bluff" while a small grove of wild chives was called "the +onion field." There was a seemingly endless amount of diversion in the +woods and we used it to our best advantage. + +It was Steve I chose to accompany me on family excursions to parks and +wildlife refuges; he was more game to tromp through the woods than were +many of my companions. + +One of the attributes which gave Steve rare character was his flawless +honesty with respect to one's appearance or annoying habits. He would +as quickly inform a person of a rip in his garment as he would another +who was oblivious of the mucous running from his nose. If there was +something amiss that by most standards should be set aright, he would +see that it was done. Through Steve's keen insight and equally sharp +ability to verbalize these faults, I was made aware of the fact that I +walked "pigeon-toed" and soon corrected the matter through close +observation. Personally, I feel grateful to Steve. There is no crime +in voicing that which, with time or practice, can be overcome. + +Some people who are quick to express the faults of others also lack +all tact and sensitivity. This was not so with Steve. In his +perceptiveness, he unquestionably found room for a great amount of +personal concern and interest. Perhaps the most touching instance in +which I witnessed this demonstration of care was when I was yet quite +young. We were playing outside on the Tarzan swing in my backyard, +when, without warning, a loud clap of thunder issued forth from the +gray sky. So completely taken by surprise was I that I began to cry. +It would have been so easy for him to mock my fright, but instead he +jumped up and headed for his house, yelling, "Wait here!" Several +minutes passed before he returned carrying a banana. He presented it +to me, saying, "This will cheer you up!" He was not aware that I truly +disliked bananas, but I was so touched by his show of affection that I +humbly ate the fruit and thanked him for his kindness. That little +episode of human kindness shall forever remain dear to me. It also +altered somewhat my view of bananas. + +Summer vacation brought almost unbelievable happiness, a magnetic +appeal akin to freedom, for I was generally allowed to spend time as I +wished. I seldom encountered schoolmates, and if there was a +rendezvous, it was never brought about by my doing. It was far more +convenient to call upon my two neighborhood friends, or to simply amuse +myself. + +Summer was not complete bliss, however, for yearly it brought a dreaded +horror to life...camp! My first encounter following Kindergarten...Day +Camp. I was terrified upon discovering that I was to exist amid a mob +of virtual barbarians for the better part of each weekday. This lasted +for but two weeks, yet it seemed an eternity. Each morning I boarded a +school bus brimming with children to then endure a jostling, thirty +minute ride to the location of the camp itself. Once there, we were to +join our assigned group and the daily activities would commence. There +were art projects, games, competition, hikes and swimming lessons. +Many activities would have been quite pleasing had I been in the +company of friends. However, shyness had no place at camp, and I felt +constantly ill at ease. + +An additional undesirable factor possessed the name "Betsy." In +effect, Betsy was the group bully, resembling, ironically, the +"Peanuts" character "Lucy" in both form and personality. On one of her +particularly shining moments, she told me and another equally shy girl +that she would make us sleep overnight in the boys' tent on the last +night. Needless to say, we were scared silly although the threat could +never have materialized. + +Another camp, owned and operated by the Girl Scouts, was also a source +of much summertime duress, although I recall very little about this +camp other than the fact that the homeward-bound bus was a welcome +sight. + +The final camp to which I was sent for a week's time during two +consecutive summers, was a King's Daughters Camp. I never relished the +idea of rooming with people I did not know, yet here I was obliged to +do so. Again, the camp was regimented into various activity schedules +to which each camper was to adhere. + +I was friendly, but not outgoing and confident, and as time crept by at +a snail's pace, I became more and more hounded by loneliness. I wrote +my family many postcards lamenting my undesirable situation, but time +thus spent only seemed to make the problem worse. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 11 + +Chapter 2 + +My Brothers + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +My Brothers + + + + +My brothers were both considered "good Kids" by societal standards, +being law-abiding, and generally speaking, parent-abiding as well. +However, blood relationships do not guarantee a likeness of character +or form, and so it was with Norm and Todd. They looked nothing alike, +facially or otherwise. Norm was muscular, with unstoppable health, +while Todd was taller, thin, and prone to allergies. Apart from such +obvious dissimilarities their personalities and interests also differed +greatly. Such differences rarely evoked conflict, though, because they +were on wholly separate planes. Norm and Todd were not incompatible in +an obnoxious sense; they merely followed their own dreams. A +coincidence of their respected circles of interest occurred mainly +through their great love--and respect--for nature; thanks to Dad. They +also shared a consuming interest in the chug and maintenance of the +woodland trails and bridges on which they would ride. Basically, +though, Norm and Todd were as different as apples and oranges. My +memories of and love for each of my brothers varied greatly from the +other, and changed with the passage of time, for I, as well as they, +underwent transitional phases. Thus, as characters were modified and +outlooks were altered, relationships, also, transformed through the +years. + +My fondest memories of Todd, who bested Norm by roughly three years, +were those of our early interactions. Todd had a wonderful ability to +entertain children. He seemed to sense the exact type of gesture and +manner of conversation which enthralled a young audience, and as a +result, was rarely able to rest once a child noticed this value. He +possessed an unbelievable attention span and tolerance for a child's +endless and often irrational demands. + +I found Todd to be an inexhaustible source of amusement, as he was +quite adept at conjuring up names and personalities for my motley array +of stuffed animals. He would then provide an endless flow of +nonsensical banter for the animal of my choosing, which delighted and +held captive my attention for countless hours on end. + +I had two favorites, the first of which was an alligator; Todd would +shake the green amphibious creature, emit a gravel-throated roar, and +proceed to chase me about the house until I could no longer escape and +irreversibly served as the alligator's dinner. + +The second was a beloved bear whose eyes were so asymmetrically adhered +to its face that it appeared to be immersed in a drunken stupor. Todd +christened the bear "Coors Bear" in reference to the beer of the same +name, and projected its character as that of a bum in desperate need of +another drink. He would make the bear twitch and shake with obvious +delirium moaning simultaneously, "Whe'm I?....Whe'm I?" This would +continue unless the bear was administered an ample swig of Coors beer +from a small bottle; the bear was then content to laze back into a +dream-like sleep. + +Both of my brothers teased me. It was the inevitable result of being +the youngest member of the family and, of course, the least educated +and self-sufficient of the entire group. They were not ruthless in +their teasing; they never insulted my intelligence, only my ignorance, +which was not as serious since ignorance could be reversed in due time. +I felt transparent; they seemed to know what would bother me, from my +petty insecurities to faulty rationalization. + +I well remember the family excursions, in which I generally sat in the +back seat between Norm and Todd. Like clock work, they would serenade +to me in unison, "Souvenir, bathroom, bottle-of-pop" while we drove +past the flat and blistering hot corn fields toward our destination, +claiming that these were my three favorite aspects of the summer +vacation; I would seethe and boil, but could do nothing, as I fully +realized that they were probably right. + +They would also grab Coors Bear, and, holding him at an arm's length +out of the window while traveling 70 miles per hour, threaten to throw +him into the fields. I panicked at the possibility, my eyes fixed on +the battered bear as the wind fiercely buffeted its floppy arms and +legs. The bear was always hoisted back into the car after an ample +display of hostility from me and never suffered the cruel injustice. +(Coors bear was eventually disposed of in the garbage can, a more +humiliating, but less violent, retirement.) + +Norm especially loved to tease and mock my childish idiosyncrasies; he +derived immense satisfaction from quizzing me, and because he used +words which were far beyond my capacity to understand, smiled +uncontrollably at my frustration. He always called me "illiterate," +and while I had no conception of the word's meaning, I knew it was +something which I did not want to have as a permanent attribute. + +Norm also enjoyed pelting me with the arsenal of pillows which the +basement couch housed. As he fired away, making direct hits with each +pillow I would gather the pillows and try, in vain, to throw one in his +general vicinity. I rarely made contact with his body, let alone his +head, as I hurled pillow after pillow at my assailant, only to be +blasted again in rapid succession after he picked up my futile +scattering of pillows from the floor and behind the couch. Finally, I +would intentionally spill all of the pillows on the floor in front of +me in overt exasperation and yell "The end!" I wanted no further +conflict. After several such instances, he decided to mock my ultimate +reaction to bombardments and he himself threw all of the pillows on the +floor with an accompanying, "The end!" He then looked at me with one +raised eyebrow until he received his reward; a screech of anger. + +Other conflicts which evolved in the basement's TV room concerned +the programs themselves. At 3:30 "Lassie" and "Star Trek" were aired, +creating a daily duel between Norm and me. Mom settled the argument, +declaring that every other day we would be able to see our preferred +show. The system worked well, except for the fact that, on the days in +which "Lassie" appeared, Norm would raise his hand in Lassie's dog-like +gesture and emit a mewing howl similar to the one which characterized +the dog. Liking the show, but rather embarrassed by that fact due +to the show's incredibly rosy view of life, the mimicry bothered me. +Luckily my taste changed and I soon truly preferred "Star Trek" because +of it's science fiction appeal, and thereby eliminated one tender spot +through a transformation on my behalf. + +Through my early years of life, my memories of Norm surrounded not so +much the things we did together, but the way in which I saw his +character. Norm seldom actually played with me; that was more Todd's +arena. Except when he teased me, I was not conscious of being a child +in Norm's company. I felt on equal terms with him more than I did with +many other people who constantly maintained a distinction between my +age and their own if only through a somewhat laughable change of pitch +in their voice or a determinedly more animated style of speaking. + +I always had a great love for Norm. He was easy-going and unobtrusive, +and his presence was never unwelcome. He avoided unpleasant situations +whenever possible and lacked aggression in areas where, for the +generally accepted definition of success, that sometimes obnoxious +trait was necessary. He rarely sought attention and money was +of little consequence. + +Norm valued simplicity and serenity; high-scale achievement was not +among his priorities. He saw that "success" was a race which never +ended, for another conquerable realm always presented itself. The race +was everywhere; whether it was the attainment of placing oneself on the +honor roll in school, or gaining promotions at work, or prestige and +popularity in social circles. People allowed headaches to germinate in +their minds simply because the thought of tasting success dominated +their values. Why was "good" never "good enough?" + +Norm was a virtual dynamo with regard to accomplishing a task. It had +to go fast or Norm's patience would dissipate into the air. Whether it +was a chore around the house or a dose of homework, he persevered until +his work was finished and then retired to the front steps to sit. +A job's completion did not always signify a flawless result, however. +For instance, compared to Todd's smooth, taut version, Norm's bed was a +haven for lumps, with the pillow stashed hurriedly beneath the twisted +and rumpled spread. In school, Norm was a solid B student. He did not +strive for his grades because perfection, to him, held no rewards. +Norm did his work rapidly and fostered no hideous nightmares about +tests. A slightly above average mark did not obliterate his happiness. + +When under the employ of a firm, Norm was trustworthy and +conscientious. Whether delivering newspapers or landscaping a yard, +he made certain that the job was done well, from his punctual arrival +through the day's end. Doing an honest day's work was less complicated +than expending energy to connive a way out of it; he knew that he +earned his pay and never had to look over his shoulder in apprehension +when the boss strode by. + +Norm did not worry about being good enough. He was confident and proud +of who he was and what he wanted in life. Average grades or average +jobs did not signify average intelligence and he felt no need +to apologize for his position in terms of societal importance. +It was a refreshing outlook which suited him perfectly. + +Norm was very athletic; one could tell by the way he walked. Sports +were a source of entertainment, and he succeeded in almost everything +he tried. Only two aspects of his personality stood in the way of his +being selected as "team material" for many sports. First, he felt that +a game was a game; although he did his best, he could not take a game +as seriously as did many of the others who became enraged by losing. +He wanted it to be fun, and competition was fun only as long as the +game remained free of hostilities. Secondly, he disliked sports +demanding body contact; he was conscious of his own space and avoided +being touched. Norm despised wrestling, but since it was required in +physical education, he handled his distaste by promptly pinning his +partner and thereby ending the match. Taking notice of his ability, +the teacher eagerly teamed him up with the heaviest, sweatiest guys +in the class. Sickened by their stench and glassy-eyed fervor, Norm +determined to purposely shorten the match; he allowed himself +to be pinned. + +The sport which fit Norm's ideal was baseball and he served as pitcher +for various teams. I recall hazy images of his ball games, especially +those during which Mom and I crouched on the bleachers beneath +a newspaper to ward off the rain, while she proudly feasted her eyes on +the pitcher's mound with an inaudible, "that's MY boy" inscribed on her +face. Dad's employment kept him from attending some of the games, +but Mom always went, a fan until Norm lost his attraction for the game. +Mom savors the memory of Norm being chosen to pitch yearly +for the All-Star games. + +Todd never went to Norm's games. He didn't have much interest in +sports. It's difficult to know whether or not being good at something +makes you like it. I happen to know that liking something does not +make you good at it, for I love to bowl, but once bowled a +16--amazing by anyone's standards. (I was in high school at the +time.) At any rate, Todd preferred to forego physical activity +of the competitive nature, electing instead to pursue his penchant +for gadgetry, electronics and in general, anything that would spin +or balance. When drying the dishes he was not content to simply lay +a lid on the table; he first had to give it a hearty whirl on its rim, +whereupon the kitchen would ring with a wavering "wong, wong, wong" +until the swiftly fluttering lid collapsed onto the table with a final, +resolute, "wop." Mom forbid such treatment of glassware and china, of +course, or undoubtedly many items would have sustained irreversible +damage. + +In effect, Todd was the mad scientist of the family, having to take +mechanical objects apart to view and study their internal workings, +and obtaining chemicals for his experiments which ate holes through his +bedspread. He had infinite patience and stuck to an idea until it +worked, even if it took all night. Todd was a licensed ham radio +operator and collected all the necessary equipment to seek and find +countless stations as well as other operators. Much of his spare time +was spent behind the "rig," although he found equal enjoyment in +playing with or annoying the huge spiders in our garage. It was Todd +who tried to power his bicycle with an electric motor, and gathered +scum and algae from the ponds to gaze upon through his microscope. +He was also the only person in the family who could start a particularly +cantankerous lawn mower. + +Todd loved the extraordinary and took time to notice the small things. +One night, he took a walk down in the woods and found some fungi which +glowed in a luminous shade of green. He returned to the house to +report the strange phenomenon and together we threaded our way back +down the dark trail to the uncanny sight. Sure enough, delicate points +of light embellished the damp, rotting logs on the woodland floor, +transforming decay into a hauntingly magical scene. + +With all of his patience in creative and mechanical fields of interest, +one might have thought Todd was unruffled and carefree. Despite his +slow and deliberate reasoning, however, his demeanor could rapidly +transform into reckless belligerence if tormented. While Norm hurried +through his homework to pursue more pleasing objectives, Todd sat +behind his books in angry defiance, as if the homework which he +declared "unreasonable busy work" would somehow shrink before his +abomination. As the night peeled away, he wasted in vengeance hours +which might have been spent behind his radio. Though he was an +achiever, he wanted to go about it in his own way. + +Graduating from high school in the 60's greatly affected Todd's outlook +and he adopted the prevalent anti-establishmentarianism attitudes with +intense vigor. He also embraced the ecology movement as a worthy cause +and between the two modes of thought, plus the fact that he had +attained the classic age of rebellion, nurtured a rigid hatred of cars +which, eventually, blossomed into anything but a delicate flower. +Fuming internally about the inherent necessity for cars, despite their +polluting effects on our society, Todd would actually vent his disgust +upon the automobiles themselves (which produced simultaneous +protectiveness and anger from Dad, who was uncertain of the safety of +his car in Todd's hands). Ironically Norm bought a car which Todd +sometimes used that was incredibly pollutive, yet Todd would angrily +flop into the car and rumble out of the driveway, its muffler belching +a toxic cloud of gray carbon into the air that followed him +up the street as he drove to his ecology meetings. + +Sometimes I felt as if Todd was like a spring aching to be sprung. +In driving, it was obvious that Todd released frustrations behind +the wheel. This trait, however, was not directly related to his +anti-establishment/pro-ecology stance; other pressures, whether +conscious or unconscious, were to blame for that. Moreover, Mom +recalls that as a youngster Todd would ride his tricycle precariously +down the hill behind our house, balancing on two wheels and cackling +with enjoyment throughout the wild trip. Despite his history, one +generally persisted to assume that Norm, sports-oriented and having +little patience for the fine-honed arts, would have been the terror in +the driver's seat. The fact was, however, that Todd was the reckless +one, using cars in a hard, decisive way which demanded their utmost +performance. I might add that his safety depended on such performance, +for if brakes failed, or mechanical workings malfunctioned, results +could have been disastrous. The rampaging tornado, however, was never +involved in "the big crash" and continues to parallel park vehicles +with one, exacting maneuver (a feat which, in my eyes, demonstrates +brilliant skill). Perhaps I worried too much. Perhaps I still do. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 16 + +Chapter 3 + +Todd's Illness + + + +"Pain or no pain, I did not wish to go through life with my eyes closed +to hardship, for only pure ignorance was bliss." + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +Todd's Illness + + + + +An individual often lives many years before his memories include any +aspects of life other than those which have directly affected his own. +My awareness of others improved remarkably in grade school, although it +had not reached an acceptable level. I remembered the hurts and +injustices of those around me, yet the memories of my pain still +over-shadowed and dominated those which I viewed in other lives. + +Within the home, I knew very little of the harshness of life. No +serious injury had befallen me either physically or emotionally and I +had every reason to be happy. It seemed that a protective shell +surrounded my world, through which no discontentment could pierce. + +I missed Todd when he left home to attend the university; phone calls +bridged the miles to a certain extent, but within these I sensed a +melancholic note which bespoke loneliness and homesickness and +involuntary tears would cascade down my cheeks as I hung up the phone. +Letters, however, had a way of concealing emotion better than +conversation, and the proclamation "I'm fine" was easier to believe in +the written form. It was obvious to me that Todd's cheerful remarks +were sometimes the work of mechanical, socially expected responses, but +I had no idea that they had eventually grown into outright lies with +regard to his health. + +A visit to the university clinic provided sufficient evidence to +support the fact that Todd was a very ill student and he was told to +return home for more adequate testing in a hospital situation. Relying +on valium to ease and relax his malfunctioning system, he took a bus +from the university, insisting to Mom and Dad that he would be all +right. During the several hours which spanned his two bus connections, +he stretched out in a vacant lot to rest, as the terminal itself +frowned on "loiterers" and therefore had no benches of adequate +proportions for Todd's needs. When Mom was told the above incident, +she immediately envisioned tall grass, dandelion heads and broken +whiskey bottles, which might not have been far from the mark, and +exclaimed "But you could've been arrested...or...mugged!" Todd, +indeed, had true grit. + +After approximately three weeks in the hospital, Todd's health +returned. A hypothesis was drawn in which nephritis, a kidney ailment, +and rheumatic fever were determined as the culprits behind his problem, +and drugs were administered which appeared to relieve his symptoms. +During this time, Mom was taking final exams and Norm was graduating +from high school, which altogether spelled chaos for the family. At +eight, however, I did not gather the magnitude of worry which encircled +Todd since I was rather unexposed to his sickness. I was too young to +visit him at the hospital and life, for me, went on fairly well. + +That winter the doctor decided to take Todd off the steroid. If his +kidney could function normally, it would be better to avoid extensive +use of the drug. Once he returned to school, it soon became evident +that his health, again, was on the decline. My parents picked him up +at the university, and he came home so weak that he rested on the main +floor instead of in his usual upstairs room. The doctor was alerted +concerning his condition, but a decision was made for Todd to remain at +home through the weekend. However, Todd's state grew increasingly +worse, and the doctor was phoned in desperation whereupon he +immediately made plans for Todd to journey to the Mayo Clinic in +Minnesota. The drive lasted an exhausting eight hours, but it saved +Todd's life. + +In a matter of several hours, the test results had been analyzed and a +name was given to Todd's symptoms which could widen the most apathetic +eyes: Wegener's Granulomatosis. Simply stated, Todd's disease was one +in which his own immune system radically over-reacted and actually +became allergic to, and would have killed, himself. Due to acute +kidney failure, his body had neared its saturation point regarding its +tolerance of impurities, beyond which no endurance could have impeded +death. If not for prednisone and Imuran his survival would have been +impossible. + +As near as he came to death, I remembered nothing of his stay at the +public hospital or the weekend during which his life slowly dwindled +before our eyes. Perhaps it was a lack of awareness on my part +combined with a degree of exclusion, due to my young age, from the +facts and seriousness of the affair that I suffered from such a dearth +of recollection; at any rate, my consciousness was jarred into reality +only after Todd had reached Mayo Clinic and a noon-hour phone call from +Dad to my mom caused me to comprehend the grave plight in which my +brother was stranded. As Mom hung up the phone, I gasped, "Todd's not +going to die, is he?" This, finally, was reality; among the dish of +peaches, carton of milk and loaf of bread that decorated the kitchen +table, it stuck in my throat like peanut butter. + +I never forgot that lunch, nor the ignorant bliss which departed when +reality caught up with me. A selfish person suffers insignificant +wounds, for his shallow love is generated only toward himself; however, +when one is able to extend his love and concern beyond himself, the +pain is much deeper. I learned that the world did not revolve around +me; I controlled nothing. Just as I had been virtually oblivious to my +brother's failing health, so was the world oblivious to me. Life +became larger than it had been as my eyes gradually opened, widening +the scope through which I gained my image of existence. Pain or no +pain, I did not wish to go through life with my eyes closed to +hardship, for only pure ignorance was bliss. It seemed that change was +the only certainty in life. If I could instill that thought in my +mind, growing up would prove to be less of a battle. + +Todd recovered slowly and after regaining his strength returned to the +university at the beginning of the next semester. Complications caused +by ill health no longer wreaked havoc upon his plans, and under the +protective wing of medication he successfully completed his education +without further set-backs. + +The following summer, Todd traveled to Mayo Clinic once again for +restorative surgery on his nose. His illness caused the cartilage +to dissolve completely, making a noticeable recess. The surgery +was the last of the weightier consequences of Todd's disease though, +it too, possessed few endearing qualities. + +Todd would never be free of the drugs, for they alone allowed him +to survive. It did not appear that my brother's life would ever again +be "normal," but that, I later found, depended on one's definition +of the word. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 19 + +Chapter 4 + +Fifth Grade + + + +"To maintain a friendship, one must have unrelenting endurance, yet +should never need the companionship of another so desperately as to +justify the acceptance of a flagrantly inconsistent personality." + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +Fifth Grade + + + + +During the latter half of fifth grade, I decided to keep a diary. +Entries were, at best, sparse and infrequent throughout the school +year. Upon the arrival of summer, they subsided altogether. While the +entries persisted, however, the content consisted merely of the days +events, amassed in broken sentences and one word implications. I also +made certain that major events did not pass without notice. + + +Jan. 19, 1973... Gerbil's tail fell off today. He was going out on the +carpet and so I grabbed onto his tail. Guess what? This much (one +inch) of his tail fell off. It's in a bag. + +Yes, I even saved the tail. + + +Jan. 20, 1973... Made a bet with Dad about snow. Church, Rainy, wet +day outside. Popcorn at night. 2 bottles of pop. Got the hiccups. +Played with gerbil. + + +I was painfully concise. + + +Mar. 13, 1973... I stayed home and am sick. I barfed in the sink and +then watched T.V. + + + + +My diary also reminded me of the double standard that exists between +parents and their children. Many battles ensue due to the fact that +parents can do that which a child is not permitted to do; initially, +this would include such privileges as touching objects in stores and +staying up after 10:00 p.m. Arguments increase as the child seeks +maturity. My exposure to the double standard involved not so much the +things I could not do, but rather, the things which Mom had never done, +yet forced me to do. Admittedly, I would never have ventured from the +house had it not been for Mom's insistent prodding, for I liked it +there. Through her dictation, I attended swimming lessons, piano +lessons, and Girl Scouts. By this age, I liked swimming a great deal, +and it was no longer a source of resentment. Piano lessons required +that I practice a half-hour each day; after walking stiff-legged to the +piano and playing several notes, I relaxed my limbs and, on good days, +tried to conceal my musical enjoyment from Mom. Girl Scouts, however, +was a continual menace. Through my affiliation with the organization, +I had to wear an ill-fitting green dress to school on the day of the +meeting. Each year I bore the humiliation of refusal which came with +selling Girl Scout cookies. On one of our field trips to a local +beauty school, I was placed under the hair drier (which was on "high") +and promptly forgotten. + +It was no surprise, then, that when the Girl Scouts offered roller +skating lessons, Mom applauded the idea. I cringed, knowing that a +protest would have been futile despite her history of roller-rink +nervousness. (Her arms hurt from thrashing.) At any rate, the lessons +began and I learned that I was not meant to travel on wheels. It was +completely different from ice skating. Being confined to the rink +created the probability of multiple pile-ups. Already feeling +hopelessly out of control, I was horrified at the thought of turning by +lifting one skate over the other; skating was hard enough with both +skates planted on the floor. Stopping consisted of rolling around in +circles until I lost momentum, or slammed into a wall. Performing +figure eights and skating backward were feats which bordered suicidal +nightmares. + +After the lessons ceased, I was quite relieved and, for the most part, +as much an amateur at roller skating as I had been at the beginning. +However, I had relinquished the wall for the rubber "brakes" and no +longer became traumatized when the announcement to "change directions" +resounded through the skating rink. I had not failed utterly and +completely. + +Popularity is, indeed, a curiosity. I noted that the means toward +popularity changed in various age groups and social situations. For +instance, during the initial years of grade school, one could attain a +certain degree of popularity through excelling academically. Since I +was naturally an achiever, I received a fair amount of friendly +attention through these years. With my fellow achievers I competed for +the high score which would bring exaltation and admiration from one's +peers and teachers, and had little difficulty holding my position as +undefinably determined by the class. + +As years passed, the more outgoing personalities reached the pillar of +esteem and without trauma, I settled back into a station more agreeable +with my character. If I was not asked to a party or special event, I +felt undeniably relieved; I then would not be obliged to listen to the +inevitable cutting gossip which always seemed to accompany closed +parties and the like. In a sense, I could have been described as +"everybody's friend and mediator," as I never chose to involve myself +on any particular side of a dispute, especially when the two sides +seemed equally at fault. When two friends were not on speaking terms +they would both speak to me; I took care to avoid asserting my views, +electing instead to mechanically nod my head in silence. + +Aside from Mary and a handful of others, I believe that I enjoyed the +company of boys over girls, possibly because their personality was more +consistent. In most cases, a friend on Monday would still be a friend +on Tuesday. Moreover, boys liked tromping through the woods and were +usually not squeamish; I had little tolerance for those who panicked at +the sight of an insect. (I feared only spiders, for they had a nasty +habit of biting me at night while sleeping.) I enjoyed their coarser +sense of humor (after all, gas is funny)! I also had a high regard for +bravery in the face of bodily injury; chronic whiners and screamers won +no points with me. + +Although the rowdiness of certain boys initially caused a degree of +alarm, I was soon able to relax and enjoy the companionship afforded +by their more self-assured personalities. The boys which I encountered +seemed more eager to accept people, whereas girls were prone toward +competition with their own sex and, consequently, more apt to foster +petty jealousies and complaints. Moreover, because of their inability +to inflict any serious injury other than the emotional type, many girls +gained mastery over painfully judgmental tongues and appeared to relish +the mental pandemonium to which one was subjected upon the most trivial +misunderstanding. + +To maintain a friendship, one must have unrelenting endurance, yet +should never need the companionship of another so desperately as to +justify the acceptance of a flagrantly inconsistent personality. If +one is unwilling to firmly entrench his feelings toward another, the +resulting friendship is grossly mismatched. + +I quickly grew weary of "friends" who would, for no better reason than +the excitement begotten of such behavior, decide to ostracize one +member of the "group" for an undetermined length of time, during which +the hapless individual would endure a prickly barrier of silence, +piqued by icy stares and inaudible gossip. Some of the victims would +beg or cry to be forgiven for the guiltless crime that evoked the +group's sudden disfavor. Generally, I was completely baffled and +rather amused when the disfavor fell upon me, and, knowing that nothing +would hasten my reacceptance into the group, would calmly go about my +business until they decided that I once again merited good treatment. + +One of the most revolting instances that I remember pertaining to the +above dissertation was eating at a "friend's" house for lunch. Because +my mom was working, she thought it would be more to my liking if I +would spend lunch hour at the house of a friend or neighbor. A fee was +established for this service, yet I was rallied around the area, +eventually finding myself at the house of a schoolmate. She usually +was one of my school chums, so I rather looked forward to our sharing +this additional time together; how wrong my assumptions proved to be! + +Soon after I began eating lunch at her house, she somehow decided to +hold me in ill regard. She refused to speak to me at the table, and +gained the further assistance of her older brother to make my stay +twice as uncomfortable. The only conversation I was able to gather was +that of her amiable mother, and I was only too glad to know that she +understood the hatefulness of my situation. Although I ignored their +stupidity as best I could, lunch was not a thing which I looked forward +to under those conditions and I once again changed my noontime regimen +so as to facilitate a better appetite. No longer having to share her +mother on a daily basis, she soon restored her "friendship." + +If one can ignore such treatment, the wrath is more rapidly abandoned. +Affairs such as these reflect badly on their initiators; it is sad that +pointless wars must be waged to win friendship, but perhaps these are +an intrinsic facet of early relationships for certain individuals. +Personally, if I have to alienate a friend to insure that he would be +loyal to me, I would rather bury my head in the sand. + +Grade school was the place wherein I experienced my first taste of +romance. My initial spark was in second grade; although the boy and I +were so shy that we were not on speaking terms, the flame kindled for +many months, during which time we would smile at each other sheepishly +and flush with embarrassment when, in gym class, we were square dance +partners and momentarily held hands. Our romance was sporadic through +the years, but its peak was reached in fifth grade. By that time, we +actually conversed and spent time in each other's company, which +greatly aided our relationship. Soon it became apparent to both of us +that our interest had progressed beyond the platonic level. + + +Jan. 10, 1973... Went to school. Made lunch for myself. Went skating +with B. Had a lot of fun skating. Played "go fetch" with ice. + +Feb. 15, 1973... After Valentine's Day...B. gave me a really funny +valentine (A drawing of a heart). + + +Mar. 14, 1973... B. brought me a 5-pack (of) bubble gum from T.D. who +is leaving school and going to Tenn. I'm still sick. + + +Mar. 30, 1973... After supper I went outside and played a kick-ball game +with S. and B. B gave me a real pretty rock (quartz). Then B. and I +played a game and we talked a little until 7:30. (I like B.) + + +April 10, 1973... School...I had practice for the style show. B. came +and watched me! + + +The climax of our romantic fling was during a field trip to the local +arsenal. Our class boarded a school bus, and side by side, B. and I rode +to the site of the old artilleries, very much aware of the other and +bashfully enamored. We were also somewhat nervous for it had been +rumored that B. was going to give me a ring. + +Upon our arrival at the Arsenal, we all piled out onto the neatly +clipped government lawns and prepared for our tour. The afternoon +progressed rapidly, and B. and I were continually surrounded by a mass +of fellow classmates throughout our surveyance of guns, cannons, and +assorted weapons. I saw no ring, and felt somewhat relieved, being a +private person who disliked drawing attention to myself, especially +when that attention included my boyfriend. + +As the tour drew to a close, we were shown the final points of +interest. One was a large tank which each student either climbed upon +or gawked at disinterestedly, as per his or her general emotion toward +army equipment. I remained on the ground, gazing at the tank as B. +scrambled to the top with some other children. suddenly, B. drew THE +RING out of a pocket, and, not knowing how to present it, threw it to +me from his battle station. I caught the ring and flushed with +embarrassment. The rest of the day became a blur. B. also seemed +uncertain of the next course of action. I do not even know whether I +rode next to my boyfriend on the return trip. + +To be truthful, the rest of the school year was another blur following +THE RING, and although we liked each other, we seldom spoke at school +any more. Sheer embarrassment, I fear, finally killed our romance; +happily we remained friends, however, and never entertained bitterness +toward each other. Ours had been an innocent, uncomplicated +infatuation, evolving in part from a mutually compatible sense of humor +which caused our eyes to glisten. We never kissed, and only held hands +during school functions in which it was necessary. Neither of us +possessed lofty expectations for the other to fulfill, and therefore +enjoyed each other's company when we shared activities together. + +From this early point in life, I saw that friendships were more stable +than romantic inclinations, and therefore worth much more. To this +day, when B. and I meet, we still share a glimmer and a smile. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 24 + +Chapter 5 + +Norm / Marriage + + + +."..religion amplified the significance of marriage, entrenching the +ceremony itself into the hearts and minds of society..." + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +Norm/Marriage + + + + +As the years aged to decades, college became the educational +replacement for high school. My dad attended, and graduated from high +school in an era when, in some areas, relatively few accomplished that +feat, and fewer still furthered their academic standing by enrolling in +a college. Mom, born ten years later, was able to earn a teaching +certificate after two years of college. By the time my parents married +and raised their children, college had evolved into a common +aspiration, and both Sharon and Todd took full advantage of their +educational opportunities, each earning their Bachelor Degree and +excelling in their respective fields of study. + +College had almost become a given, especially with the advent of the +less expensive community colleges which boasted low tuition and the +option to eat and sleep at home. Unless one obtained a good job, +college seemed to be the national answer for the unmarried and +unemployed, as well as the aspiring professionals. It was just the +thing to do, and, in certain cases, this was unfortunate; in +commonality, education lost its honor and significance. + +The adverse affect which seemed to encroach upon some college +graduates, who, feeling educated and superior, were still unable to +"adequately employ" their mighty selves (and later collapsed into a +pool of confusion) did not touch Norm. Well tuned to his inner needs, +he excused himself from the collegiate race hours short of attaining a +two year degree. Mom was discouraged, of course, but Norm stood fast +to his decision, since graduation required that he take speech. He was +phobic in group situations despite his outer appearance of self-assured +collectiveness, and he, with reason, feared that in such a class he +would meet his demise. Moreover, he had no intention of acquiring a +"career"; he wanted to find employment with relatively little tension +after which he could return home and, suffering no mental fatigue or +emotional anguish, settle into an easy chair and persue a philosophy +book or take a carefree evening ride on his motorcycle. + +Since Norm had funded his entire college education, no obligation had +been left unfulfilled and he was free to seek his dreams. I knew he +didn't care about owning a fabulous car; he had too much fun with the +various junkers that he managed to fish out of the used car lots. I +will never forget the time that he and several other guys rocked the +Rambler until it stood on its side; impervious to further damage than +that which its previous owners had provoked, the car was finally +righted, seeming no worse for the affair. + +Other than finding a job, I was not certain of the type of ambitions +that Norm possessed. He had always been rather quiet, given to +infrequent bursts of conversation between lapses of brooding silence, +but now, his silence sometimes masked turbid emotions. Whereas Todd +had openly rebelled and demonstrated his conflicting views with society +and the reigning generation of "elders," Norm fumed within, concealing +gaps of understanding and petty annoyances with a disconcerting +unwillingness to speak. He spent more and more time alone, and if his +space was disturbed, he often quit the room for other surroundings. +This latter incident was most notable upon the arrival of one of our +parents; I, as well as they, sensed his intolerance for their presence, +and although it was unpleasant for everyone, such injury seemed to +coexist with the search for freedom and independence in youth. +Personally, I could do nothing but cringe, for even within such silent +battles, emotional bruises were in great supply. + +Because of their changes toward self-sufficiency, young adults become +progressively more difficult for their parents. I say this because it +is at this time in a young person's life that he tests and selects +those morals by which he shall live, choosing, bending or sometimes +brutalizing the ideals which his parents had feverishly sought to +instill into, and hopefully command his life. It is extremely +difficult for parents who witness a seeming metamorphosis in the child +they helped to create; astonishingly radical modes of thought practiced +by their "child" can be a devastating blow. While certain +"demonstrations of individuality" will subside with age, it is +important that parents not blame themselves for faults within their +children. A good, solid foundation is all that parents are expected to +give to their off-spring; beyond the foundation, growth must be left to +the child, for although he may have been erected to maturity under the +utmost guidance and love, the child remains an individual, a human with +a unique mind. + +When Norm began dating a woman who worked at the shop, it evoked a +natural aura of curiosity. He had never before dated, and we at home +were surprised and pleased that he had taken interest in someone; +indeed, such was his interest that he soon was absent from the house on +a daily basis. Mom made several invitations to Norm for the purpose of +meeting his girl, but none were accepted, so the suggestions fell to a +minimum and subsided altogether. It was never Mom's habit to pry, +thinking that such behavior would only serve as a constraining +influence. + +Moreover, Norm was legally an adult and had a right to his privacy. +Months elapsed yet we were not introduced to the mysterious girl who +had stolen Norm's penchant for solitude. "Maybe Norm's +embarrassed...or embarrassed of her," I deducted. I began to wonder if +she was fat, envisioning a rotund but jovial cherry who worked +diligently on a drill press, her body a package of perpetual motion +when she laughed or descended a flight of stairs. "That's unfair," I +thought to myself, chastising both my ignorance and presuppositions. + +The family's internal relations sank lower, although no outright war +existed. Norm continued to see his girl, now referred to as "Tracy," +while Mom and Dad continued to wonder and worry as each date seemed to +end at a later hour. I merely continued to go to school and do my +chores on Saturday. As I dusted Norm's room, I noticed greeting cards +which he had received from Tracy, the softly romantic kind that I +dreamed over at the drug store. Love, Tracy...her signature was a +hurried scrawl, the letters a combination of vertical lines and rigid +points. I picked up each card and dusted the dresser, carefully +replacing them in their orderly march across the old piece of +furniture. A spare pair of Norm's glasses rested on the vanity. I +took off my glasses and placed his on my face. Pulling aside the +curtain, I gazed at the woods below, blinking to counteract the +strength of his glasses, I could see like an eagle! Norm's eyes were +still worse than mine, but mine were going fast. With each child, +eyesight grew progressively poorer in our family. I knew I was doomed. +Distraught, I took off the glasses and moved to the other side of the +vanity. A furry ball wearing a horned helmet and brandishing a wooden +club met my eyes, and I picked up the Nordic figure with a smile. I +figured that it was a gift from Tracy but I asked Norm anyway. +"Yeh...," he admitted with a grin. "She likes to think of me as a +Viking." + +Upon the celebration of Norm's birthday he received a beautifully +tailored shirt from Tracy. She was a gifted seamstress, fitting shirts +to Norm's muscular frame in a way that could not be equalled. Such +specialization and effort made me certain that she wanted to snare Norm. + +Aside from occasional, subtle teasing, I did not burden Norm with a +parcel of inquiries. If the relationship was as "serious" (or, +"sincere," a word which I prefer) as it seemed, Tracy would soon have +to make an appearance. So it was that one evening, when Mom happened +to be gone, Norm brought Tracy to meet us. She was thin, +well-proportioned and attractive, and quite unlike my mental +meanderings. Her personality was pleasantly outgoing, yet not +overbearing. I liked her immediately; she made a good "first +impression." + +Mom finally met Tracy during a family rendezvous at my sister's home. +We no longer had to subsist upon fragments of unsubstantial +suppositions; Tracy was a person, not a figment of one's imagination. +The introduction helped to mask the tensions within our home, yet +something remained amiss which corroded the trust between my parents +and Norm. He battled for freedom; as is often the case, however, the +conflicts were internal, waged between who he was and who he wanted to +be in an uncertain world. + +After months of unanswered questions, Mom went upstairs with some of +Norm's clean clothes and, pulling open a drawer, found it entirely +stripped of its former contents. She pulled open another...and +another...they, too, were empty. Mom now faced an even greater +question. Norm had moved out with no warning while the three of us +were absent from the house. He was gone. But where? And why? + +That evening, Norm came back to the house to reveal his intentions, and +to give Mom and Dad a formal explanation regarding his sudden move. +His appearance alone served to quickly escalate the conversation toward +a destination which was beyond my realm of involvement, so I turned to +one of the far corners of the kitchen where my gerbil cage was situated +and stared unseeingly at my pet while listening intently to the +scenario unfolding behind me. + +Norm stated that he had moved in with Tracy. "You kids got married +then!" Mom exclaimed, moving closer as if to embrace her son. A +quiet, no frills wedding would have been characteristic of Norm. +"No...," he replied. A silence followed his statement, as if each +person was attempting to understand the conversation which was +unfolding and see beyond the misconceptions that had obscured the truth. + +"You mean you're just going to live with each other?" Mom asked. +"Didn't our marriage and family mean anything to you?" She was aghast, +tearful, frustrated. + +Norm appeared awestruck by the magnanimous fervor he had evoked. He +had not thought that marriage could have meant so much to my parents. +"You have made a beautiful home!" Norm exclaimed, "But it just can't be +for me." + +Questions flurried about the room like a mid-summer blizzard; upset +parents, I learned, excelled in the art of interrogation. Mom's voice +had transformed into a slightly nasal, high-pitched whine which +characterized both disapproval and sickness of heart, while Dad's +speech quickened into abrupt, angry darts which leapt through the air +and stung their recipient. To each question, Norm bowed his head a bit +lower. "If she loves you, she'd marry you." + +"It just can't be for me." It was all he could say. He loved Tracy, +and wanted to spend his life with her; love of the heart should require +no legal document to assure its sincerity. He could not understand the +importance of marriage. + +Norm's was an idealistic view of human love. Society, however, having +judged man's ineptitude in the areas of honesty and integrity, found +that unceremonious love was not, generally speaking, taken as seriously +as love proclaimed before an audience in the form of predetermined +vows. In certain circles, religion amplified the significance of +marriage, entrenching the ceremony itself into the hearts and minds of +society...and to my parents; moreover, it was tradition. To them, love +alone was not enough to justify a man and a woman living together as +one unit; Norm's proposition was a revolt against their values. + +An ultimatum surfaced after all of the questions had spilled from my +parent's minds: Norm would no longer be welcome in the home unless he +married. Tears welled up in Norm's eyes and he began to sob; Mom and +Norm held each other in a long, emotional embrace. So much depended on +the future; a hug was all that they had. Until then, I had been eyeing +the gerbil cage feverishly as the discussion raged behind me. Norm had +under-estimated mom and dad and their inflexible scale of values, but +even I could not swallow such a voluminous consequence of +co-habitation. How could marriage be so important that one would no +longer consider his son a person because he desired to live unwed with +his beloved? Did not love matter more than all else? + +Apparently it did not. I could listen to no more if I had to assume +that I was going to lose my brother. I choked upon a mountainous wave +of hysteria, and with tears blinding my vision, went wailing out of the +kitchen into the sheltering darkness of my own room. I felt like a +fool, flying from the argument in such an undignified manner. "Now +look what you've done," said Dad, seeing my agitated state of mind. It +was not Norm's fault, however; I knew, and Norm knew; my distress was +related only to the thought of losing Norm forever; it was like a +planned death. I could not handle such a loss. + +"I'll drive you to Tracy's apartment...you can get your things and come +back here," Dad offered. It was a final plea, an attempt to make +amends before the damage was done. + +Norm shook his head. "I'm sorry...I can't." Not after all that had +been said. He was trembling; like an injured animal, he wanted only to +run and hide from further hurt. Mom knew he couldn't return that +night, but as the door closed and her son disappeared into the dark +abyss, she prayed that he would change his mind. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 28 + +Chapter 6 + +Norm / Reflections + + + +PAGE 28 + +."..I had been transported across 2000 miles...Memories and heartaches, +however, came along for the ride." + + + +CHAPTER SIX + +Norm/Reflections + + + + +It seemed impossible to think that I may never see Norm again. I +thought about the kite that we bought at a grocery store and flew in +the spring gusts until it was a mere speck in the blue sky. I +remembered our discussion about the importance of seat belts, after +which a love-smitten, one-armed Don Juan nearly forced us off the road. +I thought about the many times he pitched to me, saying, "Keep your +eye on the ball!," and how we rumbled up the street to K Mart on +low-budget shopping sprees. I did not have Tracy's address, so letters +would be a pointless effort. My mind began to create images, +concocting chance encounters and elaborate dialogues. I pictured his +tall form striding from a store into the sun-bathed parking lot; I +would run to him despite the protests of my parents. The image would +dissolve and another would take its place. This time, I saw him while +I was alone; I was able to obtain his phone number and address, and +planned to keep in touch. Again the fantasy would fade. I wondered +fearfully whether the years would so change his facial appearance that +I would fail to recognize him. Nothing and no one in life was immune +to change; features, health, relationships...everything could bloom or +wither in an instant. + +Many thoughts flooded my mind during the next week. I considered my +parents and their steadfast values, and understood their torment. +Their son was about to embark on a lifestyle which they viewed as +morally wrong. After 20 years of guidance, Norm's action was +translated as an injustice done to them. Often I heard my dad describe +an incident, remarking, "If the kid really loved his parents, he +wouldn't have done (it) out of respect for them." + +I had been raised under the same school of thought, and, until my views +had been tested, my stance on various issues usually echoed those of my +parents. Following the incident with my brother, however, I could no +longer believe that cohabitation without marriage was so wrong that the +act should tempt a parent to disown his son, especially if the two +cohabitants loved each other. Had Norm been a promiscuous lout who +flitted from one woman to the next merely for the purpose of filling +his primal needs, I would have agreed that his irresponsibility +demanded punitive action. + +As I reflected over my silent disagreements, I wondered why Norm and +Tracy couldn't get married. If their life was to be shared, why didn't +they just marry to please society? Sure, the legality may only have +been a grand joke to Tracy, but if it saved certain relationships, was +it not worth the trouble? Moreover, Norm had always avoided involving +himself in a scene which would direct undue attention. I found the +current circumstances rather odd and out of character, for "shacking +up" was a relatively new phenomenon to strike the midwest. I had no +answers, and my questions had no ear to rest upon. It was best not to +dwell on that which I could not hope to change. + +After a week of emotional survival, I boarded a jet bound for +California. With all my expenses paid, I was to spend several weeks at +the Santa Monica home of my aunt and uncle. Never having flown, I was +excited when the journey commenced and the jet tore a path into the +hazy summer sky. I found flying to be a delightful affair, especially +during the circulation of complimentary pop and peanuts. Silvery +mounds of cloud formations glistened against the sun's blinding light. +Across the blanket of white, another jet raced toward a secret +destination. Corn and wheat fields made a quilted pattern of the +landscape. Rectangular fields slowly gave in to circular ones as the +jet scorched westward; irrigation. The Rocky Mountains pierced a +jagged line through low-flying clouds that skirted each side of the +airliner, and the fertile land disappeared where the soaring mountains +grew from the earth. The jet flew past that which nature took +centuries to create as if it was insignificant and worth little more +than a fleeting glimpse. The mountains were now behind us. As I +peered out of the tiny window, the land became increasingly arid and +fewer roads disrupted the sea of creeping grass and sage brush. + +As we began our descent, I felt my ears clog in rebellion to the slight +change in air pressure. Swallowing and trying to induce yawns, I +cleared my ears continuously until the jet was hanging lazily above +city streets and buildings. Not until the aircraft touched down on the +runway was I aware of the speed at which the jet was moving; the grass +was at first a green blur against outstretched silver wings, and we +rushed on as if powered by an unstoppable force. Then I perceived that +the forward thrust was steadily reined until the huge jet slowly +strolled along the landing strip and taxied toward the Los Angeles +terminal. Within the passage of hours I had been transported across +2000 miles; it certainly did not take a long time to leave a place. +Memories and heartaches, however, came along for the ride. + +This was my vacation, and I tried to avoid thinking about that which +had transpired the week earlier. While my aunt and uncle showed me the +sights in their part of California, my parents decided to take a +vacation of their own. They, too learned that miles did not alleviate +worry. Worry cannot be left at home. It is weightless baggage that +one is obliged to carry. + +After several days of eventful tours, relaxing on my aunt's patio +swing, and tempting their aged and extremely bored cat into playing +with a ball of yarn, I received a phone call from my mom. They had +returned from their small trip and found a note from Norm saying that +he and Tracy were married. I was ecstatic. My fears had never +materialized. + +I hung up the phone, feeling that I had been revitalized by a flood of +happiness. It now was possible to truly enjoy the remainder of my stay +in California. I determined that I would attempt to find gifts to give +Norm and Tracy for the purpose of demonstrating my affection; and a +"wedding gift" seemed rather inappropriate under the circumstances. +After a joyous day in Disneyland, where I rode countless rides and was +seemingly transported into a magical world, I finally purchased two +items, a hand-carved wooden box for Tracy and a back-scratcher for my +brother. My treasures were placed in a sack and I clung to them +excitedly. No longer helpless and unable to express my love, I felt +like a child who had just recovered a favorite belonging from the "lost +and found." Disneyland shined that night, and the parade of lights +glistened on Main Street with a star-like fire. No fantasy could +compare with a dream that came true. + +The summer had ended well. I reveled in the hours spent with Norm and +his wife; it was easy to be with them, for their life appeared low-key +and free of pretense. As we discovered many common interests, Tracy +became the sister that Sharon was unable to be, living 80 miles +distant. Toward Norm also, I developed a greater understanding, and a +deep, yet unspoken bond formed between us; we discovered that we were +quite alike, thinking in the same manner and sharing the same type of +humor. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 31 + +Chapter 7 + +Todd / Reflections + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +Todd/Reflections + + + + +Todd resided in Chicago after graduating from college, and my parents +and I occasionally drove up to visit him. He always planned a gala +affair, often treating us to a splendid play among an array of other +suggestions. Upon our arrival, hugs and kisses were widely +distributed; I would run to Todd, whereupon he would grasp me under the +armpits and lift me sky-high, wailing in his "Aunt Minerva" voice, +"It's been so LONG since I've SEEN you!" This traditional welcome +became increasingly difficult to manage as I grew in stature and, of +course, gained the accompanying weight, and was thus allowed to die a +dignified death. + +When we were not touring the city's delights, I entertained myself by +arranging Todd's personal effects. The apartment which I most clearly +recall boasted a crude built-in bookcase. I loved to flit back and +forth between the many compartments and lend a sense of order and style +to the pandemonious wall. There were always a few things of which I +had no idea concerning their use; these were generally odds and ends, +factory rejects, a handful of D cell batteries, and, I must not forget +several large and curious aluminum containers. I would neatly line up +the small items on the shelves and place the nameless metal containers +on the floor in a line. The latter objects were for experiments. +Having completed my task, I would stare silently at the line of silver +pots, shrug my shoulders and turn my attentions elsewhere. + +The sleeping arrangement was simple. Age and respect dictated that my +parents sleep on the beds. Since I was a guest, Todd determined that I +should sleep on the couch. My brother was left with the remaining +alternative, which was an inflatable air mattress and a sleeping bag. + +The nights brought out humor which came from bizarre circumstances. +Several hours after lying down, Todd's air mattress had deflated to the +point of nonexistence and, bone meeting floor, he had no choice but to +inflate the mattress once again. Slow expirations, sounding akin to a +distant steam engine, would resound into the night. Mom, understanding +what had happened, listened to the steady, "Puff...puff...puff..." and +would have laughed had it not been for the fact that she pitied Todd +and did not wish to waken my dad or myself. + +At exactly 4:00 a.m., the church, standing directly beside Todd's +apartment building, would begin a horrid serenade in chimes. +Approximately every other note was sour, yet the noise continued until +the tune was completed. Todd explained that the person who set the +clock mistook the four o'clock a.m. setting for the afternoon +setting...hence the "ungodly" serenade. + +A final recollection regarding the overnight occurrences in Todd's +apartment is, admittedly, rather hazy. Having a preoccupation with the +shelves by day, it was no shock to find myself sleep walking to them in +the middle of the night, searching for my pillow. My walk might not +have been discovered by Todd or remembered by me had it not been for +the row of metal canisters which flanked the base of the shelves, for +in my futile search (my pillow had never strayed from the couch), I +bumped my foot into one of the pots, which gonged loudly against a +second and third to create a symphony of echoes. Flustered by the rude +interruption, I nearly woke, and can recall my brother's sleepy, "Is +there something wrong?" to which I mumbled an explanation of my hunt. + +The next morning I looked suspiciously at the shelves and was haunted +by a memory for which I could not account and therefore inquired of the +night's events, asking if I had walked in my sleep. "Oh, yeh..., I +couldn't figure out what you were doing!" Todd said. + +I reflected over my strange habit and wondered whether I had walked +elsewhere on different occasions, and because I encountered no one, did +not remember or was not informed. It was slightly disconcerting yet +immensely humorous; I only hoped that I would never take a walk which +lead me out of a building, because I remembered the tale of a young man +who, while sleeping, took out the garbage cans and then completed his +slumber on the grass beside the curb. It was a humbling thought, for +although a sleeping individual cannot be responsible for what he says +or does, one's lack of consciousness will not guard the individual from +accompanying embarrassment. + +Certain aspects of my brother's personality had changed, while others +had remained original and quite intact. When the time had come for us +to leave Chicago, Todd's apartment was cleaner and his billfold was +decidedly thinner. Although Todd no longer cared about the neatness of +his living quarters, which plainly stated that his orderliness at home +was merely a function performed to placate Mom's desires, he maintained +his suicidal generosity with horrifying steadfastness. My brother had +also changed from his too-trusting self to a more realistic and +perhaps, cynical person. Losing a coat and bicycle at the university, +followed by distributor caps and gasoline in Chicago, had a way of +opening ... or, at least, readjusting ... one's vision of the world. +It was not an ideal place, and idealistic views were hastily smashed to +oblivion. I saw, too, that he possessed a definite need to exist on +his own; more than a door to freedom. Todd's separation from family +seemed to be a requirement for personal satisfaction and future +happiness. He had to affirm himself by living alone, and having no one +near to depend upon through the rough spots. + +Despite Todd's need to acquire self-sufficiency, homesickness was +difficult to avoid, and his eyes mirrored pure emotion as we drove +away. The image of home was, at once, pleasant and unkind, for +although memories could quiet the noise of the city, their unattainable +substance created a barrier between the present and his need to build +happiness from aspects thereof. Sometimes it was easier to bury the +past and all which related to it. Todd seldom came home any more. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 33 + +Chapter 8 + +Sixth Grade + + + +"Friendships are realistic interactions of individuals rather than acts +performed to satisfy the specific requirements of a group." + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +Sixth Grade + + + + +Upon reaching sixth grade, I did not feel that I had risen to the +infamous "big cheese" status that I had supposedly earned for +successfully passing through the curriculum and harassment of the older +kids, nor did I foster any ill regard for those who were younger than +myself. I was essentially the person who I had always been, with the +exception that I was a year older and somewhat wiser through my +experiences and observations. + +Although I had become slightly more confident, I knew that it did not +pay to feel superior, for someone always had the immense enjoyment of +smashing the misinformed individual down to size. Whereas superiority +was a false assumption, confidence developed upon a somewhat humble +realization of one's mastery over life's trials. + +Rarely were there situations for which kindness was unfit. It was not +my nature nor my ambition to be mean to people who were younger or less +fortunate than I; moreover, I remembered the instances wherein I had +been subjected to cruelty simply because I was too small to fight back. +Never would I forget the nasty sixth grader whose ultimate pleasure +came by way of bullying younger students; having a keen sense of +hearing and disliking noise of any kind, my entire composure was +shattered when he blasted in my ears at the top of his lungs. +Completely unnerved, I can recall cupping my hands around my red knit +hat and running toward home as the cold wind nipped and stung my +tear-filled eyes. Such alarming treatment filled me with terror; I was +worried that my fear alone would tempt the bully to commit further +torment. The instance also made me despise the boy; his unfair +treatment did not serve to heighten his image in my eyes. Abuse did +not merit respect; however, it swept the disillusionment from my mind +regarding the idolization of an individual for his age or his +popularity, for too often an individual was placed on a pedestal, only +to evoke disappointment. Smiles and genuine kindness won infinitely +more respect. + +Few grade school students possessed the maturity to develop and +maintain a true friendship. Many were too concerned about pleasing the +popular crowd to reserve definite bonds for another individual, +because, if the popular crowd was mad at someone, most of the others +desired the same opportunity. + +I learned about the existence of false friends, individuals who +virtually ignored the less popular students until three days prior to a +test. This type of person would then take pains to be sweet and gush +with special affections, adding to his repertoire a request for one's +notes or the answers to certain homework assignments. Disliking a +farce, I always refused, whereupon I would be incinerated, reduced to +ashes by the fire in the individuals eyes. The flame-thrower did not +burn me, however; as he'd never liked me anyway, I suffered no loss. + +I discovered, also, the distastefulness of playing the "second fiddle." +Having my pride, I did not accept after-thought invitations unless I +felt that my time would be enjoyably spent. One girl who was +particularly noted for her "use" of others would often call as a last +resort; a mannerless individual, she made the mistake of rambling off +the names of her refusals when asking another person to accompany her +on an outing. A classic phone call ran as follows: "Laurie? This is +L. I was wondering if you could go to the fireworks tonight...I +already called D, J, L., etc., but none of them could go...aw, come +on!..." Sometimes it was fun to say "no." Moreover, I had better +things to do. + +When not haunted by the need to achieve popularity among peers, many +problems disappear or simply fail to exist. Friendships are realistic +interactions of individuals rather than acts performed to satisfy the +specific requirements of a group. Because it was more important to be +myself and follow my own beliefs, "peer pressure" had no affect on me. +If I was to be ostracized for refusing to go along with another's idea, +no friendship existed and I could easily walk away. Aloneness, for me, +was no problem; compromising my standards, however, was a problem. + +Generally, I never experienced pressure from a group or an individual +to do something about which I had already expressed a negative opinion. +Perhaps the knowledge that further prompting would have no effect on +my stance impeded harassment of any kind. I was free, imprisoned by no +ideas but my own; I bothered no one, and received the same respectful +treatment. + +I recall a day in which three classmates and I were shopping at a drug +store when one suddenly decided to buy a pack of cigarettes, giving the +cashier an assuring, "They are for my Dad," in response to the +skeptical appraisal of my friend's age. Wordlessly, the woman accepted +the money and bagged the cigarettes. My friend smiled heroically as +the four of us ushered from the store. After obtaining a book of +matches, we strode down to the woods behind my house and followed the +trails until we were deeply beneath the cover of the leaves and beyond +all source of detection. The pack was opened with the gleeful +anticipation which only came with the breaking of a rule. Two girls +eagerly lit up and puffed smoke into the clear air. The pack was +presented to me. "No thanks," I shook my head. I had no desire to +start a habit which not only was a risky endeavor in terms of +maintaining health, but also reeked in an offensive manner. "Besides," +I thought, "it doesn't even look cool." I envisioned a woman with a +white stick drooping out of the corner of her mouth and an old man +sucking pathetically on the smoking stub of his cigarette. "You sure?" +someone asked, offering the pack again. "No thanks," I replied and +started walking toward home. One of the girls joined me, and, as if we +had been unexplainably spooked, ran back through the woods to my yard. +Out of breath, but glad to be rid of the odor of the cigarettes, we +stood silently below the house and waited for the other girls. Upon +reaching the top of the hill, the two asked why we ran. Bending the +truth, my friend said, "We thought we heard someone yelling for us..." +Personally, I don't know why I ran. My refusal and dismissal of the +scene had been sufficient, for I had felt no antagonism from my +companions; yet, beneath the canopy of leaves, I felt trapped and +scrutinized by unseen eyes. Flight seemed to be the natural course of +action. If my tactics failed and I was repeatedly urged to do +something that I had no intention of doing, I too, would use "Mom" as +the rejoiner to a simple "no." Mom never worried about having a "mean +old lady" reputation among her children's friends, especially if it +saved them from performing undesirable actions. Packing an excuse like +"Mom" was ammunition so powerful that I never felt alone when faced +with a difficult situation; if I could not handle it, "we" could! + +By sixth grade I had accepted the fact that, as one of the tallest +students, I would always be seated at the back of the class and stand +at the end of the gym line. Each year, I remember wishing that the +lines and rows would, for once, be arranged alphabetically, allowing me +a change of scenery from the backs of people's heads. I never had the +chance. The policy remained the same and the students grew in +height...but so did I. + +My last year of grade school was also a year through which I spent +pleasant noon hours, lunching at the home of a lady whose family +attended our church. I shared lunch with Vera's youngest son, Todd, +and two other boys whose names no longer exist in my memory. Vera was +great. She rarely smiled, yet she had a terrific sense of humor which +fell somewhere between "dry" and "sarcastic." Her laughter was a +reward in itself, for it was easy and genuine. Within her sober face +was more humor than most people could fathom because she had the +ability to see humor in life. + +Sixth grade left in me a good impression of my early school years...I +remembered the good and the bad, for the two elements were inseparable. +I thought of the holidays, from Halloween's dress-up parade followed +by a night of trick-or-treating, to Valentine's Day parties, and +Yuletide paper chains. I reflected upon the fall carnivals and ice +cream socials, the frantic chaos of recess and the joy of art projects. +I smiled at the science jingle which, through the attacks of several +boys and myself, suffered a comical change of wording to "The sun is a +mass of undigested GAS, a gigantic nuclear TOILET..." and perhaps as a +sort of revenge for so dissecting the lyrics of the educational song, I +encountered my first migraine headache in science class, during the +middle of a test. + +I thought of the teachers, and the quiet spoken janitor, Mr. Ed, who +faithfully polished the halls to a sheen and silently cleaned the floor +after someone threw up. + +I considered the principal who was feared, yet respected, for his +ability to control the school in an orderly fashion. He had the type +of stern glance which turned one's lunch into a mass of lead; a rumor +that he possessed a spanking machine in his office persisted in my mind +until the second grade. I never sought to disturb him; thus, when I +was instructed to report to his office, my throat became the victim of +muscular strangulation. Once stationed before his desk, the principal +reprimanded me concerning a book which had disappeared from my desk. +The librarian said it was still missing; if it was not returned I would +be obliged to pay for it. + +I could barely speak. I had borrowed the book from the library, yet +someone else had stolen it from my desk; it was not at home, nor was it +in any other desk. In vain, I questioned the boy who sat at my desk +throughout English class, a renowned trouble-maker, who admitted that +he had, without permission, opened my desk and "looked at the book." +This was of no consequence to the principal, however, and since it was +never recovered, he made me pay the entire cost of the book. I had +suffered an injustice, blamed and punished for that which I had not +done. I reflected grievously over the situation, and remembered the +only time in my life that I had contemplated stealing. I was in an old +drug store, gazing at the jewelry spread upon the counter top and +spilling from bins of miscellaneous content, when I spotted a tiny +cross which had fallen from it's chain. It belonged to nothing, and +would one day be discarded among an array of damaged goods. No price +tag fluttered on the tiny shape; and it was the only one of its kind. +I picked it up and placed it in the palm of my hand; the small cross +would not be missed. I stared long and hard at the bright gold +trinket, feeling as if I was in a vacuum. I heard nothing but the +chaotic ramblings within my mind, the rationalizing manipulation versus +the over-powering guilt which lashed viciously at my temptation to +steal. I felt suddenly as if my thoughts were naked and replaced the +cross in the bin of jewelry. As I walked from the store, I saw the +irony in my stormy, inner confrontation; I was going to steal a cross, +the sign of goodness, purity, and love. My internal suffering was +terrific, although I resisted the compulsion; the thought would never +be purged from my memory, for with it, I learned a great lesson. + +I slipped back to reality. Great lessons did not shield an individual +from shouldering blame that belonged to someone else. Goodness was not +always rewarded in life, for despite a personal history of moral +decisions and ethical choices, an individual must exist among people +who, through their hurtful life styles, obliterate the rights of +everyone they touch. + +I paid for the book, having nothing to show for my expenditure but a +hoard of futile self-pity and the knowledge that I was innocent of any +wrong-doing. School came to a close as the summer ripened into its +classic heat at noonday. Desks were emptied and scrubbed. Homework +ceased. Anticipation flooded the classrooms. The students bid their +teachers good-bye, vowing to visit in the future. + +Some returned, but I never did. The present traversed the old +hallways, while the past would never live again except within my mind. +I had no place there among the youthful faces and shrill voices; the +building belonged to the present...it belonged to them. + + + + +The Mountains + +When I dream I think of them, +Majestic peak and Aspen hem; + +And in climbing them, +The flowing slopes, + +It brings to me +A world filled with hopes. + +The rain and thunderheads up there, +With lightning they come, fast as a mare. + +I love to watch all the life that they keep, +The wolf, the fox, the hawk, and wild sheep. + +Filling it's crannies, streams can be found, +In their tossing and turning, they're thrown to the ground. + +So please, oh, please, come and see +This mountain paradise along with me. + +Lauren Isaacson - 7th Grade - 1975 + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 38 + +Chapter 9 + +Discovery of Tumor + + + +"There is always too much time before an unpleasant event; too much, +yet not near enough." + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +Discovery of Tumor + + + + +By the end of seventh grade, Jr. High no longer seemed an immense +edifice, and my confidence, as well as my acquaintances, grew. Each +day, before or after lunch, depending on one's lunch schedule, we would +assemble in our respective "homerooms"; here we could talk among +ourselves if we did not become noisome or in any way obnoxious. I made +two acquaintances in the room, and between the three of us, idle +chatter abounded. One day I remember above all others. I was involved +in conversation with the two girls when I looked down at my stomach and +noticed that it was definitely lop-sided in appearance. I called their +attention to it so that they also could share in the humor of my +distortion. We all laughed in simultaneous bursts of wonder at the +spectacle, then moved on casually to other things. I figured that my +stomach was bloated from gas. "No big deal." However, for the next +several weeks, I maintained a vigil on my stomach, and to my +perplexity, the odd "lop-sidedness" persisted. Eventually I decided +that I should divulge the discovery to my parents. + +It was summer vacation, and school would be in the past for three +beautiful months. The annual family trip was only weeks away, and I +could barely wait. When Mom said that I would have to go to the +doctor, I felt an eerie certainty that something was drastically amiss, +and therefore requested that we first go on our trip to Colorado; I +knew that if my sensation was correct, I would never be able to see the +mountains...at least not that year. The trip, I felt, could not be +postponed. + +A brief time later, I found myself in Colorado. The unchanged beauty +was without flaw, yet to my dismay, I was unable to fully enjoy it. +Even small trails, which I had previously made with ease, I could not +manage without an overwhelming urge to vomit. The thought of food was +not at all welcome nor appealing, and my energy waned; I felt as if I +had another mild case of stomach flu. My sister who, along with her +family, had accompanied us on the trip, confided to Mom, "Laurie looks +so fragile..." My weight loss was more apparent to her since she saw +me on fewer occasions. My appetite had slowly declined, and I had +complained of stomach discomfort, prompting me to squeeze a pillow +through the night. Occasional bouts of stomach flu would evoke such +violent stabs of wrenching pain that I could only stand with my stomach +tucked in, my back bent at a 45 degree angle to my legs. We never +suspected that anything was wrong until I discovered the unusual +appearance of my stomach. Even those with keen eyesight can be blind +when gazing into a mirror, especially when the changes seen therein +have occurred gradually, over a period of time. Moreover, I was always +a rather finicky eater and found mealtime to be one of those obligatory +necessities of survival. I was also quite prone toward nervousness, +which wreaked havoc on my stomach as well; certainly my pangs were not +abnormal, as I'd experienced them as long as I could recall, and they +inevitably would render me without an appetite. A lack of interest +with regard to food on my part was nothing new; for years Mom urged me +to finish my food or eat my vegetables, coupled with a lesson on +nutrition or a threat that would not allow me to partake in later +treats, such as cookies or ice cream. Feeling that I was healthy +enough, I cared little about "sound nutrition" and "balanced diet" yet +Mom's "cookie clout" sometimes carried a fair impact, (depending on the +vegetables I was to choke down, as well as the type of dessert which +taunted my eyes and tongue). No threat however magnificent was +sufficient for me to make beets or spinach disappear; that was asking +too much, and I gladly relinquished my treat. My appetite posed little +cause for worry and, as before, the symptoms of stomach flu soon were +but a memory. The lump remained, however, glaring suspiciously from +beneath knit shirts; the appointment with the doctor could no longer be +delayed. + +It was a sunny day when we pulled into the doctors parking lot, and I +was in good spirits despite the natural qualms one encounters upon +venturing into the typically noiseless waiting room. I was +characteristically happy, and although I knew not what news my physical +exam would unveil, I felt no need to punish the doctor for doing his +job; he deserved a smile too. + +Dr. Murrell was a man of few words, who wielded an aristocractic air +with the unimposing quality of a true gentleman. He appeared to own a +sense of inate calm which allowed him to divulge even the worst +verdicts with unruffled dignity and composure; he transmitted ease to +the waiting patients and relatives as if through a sort of osmosis and, +I'm sure, avoided many hysterical outbursts as a result. + +As he methodically inspected my stomach region I found it extremely +difficult to refrain from laughter. Ticklish and quite unused to being +touched, his various pokes evoked embarrassing jolts of muscle spasms +as I tried, without success, to squelch my chuckles. When he had +finished, he announced that he wished the opinion of his associate +doctor and departed for several minutes. Arriving once again with Dr. +Errico, who then took a turn applying pressure to various points on my +sensitive stomach region, they asked whether any specific areas brought +about pain when touched. I replied that I had experienced none, and +they nodded in silence. + +As the two doctors prepared to leave the room to privately confer the +meaning of my symptoms, Dr. Errico extended his arm to place a fatherly +pat on my shoulder. As he did so, I felt my spine turn to ice in an +unexplainable sensation of pure dread; it was as if his gesture +foretold doom and I recalled the persisting thought which had echoed in +my mind since the moment I discovered the lump. The news was not going +to be good; I knew it now. + +Dr. Murrell returned to the room alone, seated himself before the desk, +then turned to face us. He was unable, as yet, to draw any +conclusions, but desired me to check into the hospital for tests as +soon as possible, and the preparations were made. I can no longer +remember how I felt when I departed that day from the office drear to +the bright flood of sunlight; I cried no tear, and spoke no words of +resentment or anger, for those I would have recalled. I knew only that +I had to discover the truth about that mystery which lurked behind a +mask of skin. + +The hospital, I found, was no place to be unless one was horribly ill. +I was not quite certain of my status in that regard, but knew +immediately that my health declined the instant in which I donned the +hospital gown. It was depressing; I blended so well with the room that +I thought I would disappear in the ethereal whiteness. To my later +dismay, however, I was easily distinguished and forced to submit to +various manifestations of barbarism; never having stayed in a hospital, +I had no idea of the rigorous torture treatments which were actually +only routine and lawful tests. I write the above with an air of +sarcastic jest, for obviously not all of the tests incurred techniques +of bludgeoning, prodding, or other undue discomforts for the patient; +an X-ray, for example, has never once evoked the slightest twinge of +pain. There are tests however, which disrupt one's level of comfort +substantially, and unfortunately, those which can prove fatal. For my +part these latter tests always spurred the reflective statement, "There +must be a better way!" coupled with the hope that one day there would +be a technological breakthrough in the field of medicine, wherein one +merely stepped into a box and, after manipulating several buttons, he +could step out again and the doctor would know immediately whether +anything was wrong with his patient. (My mind later devised a second +box into which one would step, and after several minutes, step out +completely cured of all the ailments discovered by Box #1. This +transformation occurred without pain, of course. Although I could +endure pain, usually without protest, I was always eager to avoid it +whenever possible.) To my knowledge, no such boxes have ever been +invented; but it would be a grand idea...or maybe only a wistful +thought. + +Of the tests taken while in Moline, the stomach X-ray utilizing barium +was my worst. Although the "chalk milkshake" was a displeasing effect +on the taste buds of even the most starved individual (for one +undergoing the X-ray must have an empty stomach), the degree to which I +abhorred it was augmented by the fact that my stomach had been quite +prone toward nauseousness of late. When I was told to sit in a nearby +waiting room until I drank the last of the abominable shake I came +fearfully close to vomiting; I hung my head and began to cry, knowing +that if I did drink the liquid it would be spewed onto the floor and I +would have to go through the entire process again. At the sight of my +tears, a nurse quickly ran in search of my mom (who was left in an +altogether different part of the hospital) and returned with her, +sporting the hope that a mother could persuade more of the chalky fluid +down her daughter's throat. The nurse's hope was in vain, however, so +the staff quickly ushered me into the X-ray room again to complete what +work they had begun. First standing against the platform, the X-rays +commenced; soon I found that the platform was actually a movable +examination table, to which I was securely strapped, and it began to +recline toward a prone position. To my surprise, it did not stop when +it leveled, but crept backward until I felt I was dangling from the +ceiling and the entire world was reversed. I gawked at my hapless +predicament, throughly amazed. Had my stomach been more cordial, I +might have enjoyed myself. It was not unlike taking a carnival ride +after consuming a greasy hotdog and an ample dose of cotton candy. + +I was joyous upon returning to my room, even though the moment I +arrived another nurse popped in, bearing a fluid which its creators had +tried desperately to make resemble prune juice; yet prune juice this +definitely was not, for no juice could taste so horrid. Despite +threats that I must drink the laxative solution or the barium would +transform into cement while yet in my intestines, I refused to drink +the awful liquid. It was utterly repulsive to my stomach, and again I +knew what the future would have in store if I forced it down. + +With all the tests behind us, I could now relax throughout the rest of +my stay at the hospital. The part I most enjoyed was filling out my +daily menu cards, which arrived with each preceding meal; while +munching on my morning toast, I could choose the items I preferred at +lunch. It was enormously entertaining, and sparked my day with +anticipation. + +As usual, Mom strolled into my room and watched while I explored the +contents on my breakfast tray; her appearance punctuated the beginning +of another hospital day, and she made certain that I consumed a +nourishing breakfast; without prompting I had done so, for I was +delighted with the realization that I could have an egg and Rice +Krispies and toast merely by so indicating that desire on the menu +card. The array of choices seemed endless, no preference was greeted +with questioning eyes or poorly concealed mirth as often can be the +case in a restaurant. + +Some time after the breakfast tray had been whisked away, Dr. M. +entered, saying that the test results had been analyzed and therefore +wished to speak with Mom candidly about the indications which they had +revealed. They departed, accompanied by a nurse, and entered a room +which Mom later described as being very long and narrow, containing +only a table of similar description, and covered completely with an +ample thickness of cushion. The doctor and nurse placed themselves on +the opposite side of the table from Mom, and he began to relate the +fact that the barium X-ray showed a sizable mass in the stomach region, +and though he could not be certain, it held the possibility of being +cancerous. It was a hideous impact for my unsuspecting mother, and she +felt that her body had been engulfed in a searing, internal fire; she +placed her arms on the cushioned table before her and bent her head as +one reacting to a heavy burden that must be endured and said, "Life can +be so long." + +Dr. Murrell who knew quite well our family history and its motley +assortment of dread diseases and dysfunctions, could empathize with my +mom's sole comment of numb disappointment; the nurse, however, scanned +Mom's face after each successive statement made by the doctor. Mom +felt scrutinized under her persistent gaze, and it was now obvious that +the cushions covering the room were so adhered for those who, after +receiving bad news, literally bounced off the walls for a time until +their energetic madness diminished to a state of mild panic. + +Feeling that my health problem was one which had risen beyond the +hospital's capacity to manage properly, Dr. Murrell thought that it +would behoove us to travel to one of the larger clinics in the region; +without a moment of indecision Mom expressed her preference for Mayo +Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, and the doctor gladly hastened from the +room relieved by the knowledge that his subsequent phone call would at +least be progress of a positive nature. + +As Mom gradually regained strength, the nurse continued to remind her +that it was too soon to tell whether the growth was cancerous, yet +soothing words could not dispel the lecherous threat and uncertainty +which she carried with her. In a further attempt to comfort, the nurse +suggested that Mom first settle the hospital account at the billing +office to assure that her composure was intact, and then return to my +room. Mom took the nurse's advice, feeling relieved that she could +delay our reunion through a valid excuse; yet as she rose and walked +toward her destination, she felt as if she was under the unsteady +control of a novice puppeteer who guided mockingly and without +precision until she was seated once again. + +By the time Mom returned to my room, my lunch tray was already poised +in front of me on the portable night stand. She had somehow managed to +persuade her face to don a cheerful countenance as she entered and +remarked, "You can go home now." An elated smile spread across my face +upon hearing those precious words, and my interest waned toward the +contents of the lunch tray. I knew that I hadn't heard the entire +story, however, because Mom had been absent so long; if nothing was +wrong, the doctor would not have wished to discuss my health in +private. Suddenly I became annoyed; I wanted to know the facts. The +few facts were that I would have to go to Mayo Clinic for further tests +because of an abdominal mass; though Mom said nothing about cancer, +that possibility was not yet a fact, and she hadn't actually lied by +withholding any related remarks. Her answers satisfied my curiosity, +yet simultaneously fueled the fire of dread in my mind which had begun +as a mere spark several weeks before. It seemed that my earlier fears +were justified as time progressed. + +With quiet resolution, I knew within myself that I must face whatever +adversity would befall me head-on; I could not march backward into the +darkness. Once home, my Mom led me into the living room where we +seated ourselves side by side on the couch. I looked at her face, +steeped with anxiety for me, yet trying desperately to feign a degree +of happiness for my benefit. It was evident that she knew more details +surrounding the situation than she cared to confess. "You can cry if +you want to...it's all right to cry," she said. "I can't," I replied. +"I've nothing yet to cry for!" She hugged me and we sat in brooding +silence. Since my health was a mystery, I felt no urge to cry; and, I +thought, if I knew, what difference would tears make? The problem +would still exist. Tears, I felt, demanded a tangible impetus to be +worth their salt; like pain or horrendous fear. As yet, I felt +neither; but perhaps I would experience both soon enough. + +I knew the trip to Rochester would be no pleasure excursion, but I +maintained high spirits despite the purpose behind the journey. It was +a beautiful drive, and I dearly loved to travel; besides, what better +reason could one have for dining in restaurants? + +Because of our late evening arrival into the city and the fact that my +appointments were scheduled for the latter portion of the week, nearly +all of the motels posted "no vacancy" signs, and we found ourselves +humbly situated in one of the older, run-down hotels in which the +bathroom was located "down the hall." I was not overjoyed at the +prospect of week-ending in the hotel, but I had little choice in the +matter. The depressing mood of the place was over-shadowed in part, +however, by the many attractions of the surrounding area; we learned of +parks, shopping malls, movie houses, etc. from the local residents, and +planned to do as much as I wished after and between my various tests. + +Rochester was a quiet city; it was geared for the convenience of its +many guests, of which the majority were patients or the family members +of the former. There was an entire network of underground corridors +which connected several primary clinical buildings, hotels, hospitals +and various businesses. With cleanliness an obvious objective, the +maintenance crews made perpetual rounds through the marble columns and +artistically tiled floors. Excepting few, the employees and staff were +friendly and approachable; even the doctors radiated character rather +than the cold indifference sometimes prevalent in large or impersonal +institutions. + +My first appointments were to report to "desk C," which was located +underground. The entire lobby was decorated with colorful seats and +healthy plants, as well as people whose faces revealed moods of many +different hues. At varying intervals, a nurse would step in front of a +brightly painted door, grasp a microphone and bid those persons whose +names she announced to come to the "blue section" or the "red" or +"orange," as the color near which she stood indicated. When my name +was called I heaved a nervous sigh, walked to the appropriate door, and +was dispatched to a smaller waiting room in which those already seated +appeared glum and apprehensive. The place reeked of alcohol. Again I +waited until my name was called, watching as each "victim" reappeared +from behind the curtain which housed the inevitable needles and +syringes, sporting a bandage in the crick of his arm. + +"Lauren Isaacson."...I swallowed hard and stood up. "Oh...I was +expecting a boy." I smiled as pleasantly as I was able, and reminded +myself that this was the person who would extract my blood, the needle +wielder. "Most people just call me 'Laurie'," I replied. I was seated +and told to make a fist as the nurse applied a tourniquet above my +elbow. She prattled on, simultaneously producing a needle attached to +the largest vial I had ever seen; it must have been five inches long +and the diameter of a 25 cent piece. "Where are you from, +Lauren?...You'll feel a stick..." "Moline, Illinois," eyeing the vial +as it plunged into my vein. "Have you had your blood drawn before?" +"Yeh...a few days ago..." The vial filled and an assistant handed her +another of the same size. "Uh...how much are you gonna take, anyway?" +I asked, feeling strangely self-protective... "Just a little +more...you have many tests scheduled..." She popped out the second +vial and handed it to her assistant, replacing it with yet another, +though shorter and about the diameter of a dime. It filled more +slowly, almost unwillingly, perhaps. Eventually the nurse decided that +she had drawn enough and whisked the needle from my vein, binding my +arm securely with the gauze. "You can go to the green door now, +Lauren." I smiled and departed, happy that I had one test behind me. + +The green door housed another form of blood test in which one "merely" +had his finger pricked. I said "merely" because, in my opinion, the +prick hurt much more than did the former blood test, because one's +finger tips contain so many sensitive nerve endings. After having my +finger stabbed, its bright red blood squeezed onto multiple slides and +in miniscule vials, I was free to take my leave. As I returned to my +parents in the lobby, I found the nearest trash receptacle and disposed +of my reeking, alcohol-doused bandages; I disliked the odor for its +strangely lingering overtones. It was amazing to me that the nurses +could draw blood hour after hour; I would detest such a job; yet it was +comforting that there were those who could aid humanity in such ways. +Walking to my next appointment, I wondered casually whether they ever +felt like mosquitoes! + +Holding the various appointment cards I noted that, of the remaining +tests, all were X-rays except a suspicious card which read "Bone +Marrow." Marrow, I knew was located inside the bone, and dreadful +thoughts danced nervously about my brain. When we finally reached the +desk behind which lurked the mysterious and disconcerting test, we +found ourselves amid stately decor, closely resembling the impeccably +correct taste of an Old English library. Hues of rich burgundies and +browns, accented by marble floors and columns, marched down shadowed, +slightly ominous hallways and beneath closed hardwood doors. It seemed +appropriate to whisper, as even footsteps echoed through the corridors. + +I was very ill at ease. My name was called and I hesitantly strode +forward, accompanied by my mother, who was actually beckoned to follow. + +"The doctor's real good-looking," the nurse said confidentially. I +didn't really care; I was far too nervous to be impressed, for I knew +the test would be painful if they wanted my mom to come; generally +speaking, parents took up too much space if they became shadows. +Moreover, parents can actually impede the efforts of the doctors and +nurses through outright intervention, or, due to their presence, +transform even an adolescent back into a child. + +The nurse was correct in her analysis of the doctor's appearance. He +was a young man of Irish descent who spoke with a delightful brogue. I +was cordially greeted and then instructed to lay on my stomach; the +section from which he would extract the marrow and a small sampling of +the bone was located somewhere on my back, to one side and slightly +above the buttocks. I disliked the process before it commenced since I +was unable to see what the doctor was going to do; it helped if I was +aware of an imminent jab, rather than being taken by surprise. In this +I had no choice, however, and the process began. + +Mom stationed herself near my head, over which she gazed as the doctor +applied a local anesthetic to deaden the area. "You must stay very +still," someone said, as the pain crept from a mild ache to a splitting +level. Gritting my teeth, silent tears welled up in my eyes and fell; +with muscles taut and rigid I clenched the upholstered table with a +vise-like force until I was told that the brutal pain would come to an +end. + +The test was over. Relieved, I slid myself off the examination table +to pull on and zip my pants; the wound throbbed at varying intervals +above a constant, underlying ache. + +"You're a very brave patient," the nurse said. I smiled knowing that I +was too cowardly to undergo that type of hell again, for it was no +longer a mystery what the words "Bone Marrow" on an appointment card +implied. + +Before exiting I asked the doctor if I had healthy bones. "Yuv' gut +fine bunes, Laaren," he replied, giving me an excellent, unforgettable +sample of Irish-flavored English. He seemed to be a very amiable man, +and, now that I was turning to leave, I was better able to appreciate +his undeniably good looks. For my part, I was sorry that he was not an +X-ray technician. + +Whether walking or sitting, I experienced twinges of pain, a constant +reminder of my last test of the day; but that did not hinder my +fascination for gift shops, and I eagerly plunged out of the confines +of the clinic walls to the beautiful July morning. We were famished, +as none of us had eaten due to the fact that I was instructed to have +an empty stomach for many of my tests. Since the next few hours +belonged exclusively to us, we decided to eat and then mill about the +stores until it was time for my mid-afternoon consultation with the +doctor in charge of my case. + +When our afternoon of leisure had come to a close, we made our way to +the Mayo building and took the elevator to the designated floor. By +now we were quite used to waiting, and after registering my name at the +front desk, seated ourselves in the expansive lobby. + +The test results would have been scrutinized and second opinions heard. +We now awaited the doctor, and, in certain respects, the future; each +of us sat in silence, nurturing one's own worries, until my name was +announced. The three of us rose in haphazard unison, glad to have a +reason for shifting our position, and were guided down a hallway to a +private room. Again we awaited the doctors arrival, yet felt more +inclined to engage in conversation now that we were removed from the +stifling quiet of the lobby. + +Finally I heard footsteps outside the door. The feet paused, while a +faintly audible rustling of papers issued beneath the closed door. +Silence again. Then suddenly, as if uncertainty had been washed away, +the door knob turned and a doctor burst into the room, extending his +hand to my father and offering a friendly "hello!" to us. We all +stood; I smiled. I had no fear of doctors; the fear stemmed from that +which they knew, and I the patient, as yet, did not. + +We seated ourselves once again, and the doctor began questioning me +about the way in which I felt, physically. To nearly all of the +disconcerting questions, I replied in a positive fashion, which to my +parents was a "good sign" and indicated that my health problem +"couldn't be that serious if everything seemed so promising." Then the +doctor asked the color of my bowel movements. I started to laugh. +"Brown." "But what color brown?" he persisted. I laughed some more; +turning my face to the floor, I noticed that the tiles ranged in color +from yellow to the deepest brown, and wondered if the staff had +requested that particular tile for the express purpose of color +clarification. I smiled, and selected a nice, warm brown. "That looks +about right." Then he inquired whether my stools had ever been black. + +My eyes flew open. "BLACK?!!" I lost control...to me this was a +horrendous joke. He had his answer, and quickly scribbled "no" on his +note paper. + +I was having a grand time, under the circumstances. After the question +and answer session ceased, I was instructed to lay on the table; he +wished to take a look at my stomach region. Applying pressure to +various areas, and gently tapping others, he asked if I felt any pain. +I did not, so he invited other doctors into the room, creating a troupe +of seven in all, who took turns prodding my stomach, and in my opinion, +tickling me to death. I flinched as each new hand poked my bare +flesh, and embarrassed, tried desperately to control my convulsive +muscles and fits of laughter. + +When they had seen, or in my case, felt enough, the doctors filed out +of the room to "gossip" about me beyond earshot. Eventually the first +doctor reappeared and began to divulge the conclusions rendered through +the tests and consultation. It was clear that I had a large abdominal +mass in the vicinity of my stomach, yet its composition was uncertain, +and he would therefore offer no statement either way as to it being +cancerous or benign. The bone marrow was unaffected and healthy, my +blood count was good, and the chest X-ray showed no signs of +abnormalcy. Aside from the mass, I had every reason to believe in my +health as a matter of fact. + +The mass would have to be removed; that, also, was a matter of fact. +An operation was inevitable. Since it was the beginning of the +weekend, however, I would not be admitted into the hospital until +Sunday evening. Monday morning I would undergo an arteriogram to chart +my veins in preparation for surgery, and the following day I would find +myself in the operating room. Relieved that I had two days of freedom +before having to exist in the confines of a hospital, I found the +arrangement as agreeable as the situation allowed, and my parents and I +determined to make the most of it! + +The only hindrance I was obliged to endure was the weekend urine +sample, which stated that the bounty of each trip to the bathroom had +to be collected, rather than flushed away. I was given a large plastic +canister, a small cup and a handy-dandy green tote bag in which to stow +the former for reasons of discretion. + +I was embarrassed at the prospect of hauling the green tote everywhere +throughout the weekend, but my dear mom volunteered without a single +flicker of disgust, and shouldered the responsibility just as easily as +she would have taken the smallest piece of cake or the burnt piece of +toast. I really need not have worried, however, for I was not alone in +my strange occupation. Dotted here and there, as we traveled about the +parks and shopping malls, were similar green tote bags borne by smug +faced patients, or conversely, those who would recognize the kinship +and smile knowingly. I soon discovered that, actually, I might have +carried the tote myself, for everyone who was familiar with its purpose +seemed to know that it truly belonged to me; teenage self-consciousness +is alien to no one, and remembered by all. + +The weekend was memorable. I tried to take in the landscape as I +walked freely under the mid-summer sky. The Canadian geese were +numerous on the shores of a small lake, and had grown haughty from +delicacies thrown to them by passers-by; they pecked with idle +disinterest at the corn we placed on the ground for their inspection. +They had developed a taste for the refined; mere corn would no longer +suffice. Though the geese were considered tame by most standards, they +yet held a firm bond to the wild which no human bribery could erase. I +was drawn to this quality, for in their willowy black necks I saw the +northern wilderness and inevitable flight; they were not prisoners of +the city, but came and later departed through a will of their own. +Unlike the lazy human who clings fiercely to a generous hand, the geese +were drawn in, but then drifted away to distant shores where life was +hard, yet sweeter still than risking to the malicious child a twisted +neck for scraps of bread. It had been said that nature is cruel; no, I +thought, only people are cruel, for they alone can pervert that which +by nature's intent was beneficial in moderation. Food, pleasure, +death...man could leave nothing alone. I turned away from the geese, +which were milling about and shifting their weight, first balancing on +one leg, then the other, vigilant yet restful. I carried the tranquil +image with me, and return to it still. Eyes focused through the glass +of the car window, I stirred as Dad turned the key of the ignition and +the car moved slowly forward. It was evening and the lake began to +fade into an obscure haze; the hum of the engine gently brought my mind +to the present and the distractions thereof. The darkness gradually +melted away beneath the city lights, and I awoke to the startling +realization that I was hungry. Under the glaring neon lights, one +cannot long remain apart from the harshness of the city; neon lights +invade one's senses and disrupt one's dreams. + +Saturday morning, after breakfast, we decided to find our way to a +small town nearby that was holding a summer festival; once there we saw +booths and tables housing various crafts or topics of interest, as well +as food and drink. Weaving our way through the smiling, jovial faces, +time slipped casually by. Mom purchased a rooster made entirely of +dried seeds, while I inspected the tables of antiques. Nothing sparked +my interest enough to pry into my wallet, so I quietly moved on. + +We decided to await the afternoon parade, in which Dr. B. of +yesterday's consultation said he would appear, playing an instrument in +the band. It was he who had informed us of the small town festival, +and we could not help but wonder if we would recognize him in a red +jacket and cap. The band members were seated in trucks; blowing +earnestly into their instruments, the musicians eyes sparkled behind +puffed up cheeks. It was no use; they all looked like perfect images +of each other. + +Still quite early in the afternoon, we concluded that it would be nice +to find a park which was in the area, and had no difficulty in its +pursuit, for the road signs were plentiful and doubtlessly placed out +of respect for the patient-tourist. It was a gorgeous day. The leaves +were emerald green and at their foremost beauty; strong and pliant from +spring's ample rain, and not yet touched by the autumnal sun...the +drying kiln, the blistering gaze which ages all. + +The leaves swayed in the wind, playing with the rays of sunlight which +danced in countless patterns on the ground. Despite the beauty +surrounding our every step, none of us could forget the reason we came +to the park; we came, of course, to forget. The business of +forgetting, however, meets with few actual successes; the more one +attempts to forget, the less likely he is to accomplish his goal; but +in trying the object of one's trial forever torments the mind. It is +better to let the job of "forgetting" take care of itself. + +That evening, following our meal, we decided a movie would create an +exciting climax to the day, especially since our hotel room boasted no +TV. The movie-house featured "Jaws" and I eagerly bounced down the +aisle and selected a seat fairly close to the screen. My parents found +two more agreeable seats toward the rear. + +As the theater began to fill, I glanced about nervously, hoping wildly +that no one with a spherical or bee-hive-shaped hair style would seat +themselves directly before me. With good fortune on my side, I +breathed a sigh of relief as the lights were dimmed and the curtain +slid aside. + +I had landed an excellent seat; the story drew me in, as my senses were +unimpaired, and I slowly left Rochester, and hospitals behind to +immerse myself in the image captured through my eyes. The movie was +horrifying; the people in the audience screamed and jumped in unison. +As the actors pursued the vicious shark, and more unsuspecting +individuals fell prey to the maniacal monster, one began to feel +helplessly self-protective, as if caught unaware, one might be torn +limb from limb. Then, in a brutally raging climax, the shark was +overthrown, and a tumultuous sigh escaped from the lips of on-lookers; +everyone was safe at last. + +When I rose from my seat to file out of the building, reality slapped +my face. I was not in Moline, I was in Rochester. Tomorrow night I +would admit myself into the hospital, and Monday would be inescapable; +by Tuesday I would sleep beneath the surgeon's blade and awake to the +answers of unfulfilled questions. Yet I was pleased that, for two long +hours, I had, without prompting, laid my worries aside; forgetting was +a business best left unto itself. + +Sunday was spent musing through shops in the local mall. I delighted +upon finding several pairs of pants and two knit shirts; it was a chore +to fit clothes, since I was tall and, admittedly, too thin. So happy +with the new purchases was I that I asked the clerk to remove the tags +on two articles and reappeared from the dressing room feeling very much +in style. + +In another store I spied a purse that looked nice, but cost fairly +little. I looked down disgustingly at the worn bag which dangled +lifelessly at my hip, and felt the purse would be a worthwhile +expenditure. Digging into the old one for my money, I finally +extracted a disintegrating leather wallet; it's appearance so shocked +my mom that she immediately offered to buy me another. + +Generously outfitted, I dismissed the mall with my parents for the more +pleasant atmosphere of the city park. The afternoon was disappearing +rapidly, and we no longer tried to rid our minds of distressing +thoughts, for they were altogether too prevalent to wish away. +Strolling through the grass, we did not often speak; we merely waited +for evening to descend. There is always too much time before an +unpleasant event; too much, yet not near enough. The afternoon +stalled...it seemed never to end...and our conscious minds sustained +heavy blows. + +We walked near the lake, where geese stood craning their necks and +bickering among themselves. I looked away; the sight offered little +solace to my restless mind. I longed, almost, to fling myself upon the +hospital steps if I could but in that way escape the awful +waiting...waiting...waiting. + +Dad glanced at his watch; five o'clock, suppertime. Eating; it was +something to do, so we welcomed the thought wholeheartedly. Our +therapy consisted of such occupations; as long as one remained busy, +the job itself mattered little. Thus, the main objective of the hour +encircled the procuring of sustenance. + +I knew that the meal that evening would be the last I would share with +my parents for several days, yet I no longer remember what I ordered or +if I ate well. I recall only that I had been told to finish eating +before a certain hour, so that the following morning the test could +begin early; under the strict instructions, I lamented that I would not +be able to partake of the customary late-night snack. + +We did not linger over our dinner plates. The tension had become too +great; I wanted the hospital to be our next destination. I carried my +few belongings for I needed no suitcase; my underwear I stuffed in my +purse. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 49 + +Chapter 10 +Preparation and Surgery + + + +"If only one did not have to think during the long periods of +uncertainty and ignorance, and could somehow benumb the senses until +the hours of darkness had passed!" + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +Preparation and Surgery + + + + +At the admissions office, forms were completed; it was much more +complicated than registering for a motel room. I sat nearby, watching +the wearisome process. + +There were no rooms in the pediatrics ward. I was led to a room which +was quite old and depressing, and found to my disgust that my roommate +smoked. "I hope this doesn't bother you," she said motioning to the +hand that held her cigarette. What did it matter, I thought; she would +continue smoking regardless of the way I felt about it. From +experience I had learned that, although many people who fostered bad +habits did not want to be overly offensive, most never possessed enough +genuine concern for another individual to refrain from their habit. I +waved off her question, and hoped for adequate ventilation. Is this +the bittersweet price for societal living? + +My few belongings were stowed in a closet, then I went back to my bed +and sat on the edge of it, uncertain of what I was supposed to do; +during these periods of anticipation, had I been a smoker, I might have +lit up. I did not wish to spend the night there; anxiety clawed at the +walls of my stomach. + +Through the window across the room, city lights twinkled like hundreds +of stars which had been hurled to the earth, spreading toward the +horizon in a grid-work of interesting lines. Soon my parents would +return to their hotel; I almost wished that they would leave, so I +could adjust to my new surroundings, for I would face tomorrow's test, +and the following operation; I had to find comfort within myself. + +Mom and Dad kissed me goodnight, amid their internal struggle toward +leaving their little girl in the hands of strangers. Once they had +gone, my nervousness began to subside; anxiety breeds anxiety, and +lacking two generators, I now bore only my own. + +Seeing that I was quite alone, a nurse entered the room bearing the +essentials of hospital life, issuing to me a gown, and placing kleenex +tissues and a thermometer and styrofoam water pitcher on my nightstand. +She routinely popped the thermometer into my mouth and took my blood +pressure and pulse rate; removing the thermometer from my mouth, she +glanced at the reading and made notations for her file. Before bidding +me goodnight, the nurse reminded me that I should eat nothing, nor +should I drink water after 6 a.m. the next morning; I nodded in +comprehensive agreement, and climbed beneath the sheets to stare at the +ceiling. + +At first it was difficult to dispel my restless thoughts, and I fought +to find a comfortable position amongst the stiff sheets and unfamiliar +pillow. Yet at some unknown point in time, disquietude was overruled +by fatigue, and I was claimed by the obscure world where conscious and +unconscious thought are united as one. I drifted into a pleasant, +untormented sleep. + +In the morning, quite soon after I had been awakened a nurse +administered a relaxant which quickly chased away negative emotions +that would have otherwise clogged my mind. I felt blissfully content +and agreeable as my senses numbed and were encircled by an unearthly +calm. I smiled dreamily as my parents descended upon my heavenly state +of awareness, speaking and receiving words which sounded distant and +muted, as those heard by one while swimming underwater, or standing +behind a heavy door. + +Two interns arrived, wheeling a cart intended for my transport to +places unknown. They skillfully guided it past my parents with minimal +conversation, and easily hoisted me from the bed onto the +unquestionably hard surface. I waved goodby to Mom and Dad, who stood +dubiously watching as the men wordlessly rolled the stretcher down the +hall, and finally, after a fair amount of travel, found myself in an +expansive room, surrounded by gauges and meters by which a staff of +doctors and nurses stood awaiting my arrival. + +The room itself was rather dark, which blended fittingly with my +semi-consciousness. While the staff worked about me, I remained awake +although my body was as limp and motionless as one in a coma. The +doctor injected a liquid dye into my vein, watching a monitor as it +slowly spread from the point of entry at the union of my leg and trunk, +and I began to feel weaker still. With markers, the doctor charted a +map on my stomach under the beam of a spotlight; I looked on +maintaining awareness through a power that no longer seemed to be my +own. It was crazy that people concerned themselves about death; I felt +more than half-way there; whether I drifted closer to life or to death +made no difference to me, then, for in all things existed only +tranquility...and that blissful unearthly calm. + +Gravity tied me to the bed, and I laid like a dead thing, bound by an +invisible, unyielding weight. All afternoon I slept, and into the +deepest night; morning came, Tuesday morning, but I knew it not. +Though numbered words to my parents I spoke, I can recall nothing. In +my mind's hoard of memories, that morning never dawned before these +eyes. + +For my parents, Monday, the day of the arteriogram, was spent primarily +in my room. They did little but watch in silence as I slept, breathing +quietly as dream after dream filtered through my subconscious mind. + +Aside from mealtimes and occasional strolls to exercise their legs, my +parents remained near my bed until the ripe hours of the evening. Near +8 p.m. Mom was paged on the hospital intercom. Receiving the phone at +the Nurses Station, she found herself conversing with Dr. T., the +surgeon who would lead a team scheduled for my case the following day. +The operation would be of great consequence, and he wished Mom to fully +acknowledge that fact before it commenced; to all operations, a risk +was involved, and regarding the seriousness of the situation was of +utmost importance. Since the mass had so thoroughly encroached upon +the stomach, they would have to remove most of the stomach itself, +thereby reducing its overall size considerably; though the stomach +would stretch with time, it would never return to its original size. +The conversation came to a close. It seemed awful that a young girl, +Mom's little girl, should have to endure so much, so massive an +operation. She returned to the hospital room where I still breathed +steadily in a tranquil repose; while Dad received the portents of the +previous conversation, I was adrift on a sea bereft of anxiety or pain, +and ignorant of their anticipation, I did not stir when they stood to +return to their hotel. + +The day of the operation had dawned amid countless hours of waiting, +yet the waiting for my parents had not ended; the minutes would drag +while I laid beyond their sight, and a doctor kindly advised that they +leave the building, for the operation would most surely prove quite +lengthy, and the hospital atmosphere had less to offer than did the +beauty of the nearby sanctuary on the hospital grounds. They +nodded, numbly deciding to try his remedy for over-wrought parents. + +Mom and Dad found their way to the garden, their legs propelling leaden +bodies through some distant, unknown source of power. Ambling through +the sunlit passages like automatons, their eyes would focus, yet they +did not see. Finally disposing of the useless suggestion, they checked +their course and wheeled around to return to the hospital once more. + +They felt compelled to be nearby, even though there was nothing with +which to occupy their senses; the operation so filled the capacity of +their thoughts that no other form of diversion was required. + +I was in surgery for six hours. My parents were anxious, at times +pacing the hallways, and then sitting once again; despite the +voluminous weight which seemed to claim their energy and tax their very +soul, they were always watchful, ready to receive any news of the +progress from the operating room. Staring dismally at the various +activities that were going on about them, Mom suddenly noticed two +nurses wheeling a cart past the lounge where my parents were seated. +"Those are Laurie's things!" she exclaimed; suddenly overwhelmed by +the thought that I had died, and they were removing my personal effects +from the room. On rubber-like legs, she raced down the hall, adrenalin +giving her energy which seconds ago she had not possessed. Rushing up +to the nurses, she again cried out, "Those are Laurie's things!" +displaying fully the horror of her panic-stricken assumptions. +"Oh. . ." they replied "we're so sorry! We never would have moved her +things without telling you first if we knew you were sitting there. +You see, a room is vacant in the pediatrics ward, and we're taking her +things down there." The explanation heralded unspeakable relief, +and Mom returned to her seat, an older but less fearful woman. + +Resuming their stationary poses, my parents waited, each fostering +thoughts of dread and flickers of hope. If only one did not have to +think during the long periods of uncertainty and ignorance, and could +somehow benumb the senses until the hours of darkness had passed! The +truth can burn the heart like a smouldering ember touched lightly to +the flesh, but waiting. . .waiting is the relentless torture of unseen +phantoms, made more hideous through one's blindness as the seconds +slink by, without an end. + +A door opened, and Dr. T. strode toward my parents, who immediately +rose, brimming with questions. The doctor ushered them into a +conference room, and closed the door behind him. Already present were +Dr. M. and W. who had assisted him with the operation. The doctors +said that I was in the Intensive Care Unit, and would remain there for +several days until my condition had stabilized and I had regained some +strength. It had been a long and grueling operation; Dr. T. confessed +that when he first looked at the incredible mass in my stomach, he did +not believe that they would be able to remove it. The growth was +cancerous and severely advanced; having one baseball sized tumor and +several smaller ones in the stomach, it had begun fingering into the +pancreas as well. Nevertheless, they decided to work, the minutes +fading into hours, until their degree of progress flooded them with +hope. By the time they finished the operation the doctors felt quite +confident that they had removed the growth entirely. + +Understandably pleased with their efforts and apparent success, the +doctors continued to further explain the cancer which had invaded my +stomach. The type that I had developed was called a "leiomyosarcoma," +which was considered a low-grade cancer and one quite slow to spread. +Ninety-eight percent of those having that type of cancer were cured +simply through an operation alone. A factor which mystified them about +my case was that most leiomyosarcomas occurred in older women; why a +young girl of 13 would produce such a cancer seemed baffling. + +Visitation time in the ICU was strictly monitored, and limited to +several minutes out of each hour. My parents were anxious to see me, +however, even if they could not long remain at my side. After the +conference had ended, they were guided into the dimly lit room which I +shared with others demanding close attention. Their eyes were greeted +by an alien spectacle, quite changed from their little girl who tromped +through the woods and gleefully rode her bicycle. A tube exiting my +nose was attached to a machine which suctioned out the contents +(acids, fluids, etc.) of my stomach while it healed. An intravenous +bottle dripped some unknown fluid through a long tube which trailed +down several feet and then disappeared under an ample wrapping of +cloth. The incision itself was hidden beneath my hospital gown, a full +six inches in length. Also concealed beneath my gown was a tube +connected to a small bag taped to my skin in which the seepage near the +wound would accumulate; called a "drain." It operated through gravity +alone. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 53 + +Chapter 11 +Diagnosis and Recovery + + +"It was a word which bit the tongue like the crab for which it was +named. Cancer. It was not a word which rolled off the tongue, and +once in the air it remained there. . .cancer maimed. . .cancer killed." + + +"I had far too much confidence and hope to fly to the arms of despair, +for in despair, one finds no warmth or comfort." + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +Diagnosis and Recovery + + + + +I opened my eyes to a throbbing pain, and saw that my parents were +standing nearby. Blinking at them idly, my mom inched closer and ask, +"Honey, do you know us?" + +Suddenly I felt as if I was an actress in some ridiculous soap opera; +the elements were all there, from the tragic figure of the patient to +the damp-eyed parents. Do I know them, I thought. "Of course I know +you!" I spat the words at them in obvious rage. They smiled at my +fighting spirit; it was a good sign. Had I been too weak, I would +have been incapable of such an emotional outburst. I suffered no +delirium, only intense pain. I despised pain, but more than that, I +was infuriated by phrases which at the time seemed to be idiotic +cliches when words do not easily yield to the tongue. Not impeding my +rapidly surfacing thoughts, another jolt of pain opened my mind. "I +wish I was dead!" My ill-chosen words were daggers to my parents, +whose faces were wrinkled with pains of their own. "Don't say that, +honey," responded Mom, hurt by my instantaneous verbal combustion. +Speech is something which, once flung into the air, cannot be repealed; +language is a component of memories, at times forgotten, but more often +returning to the mind. So it was that the life of my last phrase +during the visit has not yet reached its end, and lives still in our +recollections, a youthful tongue which dared to speak of death, indeed, +to welcome it, was that which emblazoned the imprint with such +permanence. + +I was tired, and after gratefully receiving medication to ease the +pain, sank my head into the pillow. Mom and Dad had taken their leave; +there was not a great desire for small talk, even if they could have +produced it. + +The following day found me in a much more civilized mood. All +post-operative grogginess had long since disappeared; my exhaustion +resulted only from my body's mad attempt to heal its scars. I was +constantly under observation, and soon adjusted to the frequency of the +temperature, pulse and blood pressure readings; those simple matters +were not disruptions at all. + +In the morning I was introduced to the bedpan, and although my ego did +not merit any cruel blow, I found myself further humbled. With a +deplorable lack of skill, I managed to dampen myself and the bed +considerably; I was miserable. Fortunately, in that respect, it was +time to be weighed, and the nurses lifted me onto a table-like scale; I +remained there until my bed had been prepared anew, then was happily +replaced despite the agonizing trip to and from the bed. + +Any extensive movement seemed to evoke pain, and I readily understood +the reason for my discomfort when I was bathed. In addition to the +regular routine, the nurse also changed my bandages. Seeing the +incision for the first time, I gawked in amazement, thoroughly +repulsed. The seams of the long gash rose above the surrounding skin, +and with the multitude of black stitches, resembled a rail-road track. +It seemed to me that it would leave a scar of monstrous proportions +looking, at the time, so hopelessly grotesque. Then I noticed the +drain located to the side of the incision, and was shocked to discover +that the soft rubber tube extended to my interior regions through an +open slash in my side. I'd not have thought it possible that one +could entertain such an opening without risking complete loss of one's +blood. I was learning new biological facts with each passing hour. + +My parents visited each hour, sometimes speaking with the family +members of other "unfortunates" when I was not awake. It is in the +confines of a hospital that one learns he is not alone in his pain. +The boy who laid in the bed next to my own would literally "poop +himself out" during a bowel movement, losing his insides as well as the +excrement, while a child across the room had a valve on his head which +he could push when water accumulated, thereby releasing the pressure +and accompanying pain. I wondered how those children could ever lead +normal lives with their present situation appearing so dismal. +Although I existed in the present, I lived for the future and my return +home; accepting each moment, I fostered no suspicions that I would die, +having tumors removed; I knew nothing, as yet, of my tumors being +cancerous, for the grave seriousness of the operation I gathered +slowly, as I gained physical strength, since spirit I never lacked. +The business of getting better was simply a matter of time; "whether or +not" I would improve did not enter my mind. Feeling sick, followed by +recuperation and health were as inseparably linked as popcorn and salt. +I always "got better." + +Later that evening, I announced that I had to use the bathroom. After +two subsequent failures earlier in the day, I rejected the bedpan with +obstinance; the contraption was immodest and impossible to operate +without the patient feeling horribly unclean. Moreover, I preferred a +dry bed to a wet one, and having twice illustrated my inadequacy for +the nurses, who then had the extra chore of changing my bed, I found +them more than agreeable toward the idea of escorting me to the +bathroom. + +As I was helped to a sitting position, my mom looked on in unconcealed +surprise, thinking that I would certainly cry out in pain. With an +inquiring glance at one of the doctors, who happened to be making his +rounds, he smiled proudly and explained that, although it was more +difficult, they had worked around the stomach muscles during the +surgery, rather than severing them. Thus I was spared the excruciating +pain which further cutting would have wrought. + +The adventure across the room was a success, and from that triumphant +hour, I no longer necessitated a bed pan; I had secured a far better +means of relief. + +Although most of my hours spent in ICU consisted solely of rest, there +were those aspects of each day which I learned to abhor. The most +objectionable was the routine of pounding my back, enacted by one of +the hospital staff, to insure that I would not accumulate fluid in my +lungs. It was an obligatory function, I realized, yet it hurt +dreadfully. As I was instructed to lay on my side, the ruthless +process would begin, thereby releasing my protests as well. I remember +that I would beg them to stop; angry that I had to endure such hostile +treatment; I feared that the incision would burst open midway through +the ordeal, spilling my organs onto the bed sheets; that frightful +thought never materialized. + +After a week of this stomach-wrenching routine, I was given a +contraption which was composed of two bottles, connected by four +plastic tubes, two of which were mouthpieces. One bottle contained a +blue solution, while the other was completely empty. This, I was told, +would be a substitute for the back-pounding if I would promise to use +it often throughout the day. The object of the device was to blow +through one mouthpiece with sufficient pressure as to transfer the +contents of the full bottle into the empty one. Then, once completed, +one would take up the alternate mouthpiece and repeat the process to +return the fluid to its original canister. Even though this procedure +was rather slow from the outset, I welcomed it if it would spare my +incision the pain which resulted from the blows to my back. + +Among my other daily routines were shots, administered twice to my +thigh, and the blood profile, in which blood was drawn in the morning. +Those who drew blood were quite practiced in that area and rarely +created any unpleasant moments; when the veins in my arms became +uncooperative through constant use, their faces did not waver in +protest at the thought of probing my feet or ankles, which were in +better condition and actually quite accessible. + +On Friday, the IV which had been in position since Tuesday began to +infiltrate, wherein the IV solution no longer ran only into the vein, +but into the surrounding tissue as well. My hand started to puff, +swelling into a spectacle which was twice the size of my other; with +all of the misdirected solution seeping into the tissues, I also began +to feel an annoying tightness which pained me when touched. I hoped +that something would be done to alleviate my discomfort, without the +expense of additional anguish, for at times, a remedy invited +unforeseen unpleasantries greater than the one with which a patient was +currently battling. + +Dr. W. was called in the room to start a new IV in my other hand. I +hoped it would not be an ordeal, and remained silent as the probing +began. Aiming for a vein, the doctor edged the needle through my skin +and missing his target, attempted to strike it again and again by +manipulating the direction of the needle. I looked on, wincing, trying +desperately not to think at all. His method was not succeeding, and +he withdrew the needle to make ready to try another vein. Shifting his +position, he pierced through the flesh, striving for another site. The +vein rolled about, eluding the valid efforts of the doctor, and once +again, he pulled the point from my hand to ready himself for his third +attempt. I was holding my breath, uncertain how long I could withstand +the slow, methodical jabbing. The needle was again thrust beneath my +flesh, poking back and forth as each try was foiled; in exasperation, +Dr. W. pulled the needle from my hand, stating resolutely, "I'm not +going to hurt you again!" and fled the ward in search of another doctor +to fill his duty. + +Several minutes passed, and then a bearded doctor strode toward my bed, +introducing himself as Dr. A. I greeted him politely, though quite +wary, now, at the prospect of having to possibly relive the previous +experience. My fears were groundless, however, for he quickly guided +the needle into a vein and wrapped my hand to secure its position. I +thanked him gratefully, branding his face and name into my memory. The +following day I was transferred to the pediatrics ward, no longer +requiring constant observation. It was a pleasing change; the rooms +were light and cheerful in comparison to the ICU, and the hallways were +brightly painted, having here and there, small lounges for the benefit +of both the young patients and their families. The room boasted a TV, +which, after four days of silence, was welcome entertainment. As an +added bonus, I was now able to receive mail, as well as several lovely +flower arrangements, which had not been allowed in the unit, and as a +result, spent their first days at the nurse's station. The flowers and +plants brought life and color to the room's overall whiteness, and +reminded me of the genuine concern which, initially, I had been too +alienated by pain to realize. The most important part of my day was +the mail delivery; the majority of my cards and letters came from +members of the church and my family. The church response was utterly +amazing, and my days would have proven quite dreary had it not been for +their continuous demonstration of awareness regarding my condition. + +I learned the full story behind my operation after my transferral to +pediatrics. "A base-ball sized tumor. . . ," I marveled. "Did they +keep it?" Mine was a question spurred by outright surprise and wonder. +I had no real desire to see the ugly mass. I remembered how the +various organs looked floating in a pool of formaldehyde on the shelves +of the biology room, and shuddered, not caring to see something which +was, most likely, far more grotesque to the eye. "It was a low-grade +form of cancer," Mom continued, "but they feel quite sure they got it +all . . ." + +"Quite sure. . ." my mind echoed. Somehow that did not seem proof +enough. Cancer. I had heard of it before, everyone had. It was a +word which bit the tongue like the crab for which it was named. +Cancer. It was not a word which rolled off the tongue, and once in the +air, it remained there, like the seeds of a ghastly plague which was +feared with revulsion. Cancer maimed. Cancer killed. + +Slowly, almost imperceptibly, I drank in the magnitude of my +hospitalization and the many implications of having reared such a +growth in my stomach. Although my progress appeared good and the +doctors believed in their operative finesse with pride and confidence, +I could not embrace the idea of my health as a steadfast quality; I +possessed an elusive disquietude in the recesses of my mind which would +sound an alarm and shield my heart from the brutal disappointment of +having placed my dreams in an unattainable void. My voiceless +apprehension would create no problem, housed as it was, in the back of +my mind; remaining mute, except unto myself, it would hinder no one's +happiness should the doctor's certainty and everyone's hopes +materialize, least of all my own. A positive result contrary to one's +innermost beliefs is a most precious one, indeed. + +The days passed within the exacting boundaries of the hospital routine. +Each morning I was weighed, given a shot in the thigh, and then held a +thermometer firmly between my lips while the nurse took my pulse and +blood pressure readings. The drain was checked and sometimes emptied, +as was the canister into which my stomach contents were suctioned. +Several hours later my parents would arrive after eating their +breakfast. We talked a little, and then Dad would stroll casually out +of the room while Mom helped me to bathe. One of the doctors made a +morning visit between 8:00 and 10:00; usually Dr. W. or M. were +assigned to the daily rounds, although Dr. T. did occasionally stop to +examine the scar and inquire about my general health. It mattered +little who stopped in; I liked them all for their various qualities. + +Dr. T. was strong, yet compassionate; he understood and empathized with +the concerned patients and family members, utilizing tact and +well-chosen words throughout all conversation. He made the patient +feel comfortable, in good hands; if he did not feel for his patients, +he made a fine performance. + +Dr. M. reminded me of one of my cousins, with dark hair and kind, dark +eyes which were a compliment to his character. Younger than Dr. T. , +he was efficient but gentle in his work, and had an easy personality +which won my trust and admiration. + +Dr. W. had a character quite separate from the other two, which +demanded time to appreciate. W. possessed an incredible air of +confidence almost akin to haughtiness, which made any failure a black +eye. There was an inexplicable humor to his manner, however, which +redeemed brusque behavior, for he was not too proud to, in some way, +admit defeat. + +A few days after my transferral to the semi-private room, I decided +that it was time to remedy my poor vision and insert my contact lenses. +An occasional lens wearer himself, Dr. W. proclaimed that I would +never be able to wear them for the entire day after not having inserted +them for over a week's time. I shrugged, saying that I was still going +to try, as W. dismissed himself from the room. With an IV in one hand, +and my other free, I manipulated the bottles of solution and the +contacts until I succeeded in their insertion. Pleased that I had +accomplished the feat, one-handed, for all practical purposes, I sat +back in my bed and delighted in my ability to "see" once again. The +nurses' faces were recognizable at a distance, the TV shows gained the +added impact of facial expressions and the flower arrangements stood +against the wall with a new clarity. I could even peer from my window +and watch the pedestrians milling about in front of the hospital steps +and the fluid movement of the traffic through the streets. + +At night, Dr. W. stopped again. "I'm wearing my contacts," I told him +with a smile. "You wore them all day?." he asked, rather awestruck. +"Yeh, I did!" He was speechless, shaking his head in disbelief as he +walked out of the door. When I was alone I marveled at the beauty of +the city lights, which had only yesterday seemed a hazy melding of +fluorescent tubing, stretching toward an unknown obscurity; the lights +became sharp points of white before my eyes, mingled now and again with +the red flash of a car's tail lights or the green glow of a traffic +signal. I stared out the window, picturing the night in my mind, +wishing I was bound northward in one of the streaming points of light. +As the traffic raced by, lost, finally in the darkness, I wondered if +they knew how lucky they were, OUT THERE; I really wondered if they +knew. . . + +With my stomach on a slow route to recovery, I had not eaten for many +days, nor would I hope to eat for many more. The pancreas needed to +heal as well, and the doctors would not allow food to pass through my +lips until it had shown signs of improvement. I did not have a +breakfast tray to look forward to each morning, so after one of the +doctors stopped by, I would roll off the bed, and, escorted by my +parents, walk down the halls, leaning slightly from the tightness of +the incision and grasping the pole on which my IV hung suspended, still +dripping a tasteless breakfast into my vein. During these strolls, my +"nose hose" was detached from the suction mechanism and clipped to my +gown like a hideous corsage. At first I was embarrassed by the +decidedly gruesome appearance of the hose, filled as it was, with +mucous and blood, but eventually I grew accustomed to the people on the +floor and discovered, also, that others wore my unusual apparatus as +well. Perhaps misery does not love company as much as it loves +compassion and understanding. Thus I would skirt the corridors in both +directions, heading "right" toward the craft room, or "left" which lead +to the canteens. Usually taking a left turn out of my room, I would +amble down the hall to contemplate the vast selection of cold +sandwiches, snacks and candy which could be had simply through feeding +one's pocket change into the coin slots. I stood wistfully before the +machines, pointing out to my parents what I would choose when I could +eat food again. + +Although the stomach suction prevented me from feeling hunger pangs, it +was the taste of food that I so horribly missed. Moreover, mealtime +broke the monotony of a bland routine; it was something pleasant to do, +exercising the mouth. It disturbed me to see someone jawing his food +disinterestedly or poking at a meal which, in his opinion, lacked +aesthetic appeal. Meal trays would often be returned sporting a +delectable piece of dessert or fruit; I would peer at the specimens, +sighing that I could not save the morsel from the trash heap. + +Food became my favorite mind-game as my stomach gradually healed. We +pursued the canteen route quite frequently throughout the day, and each +time I would gaze at the treats, yearning for a taste of something. . . +anything. . .besides the mint of my toothpaste. + +I was not allowed to swallow food or liquid of any kind; even water was +forbidden. My throat became dry, despite its occasional rinsing, and +the tube which ran from my nose to my stomach only hindered the +situation. I decided to test my luck and ask for ice, reasoning that +the excessive coldness might aid my throat to a degree, even though I +could not actually swallow any of it. Since my saliva would become +frigid through the presence of the ice, perhaps the throat would +benefit from the slight trickling of cold moisture. To my amazement, +they agreed to give me a glass of ice chips at various intervals +through the day providing I would only chew the ice, and then spit it +into a metal bowl for that specific purpose; I shook my head "yes" in +vigorous excitement at the proposal. In time, I was even allowed to +swallow one or two teaspoonsful of ice each time. It was a small, but +significant favor, for which I was exceedingly grateful. + +As I improved, I sought other forms of entertainment aside from +watching television, which included the use of my hands. In my +opinion, the hospital craft room was an ingenious installment. I had +always loved art, and in that room, one could purchase various kits +which were self-contained, having all the necessary tools and +materials, for a minimal price. It took no time at all before I had +selected two kits, and dispatched myself to my room to begin the +projects. I also enjoyed drawing, and having remembered my sketch book +from home, I made several drawings from the items in my room and the +objects I saw in magazines. When I was not involved with drawing, +however, I lusted at the food photographs and greedily read each +mouth-watering recipe. It must have seemed a curious endeavor, for my +parents would watch me in good-natured humor as I sat enthralled, a +mere twig propped between numerous pillows, lingering over pictures as +if I was haunted by food's memory. + +Mom and Dad would eat lunch outside of the hospital, and often walked +about afterward to exercise their stiff limbs. Neither of them were +idle folk, and the long, exhaustive hours spent with me were difficult +for that reason, as well as many, more obvious ones. It was fortunate +that I happened to be hospitalized during August, for the weather was +fine and conducive to jaunts through a park or the city streets. A +shopping mall was located in the area, and they would often stop there +to buy a small gift, which they would present to me upon their return. +As the weeks progressed I had collected a menagerie of small clay +animals which I displayed on a nearby nightstand; it was affection made +visible. When my parents were gone, the treasures were a reminder of +their love throughout the night; staring vacantly out the window, I +knew that despite the impersonal glare of the city lights below, two of +the people out there cared for me. + +Mail delivery was an exalted highlight of the day, arriving sometime +after the lunch hour. I had always loved mail, yet this lavish +assortment of cards and letters was a recipe for happiness, and helped +to alleviate the disappointment of not having received a lunch tray. +The opening of mail was a tremendous pastime, bringing rhyme and +laughter to the afternoon. After reading the cards, I would reread +them, picturing the individual or family who took the time to send the +cards. The familiar names written at the bottom of a card or note +conjured images of home... and of friends, which instilled my parent's +day with warmth, even as it had enlightened my own. + +Two weeks had passed since Dr. A. had started my IV in the ICU when it +began to infiltrate. Hating to remove it, the nurses would fiddle with +the needle's position, pushing or pulling, and try to ignore the fact +that it, like all good things, must come to an end. I tried to bear +up to its failure, but also hoped wildly that the IV would function for +one. . .more. . .day. The trials I had endured before Dr. A.'s success +were still fresh in my memory. + +Despite repeated attempts to save my two week old ally, its rapid +failure demanded attention as my hand swelled like a balloon and the +vein in which the needle resided stung intensely; it could no longer +remain unnoticed in my distorted hand. The needle was pulled, and the +nurses went in search of a willing person to "install" another. + +As a replacement for my duo-purpose IV, which dripped nourishment as +well as an anti-infection drug into my system, I somehow found myself +with an IV in both arms, one for each purpose, leaving my hands +virtually immobile and completely useless for any sort of craft that I +might have desired to undertake. This certainly was a lousy state of +affairs, I thought, contemplating the television rather sullenly amid +my twisted array of tubes. Dr. W. entered the room holding his +clipboard and beheld the new entanglement which extended into both +arms. "Well, looks like you won't be putting in your contacts +tomorrow." I thought I detected a note of triumphant glee in his +voice. "I don't know. . ." I answered, my voice trailing off into +nothingness; the new day would reveal what I could and could not do. + +With the dawn I found that many things were considerably more difficult +to accomplish. After bathing, with Mom's assistance, I succeeded in +the insertion of my contacts, however, even though the process required +more time and effort than it had previously. Shortly thereafter Dr. W. +pranced into the room. "Hi!" I said cheerfully, eyeing him with +obvious mirth and unaccountably good spirits. He looked at me from +behind his clipboard. "I put 'em in!" He gazed at me with dumbfounded +astonishment and self-consciously adjusted his glasses. "I didn't think +you could possibly do it with IV's in both arms. . ." he said, his voice +shedding its tone of superiority and knowledge. +I grinned at him widely from my bed. + +The following day, Dr. W. wore his contacts. + +After Dr. W. had departed, blinking with stolid determination due to +his brave and noble undertaking, Dr. T. paid me a visit. Asking about +my condition, I could not refrain from lamenting my lack of mobility; +I no longer was able to draw or take up a craft, among other +difficulties. He easily perceived my frustration and proclaimed, +"Well then, this won't do!" and made plans for an alternate solution; +I beamed with joy to think that I would be able to resume my former +activities. + +That afternoon, I was greeted by Dr. M. who had received instructions +to replace one of my IV's to a vein located slightly below my neck, +which would be a more permanent, as well as a more comfortable +position. He asked my parents to leave the room; I began to panic! If +the insertion of the IV was going to create a lot of pain, I wanted no +part of it. I was suddenly stricken with fear, as if all of the events +of the past weeks were thrust upon me at once. I could bear no more, +and tears welled up in my eyes in apprehension for the relatively +simple procedure; I had already withstood much worse, yet my emotional +limit had been reached. + +I sat, set-eyed, while Dr. M. set to work. Trying to anticipate a stab +of pain, I watched him nervously as the minutes sailed by. "There," he +said, leaning away from me. "You're not done, are you?" I asked, quite +certain that the worst was yet to come, for I had felt no urge +whatsoever to flinch or grit my teeth; I had felt no sensation at all. +"I'm all finished," he said with a smile. "But it didn't hurt at all!" +I said incredulously, nearly wanting to hug him. "Like," I said, +"sometimes people feel pain, and other times they don't." I looked at +him in admiration. + +After the episode with the IV, Dr. M. won my undiluted and devoted +trust; he was the doctor who actually performed the bulk of the work +load in my case, and as the weeks passed, I knew it was he who I would +miss, more than anyone, when I had shed my hospital gown for street +attire. Whereas Dr. T. seemed rather like a paternal figure, and Dr. +W. a sibling rival, I came to look upon Dr. M. as a friend. It was a +shame, I thought, that some patients never regard their doctor as a +human being, seeing only the suit or white jacket and ignoring the +features beyond. + +As the days wore on, feeling myself to have become a permanent fixture, +I developed a friendly relationship with one of my numerous roommates. +She was slightly older than myself, fifteen perhaps, and had come to +the clinic from a southern state. As we rattled on, I found myself +unintentionally mimicking her accent, as I often would do when engaged +in conversation with one boasting a heavy accent. I always tried to +control my propensity, and succeeded when speaking to someone else, yet +to her I would inevitably twang the words off my tongue with a hint of +a southern drawl; she did not appear to notice, however, and I am sure +that if she had she would not have been insulted. + +Julie resided across the room for more days than anyone else, for her +condition quite perplexed the physicians. She, as well as her entire +family, suffered from acute fatigue; throughout the better portion of +the day she felt sleepy, and could nap at any time the order was given. +Eventually they released her from the hospital's care, unable to +pinpoint the problem after countless tests, both mental and physical. + +Julie accompanied me on my trips through the halls, and grew accustomed +to standing beside me as I stared dreamily at the canteens. Her +companionship helped to stave off monotony as the month of August +limped along. Even after she was dismissed, Julie still came to visit, +as she was staying in the city while tests on other family members were +run. + +Perhaps there were those who were lonely in the hospital, yet I seldom +felt so myself. Having my parents throughout the majority of the day, +augmented by patients that one would inevitably begin to recognize and +the friendly staff of doctors and nurses, I lacked no conversation. +The hospital was quite populous. At night though, when the bustle of +the day had diminished and the corridors fell silent except for the +rumbling of an occasional cart, and the muffled steps of the nurses +performing their nightly rituals or answering a patient's light, I +would often lay awake and think of my home far away or watch the people +hurrying along the sidewalk below my window, disappearing into a car or +stepping from beneath a street lamp into a pool of darkness. How I +longed to be out there. . . to feel the breeze, cool on my face, and +hear the faint scraping of my footsteps resounding on the cement +sidewalk. . . All other desires were overshadowed by the wish to be +free, to live as one was intended to live, unhampered by tubes and +needles; once I was released I wanted never to return. Evening was +often characterized by a slight melancholy, a stab of homesickness, +perhaps; yet I knew that mourning for that which one does not have was +a pointless, self-destructive endeavor, and I would focus my eyes on +the present, resolutely determined to face each challenge as +courageously as I possibly could. + +I welcomed each new dawn, thinking it to be the start of one less day +in the hospital. I was used to the routine now, every aspect a natural +part of this temporary form of reality. One day, for amusement, I +decided to count the pinprick holes on my thigh, which attested to +their receiving a ritualistic shot both morning and night; I came up +with a total of 32 in one leg alone, equalling 16 days. It was no +great wonder that my muscles were rather stiff and inflexible for this +was quite separate from acupuncture, especially on the few occasions +when the needle was a trifle dull. + +Every day one of the doctors would call on me, asking how I felt. +"Fine" was always my automatic response; but for the tube in my nose +and no breakfast tray to look forward to, I had no complaints. My +incision was healing quite well, and with the new IV, I was relatively +capable of anything, within reason, of course. I was becoming +stronger, and oddly enough, gaining weight. This latter fact seemed to +please the doctors and they would smile, saying my IV solution was like +eating a steak dinner each evening. "No offense" . . . I said, +"but I'd rather enjoy the traditional kind!" + +All of a sudden, amid their daily pre-rehearsed set of questions, I was +asked whether I experienced any gas. "A little," I said amusedly. +"What about a bowel movement?" Somewhat aghast I looked at them and +replied that I had not; "Why?" I asked, quite perplexed. "Well, you +see, we don't want to start feeding you until we know the system is +functioning properly." I raised my eyebrows and wondered where in the +world they thought a bowel movement would come from; admittedly, I +devoured the thought of food daily, but that would produce nothing of +interest to them. "How am I supposed to go if you don't feed me +first?" I asked. "Other people move regularly who are on IV's," they +said. I knew I had a problem on my hands. If other people generally +"went" it meant that I probably would not; in a world of rules, I was +often the exception. There was no rhyme or reason to my physiology. +What was "was" . . . for example, I always sneezed in threes. It was a +simple fact. "I have to go before I get to eat... oh great!" . . . +I may never eat again, I thought dejectedly. + +For the next few days the doctors would ask if I'd had a bowel +movement. "Nope." "Any gas?" "A little." I tried to surmise how +long this would have to continue, and began to use the little +persuasive ability which I possessed. "How about feeding me +something... you'll get what you're after!" Well, they didn't know. +As the days progressed, fruitless in respect to their tall order, they +began to soften. "Any B M yet?" "Nope!" "Gas?" "A little. . . +how about some food?" "Well, everything seems to be healing well . . . +we'll see. . ." I sat back in bed, thinking that maybe I would eat +again after all. + +With the new school year close at hand, Mom began to think about her +kindergarten: her room at school was disheveled and barren; still +wearing its stark summer time guise. She would have to restore order +to the chaotic array of boxes and create an atmosphere of warmth and +welcome for the children who would soon fill the room with energetic +enthusiasm; Mom needed to return to Moline. A plane reservation was +booked, and Dad drove her to the airport with the understanding that +she would fly back to Rochester on the coming weekend. It was +different with Mom gone, more quiet, understandably, yet the difference +extended beyond all those of the physical nature. Perhaps there is an +instinctual essence within us, as humans, which desire maternal +companionship in times of emotional turbulence or physical weakness. +It is unfair to fathers who love, and are loved deeply in return, but +the mother, the protectress and shrine of life, shall always be the +sustaining end of the cord which had bound her child to existence. + +Dad, also, experienced a void in his day with Mom at home. Mom seemed +to have a calming effect upon him, and coupled with her innate +optimism, her presence buffered his reactive temperament. I worried +about Dad; Mom seemed always to have something to divert her attention, +he had only the daily newspaper, occasional stints in front of the +television, and his frequent strolls through the hospital corridors. +Apart from the routine of his job, and the countless repairs of a home +and car, and now stripped of his wife and companion as well, I could +easily understand his restlessness. + +With the noon hour, Dad would take his leave of me, and lunch in a +nearby cafe. He soon found a favorite restaurant, which served freshly +baked pies daily; this treat was better eaten at noon, for +procrastination resulted in thorough disappointment. . . often all the +pie would be gone by the time the thought of supper struck a pleasing +note in one's stomach. + +When he had finished lunch, his next priority was a walk, which grew +quite lengthy on certain days; this was an indulgence which I never +thought to impede or discourage, for he needed a reprieve from anxiety +much more than I. It was always a great exasperation to me when I +would see a patient, whether he was a child or an adult, deny his +family members of their need for space and a sense of normalcy. Simply +because a patient feels caged by his hospitalization is no reason to +expect a constant bedside companion, thereby imprisoning his loved one +with a greater sentence than that on which he himself felt imposed; the +patient is better able to withstand the hours of boredom, for he is +ill, but the relative, having his usual amount of energy cannot bear +the strain of worry coupled with a patient's demand for vigilance. +Occasional loneliness is far easier to overcome than emotional fatigue. + +I entertained myself when Dad was on his walk; it was easy to do. +Often I daydreamed in the midst of a television program, or stared at +the pages of a magazine, never having read them at all. I rarely read +magazines, although I enjoyed them heartily; most of their appeal +derived from the photos, imprinting them in my mind and drawing hours +of fantasy from the images alone. + +After the passage of two hours or more, Dad would return, faithfully +maintaining his daily surprise. The gift would be placed among my +other treasures to be enjoyed and to become part of the memory which +was already forming in my brain. The mail had arrived, and he would +look through the cards, reading slowly the message or poem, then +flipping to the front of the card once again. "That's nice," he +would say, and pick up another to read. Dear 'ol Dad, I loved him so. +I wondered why it seemed more difficult to let him know; I had no need +to fear him, his brusque overtones were not always the fruit of anger +as much as despair. I knew that when I hugged him, his heart nearly +burst, his was no cold, indifferent demeanor. . . Dad's heart possessed +the hardness of an eggshell. + +The remainder of the day would pass according to routine. We took +walks through the halls, longer now that I was gaining endurance, and +began to trod on unfamiliar ground, past dimly illuminated passages and +ancient, rather ominous corridors which had never worn a bright splash +of paint. It was depressing and almost scary in these foreboding +extremities of the hospital, and I was glad for Dad's company. On one +particularly memorable excursion we had reached the end of the lengthy, +darkened corridor and stumbled upon a window, situated next to the +elevator, which faced the pediatrics ward from whence we had come. As +we were surveying the scene, the elevator door opened, and a woman +appeared, clad in a hospital gown, whose visage shocked my young eyes; +her eyes bore the sign of a failing anatomy, jaundiced to such a degree +that they seemed to have the uncanny glow of a neon sign. She carried +on her face an indisposition to speak; I turned away, but not with +obvious haste, trying to feign a degree of casual preoccupation toward +the window as she moved into the hallway. The whites of her eyes, +yellow as buttercups, were entrenched into my memory, haunting me +after she disappeared around the corner. Such sights were not alien to +the hospital or clinic buildings yet they could not pass one's notice +without delivering a jolt of awareness, of pity for the individual +whose grasp on mortality was waning beneath humanity's unsettled gaze. + +Somewhat disturbed after encountering the unusual pair of eyes, I was +content to return to the comparative gaiety of the children's ward. +Giving up the desolate sea of green wherefrom we had emerged, we were +received by a conglomeration of lights which imparted to us an aura of +welcome and flooded the ward with a sense of security. + +Dad remained with me until his supper hour, at which time he would +again be transported into the functioning world, where normalcy, rather +than malaise, reigned complete. Following supper, he again returned to +the hospital; our evening was generally spent in front of the +television, taking in what entertainment it had to offer, and then +between the hours of 8:00 and 9:00 o'clock he kissed me good-night, and +walked to his motel, located in the immediate proximity of the hospital. + +On the eve of Labor Day weekend, Mom flew back to Rochester, and Dad +left for the airport soon after eating his last meal of the day. He +was always punctual, preferring to wait several hours at his +destination rather than lounge about at the home base until the last +minute lest one of a hundred mishaps occurred. Such was the scenario +depicting that evening, and I felt I could look forward to a night +bordering on the exact characteristics of the one before, distinguished +only by the fact that my father was absent. + +I had observed a fair amount of television when the nurse entered to +read my vital statistics and administer the nightly shot to my thigh. +Feeling also that I needed to utilize the facilities, she escorted me +to the door of the bathroom, pushing the IV pole beside me. Suddenly +the IV tube swung out before me, dangling crazily like a wind-blown +vine; it had become detached from the "socket" which protruded from my +skin. I saw no cause for alarm, yet the nurse wheeled and darted up +the hall, leaving the muffled remnants of an explanatory reason for her +flight, to the effect, "I'm going for a syringe. . ." I hadn't seen +the tube touch the floor, although contamination was the cause of the +nurse's anxiety; I decided to stand at the bathroom door and await her +return. + +No sooner had a minute passed when my body took on a strange weakness. +My head felt heavy and my eyes were oddly rebelling toward my desire to +focus clearly; I knew if I did not sit down, I would fall presently, so +I leaned against the wall and slid slowly to the floor. I had gained a +sitting position, yet, that too, was being drawn from my capabilities; +a determined force beckoned me toward the floor and I sunk resignedly +down, unafraid and rather indifferent, as a ship, torn and buffeted, +would relinquish herself to the fathoms of a gaping sea. As my body +was ushered to the tile, I glanced helplessly out into the hallway and +caught the eye of a doctor, unknown to me, who was walking briskly past +through the untouched silence of the ward. He stopped abruptly, eyeing +me with marked curiosity and asked "Do you need some help?" "Uh, yeh" +I said, thinking I could, indeed, use some assistance. It struck +me as incredibly humorous, even though I was not fully able to exercise +or convey the entirety of my comic faculty at the time. He asked what +had happened and why the nurse had left me; I told him, for my +mentality, though buffered, was intact. He wanted to know if the IV had +touched the ground. As I did not believe that it had, he gave it a +swift, cursory inspection and plugged it back into the socket. By then +the nurse had returned and was instructed to round up several others; +they had to carry me back to bed, as my legs were rubberized and +altogether useless. I felt as if I had entertained a drunken stupor +within the passage of minutes, and without having passed a glass to my +lips. + +The episode must have resulted from the rapid denial of the solution to +my system; since the IV dripped steadily into my veins, my body reacted +to the change as it would any shock. Moreover, the fact that the IV +was so near to my heart, and the realization that I was standing when +the incident occurred, both render the semi-faint more understandable. +At any rate, the doctor and several nurses flitted about me until they +felt quite satisfied that the better part of my siege had ended; I +immediately reflected how fortunate it was that the stated occurrence +happened during the absence of my father. "Well," I thought lazily, +"miracles do happen; or, at least, my luck isn't all bad!" Dad, I +knew, would not have reacted with the lack of agitation that I had +portrayed toward my rendezvous with the hospital floor, and I was +extremely grateful that he did not have to witness the affair. While I +was musing upon the above thoughts, the telephone's harsh ring clamored +to be received. I laid in bed, still awash in a sea of partial +coherence, allowing the nurse to answer the call. It was my oldest +brother, Todd; somewhat dazed, I grasped the phone and attempted to +carry on an intelligent conversation, explaining that which had +transpired directly preceding his call. Once I replaced the receiver, +I collapsed again into the bed's rigidity, perceiving that my former +energy, absorbed into another sphere of existence, had not been +repleted. My strength was of no consequence however; it had grown +late, the plane's arrival was delayed, and nothing was required of me +except to wait for the appearance of my parents; waiting was something +to which I was now accustomed. + +It was good to see Mom again; Dad drove her to the hospital albeit the +fact that visiting hours had long since elapsed; in the pediatrics +ward, such rules were often relaxed or ignored for the benefit of the +family, and it was not an uncommon sight to observe a parent slumped in +a corner chair, stealing what replenishment the cramped, make shift bed +would afford. My parents did not tarry in my room that night, as the +minutes marched heedlessly onward and the night aged before us. I +reviewed for them the main excitement of the evening, briefly filling +their inquiries and in return receiving a small dose of chit-chat for +my own reflectance. As they bid me goodnight, I knew that tomorrow +would be merrier for everyone; the main family unit had been reunited. + +Parents are the foot-holds and building blocks that sustain the growing +youth; while other individuals may very well flavor the insights and +spice the outlooks of a maturing mind, the parents yet possess the +solid, nurturing ingredient... stability... to which he can, and will, +turn in trying hours. I knew that I would forever be my parents' +little girl; it was of no consequence that I would age into adulthood; +I would always be a fruit of their existence, and while we all had +possession of our senses and general mentality, I would, as would all +of my siblings, return to their sheltering arms in fear, in pain, and +in turmoil. Such was the nature of the bond of father and mother to +their children, creating a debt which can seldom be repaid. I hoped +that, in my small way, I could give them strength and answer their +needs, and prove to be an enrichment to their lives. + +The weekend passed rapidly, but it was appreciated by everyone. Mom, +it was clear, had to return to her children; though they were, as yet, +names without faces, her obligations as a kindergarten teacher existed +with more prominence than my health situation; I was out of danger, and +my recovery was ripening gradually; soon I would be released from the +hospital and live once more. + +Three weeks had elapsed, and still I had tasted no food, nor had I +swallowed a mouthful of water. My yearning for the sensory delight of +harboring various flavors and textures in the mouth and intermingling +them with cool draughts of liquid refreshment had not abated; indeed, +if the truth must reveal itself, I exalted the characteristics of mere +sustenance to magnanimous proportions, certain that I would heartily +enjoy food of the most modest preparation; dishes which had formerly +sobered my features and impaired my appetite I fancied inviting and +delicious. + +My exuberant preoccupation with food was alien to no one. I would sit +in bed, cutting recipes and their corresponding pictures from women's +magazines then, in turn, would glue them to recipe cards, as the +tasteless weeks began and ended. One might have thought that food +would have been a vexation to my mind, yet dreams never inflicted pain +upon my heart, and because they were figments of imagination, mere +mental sketches, their failure in existence caused no dilemma; only, +perhaps, mild disappointment. + +The daily visits by the doctors seemed to meld together, echoing the +remarks and questions of the previous day. "Any bowel movement yet?" +"No." "Gas?" "A little." The questions had taken on the pure +monotony of a scratched record which played the identical phrase over +and over, into oblivion. How many days, I wondered, would my ears +endure the repetition before the doctors were assured of the normalcy +of my stomach and pancreas? I tried to close my mind to distressing +thoughts; I knew nothing of my physical condition and through the +doctor's restrictions, I would return to health; I had far too much +confidence and hope to fly to the arms of despair, for in despair one +finds no warmth or comfort. + +Having passed my third week in the confines of the hospital, the +doctors finally concluded that the signs were such that they could risk +the removal of the nose tube and allow me to slowly test my stomach's +endurance and tolerance of a liquid diet. The prospect elated me, and +I promised to abide by their cautious instructions. + +Removing the tube which issued from my stomach through my nose was no +major operation; before I had enough time to be scared, the tube was +out and my nose, clear. Dr. M. said that the tube would have to be +analyzed for bacteria in the laboratory and, at the sight of the grisly +thing, I immediately pitied the individual who would be assigned to the +horrid occupation. Turning my thoughts inward, I found that, other +than a soreness of the throat, I had no complaints to offer; to be free +of the tube improved my appearance and heralded the commencement of +food into my daily routine. + +The first sampling of liquid sustenance proved to be a shadow of my +expectations. I was served bouillon broth and green tea, both of which +hardly satisfied my stomach's desire; the broth was intolerably salty +to my unused tastebuds and the tea unfamiliar. Nevertheless, I +consumed a fair amount of each simply as a reminder that I was licensed +to function as any other human, eating and drinking as a matter of +course. + +Within 24 hours after my first ingestion of liquid food, I proclaimed +that I felt an urge to go to the bathroom. The nurse excitedly told me +not to flush the bowel movement until she had inspected the stool; it +was to be a clearly monumental event! After having proudly enacted the +endeavor of which the absence had, for weeks, instilled nervous qualms +into the doctors' thoughts, I emerged from the bathroom; the nurse +quickly surveyed the matter, simultaneously taking notes. It was as if +I was a hen who had laid a golden egg, except for the humbling fact +that my offering was soon flushed from view. + +I greeted the doctor that day with an unusually wide smile, knowing +that when he asked his well-rehearsed question, I would be able to +answer in the affirmative; however, he had already received the news by +way of the nurse's chart, and beamed with apparent happiness. "You had +us worried for awhile there," he said. "Well," I countered, "I told +you that you would get what you wanted if you fed me." I sat upright +in bed, grinning tight-lipped and amused by the sheer commonality of +the entire situation; only in a hospital would one find so many +individuals whose good tidings could be realized through such unlikely +aspects of life. Actually, it was rather refreshing; if the bulk of +society could gather contentment from such normal functions, such +simple pleasures, what an unassuming, peaceful world it would be. + +With the advent of my ability to utilize my stomach, came other +surprises which were beneficial to my happiness, if not also my thighs; +instead of morning and evening shots, I could now receive medication +orally, thus sparing my legs further abuse. Dr. W. was assigned to +prescribe the medication replacing the shots; when I told him that I +was unable to take pills, he studied me from behind his clipboard, and +a wry smile spread slowly across his lips. "You can't swallow pills?" +he asked. "No." was my firm reply. My dad, who had been observing the +entire scene unfold, queried, "Laurie, after all you've been through, +that would be easy!" It was of no consequence to me how "easy" +swallowing a pill seemed to them. . . it was unnatural. I had no +intention of trying, especially after all I had been through. + +Thinking an injection of fundamental guilt or embarrassment would make +more pliable my stiff-willed stance, Dr. W. raised his eyebrows and +said mockingly, "My three year old can swallow pills." Surely such an +assertion by a proud father of his youngster's amazing feat would be a +sufficient reason to shame me into taking my medicine. I looked at him +undaunted and unimpressed. "I can't swallow pills." Perhaps +remembering my success at wearing contacts all day, despite his +positivity that I could never insert the lenses, let alone wear them +for the period of more than several hours, he nodded and selected an +alternative to pills. The art of negative and positive persuasion had +little effect on me if I had full reign over my senses. Eyeing each +other like rivals, we broke into good-humored smiles as he turned to +leave. + +Sometimes one's dreams and aspirations bring more pleasure than their +fulfillment in reality. Many, I am sure, have waited in gleeful +anticipation for a certain event to take place, only to feel acute +disappointment when its enactment failed to bring forth one's expectant +jubilation; such was the case with the ambrosiac manifestations which +I had bestowed upon food, and the effect which said food wrought upon +my stomach. To explain further, eating brought about nauseousness; +this surprise substantially daunted my adoration for food, and putting +away my recipes, turned my attentions to other, less torturous joys of +life. Eating was eyed with sharp suspicion; I was told that, since +three quarters of my stomach was gone, I could expect nausea following +meals and, because of the small capacity, should feed myself often. As +a result, I would eat a small amount, become nauseous, recover, only to +discover that another tray of food was being placed in front of me. I +had to force myself to eat; it was a chore to maintain my existence, +not a delight, as I had earlier supposed. + +Another curiosity which stemmed from eating was noticed after the +initial bite of jello; oddly, jello seemed to "stick" at the point of +entry to the stomach, then, eventually, pass down into the stomach +itself. Never having experienced this sensation before my operation, I +mentioned it to the doctors. They were unconcerned, and felt that any +difficulty would soon repair itself. I nodded, wondering if it would, +indeed, recover on its own. I remembered the tender lump which my head +had somehow sustained during my lapse of unconsciousness in the +operating room. Five days later, approximately all of the hair in the +scalp which grew within the sore region fell out, leaving a temporary +oval bald spot on the back of my head. When asked about this curiosity +the doctors were mute. Perhaps it was the result of an operating room +panic; I could understand their silence amid such societal leaches as +lawyers and "lawsuit" seekers. The lump would be a mystery. + +Because the doctors offered no clues as to the cause of the "sticking" +I managed to concoct several of my own; one possibility was that the +valve between the esophagus and stomach, known as the cardiac +sphincter, sustained damage in the operation or through the long-term +presence of the stomach to nose tube; or, I thought, the muscles within +the esophagus, which push food toward the stomach in swallowing, were +not functioning properly. The actual reason was never drawn from my +inquiries, and to the present, the sensation creates some difficulty; +yet it, like the other questions, shall always remain a mystery. + +With each day I was given more freedoms; the IV was removed, and the +cumbersome pole escorted to the supply room; walks increased in number +and duration as they were now unhampered by either tube or pole. My +diet improved rapidly, from liquids to strained liquids, to soft foods, +and finally to a regular diet, and albeit the fact that food was no +longer a blissful thought, the small and frequent meals were a source +of entertainment and added sparkle to my day. + +Despite gastro-intestinal difficulties, I endured the final days in the +hospital with a new strength; because I was eating and sustaining +nourishment through my natural means, I knew the heavy burden of a long +recovery was loosing itself from my shoulders; I had nearly reached the +summit of self-restoration after physical toil and mental strain. + +My personality was refreshed by the small delights which seemed to grow +unchecked in my miniature world; I loved to sit outside on the roof-top +"patio" of the hospital and feel the warm sun and summer breeze touch +my face, while at night the distant lights of Rochester glittered and +shed their baleful remorse before my eyes; they were tempting jewels no +more, but sweet reminders that at the week's end, I could stand beneath +their steady glow. I no longer felt imprisoned, an outsider to the +stream of life. I was a part of humanity, an element of nature, a +working vessel of creation. I was not constrained. If I so desired, I +could dress in my civilian clothes and disappear through the yawning +doors of the elevator, to be lost in a sea of unknown personalities, +and unfamiliar faces. The idea of freedom was a comfort to my last +days of hospital existence, for it was attainable; I had but to discard +my gown, don my clothes, and flee. . . and it would be mine. True +bondage, I found, existed only in the mind and the way in which one +perceived his world; for whether restricted under lock and key or lack +of health, the mind is still capable of limitless meanderings if one +but remains open to himself and is aware of his dreams. + +On the day of my departure, Dr. T. dropped in to remove my stitches. +Perhaps because he was the primary surgeon, this finalization was +reserved for himself as the ultimate service and last detail of the +operation. I watched while he snipped the threads, and tugged them +from their month-long residency, some willing to give up their hold, +others wrestling rebelliously with my skin. Here and there, pinprick +points of blood surfaced along the scar, active protests of dislodged +threads, which shined conspicuously beside the ruddy incision. Though +alarming in its appearance, the skin would one day recover from its +trauma and time would fade the scar; already it showed signs of rapid +healing, itching uncontrollably, as with a vengeance; the soreness +diminished, and I could stand upright with little pain or stiffness. + +Dr. T. always appeared to share in one's concerns as well as one's +joys; it was evident that my departure and good progress pleased him. +Other than a slight loss of weight after returning to food, which was +to be expected, given the side effect of nausea, I demonstrated every +sign which indicated a splendid recovery was well underway. + +Later in the morning, Dr. M. arrived to remove the drain in my side. +The procedure was little more than a strange tugging and the length of +flexible rubber was discarded. A stitch was also removed, and the +business was finished with the placement of a gauze patch. + +I was quite satisfied and ready to leave. The doctors I would see the +following day at the consultation in the Mayo building, but to the +nurses, I gave a word of farewell. In my own way, I would miss them, +for I had grown to know their various personalities; but though I was +grateful for their services, I would not pine my station in the +pediatrics ward. . . even the stale, smoky scent of a motel room was a +better place to spend the night. Gathering my belongings, I began the +walk to the elevator with my father, beaming happily at my long-awaited +descent into the real world. "Come back and see us!" shouted the +nurses. I smiled. "Okay!" I said mechanically; although I was not +intentionally insincere, I knew that I would never return. Once I +quitted an institution or a segment on life's chain of events, I never +retraced my steps. I looked not so much to the future as to the +present, and in the present, I wished to live. + +As I stepped into the morning sun, I tried to inhale the freshness, +gaze upon the beauty and listen to the sounds; life swelled about me, +too immense to take in at one moment. My spirits were frothing with +excitement at each successive stride along the pavement as we paced +toward our motel; it was a Big Day. + +I rested briefly in the motel room and then we decided to drive around +Rochester so I could see for myself some of the places Dad had visited +on his afternoon strolls. Many of the streets were lovely, bordered +with trees which grew from scrupulously trimmed lawns. The houses +behind the green lawns and sculptured shrubs loomed with magnificence +and grandeur; some displayed vast entry-ways while others boasted fine +masonry and stonework. I had little doubt but that these were the +homes of surgeons, businessmen and prominent city personnel. The +outward appearance of the homes showed nothing but orderliness and +tranquility, yet for all of the pervasive greenery, the scene lacked a +sense of life; no one peered through the windows, no boy clad in +cut-off jeans mowed the grass, no children played on the +clean-swept-steps, nothing moved but the trees in the wind. I +reflected on the sight dismally. Perhaps it was considered improper to +be "seen" outdoors; I lamented the plight of some people, for whom +natural beauty seemed not a thing to be enjoyed, but merely a device by +which one's wealth could be measured, something tangible, something +which could be had. I had once heard that through riches one might be +free; yet that which I saw in these streets was bondage of the most +pitiable sort, for it was entirely self-imposed. Restrictions and +social codes made by and for the elite were gladly followed, and those +who bent under their weight, stooped willingly. Conformity can +eventually overshadow the individual, rendering his former joys +meaningless, if he desires to exist amid prefabricated expectations as +determined by status rather than true values. Such are the hazards of +social living; personally, however, I would rather sit on my front +steps and wave at passersby. + +Then I remembered; it was noon, a September weekday. . . the children +were in school, the parents at work, and youngsters were most likely +receiving their lunch. It was I who was an alien spectacle, not the +streets through which we were driving; had it not been for my +hospitalization, I, too, would have been seated amongst a classroom of +students, and Dad at work. Again I mused over the beautiful sights. +Maybe I had simply come at the wrong time; every street can seem +deserted. I hoped that these lawns were loved as I loved my own. + +We roved about the city, finally stopping at an outdoor mall which +extended far beyond my ability to traverse. Dad and I entered only +several shops which contained the novelty items that had served as my +daily surprises while residing in the hospital. I tired easily, +however, so we found our way to the motel once more. + +The lodging was plain, but serviceable and clean. My bed was +commodious, compared to that which I had occupied for the past month; +it boasted a built-in massage mechanism, which I tried immediately, and +later regarded as a waste of both time and money. It was amusing, +however, shaking vigorously, for about three minutes, like a belly of a +rotund man engaged in hearty laughter. As I unloosed the bedspread +from its clutch around the pillows, I noticed that the pillows rustled +when touched; inspecting them further, I discovered they were encased +protectively in plastic. My eyebrows arched quizzically at the sight, +yet I said nothing; there must be a reason why the management was +disposed to do this, but it mattered little to me at the moment. I +wished to rest, and until it was time for supper, discarded all +conscious thought and drifted into a peaceful repose. + +In keeping with my redesigned stomach, I ate a small meal at supper +time. Before setting back to the motel for the evening, though, I +decided that it might be fun to sample one of the famous pies that my +dad had been enjoying throughout the month, so we turned into the cafe, +and luckily, spied several pieces that still lurked in the pie cabinet. +A slice of apple pie caught my fancy, and Dad selected another. He +had not bent the truth; the pie was delicious, and I unhesitatingly +devoured the entire piece. + +Once returned to our motel, I began to note the uneasy qualms of an +upset stomach gradually gaining momentum. I decided to lay down, +incubating the nauseousness until it had transformed into an +unquenchable, relentless monster. + +Before I was able to run, or even think to run, the beast gave a mighty +heave and unloosed its hold on the contents of my stomach. Apple pie. +The reason was now quite evident for the necessity of the plastic +pillow covers. Apple pie in reverse was a sight most gruesome. I +looked once more at my pillow, a wrong move, and bolted for the toilet +as the beast ventilated its frustrations a second time by bellowing +vehemently into the porcelain bowl. + +I don't blame my stomach for its mammoth revolt; it had not needed to +function at all for well over three weeks, and then, after a mere five +days of work, it received an entire slice of rich apple pie. Not +pleased, it decided to send it back. Thus my Big Day ended on a rather +sour note; but perhaps sweetness, tempered, forms the groundwork of +memories far stronger than those composed solely of sugar and honey. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 70 + +Chapter 12 +Chemotherapy + + + +"Uncertainty wielded mighty weapons and sharp words. What IF. . .was +too persuasive to warrant refusal." + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +Chemotherapy + + + + +With the new day, I was more cautious in my choices of food. We +breakfasted, then lunched, milling about the city until it was time for +our afternoon consultation. + +We were to meet with a Dr. E., an oncologist who specialized in cancer +treatment; the surgeons would also attend. Playing the usual waiting +game, we sat first in the lobby, and after our names were called, found +ourselves in a room similar to that in which the initial pre-operative +consultation had taken place. Neither Dad nor I knew what this meeting +would portend; yet I felt that, although my hospital stay had reached +its end, my wings were clipped, unfit for flight. There would be more +trials, and more obligations; uncertainty seemed to breed obligation, +for to it, I was unextricably bound. + +Muffled steps were heard outside the door, and I had a slight sensation +of de ja vu. Then the door burst open, and a tall man entered, booming +a friendly "hello" to both of us. We all shook hands and seated +ourselves; soon afterward, the three surgeons, Drs. T. M. and W., +entered as well as a young smiling doctor who was there simply to +observe. Dad rose again to greet the new comers. As the pleasantries +died away, the business of the meeting came to our attention. + +Because my tumor had been cancerous, there was naturally the question +of whether surgery alone had been action enough to free the entire +cellular structure from my body. As far as the surgeons could +recognize, they had removed all cancerous cells, but since cells cannot +be seen by the naked eye, the doctor's supposition could possibly have +been incorrect; for this reason the meeting was called to determine the +next course of action. Since mine was a rather unusual case, they felt +at a complete loss as to the route which should be taken, and having +stated several options decided to privately confer the matter. The +doctors filed out of the room. Dad and I looked at one another. The +whole situation seemed ridiculous. The surgeons were "certain" yet the +state of my health was rendered "uncertain" by the presence of cancer. +One word, and yet it made such a difference; it was almost +mathematical; just as surely as positive and negative numbers, +multiplied, equalled a negative response, certainty coupled with +uncertainty yielded uncertainty. Moreover, I began to feel like a +subject, someone against whom plots were devised; there was to be no +specific method, no scientific plan in my treatment. . . and while I +reserved faith in the doctors, I knew that an end had been reached +wherein my self-confidence was worth just as much to my well-being, if +not more. + +When the doctors returned, they confessed that, although a decision had +been determined, their means of arriving at said decision was quite +simplistic and utterly devoid of calculation. The decision was +literally pulled from a hat, producing a solution which read, +"Chemotherapy," and to which they would adhere unless our wishes were +opposed to it. At this point, the surgeons took their leave of us, and +I voiced my farewells; they disappeared into the hallway, and the door +slowly drifted back, to close silently and blot their retreating +footsteps. It seemed strange that I should never see these men again +when, for a month, they were daily visitors and trusted allies. + +We were now alone with Dr. E. and the silent, smiling observer. Dr. E. +explained the situation which had formulated, defining chemotherapy as +a means by which cancer was cured, sweeping any and all lingering cells +from the body with a deadly blow. In my case, the treatment was viewed +simply as a protective measure, a guarantee, that all cancerous cells +were wiped out; given such a characteristic, especially when +considering my previously mentioned uncertainty, it was already obvious +to me that we would not refuse the proposal. As we sat motionless to +hear the rest of the definition, I became aware of the observing doctor +whose eyes were riveted to my face with an uncanny, relentless +fascination, while his lips remained curled in an unwavering smile; it +mattered little where I would place my eyes, his gaze feasted on my +features, ingesting hungrily every emotion my countenance displayed. I +listened half-heartedly to Dr. E.'s conversation; he explained that +treatments would be paid through the research funding since my cancer +was a rarity, and would therefore place my family under no financial +burden. It was nice that my experimental therapy would be no cancer on +my parent's bank account, I thought dimly; my concentration was +withering under the infernal scrutiny of the observer's beaming eyes +and steadfast smile, for there was no benevolence in that plaster-cast +smile, only a keen desire to devour one's expressions; and I knew that +he waited for a certain look, a show of anguish, an emotional outburst. + +Dr. E. continued. He was explaining the ways in which chemotherapy +affected the patient. Something within me did not want to hear what +would happen, yet my mind took it in; I would feel sick, nauseous, +weak. I would be susceptible to infections and viruses... I would be +afflicted with occasional aching... I would lose my hair... I could +die. Tears, unbidden, welled up in my eyes so I tried furiously to +will them away; I did not want to cry in front of those lidless eyes. +It was rude, callous, to stare so unflinchingly as another's future was +verbalized and deftly illustrated by a doctor who knew all of the +hideous cruelties of which chemotherapy was capable. + +Dr. E. passed a form to my father, instructing that both he and I read +carefully, and sign if we were in agreement to its statements; our +obligations, their obligations, etc., etc., etc. I was staring at my +knees, fighting tears desperately. My head was bowed low to escape the +face which would not leave my own, which granted no peace or +meditation. Dad balanced the paper on his knees and signed his name +with confident strokes; he passed it to me. "You can read it first," +he said. My eyes were a haze which saw through the page. I did not +need to read it, for I knew what I had to do; knowing, however, made it +no easier. + +I signed without thinking, without reading one word. The observer was +grinning widely now, a sadistic glimmer of pleasure seemed to sparkle +in his eyes; I did not have to look at him directly; his luminous frame +of mind pierced my unseeing stare. Tears shone on my face. I wondered +bitterly if my performance had satisfied him. + +To conclude the business of the hour, a date was determined for my +return to the clinic; the commencement of treatment was two short weeks +from the present, and time would not slow its tempo for me. I would +have to enjoy those days while I was able. Dr. E. stood, signifying +that the meeting, and his time, had reached its duration; I bid him a +respectful good-bye and he ushered his abominable side-kick out of the +door. Dad and I gathered our belongings and departed in their wake, +walking toward the lobby. Climbing in the elevator, descending to our +floor, climbing out of the elevator, walking to the car... it all +seemed mechanical. While our bodies glided toward our car, +self-propelled, we decided to leave the town that afternoon. Somehow, +the future demanded that the need to go home be satisfied. We went. + +The September sun crept low, tempting winter as it reclined toward the +western horizon. After we had left the city behind us, and found the +route which would lead its weary travelers home, Dad broke the silence +of our brooding minds. "Would you have been satisfied with just the +operation? Would that have been enough?" I shook my head slowly back +and forth, sitting quietly and gazing as the pavement was consumed by +the miles. "No..." I said, faintly echoing my mute reply. We drove +on, into the fading light. Uncertainty rode with us; it was the +impetus which quailed for insurance, taunting our future-bent minds +with doom and dread. Uncertainty wielded mighty weapons and sharp +words. "What if..." was too persuasive to warrant refusal. + +We arrived in Moline long after sunset; it was a beautiful sight, +crossing the Mississippi, for the river reflected the street lights in +a profusion of multi-faceted bands which sparkled like a king's hoard +of precious jewels. It seemed a warm welcome, though few people were +stirring, and those that stirred knew us not. That we knew the land +was enough. + +The streets on which we drove seemed like old friends, unchanged, and +somehow dearer to the heart after the extended absence; Fourth Avenue, +whose narrow confines should never have known four lanes of traffic; +53rd St., which boasted one of the few brick surfaces still in use; +and 7th Ave.... the corner mail box, the parallel rows of houses, and +finally, our gravel driveway.... home. As we neared the end of the +avenue, the headlights caught a curious banner of white which appeared +to stretch over the entire drive. We approached and stopped beneath a +sign which read, "Welcome Home Laurie," professionally lettered in blue +and red; it was the work of John Moore, Steve's father. Welcome +home?... indeed, yes! + +The following days seemed a continual welcome; my aunt made some of my +favorite rice pudding, neighbors dropped in, friends visited... and to +my surprise I received more cards in the mail. I busied myself writing +numerous notes expressing my gratitude for all the demonstrations of +concern which I had received as well as a note of appreciation which +appeared in the church bulletin in reference to all the cards sent to +the hospital; it was a job I viewed seriously, because no one had been +obligated to do anything for me. Just as I was doused with affection, +I might have been completely ignored; thus, I believe it is of the +utmost importance to acknowledge another's selfless expenditures, +whether their value be measured in hours or coins. To turn one's back +upon the kindness and concern of others is a silent, but effective +voice which speaks of one's own innate selfishness and dearth of love, +for although giving should be a pleasure unto itself, it is a human +propensity to seek further pleasure from the fact of the recipient, and +if the latter remains expressionless and verbally dense, he denies the +giver of his utmost joy. Giving is more than simply the ability to +spend money; the ungracious and ill-mannered are often unaware, or +perhaps more accurately stated, heedless of this fact. + +School was already in session when Dad and I returned home from +Rochester and although Mom and he went to work regularly, I refrained +from going to classes for several more days. I was still quite weak +from my operation and related weight loss, and my stamina and endurance +were a mockery to their former capabilities, but my underlying strength +helped me overcome all of the obstacles which I had hurdled, as it +would similarly allow me to master those which lay ahead. I was +strong; cancer was my solitary barrier to a clean slate of health. + +Returning to school, which was always a nerve-wracking experience for +me, was further complicated that year by my late arrival; moreover, my +health dictated that I use the elevator instead of the stairs, an +instruction which I abhorred because I felt myself to be a spectacle. +Had my personality enjoyed ladles full of attention, my reaction would +have been that of pure delight, for in addition to utilizing the +elevator, I was allowed to select a friend to carry my books, and +together we would leave the classes early to avoid the jam of hallway +traffic. I was also instructed to come to the nurse's office to eat a +morning and afternoon snack, as well as to rest during the physical +education period. I characteristically despised being singled out from +the crowd in such a way that everyone's attention was momentarily +turned on myself. This time, however, it could not be avoided, and +with a plea for inner fortitude to my mind, I followed all of my +directions obediently. When I was able to forget my embarrassment, I +was quite grateful for the special treatment which I was given. + +As it was, I attended school only three days, but in that time I +reacquainted myself with my schoolmates and was readily accepted in my +former circle of friends. I was unused to such attention which my late +arrival and circumstances seemed to evoke, yet it was pleasant, just +the same. + +A memory which surfaces in connection with my few days of school was my +guarded reservations toward my appointed English teacher whose innate +haughtiness took on the unfriendly guise of derisive sarcasm when one +of the less fortunate students directed his attention. He enjoyed the +reprimand to an excess which was unprofessional and beyond reason, as +he would rend his subject before the other student's eyes to gain their +general humor, and camaraderie. I would sit quietly throughout the +class, listening carefully to the lesson lest through inattentiveness, +I be attacked by the ruthless teacher and then breathe a great sigh of +relief when the clock read five minutes before the bell. + +Very few memories formed during the three days of school, indeed none +which dealt with curriculum or activities; those I described were +pinpoints of feeling, of emotion, rather than events that were special +unto themselves. Such, it seems, is the manner of my existence; +thoughts and feeling compose myself; events simply form the backdrop +against which, while it remains intact, memories are viewed. + +It was a Friday evening when Mom, Dad and I set out to Rochester again. +Because Dad had already taken many days off work, he would only drive +up to the clinic with us and then catch a return flight into the Moline +airport on Sunday; the shop rules had been relaxed (when I had surgery) +for Dad's benefit, and as grim as the circumstances were, the boss +could not abide the thought of sending Dad forms to complete to satisfy +the company, especially considering his flawless work record. +Nevertheless, it had been over a month, and Dad could not expect to +take more days without giving a formal written explanation and +statement of intent as well; with Mom's vast accumulation of sick days, +there was no need for my father to remain during my treatments. + +The hour of our arrival was quite late, but since we had two weeks to +plan the trip, we had the foresight to make reservations at a nicely +furnished motel rather than leaving our luck to chance. It was a +marvelous improvement from the motel of our initial excursion, having +individual bathrooms (instead of one down the hall) and kitchen +facilities which we would use later. + +We indulged in sightseeing and shopping throughout the weekend until +Dad's departure, lending to our time the best possible sense of +normalcy by pursuing the activities which I found most enjoyable. It +was impossible to forget the promise of Monday's treatment, however, +and it seemed to me that I was followed by a haunting shadow of unrest, +while before me, ticking loudly, was ever the face of a clock. Too +soon Sunday came and Mom and I watched as Dad's plane taxied down the +runway, turned and scorched a misty path into the blue sky. We drove +back to the city, stopping to buy groceries to outfit our kitchenette, +and then arranging them in the cabinets of our temporary home before +seeking a restaurant for the evening meal. + +The so-called "last supper," my last meals taken before all eating had +to cease to comply with the demands of the morning blood test, were +traditionally grand affairs. I ate whatever struck my taste bud's +fancy, which in my case, was always a chicken dinner. I doted on fried +chicken to such an extent, ordering it on every occasion in which we +ate dinner at a restaurant, that Dad eventually blamed "chicken" as the +culprit behind my development of cancer. Although the doctors assured +him that my love affair with fried chicken had played no part in +germinating my disease, he still "hated the stuff"; as with all +unreasonable, unexplainable, occurrences the desire to find a reason is +a fiery quest, which unfortunately is not extinguished by merely +pointing one's finger of blame on a subject. Only acceptance can wash +away the flames born of despair. + +The morning was fine, with the exception of the knots in my stomach. +We drove to the clinic buildings, finally parking in the Damon car +ramp. From the garage, it was easy to get to the various buildings, as +an elevator ran directly into the subway system of the clinic. When +the doors of the elevator parted we no longer needed to pause to read +the informative signs posted on the facing subway wall; we were +acquainted with the network of intersecting lines and headed right, +through glass doors and followed the aging, dimly lit corridor until, a +block or so down, we met with the fastidious decor of the Mayo +building. Still we maintained our course, past a fleet of elevators +and its waiting patrons, a pharmacy and bookstore, and a corridor which +sloped slightly upward leading to the Plummer Building; we covered more +ground skirting a hallway which allowed a brief glimpse of sunshine +through vertical windows in the wall, and plants began to appear, +growing fiercely toward the light. They were scattered in artistically +positioned containers, guarding the final corridor which led to the +Hilton Building in a stately, yet beautifully satisfying manner. The +Hilton Building itself had even more plants in the waiting room of Desk +C; indeed some of which were better described as trees, noting the +vigor with which they seemed to soar skyward. If only I had such luck +with plants, I thought, seating myself on a fiery orange chair. + +Blood tests weren't so bad, unless my vein didn't want to cooperate, in +which case, they fell into my "tolerable" category; although I seldom +uttered a word, pain did not thrill me and I suspected that, underneath +the person labeled "a brave little girl" was a very yellow human being. +I knew it would not alter a thing if I professed to being +"lemon-yellow"; life coexisted with pain, and if you felt pain, well, +that was life... but if you didn't, chances were, you were dead. +Everything had its alternative, and considering the uncertainty riding +piggyback on my shoulders, I felt that I had only one route to pursue, +even if it included pain. I didn't consciously think about my future, +despite the promise of a cure after the siege, it seemed more +appropriate to dream and take each blow of reality as it was dealt, +without thinking at all. + +The blood test accomplished, we left the brightly painted, plant +infested waiting room and retraced our steps to the Mayo building, at +which point we milled about the elevators until finding one which was +not already protesting its capacity. It was a busy place. + +When we reached our floor, excusing ourselves around those who had +packed themselves tightly in the elevator rather than opting for +another "flight," we found an excess of space in the form of an immense +waiting room. It had the snob appeal of a library; no one spoke, and +few looked up from their magazines except when the nurse would stand by +the front desk to read her list of names, after which, a slight +transformation of the waiting room would take place as the selected +patients strode up to her. Within seconds, the room again reflected +studious tranquility and heads sank below the horizon of newspapers or +books. In certain situations humans were so predictable. Here they +were so reserved, so introverted, so unapproachable that smiles were +left untaken simply because they were not seen; if one existed in such +a location, he would believe that cordiality was dead, severed from the +world. I looked around and wondered whether anyone would change his +disinterested stare if a loud sneeze issued forth. I doubted it. +And with that, my name was called. + +Forming a troupe of several people the nurse escorted us to individual +dressing compartments and we were issued hospital gowns. I had been +instructed to undress to the waist only, since my test was a chest +X-ray, and then wait in the claustrophobic booth until further notice. +I finally unlatched the door and sat in the corner seat of the booth +with the door agape, however, disliking my inability to see the nurse +should she have happened by my door; I did not wish to be forgotten in +the maze of hallways and felt more secure with a view. I had to know +"what was going on"; blindness would be paranoia in its highest form +for me. + +Finally my name was called and I popped my head inquiringly out of the +door, hoping that I could attach a face to the voice I'd heard. A +technician in a blue jumpsuit was waiting in the intersecting hallway, +and I followed him to a bench where I sat until they were ready to take +my X-ray. It seemed such a dismal place; there were so many doors, and +so few lights. + +A door whipped open. "Lauren Isaacson?" I stood up and filed after +the woman who led me into a dreary room that somehow reminded me of a +bomb shelter. "Put your chin against the bar, here, shoulders forward, +and take a deep breath." at which point she ran behind a heavy wall and +peered out at me, continuing, "hold it now... hold it" Click! Rumble! +"Keep holding..." The machine silenced, rendering its five +photographs of my lung onto the X-ray plate. "Breathe...." The woman +was so businesslike; I wondered how often she repeated those words... +I wondered if she said them in her sleep. + +"You can go get dressed, but don't leave the dressing room." "Okay," I +answered. I stepped reluctantly from the armored room, unsure which +direction the room was, and throwing caution to the wind ambled to the +left, and then to the right, and amazingly, I found my room. What if +the door won't unlock? I thought, appraising the space beneath the +door and floor; I did not have the best luck with locks, and remembered +many a time when, on a vacation, I could not succeed in entering the +motel room after scouting for a can of pop. Mom or Dad would always +let me in from their side of the door, while I was still fumbling with +the key. The door opened easily and I signed with relief; from the +inside I latched the door, still wary of the lock and key, and +proceeded to dress. Several minutes passed, then a click from the loud +speaker broke the silence. "Lauren Isaacson... you are free to go." +In other words, it was breakfast time and I galloped from my booth like +a horse from the starting gate of a race. + +Hungry though I was, when I seriously began to attack my plate, +nervousness uttered a complaint which I was eventually obliged to +acknowledge; it was just as well; my stomach was not adjusting to the +idea that it had to get back to work, and strongly repulsed a large +meal. Even my small breakfast conjured rebellion and I sat on the edge +of my chair, sweating and quite nauseated, while Mom finished her plate +of food. I tried not to watch her eat; the sight of food, the smell of +food... it was everywhere when I felt sick. Leaving the restaurant I +found the fresh air to be a measurable improvement; at last, when my +nausea subsided, the visions of food danced from my mind and haunted me +no more. + +It was beautiful outside; autumn was reaching its peak of glory in +Rochester and Mom and I poked about the streets, waiting for our early +afternoon appointment at the Curie Pavilion. There was a slight chill +in the air, despite the ample sunshine and our light coats provided the +warmth we needed as we kicked through the leaves. It was always cooler +than in Moline, it seemed; fall had not quite arrived at home. I was +glad; I didn't want to miss the color of the oaks, the acorns and the +busy squirrels around our woods either; I wanted to take it in, to wrap +its vision in my memory so that it could never be erased... autumn at +home... would have to wait another five days. + +Mom watched me with feigned happiness; she looked at my hair, a +flowing, healthy mass of gold which cascaded about my shoulders, and +felt sickened that it would soon be replaced by a wig. She knew that +my hair was my foremost joy in the spectrum of physical traits and +would be a difficult loss. Hair is vanity, to be sure, yet that +observation counts little to the individual who must bear his bald +reality with courage. Appearance does not make the person, but to say +that it does not matter is a falsity. + +I had remembered to take my camera, a small instamatic, which was an +early summer purchase and my latest, greatest hobby. At various +intervals Mom would snatch it from my hand and position me in front of +a glorious tree or upon a rock, capturing the moment with a click and a +smile. Later we would look at the photos and the smiles, yet remember +the trauma of our thoughts; the deceptive faces in the photos did not +fool our eyes, though they painted appeal in the visual world. The +hair, the glow, the newly gained energy... all would be changed by the +time the pictures were developed; we would be seeing the past and, I +felt, by that time, the past would prove a better reality than the +present. + +It was time to go back to the clinic. Curie Pavilion, a cylindrical +building from the perspective of an outsider, was located near the +Damon parking ramp, and across the street from the Mayo building. +Actually, from the street view, Curie was only a glassed in elevator. +We entered the curious building and pushed the elevator button; we had +no choice of destinations; the only way to go was "down." Once below +ground, we emerged from the elevator and plunged through a set of heavy +glass doors into a waiting room. A bust of Madame Curie was observing +her flock of patients from one side of the room. We strode up to the +desk, relinquished our appointment card and took a seat. The people +were quiet and grim; it was sometimes difficult to discern the patient +from the relative in the unhappy place; worry pervaded the atmosphere. +I wondered what sort of fate I had accepted for myself; I wondered what +joy could possibly exist for these people, what hardships they had +endured, what expectations they possessed. + +"Lauren Isaacson?..." We approached the desk; I smiled to break the +tension, to soften the blow. We followed the nurse into a room and +were told that the doctor would be around shortly. Everything was +white or polished chrome. Sterile. Antiseptic. Professional. + +I was seated on the examining table, swinging my legs, when Dr. E. +strolled in the room. "Hello, Lorn" he drawled, "Mrs. Isaacson..." +nodding to my mom. He spoke with us for a brief period, asking about +my health and referring to his clipboard of papers to tell of my "good" +blood test results. Everything seemed to be in order. "Well... we'll +get a nurse in here to get your IV started, and then I'll see you again +tomorrow morning." "All right," I said. + +As he had promised, a nurse came in, shutting the door behind her, and +produced a syringe. "This is a shot to help keep your nausea down a +bit," she said, motioning for me to unclasp my pants and bend over. +What a mosquito bite, I thought, pulling up my pants. + +Shortly afterward another nurse appeared bearing IV solution, tubes, +syringes, needles... the works. I laid down as she strapped a +tourniquet around my arm and began her search for a vein. It was a +slow, meticulous search, which necessitated a smaller needle; she knew +she would never probe the large one into any of my poor, tiny veins. +The nurse opened a drawer, producing a needle which had plastic tabs on +either side of it; "This is called a butterfly needle," she told me. +"Butterfly..." I echoed, peering gratefully at the tiny needle with +plastic wings. She drew the tourniquet tightly about my arm once +again, this time hastily securing a usable vein and taping the needle +in place; wasting no time, the IV bag of solution was hung from a pole +above my head, into which a syringe was emptied and consequently +diluted. Immediately I began to taste the liquid running through my +vein, but I subdued my discontent, hoping that the sensation would +disappear; it did not, however, until the drug had filtered into my +system completely. As the bag of solution gradually coursed through my +veins, slowly, due to the small size of the needle, the nurse +re-entered the room to watch its progress. When it had emptied, she +raised the bag from its pole, removed the tube connected to the needle +in my arm and opened two syringes; hooking them, one at a time, into +the butterfly unit, she squeezed the drugs from their containers. My +vein which accepted the drugs felt icy, as if a frigid breeze had been +directed on my hand from an internal source; an involuntary shudder +passed through my body. + +"Okay... you're all finished," the nurse said, smiling widely. She +pulled the needle swiftly from my hand, pressing a square of alcohol +saturated gauze to the arm, then wrapping more gauze tightly around the +needle "wound" to prevent further bleeding. I found that pressure +applied to the area helped immeasurably to ward off bruises and I would +therefore often hold my hand or arm in a vice-like grip for several +minutes after a needle had been removed, thereby lessening the chances +of a gruesome bruise and its accompanying discomfort. Thus, I held my +hand tightly with the other and slid off the table as my Mom stood to +leave. "What are those?" I asked the nurse, pointing to two white +canisters made of cardboard. "Those are in case you get sick... do you +want to take one with you?" "No... I feel okay so far. I'll see you +tomorrow," I replied, happy that one injection was over, yet realizing +the fight had just begun for me. + +Cancer invited numerous battlegrounds and INCALCULABLE wars. +Researchers were plagued by their hope to unmask the potion which would +be the cure, the precious liquid or pill which would purge cancer from +our bodies and crush its memory forever. Doctors invested time and +energy to diagnose the most beneficial methods of treatment, +prescribing the horrifying potent drugs to their patients while +promising better days to come. And the nurses were great. Many of +them were quite young, beautiful girls. They didn't seem to mind their +daily business of poking and jabbing, despite the occasional "wailers" +which could be heard, protesting the needle prick or the mere thought +of it, from somewhere down the hall. They walked about, wearing +pleasant, genuine smiles, as if their appointment in life was a joyful +one; dealing out poison with a steady hand, trusting unquestionably its +supposed ulterior motive of killing cancer cells and saving lives. + +And yet, battered lives were everywhere, scaling all age groups, races +and religions, for cancer knew no barrier and bore no prejudice; cancer +took the weak the strong, the indifferent, the proud, the cheerful, the +embittered... it took all, greedily, in an unquenchable hunger. Some +it took slowly, savoring each minute, while others it consumed rapidly, +stealing life with a voracious appetite; still others, a paltry few, +were ignored and allowed to linger awhile on earth, facing the question +of death while embracing the essence of life, until another hand +embalmed their existence. + +Cancer searched for one's true friends; it could bolster some +relationships and destroy or alienate others, for the word was as +malignant as the disease and struck fear in the stoutest minds and the +truest hearts. Its scars were inflicted on the patient, his relatives, +his friends... and its wounds were deep, blackened by the apprehension +of death; a will to survive could challenge the meek while the ultimate +humility scoffed at another's pride until it bent into humble +disquietude. Inner wars evoked change; in this area cancer posed great +opportunities, for it was the pirate of both time and the quality of +life, and if one neglected to acknowledge these as life's greatest +assets, he was living valueless and blind; money, power, prestige... +vanity... were rendered obsolete worries or gained a new perspective +for those who saw the need to change and courageously sought that end, +whether through insight or the forced enlightenment of unavoidable +death. + +Secure in my values, cancer itself could not crush or debilitate my +inner self; it clarified myself, bringing forth both fortitude and +frailty, defining my character; I was who I always had been, +emotionally enlarged and with a keener sense of awareness. The +physical battle with cancer is enough without also having to struggle +to regain or develop one's values and relationships; I was fortunate, +indeed, to be packing the right ammunition to the front line of battle. + +We dismissed Curie and the subway, ascending to our car's level in the +parking ramp. The sun shone brightly through the ramp's open +construction of cement and steel. I squinted instinctively and turned +my head away. + +Once in our kitchenette, I turned on the T.V. and stretched out on the +couch. The drapes were drawn shut and I preferred them to remain so; +natural light never seemed to enhance the appearance of a motel room +and lent the furniture and other appointments a rather brash, gaudy +flavor. Light brought forth defects with indisputable accuracy; as the +drugs flowed through my body, I knew that the awaited irregularities of +treatment would soon parade victorious and unabashed about the +domicile, and out of sheer discord, I too, would shun the sun's +scathing glance. My only wish was to blend into the shadows and lie +completely unobserved. + +The TV was, at once, a blaring disturbance and a welcome distraction. +It helped pass the time, but also reminded me of the slow rate at which +time was drifting away. Between soap operas and game shows, +advertisements about detergent that actually conditioned one's hands, +and gasoline; "Ping, ping, ping, Leonard..." filled the afternoon. +Suddenly I realized that my first post-treatment symptom was beginning +its onslaught. Nausea woke my deadened senses and I sat up, nervously +alert, trying to decide whether I should make my painful exodus to the +bathroom or stay seated on the sofa a brief while longer; sometimes the +mere sight of a gaping toilet bowl was enough to prompt my nausea to +overflow, and picturing the sight in my mind, I decided to put off the +inevitable until I was certain I could wait no more. + +As it happened, within minutes I could wait no more and ran headlong +for the bathroom, emptying what little remained in my stomach from +breakfast into the toilet's wide jowls; it was a small offering, yet +peering at it wrenched my stomach's deepest confines and I vomited +again and again, flushing the awful stuff from view. + +Relaxing as best I could, I exhaled and sunk back on my haunches, then +slowly shifted until my legs were crossed. Resting one elbow on my +knee, I cupped my hand under my chin and listed to the right. Mom +stood outside the bathroom door, worried and helpless. "Can I help +you?" she asked cautiously. "No" I said into the palm of my hand, not +wanting to move, knowing the surges within had just begun. She brought +me a glass half-filled with 7-Up, which I accepted gratefully. The +putrid taste in my mouth was masked after bathing it in soda, yet my +stomach did not allow it to be digested, and I quickly relinquished my +meager sampling to the stool. Water affected my stomach in the same +way; nothing was accepted. + +Soon I was retching violently and my stomach, long since devoid of all +possible contents, began hurling its digestive acids up my throat, +followed by bile, bitter and green, which burned like fire. It seemed +to me that I would turn my stomach inside-out or vomit my intestines if +the battle did not end. I felt poisoned, as if every living cell was +fighting to live and dispose of the vicious drugs which were entrapped +in my veins. + +Until 9:00 p.m. my stomach raged, while I bleated and hacked loudly, +uncontrollably, wracked by the seething nausea of my body's turbid +rebellion. Then as if the effects of the drugs had ceased warring +against me, I was able to safely withdraw from the bathroom and fall +into the enveloping softness of the couch. I felt exhausted, and +extremely wretched and demeaned; such futility, such utter +vulnerability, I had never before experienced. To think that this +abuse was welcomed seemed an incredible madness, especially with the +voice echoing, "It's for your own good!" in the back of my mind. + +I was able to eat a hard-boiled egg before going to bed, which Mom +gladly prepared. Her face was drawn into symmetrical lines of pure +sympathy which she could not conceal, and was distraught because of her +inability to alleviate my misery; although she could not share the +physical burden with me, I felt that she bore emotional pain beyond +that which I took upon my brow. She wanted always to do "more," yet +her presence alone was, for me, more than enough. + +The following morning I ate no breakfast, considering it would be an +imminent folly so soon before my treatment was administered. Instead I +got dressed and flipped on the set to stare at it blankly while Mom +crunched delicately through her bowl of corn flakes. The toaster +coughed up a piece of toast. She rose to fetch it from the machine, +buttering it as the scent assailed my nostrils. "I wish you could eat +something, honey," Mom said, reluctantly biting into the buttered +slice. "Yeh..." I dreamed idly for a second, then replied, "I better +not though." I didn't want to make a public spectacle of myself should +the anti-nausea shot not take effect. + +Our motel had a courtesy car service which we decided to use; by +notifying the main desk in advance, the service was almost always +available when we needed it, free of charge. The motel had both a car +and a van, although generally the van toted us to the clinic and back +again; thus, hastening to the lobby, we caught the van as other +passengers hoisted themselves into their seats. The van droned into +motion, taking us past residential streets and avenues until the clinic +buildings grew above the trees with an air of infinite superiority. +Pulling in front of the Mayo building, the driver coasted slowly +forward, awaiting the closest parking place, and finally plunged toward +the curb as a taxi drove away; then, braking quickly, he opened his +door the moment the van stopped and dashed to unclasp the sliding door. +We stood, each clumsily jumping to the curb as the driver supportingly +grasped our arm. The door rolled shut with a bang. "See you later," +the driver remarked as he swung himself into his seat. We entered the +gray marble building and wove our way through the mass of people to the +elevators. After watching and waiting several minutes, we finally +found an elevator which could be persuaded to take us down to the +subway level; in a building with nearly 20 floors, most people, it +seemed, desired to travel up from the main lobby. + +The traffic dwindled as we approached Curie. A long subway tunnel +connected it to the mainstream of clinic activity, yet Curie itself was +singularly remote from all else, as if, being the nucleus of cancer +treatment and related disorders, it was purposely kept at a safe +distance. Following the dim corridor to its end we met with a set of +glass doors and admitted ourselves into the waiting room. I sat down, +drained of energy; the room had not changed, yet I had. I no longer +wore the smile of agitated insecurity and ignorance of the previous +day. My smiles were only for people whose eyes met my own in a chance +union. While Madame Curie looked over her patients, the receiving body +of radiation or chemotherapy, she seemed to me a menace of happiness +though carved of stone, for upon her death, she bequeathed no true +wealth... her offering bore a great price for its recipients. Indeed, +some "beneficiaries" paid with their lives upon receipt of Curie's +great gift. "But it's for your own good," the voice echoed, pushing +madness aside. If I did not believe the voice, I heeded it; perhaps it +formed my sole resolve to continue, and to endure. + +Once inside a private room, my anti-nausea shot was administered, +followed by the injection of therapeutic drugs. Dr. E. appeared only +momentarily, yet Mom followed him out of the room to question him +beyond earshot. I later learned that, tormented of heart, Mom had +asked the oncologist if he thought she should quit her job to stay home +and care for me. "By no means!" he answered directly. "Quitting your +job of teaching might make Lauren think that you have given up hope. +You must continue your lives as normally as possible." She nodded with +renewed understanding and re-entered my room. The IV had nearly run +its course, and the nurse stood by, ready to remove the needle as soon +as the solution had emptied into my veins. + +"Is it okay if I take one of those?" I asked, pointing to the white +canisters aligned neatly on top of the counter. "Sure," the nurse +replied, handing one to my Mom. My stomach was already plotting its +rebellion, and I wanted some security should an impulse overthrow my +will before we returned to our motel. As long as I did not involve +myself in conversation, and inhaled only short breaths of air, perhaps +my qualms would subside. "There... all done," the nurse proclaimed, +wrapping my hand in gauze. "Bye," I said grabbing the bandaged hand +tightly; "See you tomorrow." + +Mom and I traced our earlier footsteps back to the Mayo building and +there phoned the motel. Several minutes passed, then the courtesy van +rolled up to the front doors. A doorman issued us out of the building +with a friendly, "Have a nice day, now." That man was the epitome of +flamboyance; he struck everyone as a neighbor rather than a stranger. +He must have loved people, for people were the essential ingredient in +his position at the clinic. A genuine smile, a fresh hello; he too, +doled out medicine, and maybe helped to ease a few aching hearts. + +I was grateful to be able to collapse upon the couch and watch the T.V. +from my prone position; I took no interest in books or crafts, for they +seemed too taxing and exhaustive in my condition. Rest was my comfort +between nausea and weakness; I welcomed nothing more than I welcomed +the thought of quiet repose. + +As I laid on the couch, the afternoon peeled away, passing much as +Monday had done. It suddenly occurred to me that I felt tense, +especially in my jaw, and curious, sat up to work my mouth. I was not +nervous, nor had I need to be, yet the jaw clamped tighter still. I +placed my hand on either side of my face to gently knead the apparently +cramped muscles. "This is crazy," I thought. "A Charlie horse in my +face!" I rose from the sofa, searching my mind for a reasonable +solution to this dilemma. "I'll brush my teeth..." I flew into the +bathroom, squeezing paste on my brush, and began to scrub viciously. +Nothing improved. I looked at myself in the mirror just as a +transformation took place. Having no control over my jaw, the bottom +row of teeth pulled to the left, straining against its natural +alignment and audibly cracking as it contorted my entire face. "Mom... +I think I've got a problem." She came and looked at me, her eyes +widening at the spectacle before her. "I can't control my jaw"; the +obvious statement I blurted out of the side of my mouth made us +envision the only possible cause we could ascertain; LOCKJAW. + +Mom dialed the motel's front desk, stating firmly that her little girl +had to be driven to Emergency right away, then grabbing her purse, her +only essential, pushed me out of the door. We ran to the lobby where a +driver was ready and waiting. "How embarrassing," I thought, looking +down to shield my face from view. "A pimple on your face is nothing!" + +Scrambling into the car, our transit was soon in progress. Meanwhile, +my jaw had taken on a personality of its own. As it had formerly +brought my bottom teeth to the left, it now forced its way to the +right. Not content, it again pushed to the left. This continued all +the way en route to the hospital, while I was wondering if I had come +in contact with a contaminated needle and Mom calculated how soon I +would die! + +Once at the Emergency unit, Mom tried to give the doctors and nurses a +coherent explanation of my situation as we saw it happen, as well as to +alert them to my enlistment in the chemotherapy program, while they +stared at me with disbelief. They nodded in response to the +information, then allowed us to sit in a room by ourselves. A nurse +came to the door, briefly surveying the scene, and wordlessly departed. +I looked questioningly at my mom who shrugged her shoulders; "Maybe +she had the wrong room..." + +The time crept by while my mouth humored itself with further +acrobatics. Bored with the lurch-to-the-right, lurch-to-the-left +routine, it opened wide, beyond my greatest expectations, and remained +thus for several minutes. I was lucky that there were no flies buzzing +about; I could not have impeded their entry except with a rapid flick +of the hand. A nurse looked in, then darted away. + +I sat beside Mom, my mouth poised in the shape of a horrendous yawn and +began to see the humor in my predicament. Open mouthed, it was +impossible to smile, but my eyes began to glisten and I let go of a +gutteral "haw...haw...haw." I must look like "Surprise," impersonated, +I thought, my amusement gaining momentum. + +Another nurse stuck her head inside the room. Mom glanced at her and +she too, sped away. Mom grew angry; no one helped, they just came to +see the spectacle. I was a side-show and could almost hear them +talking excitedly among themselves... "Boy, that hit and run was sure +gruesome, wasn't it?" "Yeh, but did you get a load of that kid in 2C?" +"Ha Ha Ha Ha." So far most of the "peepers" only saw my profile. +"Hey, Mom," I said, throwing the words carefully, "The next time +someone comes to the door to look, how'bout if I give 'em a full +frontal view?" She turned to look at me as my yawn slowly relaxed to +facilitate yet another position. + +This time my mouth puckered to form a tight "O." I looked at Mom whose +worry was finally overruled by humor, and she burst out laughing. "I'm +sorry," she said, "but you look so funny..." I didn't mind, for I was +laughing heartily now, issuing strange "hoo hoo hoos" into the room +through my tunneled lips. "Here we are," I thought, "laughing like +lunatics, when I might have Lockjaw!" The doctors, however, didn't +appear to be concerned, for there was still no word or antidote, and an +hour or more had elapsed. All I desired was an ounce of relief; my jaw +was incredibly sore from the forced contractions, and a pain pill would +have brought immense satisfaction, yet I could merely wait, and try to +relax. + +Finally after countless repetitions of rights, lefts, ooohs and ahhhs, +a doctor strolled in the room with a red liquid. I had, by then, given +up my idea that I had contracted lockjaw and looked hopefully toward +the man as he approached. The contractions had slowed in frequency as +the hours passed, yet my mind still begged for relief. + +"Well, we finally figured out that your muscle spasms were the result +of the anti-nausea drug that had been administered to you; drink this +and I'm sure you will not have any more problems... just don't let +them give you any more of those shots!" + +I took the red liquid and drank it down; it burned like fire. I +thought of my stomach, hoping that my draught would not infuriate it to +the point of plotting a revolt; I had been lucky through the afternoon, +having experienced no symptoms of nausea during the facial contortions. +Reflecting upon this favorable aspect, I realized the hours could have +proven much worse, and was relieved that I had ignored my stomach's +plea for breakfast. + +The following morning I departed for Curie with an aching jaw; it was +minutely reminiscent of the feeling I would acquire after chewing a +large wad of bubble gum. + +Once at Curie we promptly notified the nurses and Dr. E. of my unusual +episode of the previous afternoon. Dr. E. nodded his head slowly, his +mouth working nervously. "That drug will sometimes have that effect on +patients, but it happens so seldom, I didn't want to mention it to +you." "Gee, thanks," I mused, silently. Personally, I would have +liked to know all the facts. "Oh, well," I thought, "maybe it was no +big deal, but to us it was worth a good scare and a couple of laughs." + +A nurse came in and shut the door, instructing me to drop my pants. +"But I'm not supposed to have shots any more," I protested. "This +isn't a shot," she said. "It's a suppository...for nausea," she added. +"Oh!" I swallowed my distaste for the idea, dropped my pants, bent +over and took my medicine. + +By the end of the week we were fairly used to the routine. We +discovered that the driver of the courtesy car would let us out and +pick us up in front of Curie, which saved my energy. For security, I +learned to carry my white cardboard "barf bucket" to and from Curie. +Unless I was lucky, I would throw up all afternoon and into the +evening; we therefore devised a way to make the bathroom comfortable by +spreading a towel on the floor and placing a pillow nearby on which I +could lay between seiges. Near 8:00 p.m. I could usually eat an +egg,toast or a potato. Mom helped me clean up and dress for bed, then +I would attempt to sleep until I had to wake and repeat the process. + +After the fifth treatment, Dr. E. came into the room to set up my next +date for receiving chemotherapy. My particular schedule was to appear +approximately every six weeks for five days of treatment; each patient +had his own ritual in which the drugs and their dosage, as well as the +duration they were received, were as uniquely determined as his type of +cancer and its extent. Chemotherapy incurred numerous variables, and +the reaction depended on the drugs administered and the condition of +the patient. I was amazed to discover that some recipients did not +lose their hair or become nauseous in the least. Some even gained +weight and carried on relatively normal lives, working and attending +social functions, and basically thrilled they were alive; they +complained only of their excessive rendezvous with needles. Although +my effects were far from ideal, I was relieved that I was able to +receive my treatments at Curie as an out-patient; free from the +hospital. One's morale is better maintained, even if the breeze is +felt upon one's face only to and from the clinic. + +Dr. E. and my Mom conferred over a calendar, finally agreeing upon a +date lying within the six week bounds. We would receive a packet +containing specific appointment times in the mail shortly before our +next visit. The doctor returned to my room as the nurse was wrapping +my hand. After exchanging a few pleasantries of conversation, he +sobered and said, "You'll have to buy a wig as soon as you can once you +are home..." Hair loss would not be a gradual affair after having +such a drug and his warning was not intended to be brushed off; I +nodded that I would comply. "I'll see you in six weeks then," he +drawled, and allowed us to depart from the room at our leisure. I took +another white canister from the counter top and we stepped from the +cubicle. + +Mom had already stowed our bags in the car for our departure, so upon +our return to the motel, we merely inspected the room once more for +articles we might have overlooked and then made our way to the car for +our homeward journey. I was seated beside Mom, outfitted with two +white canisters, while she packed a sack of apples as an energy booster +through the seven hour drive. Knowing that we would soon be wrapped in +our own blankets improved my spirits to a great degree, despite +haphazard retching sprees and pervasive weakness. + +Toward evening my nausea subsided. We pulled into a rest stop and Mom +stretched her legs. The sun hung low in the sky, undecided as to its +course, casting shadows from the nearby benches and trees. I watched +my mom as she walked about, surveying the fields under the suspended +ball of fire, and then strolled back to the car. She suddenly seized +upon an idea and opened the trunk, removing my camera from one of the +bags. "I want to take a picture of you... your hair's so shiny." She +positioned me on a rock and captured on film a being ready to +metamorphacize; the changes had already begun internally, for bereft +of energy, no smile escaped my ashen eyes or crossed my weary face. +Soon my hair, shining in the sun's slanted rays, would be gone,too. +Lives change not only by days, but by minutes as well. I slid off the +rock and we climbed into our car once again; by late evening the +streets of Moline were beneath us. It was good to be home. + +Apart from the presence of drugs, I was able to eat tremendously for +the first few days. The grayness in my complexion was fanned into a +spark, and the return of my smile (which seemed to parallel my +homecoming) added a small glow to my features. + +My stomach muscles, which had for five days, been exceedingly +over-worked, gave up their tenderness, and the needle marks +disappeared. For two and a half days life leaned toward normalcy. +It seemed a ridiculous idea to purchase a wig; as yet, my hair +appeared fully intact. + +The weather had been magnificent upon my return, with autumn's splendor +at its peak. The skies were flawlessly blue, the deep sapphire blue of +mountain lakes, and the oak trees sent down their wealth of acorns, +grown ripe in the heat of long sunny days. The leaves were yellow, +golden and red... the harvest was being gathered from the fields, and +gourds were pulled from the vines. I rested in a lawn chair on the +carpet of grass, while the northern breezes cooled the sun's touch on +my face and wafted through my hair. I ran my fingers through its +length; feeling the resistance of a snarl, I applied more pressure. It +loosened and I glanced at my hand with the dull realization that I was +losing my hair. Inter-woven between my fingers were countless strands +of golden brown. I opened my palm to the breeze and let the winds +scatter them on the ground. I gathered my hair together, draping it +over one shoulder, and inadvertently harvested another golden handful. +"It's happening," I thought. Rising from my chair I slowly climbed up +three cement steps and entered through the front door, then threaded my +way to the bathroom. My hair was detaching itself from my scalp as if +embarking on a massive exodus to some other destination. I opened the +medicine cabinet and extracted a comb, thinking that I would remove the +loose shafts of hair to avoid snags and major entanglement. + +I combed, peering into the glass before me and looked on helplessly as +my scalp began to take shape between the strands of hair, and a +circular bald spot formed on my crown. Setting the comb on the sink's +porcelain edge, I turned from myself to find my parents, who were busy +outside. They felt sickened at the horrifyingly malevolent blow which +the drugs had bestowed on me, but there was little to be said, and +nothing to be done. It was no surprise, yet the reality shocked the +eyes and afflicted the heart with pity. + +Feeling emotionally removed from the situation, I decided to save their +eyes further anguish and re-entered the house, taking a seat in the +kitchen. I was not particularly sad, nor was I angry or embittered; +instead I was entranced, and oddly fascinated by the sudden change in +my appearance. Reminded of a certain tree which, in autumn, boasts its +splendor for many days and then suddenly abandons each of its leaves +almost simultaneously, creating a barren mass of timber in one day; I +felt certain that all of my hair would fall out by evening; I had never +dreamed such a transformation could occur. It was happening so fast. + +Mom came into the kitchen and studied me with shadowed eyes. Within +two hours, the shine of my hair had been replaced by a deadness, a gray +lifelessness, which prevailed over both the detached and sagging +strands of hair as well as the healthier group whose roots as yet +remained firmly implanted in their polluted ground. The invisible +reaper moved stealthily through its crop, mowing random stalks with a +keen-edged blade and littering the malignant, gray harvest aimlessly +and chaotically above their once-healthy roots. + +The sheared strands slid down my head, and converged into a heavily +inter-woven mass of hair at the nape of my neck. It was matted and +thatched, the dead clogged with the dead and dying. It was impossible +to restore order with a comb; the only hope rested in the jaws of a +pair of scissors. Mom took the clotted mass in her hands and clipped +the length to my shoulders, discarding the ashen-gold into the waste +basket. "Hair couldn't be dead," I thought,"but I have just witnessed +it die." Why else would hair suddenly lose its shine and lapse into a +gray-sheened, death-like shadow? Cut hair reflected life; my hair had +been poisoned, robbed of its shine. It was different than the curl +pressed between the pages of my childhood memories; no book wanted +these lifeless strands, nor would any memory desire to recall them. + +After supper Mom and I dashed to the shopping center to look for an +appropriate wig. I wore a handkerchief about my head in an attempt to +conceal my rapidly balding scalp, for baldness was not as easily +accepted in a girl as in a boy; some men shaved their heads at the +onslaught of summer heat; while others did likewise for sports. + +When we arrived at the wig department, it was obvious that we had +waited too long. I selected several styles that appealed to me, and +removed my scarf, to sit self-consciously before the mirror as the +customers filed past. Some glanced curiously at me, wondering about my +noticeable sparsity of hair; I now had sympathetically few hairs left, +and my part revealed an inch-wide swath of white skin. Donning a wig, +I studied myself with amusement. The wig had so much hair. I never +had that much hair. I lifted it off, replacing it quickly with another +and adjusting the new one back and forth. I wanted something which was +as modest and natural as possible. Why did they all have so much hair? +This one stood two inches off my head; it felt like a hat. I tried +another. Not bad. How about a blond one? Well, it was worth a +chuckle or two. + +I finally decided on a shoulder length wig which sported bangs and a +slight curl. It was promptly boxed while I replaced my handkerchief +around my head. I wasn't bald... yet. I'd have plenty of time to wear +the wig. It was a relief to escape the peopled store. The wig would +prove to be my ally and my foe in the months ahead, being both a +concealment of the truth and an object of mockery and bewilderment. + +The next morning I woke to find hair on my pillow, and rising to look +at myself in the mirror, saw plainly that I could consider myself bald. +No hair remained except for a few stubborn wisps which clung fiercely +to my scalp like December leaves that refuse to fall even after +winter's icy blasts. My lashes, brows... everything... had been +depopulated. The mirror seemed to reflect incredible youth and +fragility. Painfully thin and hairless, I resembled the gaunt and +disciplined Buddhist student. Withdrawing from the mirror, I went in +search of a pair of scissors to bob my wisps to a more reasonable +length of one inch, then took my wig from its styrofoam head and placed +it on my own. I peered at myself with disgust; "It couldn't be much +worse," I thought, and headed toward the kitchen for breakfast. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 87 + +Chapter 13 +Year at Home and Diary + + + +"Chemotherapy ravaged the body and tainted the mind just as the cancer +against which its debilitating powers were supposedly aimed." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +Year At Home And Diary + + + + +Due to my poor and unreliable health, I never re-entered junior high; +it would have been both risky and impractical. I would have forever +been involved with past homework because of frequent absenteeism, as +well as further depleting my energy level through normal, daily +activities. Individuals having good health were often taxed at the +day's end; I knew I could not have kept the steady pace that school +demanded of those desiring to succeed. + +Standing 5 ft., 8 ins. I weighed, at times as little as 75 pounds. My +eating was sporadic; on certain days I wouldn't recall having eaten at +all. When I did eat, my nauseousness would span 20 minutes to several +hours. Sometimes my only relief would come after vomiting, although +that seemed a rather drastic and unpleasant measure, I found this +voluntary vomiting to be more agreeable than sitting motionless in a +chair for the entire evening to humor my stomach, when the eventual +result was to be the same anyway. I was soon quite practiced at +manipulating my stomach, as well as determining whether my nauseousness +would irreversibly result in oral elimination or if it would finally +subside without an event. + +Ideally I was to eat several small meals throughout the passage of the +day; this would better allow my stomach to process food, as well as +give my body the sustaining energy it so desperately needed. I was not +overly thrilled at this proposition, as eating seemed only an open +invitation to sickness and discomfort. To facilitate my obedience to a +greater degree, my dad offered a monetary reward for drinking a quart +of milk each day. I accepted the offer, yet remained wary of food. +Although there was nothing which did not, at one time or another, turn +my stomach, I discovered that certain foods disagreed less than others. +One of the "sure things" was bread... the more refined, the better. +So called "health foods" were always a mistake, as were foods rich in +fat or sugar, such as salads tossed with mayonnaise or pies of any +concoction. Oddly enough, I seemed to be able to eat cake; I +determined that this was due to its bread-like consistency. Perhaps +other successes such as my aptitude for chocolate, were based more on +luck than digestibility, yet chocolate was eaten quite frequently +throughout the year in which chemotherapy treatments were administered. + +My eating habits and general health depended on the schedule of +chemotherapy. Directly following my last treatment in the five day +series, I could eat voraciously, (or so I thought in comparison to my +usual appetite). Then, after three or four days, I would again return +to "normal," fostering nausea after each morsel of food. Needless to +say, my lust for food disintegrated upon the arrival of nausea and I +had to force myself to eat, which quickly became tiresome, for I +realized that only sheer luck would save me from sickness. +Furthermore, I actually became weary after a meal accompanied by +stomach complaints; my body, I rationalized, was trying to relax itself +to dispose of nausea, or the nausea caused such inner chaos that my +body wore itself out during the conflict. + +Soon after the chemotherapy treatments had commenced, my sister offered +her assistance with the latest family concern and expressed interest in +monitoring my progress and general state of health. Through mutual +agreement, a plan materialized in which, on our way home from +Rochester, Mom and I should stop at Sharon's house after about five and +a half hours of driving, where I would then remain for three or four +days while my parents were at work. In this way, I was not alone when +I felt the weakest, and could easily obtain help if I needed it. +Saturday morning my parents would bring me home. + +I enjoyed the post-treatment arrangement, for I had always liked +spending time with my sister and, at a distance of 80 miles, few were +the occasions in which this was possible, especially since she had two +young children and a home of her own to maintain. Although the +circumstances under which I stayed with her were not the most +appealing, we still found time to shop on good days or amuse each other +through the situations that life itself readily provided. Several most +unforgettable hours were spent laughing hysterically in front of the +bathroom mirror. Since I had lost my hair, Sharon sewed two bonnets +from scratch, cutting circles of material and fitting elastic within +the perimeter, to warm my head when I slept or simply did not care to +wear my wig. Having no pattern from which to judge an appropriate +size, however, the bonnet was large enough to conceal my entire head; +trying it on evoked immediate wails of laughter from us both. Of +course, I could not let the matter rest and continued with further +antics, shoving it over my ears and acting like an old woman who +couldn't hear for the voluminosity of the hat, and then pulling it over +my entire head with the elastic about my neck and pronouncing that I +was a lollipop. Amid our slap-happy howls (for the hour was late), her +husband must have wondered if we had lost our minds; moreover, we were +trying our best to stifle our laughter so as not to disturb her +sleeping boys, which, in such a hopeless situation, only served to +escalate the humor reflected in the mirror. I was able to eat +ravenously for three to four days following my treatment; this meant, +of course, that I ate well until I had to return home, by which time my +body had restored itself to a reasonable degree and no longer tolerated +food to the extent it had initially. Mom soon developed a complex +about her cooking, which persisted until summer when I went directly +home after receiving treatments, instead of sojourning at Sharon's, and +ate my Mom's culinary offering passionately. + +Upon my return to Moline I had to appear at the hospital for weekly +blood tests to assure that my white count was not "low." If the test +results were unfavorable, however, I had to have daily blood tests +until my count was determined as normal again. A low white cell count +paralleled a higher susceptibility to germs, as the immune system did +not possess its usual fortitude; although, physically, I never felt any +different when I had a low white count, emotionally it paralleled a +fleeting cantankerousness on my part since I was not overly thrilled at +the prospect of enduring more needles. I was fortunate that I never +contracted any serious maladies; perhaps if I had been plagued by +viruses I would not have viewed the routine blood tests with such +disdainful inappreciation. As it was, my only health problem was +cancer; all or nothing must have been my system's motto. + +One week before the next series of injections, I would begin to feel +better. My appetite improved despite the lingering after-affects, and +energy was on the rise. This period of time would have been thoroughly +enjoyed had it not been for the upcoming event, after which my +improvements would again run foul. The pretreatment week was also the +time at which I felt most able to venture out of the house, and would +accompany my aunt or my sister-in-law on small shopping sprees during +the day. I began to feel human and part of society, yet as I licked my +wounds, I could envision the battlements to which I would willingly +march to surrender my waxing health. + +Despite frequent bouts of nausea and marked fatigue, the foremost +reason for my absence from school was my body's severely depleted +immune system. It was deemed more sensible to remain apart from the +various germs circulated by the students than to place myself in +possible jeopardy by direct contact. Should I have sustained a severe +infection, the results could have proven fatal. The chemotherapy +killed healthy cells as well as cancerous cells; it is a grave wonder +that one can withstand such violent treatment. + +After several series of chemotherapy, I recalled my thought which +viewed cancer as the enemy against which many wars were waged, and +discovered that my analogy was not complete. Chemotherapy ravaged the +body and tainted the mind just as the cancer against which its +debilitating powers were supposedly aimed. I felt that the war did not +exist only between cancer and the body, for there was also a constant +struggle between the drugs and the body. As the body fought for life, +cancer fought for death.... of this, there was little doubt. Yet as +for the drugs, I became uncertain as to the side on which they actually +adhered, and the voice murmuring "It's for your own good" became an +indifferent noise at the base of my consciousness. + +Although I was unable to return to Jr. High throughout 8th grade, I +soon acquired permission to study at home under the instruction of a +tutor, and in this way, maintained my level of educational curriculum +as well as my status as a "student." Receiving instruction on a +one-to-one basis was definitely one of the more favorable aspects of my +new life-style. I fully realized the impermanence of this enjoyment; +upon my recovery, I would once again be hurled amid the mob and +mainstream of society. + +My tutor, Mrs. Kruse, was assigned to me for the entire year. Together +we covered the realms of English, math, social studies and science with +the help of a collection of text books which she obtained from my +"would-have-been-teachers." Several times each week she would stop to +teach and collect previous lessons. Since she was amiable, highly +intelligent and challenging in nature, I looked forward to her visits; +the time always passed quite rapidly. In addition to prescribed +lessons, Mrs. Kruse suggested reading material which she deemed of +interest to me, and as a highlight to one of the social studies +chapters, drove me to a local museum. The trip was a memorable +occasion, if simply due to the fact that I spent the majority of the +days alone and at home. She also demonstrated interest in my +extra-curricular activities as well as the regular academic subjects; +I would sometimes show her my various crafts and "works of art" with +which I involved myself to abort any loneliness or dejection I might +have otherwise encountered had I not kept occupied. + +My projects included anything which was not overly monotonous, and time +thus spent would often encompass more than one casual employment to +assure that my interest would not shrivel up and die before an object's +completion. Occasionally one of the lovely ladies from church would +include me in crafts, and consequently, I turned out decoupaged eggs +and quilted pillows by the number. I attempted a painting of a rural +scene, and on other days I would draw, sew, or macrame; at times I +would pinpoint my interest in the creation of gifts and culinary +delights. + +A prominent aid to my artistic whims came to me by way of my father's +love and craftsmanship; he spent hours of his spare time constructing a +shadow box for miniature arrangements. Through the same five days, +during which time Mom and I were in Rochester for my treatment, he also +repainted my bedroom. I was awestruck upon my return to think of his +feverish, love-wrought labors; through work he was able to ease his +internal suffering which accompanied my physical trials. If nothing +more, he was at least DOING SOMETHING, which seemed to allay one of his +foremost grievances toward my illness in a temporary fashion. + +I felt relieved to stay at home that year; it would have been difficult +to feel comfortable when I was sporting a wig. At this age, so many +kids allow themselves to be governed by popular opinion, whether or not +that opinion has been justly founded. One may be treated kindly only +to be defaced later in private discussions. When fear based on one's +acceptability governs his actions, it is his convictions and conscience +that sustain punishment. While many students may have attempted to +understand the unpleasantness of my situation, others would have +taunted malicious threats or voiced insensitive remarks; physically I +was to weak to withstand such cruelty on a daily basis. + +That which I most detested surrounding the aspect of baldness was the +wig itself, for although I was grateful for the mask it provided, I +abhorred its artificiality. Wearing a wig was unnatural, especially at +my age. People failed to recognize me. Moreover, it presented +inherent problems of its own. It would shift precariously in a stiff +wind, and a blustery day brought visions of it cartwheeling +tumbleweed-style, across a street. I began wearing headbands, though +definitely not in style, simply to assure that it remained atop my +head. Another dilemma was the well-meaning oldster who still enjoyed +pulling a child's locks; unaware and full of only good intentions, what +would he have thought if his teasing gesture unveiled the entirety of +my hairless skull? The wig, therefore, was mainly a social impairment, +for it was during group situations that I experienced the majority of +my embarrassment. + +Aspects which aided social interaction were my attitude and a +light-hearted countenance. It is essentially one's appearance that +opens the door to conversation and eventual relationships; and despite +my different visage, I wished to remain approachable and self-secure +with my health problem. I tried to nurture realistic, yet humorous +outlooks toward problems, for a sickly person wearing a smile appears +more inviting to others than one who shrinks within his ailment while +displaying steadfast displeasure for his predicament upon his face. If +one is open and jokes about his health situation, he is also less apt +to evoke fear and hesitant inquiries from friends, and for that matter +mockery from the ignorant; it is no fun to insult an individual who +fully accepts himself and his problem, for there is no fuel to evince +an emotional fire. + +I felt totally secure in my baldness only with my family and select +individuals who neither balked nor poked sadistic mirth at my loss. +The wig was worn on all social outings, of course, just as it was +generally donned at home as well. Certain days, however, I elected to +prance through the house without it; the wig was tiresome and hot, and +my head needed to escape its smothering imprisonment during the day in +addition to its nightly freedom. Happily, my parents did not seem to +mind the sight of my head, claiming it was "kind of cute"; a more +appropriate manner of expressing my parents' view of my loss of hair +was to say it was a necessary evil which had been part of the +"insurance plan," and therefore deemed as acceptable as it could have +been under the circumstances. I was initially amazed that they could +love a child having no hair, since appearances rated so incredibly high +on the scale of societal importance, and my best feature had been +obliterated. To think that people found me tolerable and remained a +loyal friend touched deeply upon my heart. + +Thus at home baldness posed no problem for me, although I would +sometimes hold back tears when I discovered a long strand of hair woven +inside a sweater or glanced at an old photograph. The image of myself +reflected in the mirror contrasted dreadfully with the girl I viewed in +the picture albums to such an extent that physically I felt myself to +be an entirely different person. Unfortunately, I felt less of a +person when I compared my selves, past to present; I therefore tried to +limit these recollections by keeping occupied with crafts or other +mental detours from reality. + +By January I was completely used to my way of life. There was comfort +to be had in monotony and sameness of routine, and while I would +sometimes feel alienated from society, my solitary existence provided +me with emotional security which would not have otherwise been possible. + +Each day was very much like the next, and time melded the days together +into oblique obscurity. When I was not occupied with my lessons or +crafts I would sit, allow my mind to empty itself of all thought, and +then drift to other places, beyond my own stunted life, and there catch +a glimpse of reality as others saw it to be. Were it not for vivid +daydreams, my year of chemotherapy would have doubtlessly provoked more +duress, yet through fantasy, I was able to surpass my physical +limitations. Moreover, while public interaction would often degrade my +self-image, thought would instill confidence in my unseen strengths. I +found that the mind possessed more beauty than any bodily attribute, no +matter how brilliant the eye might perceive it to be. + +If it were humanly possible to correct physical shortcomings, everyone +would mold his face and body into perfect specimens; disease could no +longer wreak havoc upon one's dimensions or features, and amputated +limbs would quickly be restored. This is not life, however. No one +chooses his personal characteristics or form any more than he chooses +to be born or die; over one's features and time-ridden transformations, +one exercises no choice. + +Although I was a loner at heart, I became accustomed to feeling brief +surges of loneliness when I would peer from a window and observe the +activity that went on in normal lives. To be able to come and go, +unhindered by any physical dysfuntions, must have been pure joy... joy +which the vast majority of people took for granted. It was a shame +that they did not pause for an instant with their bustle of plans and +breathe in the fresh air of their greatest fortune, their health. To +think people actually worried about popularity, or buying a certain +brand of blue jeans, or getting their hair cut one half inch too short +began to seem utterly incredulous. Those who doted on trivials I could +seldom abide, but now I had to constrain fury; perhaps instead I should +have pitied those individuals who, in their selfishness, dwelled only +upon that which they lacked rather than their well-being. Though my +life at the time was far from ideal, I still felt myself to be quite +lucky; I had witnessed at Mayo Clinic various gruesome and startling +examples of disease... one woman's face was riddled with large, fleshy +bumps... another woman's unearthly jaundiced eyes clashed with her dark +complexion to bespeak trouble within... a pretty young woman with one +leg nimbly propelled herself into the elevator, smiling, conspicuously +contrasting with the throngs of people who walked about, eyes downcast +and dreary, searching for the location of their next test or +consultation. I felt a slight pang of embarrassment regarding my +appearance yet I was grateful to be spared the more obvious discomfort +which would have accompanied drastic, irreversible abnormalities; my +pain would end, and my hair would grow back. + +For the time I had only to live with and learn from my physical +restraints; fostering jealousy or bitterness punishes oneself and +further mars one's countenance. When I found myself beneath the gaze +of one seeing merely my features, I cringed, but then recalled who I +truly was... and who no mask could dominate. + +During January of 1976 I also began my first successful attempt at +maintaining a diary. I wrote faithfully, daily inscribing the events +of my life upon the pages of the small book which, by the years end, +was battered and torn with handling, for it went on every clinic +excursion or other journey which separated me from my home. In it I +described the aspects which flavored my day; what I ate, interesting +mail, homework, my crafts, and my general health. + +Though I did not meticulously describe my emotions, I can recall the +feelings which surrounded various entries, whether they were of +selfishness, anger, fear, or otherwise. Perhaps I was initially scared +to vent my frustrations lest my book be read by searching eyes; written +word is no longer secret, and I trusted my memory far better than my +hope of privacy, and therefore rarely indulged in expressing +confidences unless they were of the positive sort or so justifiable +that their truth, though poignant, could not have been denied even by +the subject. + + +Jan. 4, 1976... I got my make-up on...went to church,then to a +restaurant. It's a real pretty day outside and the sun is shining +through my windows. I just love my room. Today I'm going to work on +my corduroy purse some more. I don't like any boys and I'm glad of +that. I'm probably weird not wanting a boy to "go with" but I'm not +ready yet. After all, I'm just 14 yrs. old. (2 relatives) came over +and had supper. I came into my room because I felt sick. Finished my +purse...I feel better now. That's good! + + +Throughout the diary, it became obvious that an internal struggle was +present which haunted me at the time and annoys me at the present; +nevertheless, it existed, as perhaps it does within all youth. That to +which I allude is the battle between independence and dependence, the +conflict waged by one mind against two wills; that of the adult and the +child. + +One of the most prevalent emotions I fostered throughout 8th grade was +insecurity. It was a by-product of sickness and frequent aloneness. + +Desiring to live unnoticed, I began to feel guilty about the kindnesses +I received. I wondered whether I deserved such special treatment; when +I voiced my feelings to my parents, they quickly pointed out that +people wanted to do things for me since my life was tainted by an +illness. "You don't have your health, and that's the greatest wealth +on earth." I nodded at their statement, yet something still seemed +amiss; I finally discovered that my guilt was fueled by jealous +acquaintances that rather begrudged my attentions. + + +Jan. 6, 1976... I'm trying to "use up" my cologne and perfume so +everybody won't keep saying "how much I have." Another acquaintance +would continually quiz me, wondering where I got the money to buy +things as she glanced around my bedroom. My allowance was healthy, to +be certain, especially if I drank my quota of milk each day; however, +the earnings I acquired were determined by my parents, not me, and I +was expected to use the money wisely. I often deposited portions in +the bank, saving diligently for a nice purchase. Otherwise, my funds +were transformed into stamps for letters, gifts, appointments for my +room, or movie tickets. I didn't feel frivolous; whereas I was given +an allowance, my friends had to twist their parents arms for their +desires. It didn't appear to me that they were deprived. + + +Jan. 30, 1976... Sharon, Brad and I are going to the florists in a bit. +Gosh just 'cause I talk about things that would be neat to have, and I +know I would not really want all of it, Sharon says "Boy, you really +have a lot more things than I ever had and you know you have to pay me +back for these things. You have more than I do considering inflation." +Well, I had known I was 'gonna pay her back even if she wanted to give +them to me as gifts. Sometimes I wish I was starving and poor and +everything! + + +Coming from my sister the statement was quite a shock, evoking +self-pitying sentiments from me in my last sentences, which now strike +me as a literary pout of pure distress. I had always considered Sharon +as a statuesque epitome of goodness, incapable of resentment of any +kind; after the initial surprise had worn off, I was glad to know she +was human, for maintaining such sanctity 24 hours each day was +impossible. + +I learned during the year that people felt obligated to be nice to me +(and, indeed, they wanted to be nice) because of the trials which I +endured. Since they were human, however, their jealousies and stored +grievances would sometimes appear in a choice moment wherein their +self-control was at a low ebb. I believe that everyone, including +those having well-aligned values, possess a foremost problem which, +despite even the greatest amenities of good health and even a loving +home, can exist within the minds of the most fortunate individuals; +indeed, some people are ashamed of their "problems" since they appear +so insignificant when compared to those in other lives. Nevertheless, +the problem lives within them and causes real emotional duress. + +Returning to my observation, I realized that people who, within +themselves, felt that my problems were essentially greater than theirs, +still needed to air those complaints. Feeling hindered by me, to a +certain extent, their frustrations would sometimes be directed at me +while their true source of anger remained unspoken. Such was the case +with my sister. Following the small episode, I was less enthusiastic +about revealing my catalog reveries, yet I recovered fully, losing a +goodly spirit and gaining a fine sister. + +It seems everyone likes to receive mail, especially when the mail +carrier leaves a bundle composed of more interesting things than just +bills. My love for mail grew into an obsession while I stayed home, +and many days found me impatiently glued to the window, glaring up the +avenue when a substitute carrier delayed the hour of delivery. Worse, +however, than waiting for the mail carrier was when the mail arrived +having nothing addressed, or of interest, to me; I was not picky... I +welcomed even "junk mail"! + + +Jan. 31, 1976... I woke up again, which is a miracle in itself +(followed by a dissertation explaining my plans for the day). + + +I was aware of the implications behind my sickness, yet I do not recall +having believed that I would die; my pain was of the temporary kind, I +thought, and having confidence in my elders and those of the medical +profession, felt certain that my life was not threatened. Death itself +was obscurity, and only took on the characteristics of ultimate slumber +and freedom from pain; this image brought no fear and occurred mainly +in times of physical discomfort. I wished neither to delude myself +about my condition nor dwell upon its negative features; my statement +from the diary illustrates that attitude quite well, for, although the +sentence was written in light-hearted jest, its dry humor depended, as +do all jokes, on either an element of truth, an attempt to mask +seriousness, or sheer incredibility. As the latter was not a factor, +my expression was a truthful and simultaneous outburst, defining my +life in a concise and unobtrusive manner; I was not depressed that day, +but rather, honest in a wry sort of way. + +Humor is an asset when one is faced with serious problems, for laughter +unleashes tension, like crying, which otherwise can become +self-destructive. Laughter and tears are closely related, as is +evident in cases of hysteria or other mental disorders wherein the mind +no longer effectively controls one's emotions in the manner which +society deems proper for a particular occasion. Mom once related an +incident concerning Lynn, who from birth, was severely cerebral +palsied; strapped in her high chair, she watched Mom cry over +distressing news and in response, began to laugh, bespeaking her +inability to react by shedding tears, as would a normal child. +Generally, sadness evokes sadness. + +There are times, however, when grim situations accompanied by humor +should not be looked upon as a "sick" reaction. I truly believe that +one can find humor in most occurrences, even some of the brutal +realities of life and death. Ideally one should find the utmost humor +within his own life... he need not search elsewhere; to laugh at one's +own problems divides their weight significantly, so that it is +unnecessary to scoff at another's ill fortune and place humorless +weight upon his ample burden. + +Laughter was not only for myself, however, for I had to maintain a +degree of humor regarding both my appearance and my general situation, +spanning isolation to body dysfunctions, to retain my normalcy in the +eyes of those around me. Laughter makes an unpleasant event more +acceptable despite its inherent distastefulness; even my wig afforded +certain individuals with unbridled laughter when I would put it on +backwards and, playing a mock guitar, pretend to be a member of a rock +band. Had my reaction to adversity brought a shadow of gloom over my +face and personality the suffering endured by my family and friends +would have been greatly multiplied; as a result, my isolation would +have grown. Depression is as catching as humor, yet unlike humor, it +is not sought and possesses no magnetism of itself. + + +Feb. 1, 1976... I got sick in the night last night. I was real cold, +then really super hot. I started to make little whines, hoping Mom or +Dad would hear me. Finally, Mom heard me and Dad came to see what was +the matter. He helped me get situated on the sofa. I slept all the +rest of the (next) day. I can't remember if I even ate today at all. +All I know is that I'm having super weird dreams all of the day. + + +When my mom began to teach, I remember my jealousy toward the faceless +names which daily she brought home. Conversation I did not mind, yet +her employment involved much more than that. She sometimes came home +quite late, and even after working over-time at school she managed to +tote further work to our house. If she asked for help, I would do so +begrudgingly, knowing that the time she saved by my assistance would +only spawn other ideas from her conscientiousness. When I no longer +wanted a stuffed animal or toy, she quickly rushed it to school; this +was a true blow, for the kindergarteners were not only benefiting from +her time at school and at home, but were now receiving my old and +once-beloved belongings! My displeasure voiced itself in a +cantankerous fashion as I stewed my over-all annoyance for small +children's propensities (irrationality, brazen and loud mouths, uncouth +mannerisms, and their tendency toward the profuse utilization of tears) +under her nose. + +I finally discovered that, no matter how truthful my statements had +been, she found a way to ricochet them back to my behavior as a child. +Dad was sympathetic, for he knew that Mom's attempts to parallel one's +behavior to that which one found disfavorable in others was one of her +habits. I asked him whether I was like "this" or like "that," +illustrating for him the exact scenario which I had placed before Mom, +and often he would say, "No, you didn't do that... or at least not that +bad." I only complained about those things which I felt I had not +done, for I could not condemn a road that I had once walked as if my +feet had never carried its dust. Finally, in exasperation, I decided +my war against the kindergarten children should no longer be verbalized. + + +Feb. 4, 1976... I still have the runs, but the tutor came anyway. I +didn't have to go while she was here anyway! I'm glad she came though, +because it helps pass the day a little better. I stopped drinking the +lemonade as it seems to "go right through" me. It made my diarrhea all +foamy and icky. (Not to mention that the runs aren't icky and gross +and all of that anyway!) + + +Feb. 9, 1976... I'm sure glad I don't have the runs anymore. Tutor came +today. After she left I wrote 2 poems, although I still have to do +some changing and correcting. One is about food, and the other is +about the bed pans. + + +My idea of comic appeal found its way into the creative outlet of +poetry. I figured that everyone could relate to the nastiness of +having to use a bed pan even if they never had the misfortune to +encounter one; after all, going to the bathroom was funny, if for no +other reason than the fact that it brought humanity down to the +elemental functions of the smallest insect. No one was above it. + +"Diarrhea keeps the world running," and as long as I was able to keep +laughing it didn't seem so bad. I showed two nonsense poems I had +written to my tutor; she rewarded me with a smile. Neither of us +mentioned submitting them for the yearly Junior High poetry collection, +however. After she departed, I turned toward my lessons. + +Homework. I held the word in my mind and reflected on my life. The +word was befitting of my study habits; all my work was homework this +year. + + + + + + + + + + +When You're In The Hospital + +I say this from experience +For I know it's not much fun, +When you just gotta use the facilities... +But you can't get up to run! + +There's a button that you push for a nurse, +Located somewhere near your bed, +Just hope she gets there in a hurry, +Or you've really something to dread. + +She'll pull out something resembling +A well bent silver can... +Now you're the center of attention +Seated on that cold bed-pan! + + + + + + + + +Different Foods For Different Likes + +It's a funny thing +When you think about foods, +Some people eat different things +To suit their changing moods. +Kids usually eat +Just the things they've always liked, +While certain teens prefer +Only foods that have been spiked. +Chinese sit on the floor +Eating egg rolls and cooked rice; +But to the Spanish in their wide-brimmed hats, +Enchiladas are quite nice, +There's the cook in fancy restaurants +Making fine recipes for "Turtle Stew " +And then there's my Mom at home, +Concocting some famous "Leftover Brew." +There's that fat guy going to Bishops, +To get Ambrosia Pie just for fun, +And the other guy going to McDonalds for his +Twoallbeefpattiesspecialsaucelettuse cheesepicklesonion +Onasesameseedbun! +Now there was Euell Gibbons in the forest, +Eating his "wild hickory nuts," +But I heard he had an ulcer, +And should have stuck with Pizza Huts! +I could go on and on +About foods, drinks, sweets and such, +But I think I'd better quit now, +While I still have the "rhyming touch"! + +Lauren Isaacson +8th Grade +February of 1976 + + + +Feb. 10, 1976... I made my class a great big valentine out of poster +board. It's an owl... Whoo's wishing you a Happy Valentine's Day? Me + + +Youthful love is, indeed, quite intense. I bestowed my familial love +upon my sister-in-law, Norm's wife, who also became the companion that +my mind so desperately demanded. In her I found a depth of friendship +which had always eluded me; perhaps I needed to grow to understand what +I sought. Those aspects which captured my affection were mutuality, +understanding and compatibility which required no stimulus to evoke, +but evolved through one's inherent, natural character as demonstrated +to the other. Conversation traversed the boundaries of the menial and +insignificant, while activities were relished simply because of my +fondness for her and, of course, my brother. + +In addition to the above characteristics, Tracy and I shared common +interests in sewing, drawing, and outdoor activities; we were also both +thin-limbed, and although she had gained weight by the time I knew her, +she remained thin. I appreciated having a person to whom I could +unabashedly express my indifference toward food; even before my +operation I viewed mealtime as a hassle and a must for survival; to +this she could sympathize knowingly. Tracy could also relate to my +lack of womanly fat deposits which naturally accompanied a thin +stature, and we swapped horror stories and lamentations about the +tactless and mentally (dispatched) people we had encountered who +enjoyed taunting at that which our figures still lacked. We generally +wrapped up such conversations by admitting that thinness was an +advantage. We were not hampered in any way by excess baggage; nothing +flogged violently if we ran, nor did anything cascade over the sides of +a chair as we sat. We could easily see our feet, and were confident +that old age would find few sagging extremities. Such were our +consolations. + +I relished the time I spent in Tracy's company; she helped me through +the year of chemotherapy by planning activities each week for us to +pursue such as running errands and shopping. I most enjoyed the +invitations to stay over night at Norm and Tracy's house, for the best +entertainment was conversation. I loved the casual atmosphere that +permeated their house, for it seemed to whisper "the simple pleasures +are the best." They lived quietly, in a modest house, feeding their +equally modest income into house payments, grocery bills and gasoline +for their $400 Belvedere. It was a life which yielded the serenity +begotten of honesty and hard work; no phantoms of debt wailed in the +late hours of the day, and sleep came easily. Goals were sighted, then +realized, slowly, one by one; they spent no money that was not yet +their own, but nothing appeared to be wanting in their lives. I +admired their way of life and wanted to one day establish a home based +on such simplicity and love. + +When I stayed over night, the living room couch was my bed. It faced +the kitchen and in the morning, I could survey the pre-dawn preparation +of breakfast. If it was a week day, Norm would appreciatively stuff +three or four blueberry muffins down his throat and, grabbing his lunch +bucket, stride out the door to his motorcycle. Weekends provided a +more leisurely breakfast schedule, and everyone rose at generally the +same time. Often Tracy fried pancakes as the plates were laid upon the +table and the powdered milk, butter, and a bottle of imitation maple +syrup were extracted from the refrigerator. Norm and Tracy bought the +least expensive items at the grocery store, which included the +substitute for milk and a cheap brand of syrup. These two aspects of +the simple life were the only ones which I did not find appealing, and +vowed I would always buy fresh milk and decent syrup even though my +canned fruit would bear a bargain label. I guessed every way of life +had its flaws. + + +Feb. 13, 1976... It's Friday the 13th... watch yourself today... Don't +walk under a ladder; if you see a black cat, walk the other way! Only +kidding! I'm over at Norm's right now. I had 1 egg and 3 bran muffins +(pig). Tracy gave me 4 spoons (wooden) for my hope chest, that Norm +made at (work)... I feel real good this morning. Maybe I'll take a +walk! Maybe I'll even take my camera and take some pictures. + + +Staying at Norm and Tracy's house always put me in a good mood, for I +was with my favorite companions and most important, I was understood. +I felt so at ease in their company that, amid life's pain and +uncertainty, living was still worthwhile. Living, in fact, was really +great sometimes. + + +Feb. 14, 1976... M. and J. came over today and gave me some valentines +from the class. Then we talked awhile. We went to see (a) movie... +It was real funny... + + +Feb. 17, 1976... Today is Dad's birthday. I made a card out of +flannel, but I didn't like it, so I threw it away. Mom dug it out when +she came home (sad face). I made another card out of a box. You'd +follow the arrows to each side of the box and each side had a different +saying on it. I also made him some Rice Krispie Treats... never again! +He liked 'em tho'... Boy, they were like bricks! + + +Feb. 19, 1976... I made a jumper in 5 hours today. It's brown +corduroy, bib overall style and below the knees. The suspenders don't +have clasps, but I have snaps instead. I made it for the dance Friday. +I would have liked to make a hat to go with it, but didn't have enough +material. I surprised Mom and Dad a lot by it. See, they both had +gone to meetings, so I was home by myself from 7:30 to 9:00 p.m. + + +Feb. 20 1976... Today is the dance! I'm nervous! 11:56 p.m.--I'm home +from the dance now. I got home around 10:45 or so. It was real fun. +I danced with 9 boys; one boy I danced with twice. One time, it was 5 +(songs) straight! Boy, my legs and feet ache. After, we went to +Shakey's Pizza Parlor. I had a lettuce salad for 60 cents (one boy) +asked about 5 kids for a dime and when they asked what it was for, he +said, "It's going for a good cause." You know what? He gave it to me! +I told 'em to take it back, but they wouldn't, and (a girl) said she'd +be mad at me if I didn't. So, I'm 50 cents richer, I think the reason +that I danced so much is because I've been gone. + + +It was obvious to me that some of the attention I had received was due +to my illness, for my appearance had suffered since 7th grade and +popularity had never been a concern of mine. Nevertheless, I was +pleased to have been accepted by those with whom I had always +maintained friendly terms. It was common knowledge that I wore a wig; +I was glad that no one stared or gawked at me with unnatural interest; +some even said that my short hair looked nice, to which I would reply +with a word of appreciation, knowing that I could never believe the +statements, despite the good intention behind them. I had explained +the entire episode to M. and J. when they visited me on Valentine's +Day, telling them that I wished my plight to be honestly related to +those of my acquaintance, for carrying such a secret would have been +like transporting a dandelion seed head on a windy day. Seeds of both +truth and controversy would have flown everywhere, and deception on my +behalf would only have served to germinate further curiosity. + +The interaction at the dance demonstrated that I had not been +completely forgotten in my absence, although it also served to amplify +the unusual nature of my current way of life in my own eyes. I lived +each day as it presented itself, not dwelling on dejection, pain, or my +severance from the rest of the world. When I dreamed, I did not dream +of the past, and was therefore a trifle shocked at the difference of my +days to those of other youth. Through the months, abnormalcy became +"normal" for me; and perhaps it was beneficial that I could think along +those lines, for I was able to adapt to my situation without undue +frustration. It is difficult to live "with" something if it is the +source of continual mental torment. Aloneness did not parallel +loneliness; many times I was very happy that my health allowed me to +avoid social involvements, despite the fact that, after too much +solitude, interaction with others became increasingly difficult. + +People were very good to me during my year of chemotherapy, and I +received attention which I would not have enjoyed had it not been for +my health problem. As I mentioned previously, women from church would +stop by to visit, occasionally bearing a plate of cookies or other food +which I found appealing, or spend their time with me making crafts. My +aunt who lived next door, also dropped by, or took me on small outings, +as did my sister-in-law, Tracy. + + +March 15, 1976... I didn't get any mail today. When that happens, it +almost ruins my whole day. I'm supposed to get (a long listing of +expected mail)... I hope I get something tomorrow... I love getting +mail... especially packages. + + +March 16, 1976... My back really hurts today, kinda all around the +middle. No mail came today at all. RATS! Some days I just feel like +sitting down and bawling when I don't get any packages or letter or +anything. + + +My day hit a rock-bottom low when no mail arrived, but two days in a +row was nearly insufferable. I wrote to relatives, two pen pals, and a +girl I had met in Rochester, Mn; it seemed incredible that no one would +have written and no catalog or advertisement buffered the disappointing +sight of the empty mailbox. This was depression in the life of a +home-bound 14 year old. + +Several months later I decided to remedy the depressing situation by +sending my name and photo to a publication produced by an insurance +company which we received regularly. Having myself written to two +girls who had appeared in the magazine, I figured I should try to put +an end to my disgusting predicament since they had reported receiving +as many as 20-3O letters. I described myself, my hobbies and, +including a 7th grade photograph, quickly mailed the envelope. + + +March 19, 1976... I wanted to go to Col. with K. in the summer and told +dad. He said I'd not be able to. I never get to go anywhere with her. +He told me we wouldn't go to Col. this summer if I didn't care to go +with them! But I do! Man! I'm depressed! I'm going to bed without +telling anyone! + + +Without a question of doubt, my intended action described in the final +sentence had no profound effect on my parents, and if anyone lost sleep +over the incident, it was me. Frustration marred my rationality and +allowed the childish presence to dominate my thoughts and actions. +Whereas the above incident hurt only myself, since I enjoyed bedtime +hugs anger could also be directed out from myself. One is born with a +certain degree of destructiveness, for until a parent guides a child +toward the compassionate mode of thought which society demands, and the +child is mature enough to follow that direction, he often exerts +damaging blows on inanimate objects for no reason and similarly +provokes live creatures over which he wields superiority of size and +strength. In grade school I would capture daddy-long-legs and proceed +to amputate all of their legs until the body was but a helpless dot on +the sidewalk surrounded by eight spasmodically pulsating legs. My +behavior was quite unnecessary, and I finally was able to see the +brutality of my deadly surgery and allowed the bugs to pass unhindered. +Similarly, my brothers used to follow ants with a magnifying glass, +directing the reflective rays on their small bodies until they began to +smoke, whereupon the ant would collapse in a miniscule puff of fire. + +Many households with dogs and cats bear the brunt of the human +inhabitants' emotions. Mistreatment is not uncommon regarding pets, +and ranges from overt bodily punishment to the supposedly innocent +teasing and frightening of animals. + + +March 23 1976... Gerb bit me yesterday for no reason at all, so today I +got even. I filled the tub with three inches of water and put him on +the edge of the tub. He fell in all by himself. He swam a little. I +left him in there a half hour... He looked funny... real skinny ...it +really scared him! I'll never do it again though. + + +How well I remember my reasoning and behavior on that day. My gerbil +would never have known why I was treating him in such a mean fashion; +gerbils are naturally active, and not desiring to be held, it bit my +finger in agitation. Realizing this, yet still frustrated, I decided +to put some water in the tub, measuring three inches at the deepest +slant, and put my gerbil on the tub's edge, knowing full well that the +chance of his sliding into the slippery interior was almost certain; +thus, I could take advantage of a sadistic need without actually +pushing him in the tub or hurting him. As I watched his progress to +assure that he was in no danger, it was apparent that he disliked his +situation entirely, for he found the highest spot immediately and +remained there, propped on his hind legs, craning his head for a way up +to more hospitable surroundings. After the time had elapsed, I lowered +my hand into the tub and he gratefully climbed into it; I then raised +him up and gently dried him on a towel. I knew that I liked the +feeling I encountered as my pet jumped into my cupped hands... he +sought my hands, and my offering of care, whereas the previous day, +he repelled my affections. It was the childish need to possess +something's love; if I made certain that the quality of his atmosphere +was poor, he would seek out my rescuing presence. + +No matter how insignificant my action might seem in comparison to the +cruel attacks waged upon some pets, I feel ashamed that I ever needed +to boost my security through such unfavorable means. Any mistreatment +is unfortunate, but perhaps it is most unfortunate for that which it +reveals about the human who lacks the ability to resist it. + +Because I spent so much time alone, I was highly aware of my opposing +desires, and the fact that I was ill augmented each in its own way. +During nausea I wanted no one to flutter nearby; vomiting was a +degrading sort of function for which I needed no help (as it was +essentially involuntary) and desired no spectators. At times I would +not throw up until I was certain that everyone was beyond earshot. +However, in the aftermath of a vicious siege or a miserable day, I +welcomed parental affection, and on occasion, sought their nurturing +touch. This latter trait proved to myself that I was not yet as +self-sufficient as I would have liked to be; I needed mom and dad for +more than food and lodging purposes, for part of me was still very much +a little child and that fact would not disappear through false +rationalization on my behalf. Although the child that I saw within +myself I sometimes despised, having at least fostered selfish ideas if +I had not also allowed myself to act upon the childish whims, I was +glad to be able to revert to that being in times of physical weakness; +perhaps, however, one never outgrows the need for a reassuring hug, and +gentle words. + +Most of my visitors were adults. This suited me just fine, however, +for I felt more at ease with people who were older than myself. With a +few exceptions, I generally found myself inhibited around youth, for +acceptability was judged within narrow and often unreasonable bounds +with which I did not care to grapple. Moreover, because I did not have +a particular crowd with whom I closely associated, preferring to roam +with one individual at a time, group situations flooded me with +apprehension. One such group was church school. Although I truly +enjoyed the adults who attended the services each Sunday, my March 21 +entry reads: "I didn't want to go to church" (I really never like to). +It was the heart-felt sentiments of a rebellious youth, perhaps, who +did not wish to sit through an hour-long service, yet my foremost +objection surrounded the obligatory church school and Sunday evening +MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship; I rarely attended the MYF meetings +during the administration of chemotherapy, although my parents had me +begin again after the treatments had ceased). I attempted to make +conversation or listen to those speaking nearby, yet could never +include myself to an even modest degree. As I approached a circular +gathering of kids, the circle would never break or widen to allow me +to "join in." For awhile I stood behind the circle of heads, smiling +stupidly at their jokes and listening to the flood of chatter +surrounding people I'd never known, until the bell announced it was +time to file to the classroom. Eventually, I tired of the hopeless +battle and spoke with my parents' friends or else made an early debut +in the empty church classroom and waited for the clock to herald the +beginning of the hour in a less humiliating fashion. + +That I did not share common friends with the church youth was +complicated further by the fact that my "shyness" grew when ignored. +When I found myself in an awkward situation, I lost my ability to speak +quite as effectively as if my voice box had been stolen. Thus, if I +spoke a word or two and was left unanswered, verbalization became +increasingly more difficult until I could not speak if I wanted to do +so. I recall an outing (or retreat) on which Mom insisted I go, +wherein, during a meeting to plan activities, my suggestion to go on a +bike excursion was virtually eye-balled off the list as if it was an +incredibly ridiculous thing to have mentioned. I swallowed hard, and +wished I could melt into the wood of my bench. Later in the meeting +other questions were tossed about and, having considered a likely +answer to one, I opened my mouth, fully intending to speak, but nothing +would pass through my lips. I shut my mouth again, rather shocked, yet +happy that no one had seen my strange gesture. + +Sunday school was not as bad as MYF, because of the teacher's presence +and the short length of class. I felt sorry for the teachers, poor +volunteers who offered their services each Sunday morning, only to +receive inattentive abuse. I often wished that the minister would have +cancelled church school for junior and senior high, and instead allowed +them to talk the hour away, since that is what happened anyway. When +an attempt at discipline was made to silence the noise, the discussion +planned by the teacher would all but collapse and students, or at +least, many of them, would sit despondently in their seats, with +plaster-cast pouts on their faces, and refuse to answer questions +unless directly asked. Then the answer was generally a curt, "I don't +know" followed by steamy silence. I wished that I had the clout and +the following to right these proceedings, yet a plea on my behalf would +have been unheard or ignored; unless my barrier would permit me to +enter into the instructor's discussion and help in that meager way, I +could do nothing to reinforce the teacher's strength except, through +silence, keep the bedlam at its current level. Our church, I found, +shared its problem with other denominations. + + +March 24, 1976... wrote another poem about spring... really nice out +today! + + +I remember the day and was inspired to write about that which I saw +around me. I carried a note pad and pen to the wood pile behind my +house, and taking a seat, allowed my pen to drift along with my mood. +As the sun pelted its warm rays on my back, the world seemed so +beautiful and my heart so full of the world, that I had to capture the +feeling forever. I possessed no poet's eloquence at age 14, though I +did seek to express honesty and beauty in the written word; I wished +that everyone could see and feel the life which permeated every puff +of breeze through the tight-budded trees. + +I felt rather guilty that I fostered such ill fervor toward going to +church and, as a gesture of good will, sent a copy of my poem to the +minister. Perhaps I wished to ease my own mind against the suspicion +that I was on a collision course with atheism; for although I did not +feel like a heathen, I was terribly aware of a rift between my ideas +and those preached in church; some of the statements actually filled me +with wrath; I searched my mind for the cause of my annoying fury and, +years later, I was finally able to define my religious belief and be at +peace with myself. + +To return to my story, I mailed my poem and settled back to pursue the +daily routine. One and a half weeks passed, finding me at church and +longing for an alternative. It seemed miraculous, for my wish came +true. + + +Apr. 4, 1976... I didn't go to church because I got hungry, so I went +with Les and Mrs. K. to the Modernistic Restaurant. I had 2 1/2 pieces +of French toast, 1 sausage, hot tea. I wish I'd gone to church tho' +'cause Rev. Jones read my poem "Spring"! A lady told Mom that I should +try to publish it! Seven others commented on it! WOW! + + +Ironic, life. Besides the honor of having my poem read in church, it +was published in the weekly church bulletin since a number of +individuals had asked for a copy of it; in the following weeks I was +sent two thank you notes in the mail for sharing my writing with the +church. It felt good to know that my efforts were appreciated; more +importantly, it prompted people to take a second look at nature's +splendor. + + +Spring + +It's the beginning of Spring, +And God's in the air, +Not just in my woods, +But everywhere. + +I can feel him like the breeze +As it blows on me, +And so can the robin, the eagle, the bee. + +And as the sun's rays +Beat down on the earth +The world suddenly awakes +And is filled with new birth. + +Under the leaves so dead and brown, +Sprouts a Spring Beauty, and life is found. + +Spring is life... +Of this I've no doubt, +I feel I'm alive, and I want to shout! + +Lauren Isaacson +8th Grade + + + +I used to sit on my front steps and watch the storms approach. The sky +would turn gray, then dark, inky blue as thunderheads bearing rain +scouted a path above the tall oaks surrounding our house. Lightning +seared the murky, restless skies as I peered into the dark abyss above +me, and when the storm drew hauntingly near, I would relinquish my seat +for one inside the house. + +My love of storms was not blind love; I respected the power of nature +and maintained my distance, continuing my vigilance protected by four +walls. I once witnessed the mauling destruction of a seemingly healthy +oak as the wind cracked its trunk at 20 feet above the ground and sent +its entire upper portion sprawling to the woodland floor. I gawked in +astonishment and breathed a sigh of relief that the tree had not fallen +in the direction of my aunt's home. Wide-eyed, I realized that my +hands were shaking; I left the doorway and took a seat in the living +room. + + + +A Storm In The Offing +Storm clouds are coming, +The wind is in wrath; +Soon raindrops will penetrate +Everything in their path. + +The sun is still shining, +The birds, still in chorus... +But this will not last, +For a storm is before us. + +The wind is now lashing +The trees without care, +And their sap is now flowing +With each breath of air. + +The sun's face is veiled +With a blanket of gray; +The heavens break open, +And rain fills the day. + +Lauren Isaacson +8th Grade + + + +Apr. 7, 1976... I kinda' got sick after I ate the cream of rice so I +just read more of my Science. Then G.E. came over and we did crafts. I +made a wishing well with clothespin halves glued on to a Gerber food +jar. It's neat. She even brought an African violet from Mrs. O. I +also made Easter egg decorations from real blown out eggs covered with +napkins. At 2:00 Tracy and her sister picked me up. We went to (the +mall) for a beauty show... wasn't much fun... didn't even get made +up!... I got to sign up for free samples though. I'll get some! + + +I had few actual contacts with my classmates of 7th grade, for I shared +little in common with their faster-paced lifestyles and the saying, +"out of sight, out of mind" carried a thick slice of truthfulness. To +pass the time I often wrote nonsensical poems. The old west was the +brunt of one of my endeavors... + +Revenge Doesn't Alus Pay! +(AS told by an old Mountain Man) + +This is the story 'bout a woman named Sue; +Her man wuz kilt by Injuns... her fam-Iy, too! +Now Sue bore a grudge worse than most could tell, +She'd get revenge on them redskins if she had ta go +through hell ! + +'Ol Sue used a lang-gwadge that stung just like a bee, +And she could draw a pistol faster'n you could knock +your knee! +One day while she wuz lookin' fer somethin' good ta eat, +She spied a group of footprints, made by moccasined feet! + +Sue tracked 'em 'til she found 'em near the river bank, +And roped the neck of one, then gave it a yank. +The minute that the others heard the terble cry, +They gathered up their weapons and saw her by and by. + +Well Sue was pretty crafty, but not as much as they, +For soon she turned and fled... her being the prey. + +In an instant they were on her... that poor, devilish Sue, +She did not win the battle, for she herself was slew! + +This is the way Sue ended, it may seem sort of cold, +But she still lives in stories that many folks have told. + +Lauren Isaacson +8th Grade + + +Apr. 30, 1976... Dr. Murrell's office called and said I had to get +another blood test because my white cells are down. I've gotta' have +one Sat., too. For awhile I was saying some unwriteable things. +I was so upset. + + +I could never quite understand why they wanted to take more blood when +my count was down. To me, that made little sense; I would have thought +I should keep all of the blood cells I could. + +I saw enough of hospitals to please a hypochondriac; further contact, +after leaving Rochester, seemed beyond reason. I wanted only to be +left alone; sometimes life seemed so unfair. I was quite familiar with +needles by April, after having received countless jabs and nearly as my +bruises without complaint, yet orders for additional blood tests +effectively hindered my level of tolerance. Telling myself that, +"blood test were no big deal after all I'd been through," would +sometimes suffice to relieve my gripping tension; other instances, I +could say, "By now you should be used to them," and then go merrily on +my way. There were other days when no rationalization would console me. + + +May 4, 1976... Looked through my catalogs and dreamed... + + +I loved to dream over catalogs and fill out order blanks, as it took my +mind from nausea and helped pass the time. Often, I would actually +fill out an order blank yet never send it; catalogs were far more +entertaining than magazines, for they were composed almost solely of +pictures. + +I was amazed that I should be the subject of jealous resentment; while +I was home vomiting, or sitting hairless in front of the TV, they could +run about, full of energy, eat a double-scoop ice cream cone without +heaving the rest of the night away, and let their hair dry in front of +the TV. I was not resentful of their life; why would they resent "how +much I had"? I continued to send for things, loving to receive mail. +Clippings and advertisements for free samples were hoarded and quickly +posted. I sent my name to a beauty club, thinking that the make-up +would be of benefit to my sallow complexion and also something to which +I could look forward each month; to my dismay, I received a letter +rejecting my application and refunding my money, with an explanation +that I was too young to belong. My mom promptly returned the check, +accompanied by a letter explaining why I wished to belong to the club. +I hoped they would understand, yet their response was beyond my +greatest expectations, for they made me a V.I.P. member wherein I would +receive all cosmetics free of charge. I was ecstatic that I was +allowed to join; their additional favor was a true gift indeed, and I +quickly mailed a letter of gratitude for their uncommon generosity. + +Aside from my family, I told no one of my monthly benefactor, for I +feared the partially concealed jealousy which I had already seen too +often. I disliked having to be secretive, yet my paranoia ran deep and +I did not wish to stir further coals of bitterness within others. + + +May 6, 1976... I wish the magazine would come soon! I hope to get tons +of pen pals. + + +By the middle of June letters began to arrive from all parts of the +country. I was ecstatic, and diligently wrote correspondence in +return. After a passage of a month or more, the letters from new pen +pals dwindled in number, and I was able to establish firm postal +relationships with many individuals. In all, I had received over 50 +letters; and to my agitation, one phone call from a nitwit who claimed +that he wanted to be a "phone pal." (NO thanks). Although I responded +to all letters except one, which was from a guy desiring a full-length +photo of me in a bathing suit or shorts, some never wrote again or so +infrequently that I was uncertain who actually lost interest first. +However, these partings did not bother me since I still wrote regularly +to over 20 people and that number alone kept me running to the post +office for stamps and buying paper on a grand scale. + +The business of writing letters became an outlet for creativity and +self-expression which, at that point in my life, I needed very much. +While one's circle of friends changed with one's interests and +values, pen pals were sufficiently detached from the prejudices of the +immediate atmosphere and therefore became friends at a safe distance to +whom feelings could be written without the usual fear of +confidentiality. Actually there were only two or three pen pals with +whom I shared any depth, for many desired only to speak about their +boyfriends and favorite things to eat, and refused to rise above the +superficial acquaintance afforded by one page letters and a 15 cent +stamp. Expectations and needs varied with these individuals, just as +they did within local relationships. Some needed only a correspondent +and others, a confidant; the duration of mutual interaction via post +depended on the compatibility of these aspects. + +I wrote "Definitions" on May 10, 1976; it captured a bit more +introspection than some of my writing. + + + + +Definitions + +Dreams are like the eagle +When it is in flight, +Plummeting down a mountainside +Or soaring out of sight. + +Success is like the sky +When clouds roll away +And beckon to the sun +To brighten up your day. + +Failure is a shooting star +Which hurls itself around +And makes a crater in your heart, +Crushing spirits to the ground. + +Birth is like a flower +As its' leaves unfurl, +Rendering its' love for God +To city, country, world. + +Death is like an endless night +To those who don't believe, +Cloaking them in darkness, +The old to the naive. + +Lauren Isaacson +9th Grade +1976 + + + +May 16, 1976... I went to church with K... just Sunday School, tho'... +Man, I thought our class didn't pay to much attention and those guys +threw stuff, wrecked Bibles and everything. K. dropped me home around +noon. I was real depressed for some unknown reason. + + +Thus, Sunday School was a scene I loved to avoid, even in other +churches. I felt incredibly guilty that I did not have the fortitude +or spirit to deride the callousness enacted by some of the kids; since +I was already miles from their friendship, I should not have worried, +yet I wished to draw no attention to myself, especially that of the +negative sort in their eyes. My internal suffering would then have +been much worse; I opted for alienation over derision. My idea of a +"religious lift" was a sojourn of solitude among the woodlands. + +For my mom and dad, though, my sickness created tension in itself. Its +presence, and the nausea, hairlessness, and so forth that reminded them +of its presence dined voraciously on their happiness. During the day +they both immersed their energies into their jobs; exertion was only a +temporary relief, however, and years later I learned that my mom had +sometimes let out an involuntary sob after the dismissal of the +kindergarteners when her thoughts encompassed my loss of hair. I +rarely saw their anguish, for it seemed that they concealed it very +well. Occasionally, when it ran over, I did not know how to react; +their pain caused pain for me. + + +May 22, 1976... Didn't do much today. I dusted and then cleaned my +room (and) listened to records. (I was sorta depressed and I guess I +made Mom depressed too, because I asked if it was OK to use the record +player and she said "sure, that's what it's for. I always told Norm +that but he'd never use it. I guess I just raised the whole bunch of +you kids wrong." And then she started to cry). + + +"No, Mom," I thought, standing silently in the doorway. Depression +weighed heavily on one's self-confidence. Luckily such feelings within +Mom were transitory and soon replaced by her characteristically +positive attitude; aside from her good nature she did not have time to +be depressed, for she rarely had time to sit. Maybe it was just as +well, since there was hardly a shortage of worries. The time and +energy she could expend in worry was more productively spent mixing and +baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies (and it certainly left a +better taste in one's mouth). + +Generally my visits to the clinic were clearly punctuated within my +diary; in effect, five pages were barren of script except for a quickly +scribbled sad face, each accompanied by a concise four letter word, +"BLAH." The text would resume on the day following my last treatment. + +Toward the end of May we drove up to Mayo Clinic for my third to last +series of treatments. + + +May 26,1976... Woke up (DAAAA!) had X-ray and blood test. They took so +much blood that I got sick to my stomach and dizzy. When I got to the +"finger prick place," I was sobbing and crouching over, so they took me +in a room to lay down. I cried in my little room they put me in for +awhile. Then I was all right... They pricked me in that same room! +Service! + + +I remember that day very well. It seemed that I did not feel quite +right as I walked toward the waiting room for the blood test that +morning, and once I was forced to talk, I realized how displaced my +senses were, for I could not even answer their routine inquiries of +cordiality. + +"Take a seat, please; make a fist." The nurse tied a rubber strap +tightly about my arm and began to search for a vein. + +"Where are you from?" she asked. + +"Lauren Isaac..." I stopped abruptly, looking up at her as +embarrassment painted my face a brilliant hue of red. + +Thinking she'll try another question, perhaps an easier one, she asked, +"What's your name, huh?" To which I replied, "Moline, Illinois." My +head began to spin in confusion and I wondered if I was going mad. +"I'm sorry... I don't know what's wrong with me today..." I said, my +voice trailing off as the dizziness intensified. Nothing of this sort +had ever happened to me. I was extremely relieved to exit the vicinity +of the blood test, for I despised losing control of myself in front of +others. Feeling like an idiotic fool, I wondered if the nurses thought +I was new to the procedure, or scared, or squeamish... + +The remaining portion of the day went smoothly after eating breakfast. + +Mom and I went shopping after taking Dad to the airport. I got a new +wig, a brush, and wig shampoo. + +A new wig. It took some persuading on the part of my mom, but I +finally agreed to try on some new hairpieces. My wig was beginning to +show signs of wear after constant daily use and, admittedly, it was +looking rather tacky. Despite these facts I was reluctant to go +through the nerve-wracking process again, especially since I was now +completely hairless and found the idea of publicly displaying that +trait in a department store utterly repulsive. We browsed through the +maze of styrofoam heads and many-hued tresses until a sales lady +approached us. I studied the floor intently while my mom explained +the color and styles I wished to try. Immediately the lady produced +several boxes housing clumps of curled hair which resembled dead +animals, and motioned to the mirror. "Uh..." I stammered, trying to +muster up my courage. "Could...I...try them on in a dressing room +or... something? I take chemotherapy and I... don't have any hair..." +The woman hardly flinched. "Sure, go right over to woman's apparel..." + +What a relief! Behind the curtained partition I shed my relic and, +standing before the mirror, tried one wig after the other. "I swear, +nobody has this much hair!" I exclaimed, frustrated. "Think of the +milk you'd have to drink to grow hair like this!" + +I selected a wig which closely matched my old one in its younger days +and vowed I would somehow smash it down to the proportion of real hair. +Would you like to wear it?" Mom asked, referring to the new clump of +hair slumped inanimately over the edge of the box. "No way," I +plastered my tried and true wig on my head and it unhesitatingly fell +into place, conforming to my head like an old felt hat. + +The following afternoon my treatments began. However, we received a +pleasant surprise by learning that we could transport the last two days +worth of drugs home with us and allow the hospital to administer them +to me. Thus, after the third treatment, we were given the expensive +vials of yellow, clear and ruby red liquid, along with instructions for +the doctor, and placed the potent ammunition in a cooler. + + +May 29, 1976... Took Chemotherapy and headed for home. Got home around +3:00 or 4:00 p.m. (TWO relatives) were already here. (one) gave me a +book on beauty... maybe she's trying to tell me something! HA! HA! + + +May 30, 1976... Had chemotherapy at home. It took a long time to get +all of the things situated. It was injected, I threw up, etc., and +then we went home. + + +May 31, 1976... Had Chemo. It took an awful long time today. Home. +Watched T.V. + + +Chemotherapy, administered at home in Moline was an improvement which +boosted my morale. For the first time my diary entries did not consist +merely of sad faces and hurriedly scrawled "BLAH'S." I didn't feel +"good," but I seemed to feel "better." I could breathe fresh air +instead of the motel's stale stagnancy of bygone cigarette ashes. I +could even throw up in my own toilet. Home treatment was indeed a +delight. + + +June 2, 1976... I got sick tonite. I guess it's just the chemotherapy +doing its duty! I made myself barf at 10:00 p.m. I should have barfed +sooner. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 111 + +Chapter 14 +Summer 1976 + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +Summer 1976 + + + + +Summer was always a time of change, and many transformations touched my +life with the coming of the month of June. School was out of session, +and consequently, my tutor's last day was the 3rd; I now shared more in +common with the other students in that a three month recess from +education had just begun, and the fall semester would find me, like +them, returning to junior high. + +Mom, too, closed the door of her Kindergarten classroom for the summer, +although she still persisted in pursuing various projects which related +to her employment during her free time. She was home, however, and +that was the most important thing. It seemed to me that life was +returning to normal and I felt less alienated from society since there +was more activity surrounding my home. Despite other changes I still +looked forward to mail, especially with the advent of my subscription +for pen pals; however, I also found my other mailings to be of great +interest, and appreciated each envelope with my name on it. An +advertisement for the sale of Christmas cards found its way into my +hands one morning, and after reading all of the information, I wondered +if I should try to sell the cards door to door for added Christmas +income. As I mulled over the idea, Mom noticed the pile of literature +scattered upon the kitchen table, and briefing herself slightly, +proclaimed that it would be a wonderful way to "present myself to +people" through my own initiative and heartily applauded the idea. + +Several days of thought ensued before I decided to sell the cards; the +profit eventually cinched the matter, overshadowing my fear of knocking +on doors and being rejected by potential customers. It was fun to see +my neighbors, and I felt comfortable standing outside their doors even +if my visit was basically business related. I walked up and down my +block, collecting orders and trying to gain courage through the sales +which I had already enlisted, for I would soon scout further territory +wherein I knew few names and equally few faces. + +As I had suspected, my sales declined rapidly once I ventured outside +of the neighborhood, and my bravery and spirit departed "en masse." I +had detested trying to sell Girl Scout cookies, and I strained to find +a reason why I felt that selling cards would prove to be any different. +It was different, however, because it was worse; no one recognized the +company whose cards I was attempting to sell, and furthermore, I had to +collect the money and make the necessary change (which horrified me) at +the time of the order, rather than the delivery of the cards. I soon +had more than enough refusals to warrant my dismissal of any idea of +making further sales. + + +June 25, 1976... Got dressed and went out on 53rd St. selling (or +trying to sell) my cards. No one bought a thing. A lot of 'em gave +excuses like, "I just got home from the hospital" and "I buy from a +girl down the block and don't want to hurt her feelings" ETC. !! +What do they think they're doing to me? + + +July 1, 1976... This week has seemed endless. I wake up and Mom says, +"You'd better start selling your cards, hadn't you?" and so I do and I +come back half zonked and then I do some chores around the house and +then write letters. I feel real depressed... I didn't sell any cards +today. . . didn't feel like it. After some persuading I went to (the +mall ) with Mom. Ate supper. Did dishes, piano, wrote letters... the +same old grind! I'm taking a bath and I wish someone would buy me +some bath oil... I think I deserve it after this week! + + +July 3, 1976... Counted my money for Xmas cards and I came out $17.00 +short. After all that work! I cried for at least a half hour. I was +really broke up. I did a lot of change making wrong. + + +Salesmanship was definitely not my station in life, and not +understanding how to make change supported that belief. If, for each +sale of a $4.95 box of cards, I was given a five dollar bill, my notion +of making change concluded that, since it was under five dollars, the +person should receive one dollar, plus five cents to bring the 95 cents +to a dollar. My only salvation came by way of checks or a patron +telling me the amount of change he was due; otherwise, my blunders +rampaged unnoticed, or at least, unrevealed. + +Had I been of stout health, my disappointment would not have settled so +deeply on my heart, but the embarrassment and mental fatigue doubled +with the recollection of the energy I had expended... I felt used and +humiliated "after all that work!..." and the tears flowed unrestrained. + +Unasked, Mom and Dad made up the difference in the end, thus rescuing +me from the depths of self-wrought despair. My work had not been in +vain after all. + +July 29th was my dad's last day of work as a tool and die maker at John +Deere Industrial Equipment after 17 years of service. The following +day, a Friday, he appeared at the shop for a final farewell. + +Retirement for my dad was a rather melancholy affair; it was the end to +an age, and the commencement of a new and different lifestyle. He had +worked since he was 18 years old with the idea that work... +productiveness... paralleled one's self-worth, which, in a society that +is inter-dependent upon each other's conscientiousness, is quite +useful... until a good worker retires and considers himself to be of no +more importance than a bald tire. A full life of integrity on the job +is all that society requires of anyone; retirement viewed in this scope +is justly earned. + +Dad's party was an acknowledgement of his worth to us, which grew only +greater with the passing of one year to the next. His labors around +the house amplified his presence, and it seemed that all he did for us +were reflections of his love. Dad most certainly did not waste away in +front of the television or newspaper in his retirement; work was more +than ethical... it was a welcomed pastime. + +We departed for Colorado the day following Dad's retirement +celebration, and for awhile, it seemed as if nothing of such +consequence had occurred in the family. Vacations were a summer-time +tradition which, that year, meant a ten day absence from home while we +skirted the southern Rocky Mountains and climbed about ancient Indian +villages, nestled under precipitous overhangs in cliffs. I eagerly +tested my new camera, a purchase of several weeks earlier and harvest +of many months of saving, as each new scene presented itself. +Initially battling with the aperture and speed controls amid haphazard +focusing, I eventually began to understand the mechanics of my machine +and concentrated on the actual making of photographs. Scenic vistas +and close-ups became my favorite subjects, since people often cringed +at the sight of a camera and I did not desire to fight derision with +obstinance; flowers were far more cooperative, especially on a calm day. + +A trip from home always made me appreciate the routine which was +temporarily discarded. As we began to find eastbound routes, my +excitement rose almost to the point it had reached upon our departure; +and while I was happy that we had gone west, I delighted in the +knowledge that my own bed was hours away. + +Shortly after we arrived home, Mom and I had to leave for Mayo Clinic. +We had planned our vacation according to Dad's retirement date and the +latter portion of time between my treatments; the close proximity of +the dates made our adrenalin race, yet all appointments were easily +kept. + +We had reached a turning point, for the series was to be my last set of +injections and miraculously, I did not feel as nauseous as in the past. +After the second day of treatment, we headed home with the costly +drugs. With the final three days of chemotherapy administered at home, +I had a better selection of appealing foods from which to choose my +infrequent snacks, and found popsicles to be a boon to my situation; +each afternoon I returned from the doctor's office and raided the +refrigerator. + +My final treatment was administered on the 20th of August, and happened +to be a memorable affair. The drug infiltrated into my arm. It hurt +like crazy. The scarlet-hued drug seeped onto the flesh of my hand as +well. Once the feat had been accomplished and the needle withdrawn, I +did not stop to wash the red drug from my hand, but exited gratefully +from the doctor's office to the summer day outside. The treatments +were over! It was hard to believe! Now "the end" was reality rather +than a fantastic dream beyond my ability to reach! Once home, I tried +to wash the red stain from my hand. Curiously, it eluded the soap and +water; I stared at the spot quizically, wondering when it would +disappear. It never did. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 114 + +Chapter 15 +Return to School + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +Return To School + + + + +August 21, 1976... got sick. It was around 11:30 p.m. Dad got up and +helped me. I barfed and then my throat burned. I never had that +before. Dad held me awhile... He's the best dad in the world. + + +The end of the treatment did not mean that I would no longer become +sick or weak, and as I prepared myself to return to school, I knew it +would not, at first, be an easy adjustment. The calendar did not pause +for me to gain strength, however, and five days following my final +injection, I went to register for fall classes. The administrators +were quite understanding and tried their best to ease my nervousness, +making it clear that I should come to the nurse's office for a daily +afternoon snack and at any time I felt ill. I would be excused from +physical education classes through a note from my doctor, and spend +that hour in the library. I felt encouraged to know that I could +escape the horrors of P.E., especially since I had to wear a wig and my +energy level was quite below normal. Perhaps the reinitiation into +junior high would not measure up to my fears, I thought, and went home +relieved. Five days passed and the schools opened throughout the city. + + +August 30, 1976... Got up at 6:30 a.m. and got dressed. I ate some +Cream-of-Rice, but not much since this is the first day of school. +Left and picked up Kristi...I saw some of the kids I knew and some +didn't recognize me at first. Went to my homeroom and stayed there an +hour. We filled out our schedules and that's about it. + + +August 31, 1976... Couldn't eat breakfast very well. I was so +nervous... saw Kristi after Dad dropped me off and we talked awhile +before we had to go in the classes... Some kids said stuff about my +wig. A girl just stared at my head and a guy behind me suggested to +another kid to pull it off. He didn't, and thank God! I was pooped +when I got home. I was upset, too. + + +It was difficult to maintain my courage after hearing such threats, but +I knew that if I allowed myself to cower in fear before the aggressive +words, the likelihood of my avoiding further taunts would have been +reduced. That day, without saying a word, I turned a searing, +humorless gaze upon my potential attackers, whose faces were forever +branded in my memory. They never followed through with their +suggestion, but if they had, it is my belief that they would have +sustained more astonishment at my hairlessness than was their +intention; word of mouth transactions possess little accuracy, and some +individuals, perhaps, thought I wore a wig over my own hair for the fun +of it. + +I had few problems surrounding the wig after the first weeks of school, +and the kids realized that I was not among the gregarious crowd, who +would adorn themselves for amusement and attention, but rather sported +the hairpiece through necessity. Although the "necessity" for my wig +remained vague for certain individuals, other people were blatant in +their curiosity; one such individual was the girl described as having +"stared at my head," who wasted little time before quizzing me whether +or not "that" was "a wig." I was almost relieved that she was bold +enough to ask, for I hoped that, once her inquiry had been satisfied, +she would cast her annoying gaze elsewhere. Masking any embarrassment +I might have felt, I looked at her directly and admitted that, yes,I +did wear a wig, and that I had to do so because I'd taken chemotherapy +treatments for cancerous tumors in my stomach; the treatment made me +lose my hair, but it would eventually return. Her gaze softened, and +after assuring herself once again that my hair would grow back, turned +around to face the front of the room. I heaved a sigh of relief and +applauded the usefulness of honesty. + +As I reflected upon the various traumas associated with my lack of +hair, I was amazed at the power which people wield over the moods of +others whose lives are touched by their kind or abusive words or +actions. My cousin Gary, who lives next door, came over one morning +before I'd donned my wig, yet due to his natural and inoffensive +attitude toward my appearance, I remarked in my diary that "He saw me +while I didn't have my wig on, but it didn't bother me too much tho." +How different was his reaction than that of another relative who lives +across the country; this relative derived immense pleasure from +forcible, obnoxious treatment of children, over whom he reigned +absolute bodily control albeit their distaste for his repulsive +presence. I attracted his sadistic attention in his later visits since +I was the youngest of our family, and so it was that on one occasion he +grabbed me in an attempt to make me sit on his lap, and I, struggling +to free myself from his vise-like grip, found myself wrestled to the +floor, pinned beneath the stench of his armpits and unwholesome breath. +The more I writhed to flee from his ugly imprisonment, the more he +seemed to enjoy his power. I looked around at the group of family +members who encircled the living room, but no one found anything amiss +in his actions, perhaps considering the scene of no more consequence +than innocent horseplay. But I knew better; this was a man whose +fixation for children passed beyond benign teasing and friendly +adoration; something in his touch spoke of an urge to seize and +capture, to hurt and control... his touch was wrong. + +I was able to feel that which the attending adults could not possibly +have seen, and every ounce of my strength resisted his force. Since it +was late in the evening, I wore pajamas and a bonnet, and I strained +desperately to assure that the latter remained atop my head; I could +not escape his paws, perhaps, but I had resolved that he should not see +my baldness, pulling the bonnet closer about my head when the chance +presented itself. + +It seemed that the struggle was without an end. Then he suddenly +plucked the shielding bonnet from my head. His action drained the +fighting spirit from my mind and replaced it with humiliation. I felt +as if my dignity had been raped, and sunk to the carpet in exhaustion. +A heavy silence draped the conversation in the room as all eyes focused +on the scene before them. My sister's eyes narrowed sympathetically, +and the light-heartedness drained from her voice as she uttered a long, +descending "Ohhhh!"... and fell silent. Considering the fun was over, +he released my captive arms, wearing a wide and sickening grin on his +face. I immediately rolled over without a word, ran from the room to +the basement, where I hid behind the sectional couch. + +Clasping my bent knees in a tight hug, I cried silent tears of rage and +degradation, and stayed hunched in the corner for at least ten minutes. +I hoped wildly that he would not pursue me, and when I heard heavy +foot-falls on the upstairs landing, I held my breath. "Bye, Laurie." +His words assailed my ears like fingernails grating across a +chalkboard. I hated to reply, but feared that silence on my behalf +would stir a need in him to "seek and find," as if involved in some +childish game; I gathered my faculties together and forced a faint +"Bye" from my lips. I did not sound enthused, but it produced the +desired effect. The back door closed abruptly and silence followed. + +As I adjusted to school, I became more outgoing, reacquainting myself +with former classmates and introducing myself to "new" students. A +teacher allowed me to join the year book committee, and I was selected +as one of three "Art Editors." School was actually beginning to be fun +for me, and my inhibitions were swallowed by enthusiasm. My wig, +though a constant awareness, was not a source of fear and nausea, +though an inconvenience, was something with which I had learned to live. + +While I was not "popular" at school, I was accepted and had several +good friends; it was all that I had ever desired from social groups, +and was as comfortable as my self-consciousness allowed. Because I had +begun a new year, my parents compelled me to go to church and its +related functions as well. I hoped for the best, and for a brief time +I felt somewhat attuned to the group and attempted to involve myself in +conversation. As the year progressed, however, the tightly woven +friendships no longer peered outside of their circle, and I once again +felt shunned; there were several individuals who were always friendly +to everyone, yet without their support, my alienation from the group +seemed as concrete as the church's foundation. + + +Oct. 10, 1976... Church and Sunday School. Felt really out of things. +I almost cried. + + +Oct. 28, 1976... Share Group tonite. Only one person said hi to me +when I came in. Cried at home. + + +That which I found most distressing was the fact that I had to be among +people who did not care for my company and simultaneously engender +religious and meaningful growth through this association and +interaction. I was being asked to fulfill an impossible dream. +Religion was intended to be an uplifting experience; I felt only +emptiness. It would be a long and solitary road, perhaps, but +fulfillment would come. I would side-step the busy highway and seek my +peace alone. + +The changes at home were now quite visible, for Dad had transformed +into an all-day phenomenon, righting wrongs, remodeling and +redecorating with such diligence that, to watch him, one might well +have thought his employment was for pay. Throughout the week, he +retrieved me from school, and often we would stop for a snack, browsing +in shops afterwards; I enjoyed these outings, especially after a +wearing day. Dad was now the one who received news while it was still +fresh, gaining first hand knowledge which often a child would neglect +to pass on a second time to a working father; with his retirement, it +was especially important that he did not feel cast out of the +mainstream. + +Another visible change in the household was the reappearance of my +brother Todd, who, following the collapse of certain jobs and +aspirations in Chicago, decided to come home to more hospitable +surroundings and search for employment opportunities. Although his +eyes were blackened in the figurative sense, nothing slowed him down. +Each day his feet scoured the cement; no door was left unopened. If +there was a job to be had in the area, he would find it. + +It did not take very long for Todd's search to reach an end, and he +gladly left the "street sweeping" to someone else. Working for an +elevator company, as it turned out, did not have its ups and down, and +my brother found himself adequately employed in a stable firm. I too +reaped the benefits of his new position when he took me to the +company's annual dinner. "You wouldn't believe the size of the roast +and potato!" I raved in my diary; I was duly impressed. Meanwhile... + + +Nov. 17, 1976... Norm and Tracy went on a vacation. They may be gone a +month. I guess they quit their jobs! + + +At the time, jobs were scarce, and most individuals were taking +precautions to assure that they held secure positions and did not +create any inconveniences within their company. The sudden flight on +Norm and Tracy's behalf was a surprise and concern to us, yet nothing +appeared to be wrong. "Maybe they are taking a honeymoon that is three +years overdue," I thought, and wiped the cobwebs of apprehension from +my mind; "It will sure seem strange without them on Thanksgiving, +though," I reflected drearily. + +My consultations at Mayo Clinic were scheduled every three months for +the first year following chemotherapy, with the first check-up falling +one week before Thanksgiving. The blood tests and X-ray were the only +tests I was given, which did not seem at all rigorous to me. Although +blood was increasingly more difficult to extract due to the scar-tissue +present in my veins from the many needles they had endured, the blood +tests were not a threat to my well-being; X-rays also, were painless. +In the afternoon we met with Dr. E. for the consultation and found that +my health was perfectly sound. The only concern was for my lungs, +which housed a small "spot" of unknown character; this would be +monitored through X-rays the doctor explained, and should cause no +worry. All signs were favorable; the lungs would be watched as a +precaution, since those having recurrences of my type of cancer were +affected in the lungs. + +I was pleased with the outcome of my tests, but did not allow myself to +overflow with enthusiasm. "Everything's O.K.," I wrote in my diary, +followed by a happy face; beyond that, I preferred not to think about +health, for exuberance seemed premature and inappropriate. + +Norm and Tracy returned in time for Thanksgiving which delighted me no +end. They had been absent less than a week, yet I spent little time +pondering over their formerly stated intention of taking a month's +vacation; practicality was probably the reason for their hasty +reappearance, since smiles were in ample supply. Tracy even called to +ask what to bring for the dinner, and on the day of the feast, +presented a loaf of homemade pumpkin bread to my mom. + +Everything seemed terrific and consequently, depression on Thanksgiving +Day made no sense. + + +Nov. 25, 1976... Thanksgiving. I really didn't eat too much, I +couldn't. I didn't feel too great. I was really depressed. Went +outside to shoot some arrows. Tracy came out and we had a big talk +about things... + + +I was becoming more susceptible to mood fluctuation as the year wore +away, and knew that my depression was part of reaching adulthood. +Every textbook revolving around the subject of health made such +statements, underlining the fact that one's teenage years were often +the most difficult to bear. Instability appeared to be the rule rather +than the exception as my body and mind secured various realms of +adulthood yet failed to grasp the elusive wholeness of maturity. +Moments of bliss could be attacked by the shadow of torment and +indecision. I wished to be the self-sufficient master of my life, yet +I first needed to define my beliefs and pinpoint my destination. I +wanted to make headway, to abandon the circular path of dependence and +strike my own course through shaded lairs of uncertainty. + +One area in which I had little uncertainty about my inevitable goal was +the desire for my own home. Whenever I visited the homes of my sister +or brother, I could seldom resist a long draught of intoxicating +enthusiasm from the stream of ideas rampaging wildly through my head. +When I was back in my room again, I surveyed the purchases which I had +made through the years and happily applauded my preference for mature +objects (aside from the stuffed animals) and considered myself to be +well on my way toward furnishing a place of my own. Cogwheels carrying +new and magnificent ideas continually worked within my consciousness +and refused to slow their relentless pace. When my zest was aired to +my parents, their reactions sometimes grated with the ceaseless +amblings of my dreams. Trying to illustrate the fine proportions of an +idea to them was like attempting to open a rusty lock; I would +surrender in frustration and prepare an alternative route. + + +Dec. 27, 1976... Went to (the mall ) with Mom. Looked at china. Saw +one (pattern) I liked and wanted to start a hope chest. Told Dad and +of course he didn't approve. By the time I am allowed to get a set, +that design will be obsolete. + + +At fifteen, my likes and dislikes were well established, and I did not +fear that I would one day regret the rustic pattern which caught my +eye. Never before had I seen china dishes that meshed with my idea of +perfection, and I revolted internally when my proposition was dashed. +My dad stood firm, however, saying that it was pointless to store +dishes, especially at my age; and he added, that I may change my mind +about the pattern and what a shame that would be after investing in an +entire set of china. I knew the situation was hopeless. + +I had been through a great deal of pain and discomfort during my year +of chemotherapy, and quietly resolved that I would never be subjected +to such treatment again; now, in the transformation to adulthood, I +felt pain and discomfort of a different incomparable variety, yet its +pangs were just as valid as those which were purely physical in nature. +While "growing pains" were literally a headache, I came to believe +that the term more readily applied to emotional stress and frustration; +growing up certainly did not boast a red carpet welcome. + + +Dec. 31, 1976... New Year's Eve. I spent most of it having a migraine +headache, sweating and throwing up. FUN!..The Isaacsons and Nelsons +were here. I guess everyone had a pretty good time. I sure didn't. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 119 + +Chapter 16 +Divorce + + + +"No one forgets a past hurt; after a wound heals, scar tissue remains +as a subtle reminder and effectively warns the individual against +potential threats of a similar nature." + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +Divorce + + + + +A new year had begun. And on January 15, 1977 we heard that Norm and +Tracy's marriage had culminated in divorce. + +It was in the paper, but Mom and Dad rarely read the divorce column; +everyone else knew about the event several days before us, and we only +found out through a Saturday morning call from my aunt who was +naturally surprised to read the startling news. When Mom answered the +phone as if nothing had happened, and continued to act likewise after +Margaret's inquiry, my aunt knew that Mom was ignorant of the entire +episode. "Oh, Muriel, you don't know. . ." she gasped over the +telephone line, and proceeded to explain that which had prompted her +call. "I'll call them," Mom said, and promised to return with an +explanation as she hung up the phone. It had to be a mistake. Mom +flew into the living room to scan through the Tuesday evening paper, +and adjusting her eyes to the fine print, discovered their names were +indeed listed among the many divorces; even the address was correct. +Common decency should have allowed my parents to be alerted before the +rest of the world; their pain was needless, because it could have been +avoided. Mom stood, headed toward the telephone, and dialed +mechanically. + +The phone rang several times and Tracy answered with a cheerfulness +that seemed to mock the magnitude of the situation which had just +unfolded. Recovering, Mom asked, "What happened?... the newspaper... +"Oh that!" Tracy returned, "we just did that for income tax purposes." +Her voice echoed through a void across which no bridge would ever span, +hideously jovial and self-satisfied with her own indifference toward +the institution of marriage. Mom held the receiver to her ear in +disbelief, momentarily transfixed by the flood of emotions which +seethed violently within her; this was no time for chatter. "I'm +sorry," her voice broke, "but I just can't talk now," and hung up to +restore her self-control. + +Marriage was one of the most significant and meaningful vows in Mom's +life, pledging steadfast love to one's mate until life's end. Love and +marriage were inseparable; apathy toward one would place the other +element in a similar light. Marriage also stood for a wholesome sense +of permanence which based itself on a firm trust in mutual, everlasting +love. Divorce did not coincide with the presence of love, despite the +haughty assertion by Tracy that their's was simply a means of tax +evasion; truth was insensitive to one's emotions just as divorce was +apathetic toward love. + +An ocean of speculation washed over our house after the above knowledge +had been gained, and flooded our minds with unanswered questions. It +was not a general practice of the family to mistrust that which another +individual proclaimed to be true; deceit often wound its fingers around +the neck of one given to the preaching of lies, and while strangulation +was never the outcome, the liar rarely escaped the scene unscathed. +Lying had a nasty way of accumulating, and once it appeared its mark +was difficult to scour away. We spoke candidly, and expected similar +treatment; telling the truth seemed logical, if not easier as well, +and deception as a form of entertainment was neither among our habits +nor pleasures. Our family was gullible, yet this susceptibility was +reigned to a certain degree by common sense; if something seemed too +incredible, it was generally shelved in the back of our minds with +overt skepticism, yet outwardly, our heads would bob up and down at the +statement in apparent belief. Thus, a liar might have often perceived +that his tall tale was accepted when, in truth, the whopper's falsity +merely was not confronted. Such occurrences afforded us with hours of +quiet laughter or thoughtful dissent once separated from the story +teller, which spared him the embarrassment of what could have resulted +from uproarious howls of laughter or fiery discord. + +Divorce for income tax purposes? Mom translated Tracy's statement as a +distressing, cruel fact; Dad, however, upon hearing the supposed +reason, turned abruptly and stampeded out of the house with a throaty, +"Bull!" as the door slammed in protest. His strong disbelief modified +her belief in a fleeting instant, and Mom's eyes darkened with the +remembrance of shelved glances and curt remarks which now took on an +entirely different perspective. There had been warning signs, but +since they lacked the customary flashing lights, escaped notice. + +The thought of Norm and Tracy's divorce stunned me. Although I +disagreed with the idea of procuring a divorce as a method of paying +lesser taxes, I hoped for its validity. I had no grievance against +Tracy or Norm, for personally, they brought only joy into my life, and +if, through the divorce, I could expect to lose the companionship of +one or both, I would feel a great sense of loss. I tried to avoid the +negative images which clouded my eyes, and with naive and hopeful +rationalization, banished divorce from my thoughts through the fact +that I had never witnessed arguments or any other signs of marital +instability in their presence. + +Of course I saw less of Norm and Tracy with the beginning of ninth +grade. Time was no longer a surplus commodity, for the homework was +more difficult and life seemed to demand more of my energy. Growing up +was hard; I could not hide at home in a bay of isolation, and pray that +the world would pass by without casting its shadow on my life. I could +not cower among shadows; I had to seek the sun... even though it was +often obscured by clouds. + +It wasn't always easy to seek the sun, especially in the middle of +winter, and after a week of the flu... and a week of silence following +the divorce. Nevertheless, I prepared myself emotionally for my return +to school. My recuperation was nearly complete. + + +Jan 19, 1977... Will go to school tomorrow. Hopefully without my wig. +I washed my hair and styled it, and it looks good. + + +It was true. Everything did always happen at once. + +Actually my timing could not have been better, since a new semester had +begun and a new array of faces would meet my eyes in the various +classes upon my entry; furthermore, it was a blessing that I had caught +a nasty virus, for my reappearance would be buffered by time and the +impairment of facial recollection which accompanies one's absence. + +I studied myself relentlessly in the mirror. My hair was pixie-short, +yet its feathered, naturally layered style would be a less disagreeable +look for one my age. A gray and lifeless cast, though dominated by +brown, was still visible in the persistent outcrop, attesting to the +cruelties it had known before it was allowed to pursue life. + +The next morning I once again surveyed my reflection. It would have +been so easy to allow cowardice to overpower my intention; the wig, +poised on its styrofoam head, could either be part of the present or +part of the past. I looked at myself in the mirror and ran a comb +through my hair; it wasn't much, but it was mine. I lowered the comb +and placed it on top of the vanity. Taking a deep breath to ease my +churning stomach, I turned from my reflection and permitted the wig to +become a remnant of history. + + +Jan. 20, 1977... Break through!! First day in a year and four months +that I didn't wear a wig to school or anywhere. I was so nervous when +I went to school. I felt like I was bald. But I got a lot of +compliments which gave me confidence. Dad got me a set of four +perfumes to celebrate. + + +It was quite a day. When I said "hello" to my friends in the hallway, +many did not recognize me; then after a brief delay, sudden recognition +would cause their eyes to open wide, exploding like recoiling window +shades. "Laurie. . . your own hair!" Others who had somehow missed +aligning the fact that I had been the girl-with-the-wig, were +astonished by the improvement and looked at me in a new light. Most +surprising to me, however, were the teachers who remained unaware of my +health problem, for I had assumed all of my instructors had been thus +enlightened. My civics teacher soon proved that my assumption was +incorrect, however, as he looked at me and proclaimed, "Your hair cut +is quite an improvement." I looked at several of the nearby students, +in whose eyes I caught a shared glimmer of humor. "Thank you," I +replied. Still immersed in self-consciousness, an explanation seemed +rather pointless, yet I marveled at his apparent belief that I had +actually chosen to wear my hair in such an unflattering manner. Some +people must have thought I had a putrid sense of style. The past, +however, no longer seemed to matter, for it was kindled in the fires of +the present, and I felt incredibly free... and irrepressibly human. + +It was unreal that I had been dubious about the decision to put my wig +to eternal rest, especially after the frightening reception to which I +had been treated on that first agonizing day of school in August. My +wig caused pain, to be certain, but without it I would have suffered +more; part of me shrunk behind its netted structure of synthetic hair, +and even when my own hair was ready to debut in public, the impending +change suddenly seemed drastic and was accompanied by fear. I felt +unprotected and vulnerable without the wig's weight upon my head. It +was as if I had to relinquish my shield and stand alone and unmasked +before the world's judgmental gaze. + +My fear, once overcome, was replaced with ecstasy. I had undergone a +transformation--a metamorphosis--which was amazing. My courage had not +failed me, it had buoyed me up; now I possessed the self-confidence to +reflect formerly concealed attributes because I no longer detested my +appearance, nor did I have to deal with the menacing blows which it had +previously evoked. I had initially planned to dispose of my two wigs +in a stately burning ceremony behind the house, but after my hair +returned, I no longer bore any ill will toward the inanimate hair +pieces, and ended their stay at our house by giving them to the Thrift +Shop. In retrospect, I knew that the wigs were great allies and had +served faithfully for many grueling months. Their malignancy had +expired in my eyes, for my eyes had expanded their vision. + +Through the years I came to acknowledge that people generally have a +foremost problem over which they grieve remorsefully; if that problem +disappears, their lives do not long remain blissful ere another problem +arises to disturb and provoke their happy state of mind. Often one can +determine an individual's quality of life, or the quality of his +values, through the problem to which he gives priority. Some people, I +believe, have little more than what I label "illegitimate beefs" (or +insignificant and unfounded troubles); other people dabble midway +between problems and trivials, or have a flair for creating headaches +through flaws in the decisive factors of life. + +Personally, I felt my problems would no longer include "real" +problems, for my health was returning. Nausea after meals was more of +an inconvenience than a problem, and it was the only existing reminder, +aside from operative scars, that attested to my harrowing experiences +of the past year. If boyfriends and clothes and hairstyles were to be +my only future problems, I figured that I could go through life with +few ill-spent tears. I had no idea that a major bomb would drop so +soon on my newly acquired happiness. + + +Jan 31, 1977... Norm called and said Tracy left. I was (and still am) +hurt. She was a great person to know and it hurts to think I'll never +see her again. I feel sorry for Norm, too. I guess Tracy was seeing a +guy since summer. It's just hard to take it in. Norm came over and +watched T.V. + + +Feb. 1, 1977... Norm's coming for supper every day this week. I'm +glad. I think it will help him a little. + + +I was in the kitchen when Norm called, and after hearing his message +from Mom, curled up in one of the chairs and cried. It was inevitable, +perhaps, but I, like Norm, had attempted to impede the unstoppable +through positive thought. Positive thought, however, carries no clout +with respect to the alteration of another's ideas, which consequently, +had already been set as solidly as if in cement. + +Gradually I learned the tale behind the divorce as Norm opened up and +shared his emotional burden of the past months. Because he was not a +demonstrative person and enjoyed having time to himself, he was rather +glad when Tracy stopped asking to accompany him on all of his walks and +motorcycle rides, and through constant togetherness, needing to assure +herself of his love. The marriage was more comfortable and appeared to +be evolving toward his ideal; stability which came from the knowledge +and acceptance of each other. + +Just as Norm began to think of their union as a terrific success, Tracy +lost interest. The marriage, for her, was no longer exciting, and when +the blood failed to rush to her face upon Norm's appearance in a room, +she felt that her love had expired. Simplicity was not enough to keep +a constant fire burning, nor was a man whose love for her was steadfast +and true. She had a fascination for pursuing slightly shady aspects of +life, and unfortunately, an extra-marital romance filled her +requirements for excitement. + +In her own way I believe Tracy really loved Norm at first. Hers was a +semi-possessive, urgent sort of love which stemmed from an undeniable +inferiority complex. Never having felt herself to be good enough for +Norm, the apparent loss of love (romance) on her behalf seemed to echo +that feeling and guilt settled in to further subtract her self image. +If Norm had been abusive, unfaithful, or otherwise intolerable, her +failing love would have been met with sympathy, however, this was not +the case. Because dying love reflected badly on her, it was necessary +to procure a reason for her affair and she sought to find fault with +Norm. As a result, Tracy's guilt was vented toward Norm with an +argumentative guise, for if she could tempt him into a heated +disagreement, perhaps her actions could be better justified. + +Norm, however, detested petty grievances and refused to take the bait. +This only served to further infuriate Tracy, whose ammunition had been +dampened substantially. It was evident that her strategic moves had +collapsed. Eventually Tracy informed my brother of her affair and said +she wanted a divorce. + +Norm had made a lifetime commitment which, until then, he thought was +shared. The news was more than a slap in the face, it seared the heart +and scorched the emotions, for trust and love were suddenly, +unexplainably returned as if they were mere misfits, insubstantial and +bereft of meaning. He loved her; he wanted no divorce. He wanted only +to forgive and start anew, and refused to file any complaint against +her. If she wanted a divorce, he told her, she would have to complete +the legal paperwork; he wished no part of it. + +A final attempt to save the marriage was made in November, which +explained the haphazard flight that had earlier baffled us. It was a +miserable mistake, yet one which was often enacted by desperate mates +who, as they, thought that a honeymoon would revive faltering love. +They returned soon after their departure and Tracy called my mom to ask +if they would be welcome at the family Thanksgiving dinner. Norm, +however, was the one who had made the pumpkin bread. + +Norm was not the image of perfection; no one could be flawless in every +sense of the word and remain a human being. It was unjust, however, +that he had to sign his name to a divorce statement which was composed +of falsehoods; at that time, no-fault divorces could not be obtained in +Illinois, and it was simply assumed that the individual who sought the +divorce was the one who had undergone mental or physical injury. + +As if the court proceedings alone were not humiliating enough, Tracy +continued to weave a network of deception around their entire +relationship which touched family members, co-workers and friends. A +happy charade was displayed for our benefit, complete with a story that +she had decided to take classes at a local college. There were no +classes, of course, although Dad once shuttled her to one, thereby +using his ignorance and trust to transform himself and others into +fools. + +After the divorce had been finalized, she remained living in the same +house with Norm for several weeks. The magnanimous proportions of +marital collapse had reached our ears, but the full story was as yet +untold; we never knew of the unpleasant facets which must have pervaded +their last days in residence. The one shred which bears repeating was +that on the final day, Tracy said she had a sore throat and would stay +home from work, only to thread another deceptive claim into a tapestry +of lies when she, with her lover's aid, moved out during Norm's +absence. Upon his return he found the house stripped of all her +possessions, including those stipulated in the divorce document, and +the best of the two cars. It was easier to deceive than to confront; +Tracy was never seen again, although a lone belonging mistaken for her +own would occasionally find its way into Norm's mailbox. Things would +similarly disappear without a word; the dog, whose purchase was Tracy's +request, had not been taken in her exodus from the house. One evening, +Norm drove home to find the dog missing. After a rigorous search, he +returned home empty handed and without a clue as to its state or +location, only to receive an explanation from a neighbor that Tracy had +fetched the dog earlier in the day, leaving no note of her action. + +Norm had never spoken to anyone during the trying months because, in +his words, "it was such a mess" and he didn't wish to involve the +family. However, the amount of information that had been gained +afterward served to thoroughly enrage my parents and soon all of +Tracy's good traits seemed to vanish from her character slate. Through +her lies, many people had been wronged; moreover, the institution of +marriage had been mocked and defiled before my parents, which further +demeaned her image in their eyes. To have said that Mom and Dad were +angry would have been a drastic understatement. + +I, too, was deeply hurt, and watched the various pangs within Norm as +the realities of the matter seeped into the crevasses of his mind. I +ached for Norm and for myself; I hurt even for my parents. I hurt, but +was not angry; at first it was difficult for me to understand my +parents rage, because I had never seen in Tracy the venomous, +fork-tongued creature to which she had changed in my parents' minds. +I disagreed with her actions, to be certain, yet I knew she still +possessed redeeming and benevolent qualities which had made her so +likeable from the beginning. It was to her goodness that I clung, +defending her before my parents with a vengeance. + +Tracy was a sister and a best friend to me; I could not simply stop +loving her. My attachment to her was deeply rooted, not merely because +of who she was to me; she was the first person with whom I shared my +feelings, thereby creating for me a closeness which I had never before +encountered. For several months I fantasized about her, hoping she +would call or write; I wondered if we could secretly meet and be able +to talk, or go places together. Gifts which she had given to me became +treasures, breathing life into her memory. My parents began to think +that I had embellished her memory with an aura of idolatry. + +While I did not feel I had placed Tracy on a pedestal, I did believe +that I had an obligation to uphold her good traits and hope something +would happen which could reverse the damage already done. I scoured my +daily mail with cautious hope, thinking "Maybe today I'll hear from +her"; yet nothing came of that hope. My brother, Todd, was the only +person to whom Tracy corresponded after the divorce, which perhaps +reflected her inability to face those of us who had known her quite +well. She had seen comparatively little of Todd throughout her years +of married life, and it was therefore rather curious that she should +choose him as the recipient of a note of explanation and regret. At +any rate, she stated in her letter that she could no longer live with +Norm, though he had been nothing but a good, kind, and loving man; +further, she hoped that "Norm's parents" would be open-minded and +welcome him back into the family. + +Norm was welcomed into the family; indeed, his welcome had never worn +thin, despite our dearth of information and surplus of astonishment to +hear of the divorce. Time and conversation opened our lidded eyes. + +Finally, I accepted the fact that she was never going to write, that +she would never see my real hair, that she was as gone for me as if +blown from the surface of the earth. I accepted, also, that simplicity +and love did not fulfill her needs and that supposedly shared goals, +including frugality right down to the cheap brand of syrup, were a +farce. I perceived Norm to be the ideal man, or the closest man +thereto, and felt that Tracy would later regret her hateful actions as +she had regretted other misguided words in her youth; she knew that +Norm was a loner and possessed agoraphobic tendencies.... she knew he +was willing to work hard for comparatively small rewards; he had no +hidden vices or abusive characteristics... and though he was well built +and strong, the similarity to his ancestral Vikings ended where their +violence began. I realized that while the kettle on the home hearth +boiled feverishly, her love was secure and untouchable, but when the +fire was reduced to coals and the kettle could be taken from the hearth +without scorching her hands, love was polluted by commonality. The +need to search for her lost flame seized her mind, yet, because she +knew not what she truly sought, her search would continue forever, +leaving behind her an insubstantial and endless heap of charred ashes. + +I had vastly overemphasized my importance in Tracy's eyes. It was +incredibly humbling to be rejected so completely; I thought of Norm and +how much worse it must have been for him. Death and divorce were +indeed similar, yet in some ways, the latter was more painful. +Divorce, while lacking the ultimate permanence of death, is based on +the heart-rending fact that one's love is no longer enough, and that he +has been left by his mate's choice rather than nature's will and +circumstances. Though her love for Norm had vanished with the +disappearance of heart palpitations and romantic excitement, I thought +I deserved at least a letter of farewell for all of the good times we +had shared. I wondered if she had merely upheld a charade of good +humor and enjoyment through our excursions; yet, I thought, she would +not have invited me to share her free time if she resented my presence. + +It takes many hours to develop a friendship, and even so, one's +knowledge of the other can never be complete. While compatibility +opens friendship's door, love and it's by-products, understanding and +honesty, must co-exist as its sustaining force; lacking love, growth +stagnates and generally heralds a hurtful parting of the two +individuals. If love truly exists in one's mind, however, the love +itself cannot cease abruptly even though the other's actions or beliefs +are radically contrary to his own; the beloved part of the individual +still remains, residing side by side with his formerly concealed, +unsavory propensities. + +My acceptance of Tracy's entire personality paralleled extreme +disappointment. With no prompting from my parents, I looked upon her +new lifestyle and final interaction with the family and Norm as +disagreeable and despaired that the circumstances would not have been +different. Her image, though tainted, never shattered in my mind, and +for a time, I kept loving... and mourning... the person who I had +believed her to be. Disappointment alone could not eradicate the +lovely memories spanning three years. + +After suffering a substantial loss, it sometimes seems impossible that +a replacement of equal or greater value could ever be found, and +attempts to compare the incomparable often end in frustration. If +emotional pain is not allowed to stagnate within the inner being and +clog the mind, a person can be open to others without radiating +vulnerability. No one forgets a past hurt; after a wound heals, scar +tissue remains as a subtle reminder and effectively warns the +individual against potential threats of similar nature. Only a person +lacking the will to overcome and grow beyond past anguish is truly +mortally wounded, for his wound is not only self-inflicted, but also +infested with litter long decayed. + +I had to direct my thoughts and energy toward positive elements in +life, accepting the past and adapting to the present. The future was +no longer the shining star it had been in my childhood, for it was +uncertain and impenetrable. Short-term goals were more easily +realized. The future had a nasty habit of rearranging one's plans; +life changed so fast that it left one groping for stability as if spun +furiously on the head of a top. Disliking such emotional turbulence, I +tried to buffer life's hurtful potential by dealing with each day as +the unique parcel of hours and events it proved to be. Adaptability +was definitely one of my more useful characteristics. + +With Tracy's departure, I had not consciously determined to find a +replacement for my severed emotional attachment. I knew such behavior +on my behalf would not only have been uncharacteristic of me but futile +as well; people were not like spark plugs. However, as the months +progressed, the hole wherein Tracy's memory resided slowly filled and +was replenished, just as a mined crater will be reclaimed by nature and +gradually become a thing of beauty rather than an eternally gaping hole +of waste. I was filled with strength and confidence from budding +health and vitality; I was filled with the undying love of my family, +but more than all else, I discovered that, with Norm, I had in reality, +lost virtually nothing. + + +Mar. 15, 1977... I went to Norm's house and we made blueberry pancakes +for supper. We talked about a lot of things. + + +It was a joy to be invited to Norm's house. We did not chafe each +other's nerves; conversation came effortlessly, yet silence was no +menace. I took pleasure in his neatly arranged house and applauded his +various purchases which adorned the walls or were placed about the +rooms. With his mind bent on improvement, the house mirrored a flare +for design and decoration as well as Norm's character. The living room +was a retreat of perpetual autumn, of golden, rust and wood, of +tranquility and restiveness. To be at my brother's house was to be at +ease, and I readily welcomed his invitations to visit as they became +more frequent. + +As my life took on the complications which seemed interwoven with the +stage of adolescence, I became increasingly aware of the necessity for +peace in existence, and felt myself to be extremely fortunate to have +Norm as a valued companion. My frustrations needed verbal release and +an understanding listener who was sufficiently detached from my daily +routine (home, school, etc.) to reply in an entirely objective +fashion. It became evident that Norm and I shared a bond which reached +deeper than an ordinary brother/sister relationship, for understanding +and compatibility was the foundation from which our relationship grew. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 127 + +Chapter 17 +Ninth Grade + + + +"It was a note scribbled on an intentionally crumpled piece of paper. +No purchased card could have captured the essence of that note, or of +the crumpled course my life must take." + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +Ninth Grade + + + +Through the years I began to observe the mannerisms and personalities +around me with fascination, watching conflicts with casual objectivity +as rivals floundered in their own short-sightedness. I watched also, +as people mocked the less fortunate, who unknowingly attracted such +treatment like a magnet through their own erring behavior or ungainly +actions. Some people were simply difficult to abide; often those +individuals did not even realize their high "avoidance factor" despite +continual, and sometimes abrasive, repulsion. I observed the tensions +between parents and children as the latter reached the restless age of +rebellion and need for individual freedom. I could understand both +sides of many arguments or confrontations, and often empathized with +each opinion. + +Through surveying the world from a distance, I learned invaluable +lessons. I hoarded reactions to various personalities and situations +and studied them intently in retrospect. In gathering such information +as human responses, I began to realize why I disliked certain people +and ways of life, whereas previously, I had merely felt inexplainable +disgust or anger. More than anything, I learned that people generally +did what they wished to do, barring few exceptions, and true kindness +was a rare commodity. That which I saw was real; it was not an +impressionistic ideal of life, for personal interaction could bring +dejection as well as elation. Far from being cynical, I came to +believe one was his own best friend. I remember that I began to feel +sorry for Todd. He seemed lonely, separated by a societal barrier +which was invisible to him. Unaware of the reason for this unseen yet +impenetrable wall, Todd sought to find suitable ways around it, which +consequently resulted in forming my most pungent memory of my oldest +brother through its emotional impact on me. Although I was yet in +grade school, the incident was unforgettable, and forever marked my +heart. + +It was a blustery winter evening when Norm and his friend were +preparing to depart for his house. With an air of determination, Todd +informed them, "You're not getting away from me this time," and set +about dressing himself to meet the harsh winter chill. Meanwhile, +tired of waiting, the two dismissed the scene for their destination as +Todd continued to dress. + +Once fitted for the elements, clad in his orange snow-suit and boots, +he trudged up the silent, snow-blanketed avenue as I watched through +the kitchen window. Before reaching the house, he stopped and +resolutely turned toward home, not desiring to undergo further pursuit. +I felt my heart break for him as my eyes welled up with tears. How +lonely the world could be! I decided in an instant to meet him at the +door, clothed in my winter coat. + +Together we took a long walk in the snow, heading down a wooded path to +the quiet street below. We spoke of many things, gently laying the +foundation for a night that I would never forget. I believe our +stroll, although spurred through loneliness, was the most relaxing +interlude I have ever shared with Todd. + +As time progressed, the gap between our personalities widened. When +engaged in a serious conversation, I found the time thus spent to be +exhilarating, for Todd's intelligence was of great merit; it was +increasingly difficult, however, for me to accompany him to various +functions as I failed to understand the reasoning which prompted some +of his actions and behavior. Desiring to blend with the crowd rather +than direct its attention, I was flushed with embarrassment at any +mannerism which was apart from the ordinary spectrum of social conduct +as I saw it to be. + +Everyone views life through his own eyes, and although the ideas of +individuals coincide at various points, it is virtually impossible to +assume that which is "right" for someone else at a given point in time. +This was another area in which Todd and I differed considerably, yet +here I was able to comprehend the motive behind his good intentions. +Because Todd declined invitations to attend outings early in life, he +later found he was no longer asked to join in a group's activities. As +a result, he eventually forced himself to become involved in multiple +organizations thereby making up for those he had missed; he evidently +enjoyed the bustle of activity which the groups provided, and was soon +absent from the house nearly every night. + +When Todd saw I was declining offers to attend parties or dances, he +thought I was following similar actions which had introduced alienation +into his life, and I would one day discover that I was not only alone, +but lonely. + + +Mar. 23, 1977... (A boy) called and asked if I could go to the dance at +his school. When I called him back, he was really discouraged and mad +that I didn't want to go. But, man, he's so gross! Never ever combs +his hair. How sick. Todd really lectured me on how I should go 'cuz +he didn't when he was my age, but I can't relive his life! He makes me +mad sometimes. + + +He pressured me to accept these invitations despite my reasons for +desiring to stay at home. Consequently, it made me become leary to +divulge any plans to him for fear I would find myself in a situation +that I detested; his arguments were fierce and unyielding, and I sought +to avoid them whenever I could. Moreover, I wanted to form my own +decisions and began to resent such stubborn, relentless interference. +I believe it is better to "let be" than to stray beyond one's bounds +into the gray and scarred battle ground where individual decisions are +waged and won; it is prudent to counsel, but never so to force. + +Todd was unbelievably innovative. He could construct posters and cards +having multiple moving parts without losing any degree of his +meticulous patience. The quality of perseverance was a further boon to +his imaginative efforts, and he created countless fascinating objects +dating back to my earliest memories. I received a greeting from Todd +during my long stay at Mayo. It was a note scribbled on an +intentionally crumpled piece of paper. No purchased card could have +captured the essence of that note, or of the crumpled course my life +must take. Todd always had time to take a walk or to play a game. He +never forgot a birthday... with gifts he was equally creative. One +birthday I received a huge balloon (a factory reject) which was a +source of awe and amazement for us all. We filled it with the exhaust +end of the vacuum cleaner since no one had lungs with the capacity for +inflating that monstrous thing. Another year, short of funds but long +on loving thoughts, he collected a wide sampling of floral and tree +seed pods. For me, that meant endless possibilities in creating. + +Toward the end of 9th grade, I had gained a fair amount of confidence. +I was amazed to note the way in which the improvements in my health and +appearance affected my self-worth; I no longer felt like a helpless +child clinging to my mother's skirt or father's pants leg for +protective solace. I was less reserved, feeling that my opinions were +just as valuable as those of others, and decisions, though sometimes +tempered by my parents, belonged to me. Life was not merely passing +by; I possessed both the ability and the will to actively pursue the +means toward a hopeful end. The variables along the way would affect +the resulting success or failure, but that, I knew, was simply a part +of life's uncertainty. + +Academically I improved as my physical strength increased. In +reflection, it was obvious that my tutor had not over-taxed my +capabilities during the previous year; I was grateful that she had not, +for the nature of my illness was such that I was forever unsure of the +state of my health. Upon my reappearance at school the extra effort +required for 9th grade curriculum initially demanded more of my time +and mental exertion; when I finally redeveloped my listening, +comprehension and study techniques, however, I felt less hampered by +the work load. + +In addition to the basics, I was able to take a course in woodworking. +Happily, I was not the only girl to have fostered such a "sexually +uncharacteristic" whim, and the two of us felt less ridiculous seated +among our masculine counterparts, knowing our endeavor was not entirely +foreign to the minds of other females. My apprehension was unfounded, +I discovered, for in time I saw that my work exceeded that of many of +my classmates; I was more particular, concerned with the appearance of +the finished product and willing to direct effort toward the perfect, +rather than haphazard, completion of a project. Moreover, I had a +natural love of wood and wished to acquire certain skills therewith, +reasoning that one day I would rebuild or at least refinish antique +pieces for my own home. I was no advocate of women's liberation; +I simply found interest in many activities and subjects. I had to +prove nothing to anyone but myself. + +After finishing a class project to my satisfaction, I began earnestly +on a project of my own design. That which I determined to make was a +cedar chest, and looked on excitedly as the instructor pulled a stack +of cedar boards from the storage closet and placed them on one of the +work tables. The first course of action, he said, was to glue the +smaller boards together, after which the uneven width would be +surgically altered in the planer. I noticed several imperfections +(worm-eaten tunnels) in certain boards, but the teacher was unmoved. +"Those can be filled with wood filler," he replied, walking off. I +gazed after him doubtfully wondering how I could trust a man who, in +one hour, had to coach his 25 students through their 25 different +projects. Nevertheless, I started my work, trying to envision a lidded +box in the stack of wood which had probably been intended for a bonfire. + +Meanwhile, other school-related activities gathered momentum as the +academic year drew ever closer to its end. As one of the art editors +for the yearbook, I was instructed to design several covers for +possible use. My effort resulted in developing four options ranging, +in my opinion, from "nearly philosophical" to "cute"; I placed my +endeavors on the desk of the teacher whose spare time was choked with +yearbook duties. My designs would not necessarily appear on the +yearbook cover, but I was satisfied that I had succeeded in creating +original ideas. + + +Mar. 31, 1977... We had a band concert in the aud. and during the middle, +Mr. C. got up and read off the nominee for HALL OF FAME and I was one of +'em! (A friend of mine) wasn't tho, and she didn't even congratulate me. + + +April 20, 1977... I was nominated for American Legion! I didn't really +know 'til homeroom, when we were to vote on it!! (I voted for me!!) +There were 5 boys and 5 girls altogether. + + +Mr. Cox took a photograph of me for the special American Legion section +of the yearbook so that my grotesque photo, taken when I still had no +hair, would not, at least, appear in the separate section. I was +relieved and quite thankful to my understanding instructor. + + +April 21, 1977... Mr. C. said my design would be used for the cover of +the yearbook!! + + +Perhaps all of the previous events were too much for me; I was suddenly +ill with migraine headaches in a manner which I had never before +encountered. + + +April 26, 1977... Got a migraine headache at 5th period. Didn't go +home though. Called Dad when school let out, but there was no answer, +so I had to walk home. It was hard, but I made it. + + +April 27, 1977... At 2nd period I got another migraine. It took a half +hour to get Dad 'cuz he was outside. Finally I got home. I felt bad!! + + +April 28, 1977... You won't believe this! I didn't! Well, I got +another migraine today right after lunch. Dad got me again. Slept +most all day. + +After three days of head-wrenching, I decided to play it safe and +recuperate at home. I found I became paranoid concerning the multiple +headaches, and feared that my worry would result in more pain. + +A week later. + + +May 5, 1977... Got a migraine AGAIN!!!!!... Dad got a prescription for +me and it said to take two capsules, so I did and a half hour later, I +got all numb... + + +How well I recall that incident. I was seated at my place at the +dinner table after having swallowed (miraculously) the pills, when I +suddenly was immersed in a bath of incredible, yet unfounded hilarity. +I began to snicker, then burst into a cascade of inexplicable laughter. +My family looked up from their plates and, because of humor's rather +contagious nature, broke into bewildered smiles and tried to detect the +source of my behavior. "Really..." I replied, "I don't know why I'm +laughing..." Then, just as rapidly as it had begun, the laughter +ceased and I was convulsed in a fit of tears. It was embarrassing to +me for I had no control over my emotions, and agitated, I fled from the +room. At length I was able to quench my strange and unbidden tears +while Dad sat beside me with a worried look on his face. + +Afterward I marveled at a drug's ability to produce such startling +effects, yet I was equally startled by the fact that some people +knowingly swallowed pills to acquire mind-altered states of being. +Such was not my goal in life; self-control meant too much to my inner +presence to eradicate reality. + +A week and a half later I had another migraine. It was full-blown; I +even had to vomit. I didn't, however, take another pill. Lack of +control was much worse than the presence of pain. + + +May 18, 1977... School. I got a trophy for doing the Vision cover and +also a certificate for (submitting) "A Friend" in "Accent on Ink." +Great!! + + +June 1, 1977... The 9th graders got yearbooks today. Everyone liked +'em... Dad got me and helped me take my cedar chest home. + + +June 2, 1977... Last full day!! We signed yearbooks all day. + + +The last day of school was always fun. It was a time for reflection +and reliving past events, and while in the midst of such activity, one +classmate turned to me and casually asked, "Laurie, you had cancer, +didn't you?" "Yes," I replied, and briefly related that which had +occurred to me, including my loss of hair. At one point in the +conversation, I noticed the teacher staring widely at me, as if in +disbelief. "You look healthy now," his face seemed to say. After the +conversation turned to a different subject, the teacher sat down on my +desk and asked more details of my experience. Suddenly, he began +lamenting his marital difficulties and personal problems. It was my +turn to listen in disbelief; it seemed odd to be selected as a +teacher's confidant. Although aside from teacher and student we were +both human beings, I did not feel comfortable with the conversation. +I tried to react as an unsurprised, objective listener; perhaps having +been subjected to pain, he felt comfortable and rather compelled to +tell me of his own. It was something I never forgot, nor did I +encounter such circumstances again. + +The end had come of what, at first, had been an emotionally draining +year. I had experienced much kindness and cruelty, pleasure and pain, +yet I persevered through all the trials and returned all of the +smiles... and at last, the positive outweighed the negative. + +As I left the hallways of the junior high school which had, only three +years before, appeared a massive array of corridors, I welcomed summer +with customary gladness and reveled in the freedom that greeted my +steps. My exit was not saluted with lengthy accomplishments or popular +admiration, and that did not mar my happiness; I cared neither for +applause nor popularity. I knew, however, that I had done my best and +touched several lives; making an indelible impression on someone's mind +was indeed the highest of compliments that I could have merited. + + + + + + + + + + + +Directions + + +Directions are disturbing, +At least they are to me, +How anyone ever follows them +Is more than I can see. + +They say to take notch "B" +And slide it into "F" +Or else to take the "right" side +And fold it to the "left." + +Then in opening a band-aid +They say to pull a string, +Well I could pull and pull and pull all day +And never reach the thing. + +And say you want some Pringles, +Preferably for Brunch, +But you couldn't get them open +Until it's time for lunch! + +Directions are a problem, +(I think to everyone), +And it's comforting to know +I'm not the only one! + +Lauren Isaacson +9th Grade + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 133 + +Chapter 18 +Summer 1977 + + + +"I felt as if my heart would burst, for never had I experienced such +profound closeness with nature. . . My sense of reality had heightened +and every inch of my body was alive with incomparable sensations." + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + +Summer 1977 + + + + +The middle of June was slated as the beginning of our summer vacation, +and on the 15th, we departed for Colorado. It was a grand trip, for +Dad had promised an extensive vacation following the debilitating +chemotherapy treatments, and told me that we would go anywhere I +wished. My choice was not a difficult one; I had always loved the west +and desired to see both "old sights" and new. The resulting journey +made its first stop in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, but since we had +been to the area numerous times, we did not tarry long; the day after +hiking up a small hill and splashing barefoot in an icy mountain +stream, we drove along Trail Ridge Road and headed north to the Tetons +and Yellowstone National Park. + +Yellowstone was a source of much fascination, yet prior to our arrival +at the park itself, a short ramble in the roadside brush (for the +purpose of taking a better scenic photograph) led to the discovery of +an entire moose carcass. I quickly hoisted the head into the air, and +positioned it before my own, whereupon my mom excitedly captured my +lack of respect for the dead on film. Unable to relinquish my antlered +scull, my parents agreed to stow it in the trunk. The weathered skull +had been callously separated from its body without last rites or a +solitary tear, but, driving from the area, I did not really think the +moose would mind. + +The next day, after scouting past numerous bubbling geysers, I bought a +moose charm in a souvenir shop. I wished to commemorate my find of the +previous day (and perhaps, subconsciously placate the moose's spirit if +it had suffered any ill-will toward my action). We also decided to eat +lunch at that time since the restaurant was in close proximity to the +renowned "Old Faithful," and being so close, had ample time to finish +our food before it again blew its steam skyward. Lunch arrived soon +following our order, yet time began to drift away as Mom delved into +her mountainous chef's salad. It was obvious that we would miss the +eruption of Old Faithful if direct action was not taken; Dad and I said +"good-bye" to Mom and dashed on to the extensive patio where other +visitors were gathering. Eyes were riveted on the strangely steaming +mound; a few men checked their wrist-watches, as if doubtful of the +geyser's punctuality. No one was disappointed. Exactly one hour after +its last appearance, a mad bubbling issued from the previously silent +pit and multiplied its violent surges until frothing liquid shot into +the sky. People oohed and ahhed and pointed fingers. Cameras clicked +furiously. + +When the show was over, the crowd disbursed and Dad and I returned to +the restaurant to fetch Mom. Fifteen minutes had elapsed; she would +probably be waiting at an empty table, nursing her glass of water to +alleviate boredom and nervousness. We turned into the restaurant and +couldn't believe our eyes. There was Mom, still poised over a fair +amount of salad, eating diligently; "the salad wouldn't leave," I +thought. At least she wasn't bored during our absence. + +Mom eventually finished her salad and we resumed our sightseeing. +Yellowstone Park was an intermingling of beauty and oddity, and as a +result I used a fair amount of film. The animals, though wild, were +close at hand and I was able to see buffalo and elk to my fulfillment. +After two days we left the park and headed into Montana and Washington, +stopping to see the Grand Coulee Dam for my dad's benefit. I was not +impressed and did not care to linger over the massive system of water +retention, yet the trip was not entirely my own and I therefore tried +to suppress my disinterest. + +The following day proved more to my liking as we once again headed into +a park. I had never before seen Mt. Rainier and was truly awed to view +the spectacle created by the superior snow-capped mountain. Though +surrounded by other mountains and lushly forested valleys, Mt. Rainier +dominated one's attention like a bejeweled lady among serfs. + + +June 23, 1977... Went into Rainier. At this one place this jay would +come down and take a peanut out of Dad's hand (in mid-air). Went to +Paradise (visitor center) and hiked up near Mt. Rainier. I never felt +so good in my life. Had to walk through snow in around 3-5 places. It +was real neat. + + +The day was the highlight of the entire vacation. Separating myself +from my parents, I sped up the trail, spurred onward through a +boundless source of energy and excitement. I felt as if my heart would +burst, for never had I experienced such a profound closeness with +nature. I enjoyed the beauty, but basked in the ecstasy which swelled +from within. My sense of reality had heightened and every inch of my +body was alive with incomparable sensations. I listened to the world, +to the breeze tossing the fragrant pine; I absorbed every detail and +mourned the journey's end, whereupon the noise and clutter of +civilization would scour away the feeling which I so desired to +prolong. Seldom was I entranced by emotion; I slowed my pace and then +stopped to breathe a final breath of tranquility before surrendering my +blissful state of mind to the realm of the ordinary. + +Retracing my steps, I eventually met Mom and Dad ascending toward the +direction I had climbed. "There's quite a bit of snow up there," I +told them. Sporting only tennis shoes and sweaters, they quickly +re-routed their steps and chose a down-hill trek; they had exercised +enough for one day anyway. The three of us ambled down the +mountain-side, stopping once for a snowball fight which could not be +resisted. It was amazing how rapidly one's mental state changed with +the introduction of various sensations or the presence of other people. +My previous feeling was now only a memory, firmly implanted, yet miles +from my grasp. It was a gem, secure in my mind, and I knew that I was +somehow wealthier than I had been. + +Two days after Mt. Rainier, we were driving down the Oregon coastline. +At several intervals we stopped so I could test the breakwater beneath +my bare feet. The shore was beautiful, despite the gray clouds and +ocean mist that eventually obscured the farthest cliffs from view. I +seemed to be walking in a colorless world where all things grew only +darker or lighter shades of silver gray. The water was icy and forbade +me enter; even the foam which rushed up the sand to enrobe my toes was +too frigid to withstand, and sent me sprinting from the constant waves +to higher ground. + +The following day we continued through Oregon to Crater Lake, a +magnificent sapphire body of water which left my eyes agape; then, +between destinations, we met a trucker who took us on one of his lumber +runs. As we mosied down the long state of California, we toured a +lumber company and then were awed by the magnificent stands of Sequoia +Redwood trees which soared above all else with an aura of statuesque +grandeur. The giants were some of the oldest living things on earth, +and it seemed incredible and obscene that anyone should desire to cut +them down for timber. Compared to the trees, my life seemed a mockery, +a dwarfed and highly insignificant thing. All did not depreciate with +age. + +Our stay in Santa Monica encompassed eight nights and as many days, as +we enjoyed a variety of sights. We stayed with relatives who knew the +area quite well and therefore provided a guided tour through some of +the attractions, including Universal Studios, Huntington Gardens, Will +Roger's Ranch, and shopping mall, and of course, Disneyland. No trip +to the west coast would be complete without a jaunt to the latter +amusement park and we made ours an all-day affair. On our own we +traveled to another amusement park, Magic Mountain, which boasted a +vast array of rides better suited to my suicidal whims. At the day's +end, my dad and I had been whipped, jolted, plunged, riveted and lost +as many stomachs as cats have lives to have satisfied my boldest +cravings for at least a month. Mom, as usual, was most content to sit +and watch. Had she indulged in some of the wilder rides, I fear she +would have at best, suffered from acute hoarseness and at worst, been +carried from the park on a stretcher. + +Leaving California, we stopped at one of their famous "Date Farms" and +to my utter disappointment, saw no date trees. At least the place did +not charge admission or try to plaster a revolting bumper sticker on +the car while shopping within the "supermarket." + +Skirting the southern route through Arizona on our way home, I +discovered the meaning of "hot" when referring to weather. At 112 +degrees I was extremely pleased that we had an air-conditioned car; +ventures into the sunshine were like tiptoeing through a blast furnace. +Sweat dried on the face, forming a sticky glaze with the dust floating +on the hot air currents. I would not have been surprised to see spit +dry before hitting the ground. + +Two days into the blistering heat we stopped at White Sands National +Monument. The sand was so blindingly white that attempts to gaze at +the drifts without sun-glasses were hopeless endeavors. On that +particular day I was unable to walk bare-foot on the fine sand due to +its scorching heat, and we finally decided to duck into the visitor +center before shriveling into sun-ripened prunes. + +The trip was nearing its end, and I looked forward to sleeping in my +own bed and investigating my mail. Even restaurant food lacked its +excitement as the days progressed, which was a definite sign that I had +turned my thoughts toward home. There was one notable exception, +however. + + +July 11, 1977... Stayed at a real neat motel... and ate at its +restaurant. Swam for an hour and half. After awhile, I started talking +to a guy in the pool with me. After awhile we saw a drunk guy! It was +funny. Then he asked if I wanted something cold to drink (an RC COLA). +We talked awhile after and Mom made me come up finally. (a sad face) +He was from Dallas, TX. + + +The evening was memorable for my mom also, who, for a short time +observed our conversation at a pleasant distance. Since I had removed +my contacts for fear of losing them in the swimming pool, my vision was +rendered useless with regard to recognizing faces and perceiving detail +at distances greater than one foot. Therefore, when my "friend" +excused himself from the area, I sought my mom's visual acuteness and +asked cautiously, "Mom. . . what's he look like?" I was relieved to +discover that she found the guy attractive, and settled into a +pool-side chair as Mom retired to the room, noticeably humored by my +inquiry. + +Such brief encounters augment confidence, for therein one is able to +discover his attractiveness to the opposite sex. Ours was the type of +interaction which was fleetingly romantic, yet bereft of expectations; +each of us knew the conversation would last no more than several hours +and end with a smile and a reluctant farewell. I believe the intrinsic +briefness created the comfortable atmosphere, for when one knows he +shall never see someone again, he leaves behind the fear of peer groups +and personality changes which often accompany a better knowledge of the +other. + +The next morning when I recalled the previous evening, I realized with +horror that if I saw the boy, I would not recognize him and hoped for a +clean escape from the motel. To my relief, I saw no one who remotely +resembled a male teenager, and dismissed myself having only faceless +memories of a pool-side conversation and a cool RC Cola. + +The family vacation was over after four weeks, and we were all glad to +be home. The trip was fun, yet it served to strengthen the heart +strings attached to our oak trees and modest house, and though +familiarity of itself was not love, it certainly did not subtract from +love's essence. + +The remainder of the summer was spent in an easy, enjoyable manner. I +whiled away the hours on my bicycle or indulged in one of my crafts; I +met with friends from school, and stayed at my sister's house for one +week. Junior High School was a memory, pasted between the pages of a +scrapbook. Even my unfinished cedar chest had, by summer's end, found +its way into the garage attic. + +The last days of freedom melted under the hot August sun, and I began +to wonder how three months could have escaped so soon. I once again +traveled to Mayo Clinic and returned with good spirits. The latter +part of the same week Todd moved to a distant Illinois town to accept a +position as a woodworking teacher for ninth grade students. The wheel +of change had begun to turn, and "home" meant three people instead of +four. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 137 + +Chapter 19 +Tenth Grade + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + +Tenth Grade + + + + +There were no miraculous suggestions, books, pills or other devices +which could have properly prepared me for the onset of growing pains. +My High School years, more than any other time in my life, proved to be +the toughest emotional battleground. As I grew physically, mentally +and socially, my emotions were constantly fluctuating, eventually +creating a finely-honed, razor-sharp edge on which all interaction was +carved into a deep and memorable impression in my mind. + +Tenth grade came as somewhat of a shock. It reminded me of the terrors +of seventh grade, for I had a different locker, an entirely foreign +building and a new and larger mass of faces to which I was supposed to +become accustomed. The lunch room appeared enormous to my nervous +stomach, and among the flood of students pressed before the snack +counter, I considered myself lucky to have made it to the front to +order. Once I had my lunch, usually a long john and orange drink, in +my possession, I turned reluctantly to search in desperation for a +familiar face with whom I could sit and more pleasantly pass the time. +If I saw no one, I would find a seat apart from the various +congregations and open a book as if trying to read. While I ingested +my donuts the words danced meaninglessly across the page beneath my +unseeing eyes; insecurity prevented me from attempting to seek my +acquaintances just as pride demanded that my attention be riveted to a +book. + +The classes were not as distressing as lunch time, with the possible +exception of physical education, since they were governed by one's +teachers rather than oneself and generally did not reflect complete +anarchy. I was much more relaxed in a routine setting wherein nothing +was left to chance; I had no anxiety toward finding a seat, since one's +initial choice usually lasted the entire semester, nor was conversation +a worry because it was not permitted after the beginning of class +anyway, and if I failed to unearth rare gems of humor, silence did not +endure so far as to become embarrassing. + +I disliked negative attention and therefore often neglected to raise my +hand during class discussions. Of course, if the truth shall be made +known, I so despised directing another's gaze, that virtually any +attention was, from my point of view, "negative." Therefore, if I +raised my hand, I wished to be certain my statement was correct and +sometimes went as far as writing my answer on paper so that I would not +stumble on my own tongue, as was my habit in a stressful situation. +Another habit, however, sometimes impeded my valiant intentions. That, +by name, was day-dreaming. Having an innate stubbornness within me, I +would foster ill-will toward subjects which, despite my greatest +effort, I failed to grasp; enter, day-dreaming. Such was the case with +an "Honors English" class which I made the mistake of accepting. The +class was basically the duplicate of "regular" tenth grade English but +wielded a decidedly tougher grading scale and a faster pace. Only one +of the three teachers who taught the over-sized class had sensible +expectations of the students and a personality which reflected no +favoritism among her subjects; unfortunately, I was lucky enough to +study under her guidance only the last semester. The first semester I +fell under the instruction of one of the other women; she was single, +opinionated and sharp-tongued, and had the habit of dissecting the +least complicated story into shreds of symbolism and hidden meaning +which would have amused the authors to no end had they been alive to +contest her brave statements. The teacher had no room for differing +opinions; the only way to succeed on tests was to regurgitate that +which she had proclaimed as having relevancy or truth. Reflecting on +her marital status, I quickly understood. + +Seated in English class one day, I found myself lured from the +discussion momentarily to exercise some uninvited thought. When I +returned my awareness to the classroom the teacher was looking around +the room for a volunteer to answer her last question. I decided to +raise my arm to reply, and she nodded that I should speak. After +giving my answer, the teacher studied me indifferently and remarked, +"That answer has already been given." I shifted uneasily in my chair, +deciding to follow the lesson more closely. Several questions later, +another multiple-answer question was presented to the class. Hands +went up around the room and answers rushed into the teacher's ears. A +favorite student raised her hand to offer a reply, and when bidden to +speak, her answer was a virtual carbon copy of the previous speaker's. +The instructor smiled at her pleasantly. "That answer has already been +mentioned, however, since it is of such consequence, I'm glad you +repeated it." I stared in disbelief and knew that I had no hope of +winning under conditions as deplorable as those I had just witnessed. + +With the initiation into high school, I decided to attempt a routine as +near to normal as my system would allow. The last thing I desired was +a complication which would separate me from other students, so I +elected to store cookies in my locker to provide the extra energy I +sometimes required to alleviate an infuriated stomach or an aching head +between meals. I tried to forego my snacks entirely, but decided my +action was unwise after repeated and quite audible rumblings of ignored +hunger pangs during class. Because the consumption of my snack would +occasionally swallow an extra minute of my time, I procured a note from +the school administrator that officially excused a late entry into +class. I rarely needed the note, and the teachers knew I was not the +type to abuse such a privilege; the system worked very well. + +I felt more "normal" physically than I had for many months, and decided +that I should try to negotiate a hated physical education class even +though I would not have had to do so given my health history. Although +it was tempting to avoid the issue altogether by procuring a medical +excuse from my doctor, I did not wish to invite failure through +cowardice on my behalf. Too often I watched people use health problems +to buffer a difficult situation or create an unwarranted advantage when +in actuality, their only lameness was the excuse which formed on their +lips. + +My progress in physical education depended to a large extent on the +progress made by my stomach to digest its food. If it decided to +cooperate, my activity was in no way impeded. However, because of its +irregularity, such cooperation was markedly infrequent and I would +often find myself uncomfortably nauseous; as the sports grew more +demanding, I knew that the class was not going to be acceptable. I was +of no value to the team if staving off the urge to vomit, and the +teachers disbelieved my need to sit quietly on the side lines. "You +look fine to me," their appraisal seemed to say. I almost wished my +stomach would yield to its sickness and give the doubting teachers an +eyeful to cure them of their disbelief. Eventually I asked my doctor +to write a medical excuse for me which served to place me in the +library for "study hall"; this arrangement pleased me for I was then +free to study, read, or dream as dictated by my mood. Physical +activity was pursued at home during periods of good health; this was no +awkward adjustment since I desired to maintain my fitness, and when I +felt well, I did not spend time slumped sluggishly in a chair. Seated +in the library, I reflected gratefully that I had not taken any drastic +measures before securing the written excuse; I also knew that, since I +was no tyrant, I probably could not have given such a gruesome display +even if it had been a foremost desire. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 140 + +Chapter 20 +Eleventh Grade + + + +"I was always reminded of a tea kettle filled with boiling water which +had to let off steam or explode; had I been unable to "blow-it-out," my +emotions would have strained violently against my being, and while a +shattered teapot could be replaced, sanity was less easily restored." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + +Eleventh Grade + + + + +Adolescence is an explosive age wherein change is an intrinsic factor. +One begins to weigh the significance of specific values in an attempt +to discover which values shall be given foremost importance in life. +There are numerous trials and errors, and many lessons are learned +through failure or fear. An elder's words of wisdom are not always +sufficient to curb the pangs of rebellion; the youth wishes to use his +own mind to dictate that which he shall experience rather than to live +through the vision of greater knowledge. + +With the onset of 11th grade, I had gained enough confidence to pursue +my version of parental rebellion which, compared to my characteristic +desire to please and meld, baffled and then concerned my mom and dad. +Disputes generally centered on minor details such as curfew, yet +progressed to include whose company I could keep and which events I +could attend. For the first time in my life, I was trying to make my +conflicting views heard. This measure only created misery on all +fronts, however, because my father did not welcome variances of +opinion. I never yelled in my efforts to illustrate my views, for that +would have proven disastrous; but despite my steady-voiced assertions, +conversation became more difficult and rendered the family bliss into a +sort of haphazard time-bomb. As a result, I began to foster unwanted +feelings of intolerance toward little quirks and mannerisms, as often +will accompany deeper grievances and unsettled disputes. Instead of +accepting the gap of understanding that had evolved, I projected the +frustration which came from the impasse upon petty outlets. The little +things ate at my mind and aggravated me beyond all reason; I despised +myself for allowing such inconsequential details to taint my father's +image or turn me from his love. + +With my mom, it was different. She allowed me to voice my opinions +although they differed from her own. Despite my plea for "freedom " I +was choked by the ambivalence of my emotions. I longed for choice yet +craved intervention. For example, certain days found me in an +unexplainably aggressive state of mind and my anger begged to be given +reign over rationality. So perturbed was I with my inner turmoil that +sometimes I wished to argue for its own sake, creating an issue to +banter back and forth like a volley ball; other times I wanted mom to +say "no" and thereby settle a dispute which raged internally, for +parental objections were often weightier and less subject to +contestation than were personal decisions to forego a particular event. +Of course, there were also those things which I desired to discuss, +yet felt compelled to remain hidden from my mom; I knew that to share +certain instances would have jeopardized my ability to see many +"friends," and although many of those individuals I later decided to +avoid, I needed to make the decision on my own. + +One person who understood was Norm. It was not so long ago that he had +undergone the need for independence, and sympathized with my sometimes +over-blown grievances. When I spoke to Norm it seemed that my +"problems" dissipated into the wind or became so insignificant that I +could easily bear their weight. The changes in my outlook and +disposition seemed only fleeting steps to adulthood, rather than +imprisoning hours. + +In my eyes, Norm's life was a reflection of perfect balance, +self-sufficiency and peace of mind. I longed for the day when I too +would be able to own a house and make all the choices that were his. +I dreamed of such a life, and it seemed incredible that he would ever +seek an alternative. Paradise, however, as well as prison, is in the +eye of the beholder. + +It no longer seemed of much importance. He could do it, and the +knowledge of his initial success was of more worth than continued +success. Norm decided to move home. + +The divorce had left my brother with half of a house and, in certain +respects, half of a life. It was necessary at the time to prove to +himself that he could live alone. Therefore, Norm paid for a house and +refurbished its interior; he performed all domestic functions while +working a 40 hour week; he found mental stimulation through books and +occasional personal interaction with friends. Such accomplishments +provided a sense of satisfaction; the gradual rebuilding of Norm's +physical world complimented the restoration taking place within himself. + +Once Norm had finalized his basic dreams in the material sense, +however, it grew obvious that the inner rebuilding which still clamored +for completion could not be done alone. He was the sole spark of life +in a house from which the cobwebs of deceit could never be wiped. But +for an attic full of worn out memories, his was an empty house. +Houses, of themselves, do not indenture the heart; thus, without regret +or apology, Norm came home. + +January was the coldest it had been in years, or so it seemed. To +brighten the blustery evening, Norm had invited me to share a pizza +with him at his house. I gladly accepted the invitation and spent +several pleasant hours staring at a lively fire and talking. +I departed feeling very content, never suspecting his oppressive +loneliness. Norm had concealed it from everyone, and it came as +somewhat of a surprise to see him standing at the door so soon after +saying good-night; loneliness pooled in his eyes and I realized it had +filtered deeper than any cursory glance could have perceived. + +Personally, I was elated at the prospect of sharing the upstairs with +my brother, especially if living at home was what he truly wished. +Several years earlier the arrangement would not have succeeded; then he +sought to free himself from the constraints of youth through +establishing his own credibility as a functioning part of society. Now +he had tasted life's offerings, the sweet and the bitter, and knew that +he could alter his happiness through certain changes on his part. +Loneliness was one pain which he had the power to alleviate; his return +was a matter of choice, not defeat, and with a clear conscience +regarding his desire, pursued his intent. After assuring his welcome, +he and I drove to his house so he could secure a parcel of clothing and +other necessities for the night. + +As one household began to dissolve, the family home eagerly digested +the other's former occupant and his belongings. It took several months +for Norm's house and major furnishings to be sold, but those objects +that he wished to retain were loaded unceremoniously into sacks and +stashed in the attic or placed hastily about various parts of the +house. A microwave found its station on the basement counter, and +shelving provided a haven for his stereo equipment. A handsome +recliner stole a living room corner and became known as NORM'S CHAIR; +if he entered the room to find HIS CHAIR occupied, he didn't quite know +where to sit. It became evident that this home was his home and, with +an ample dose of personal interaction and companionship, the emotional +wounds had begun to heal. + +School was actually fun for me after my tongue lost some of its shy +inhibitions and I was able to joke and carry on conversations before +classes. I joined no extra-curricular activities, however, since I +valued free time and generally wished to go home or to a friend's house +directly following school. Moreover, I entertained the idea of finding +a part-time job, and did not wish to spread myself so thinly over those +undertakings which I had deemed to be worthy of my time; I was still a +perfectionist, and that ruled even the most rebellious of my whims. + +That autumn I obtained employment at a fashionable store in a local +shopping mall. I was notably excited since the job promised to be +better aligned to my interests than either of my other jobs... +babysitting and a two week stint at a fabric store. The former, I +decided, demanded too much of my tolerance and felt I should quit +before I was jailed for child abuse. Actually I, the sitter, was the +abused party; I would return home after an evening of utter turmoil +clenching three dollars in my hand. + +On the worst occasion, I was to sit for two children at the end of the +avenue. Soon after my arrival I discovered I was sitting for only one +child; the other a monster. Inside of three hours he managed to reduce +my state of mind to that of a murderess. He disobeyed every request, +every order, every threat. He ignored his mother's dictate that +specified he could eat no more than two candy bars. After consuming +five, the bag of candy went on top of the refrigerator, the sole place +in the house which he was unable to reach. The monster, outraged, then +proceeded to unshelf every toy he owned and move it into the living +room. Afterward, he decided to hide in the closet. + +For a brief moment, I was relieved. Seeing this action had an adverse +effect on me, in his opinion, he came out, wielding the vacuum cleaner, +and tore about the house like a wild thing. His next move, +unfortunately, was to raid another closet, from which he carefully +selected a bag of rubber bands. These he pinged across the room, +firing joyously, until I impeded his efforts. The rubber bands found +themselves on the refrigerator. + +I looked up. Ten o'clock. Unbelieveable. The parents said they'd be +home "around twelve." I took a deep breath and noticed the monster was +cackling from some unseen location. Deciding that I should pursue the +source of my discontent, I finally found him grinning widely at the +door of his bedroom. "I let the gerbils out of their cage," he +announced proudly. I rolled my eyes. "Terrific," I replied, lacking +any enthusiasm. As I had a gerbil, I was not frightened at the +prospect of catching the rodents, but was concerned they might become +lost in a couch or any of the thousand other places a gerbil could +hide. I immediately dropped to my hands and knees, knowing they +generally fled beneath the furniture, and searched the carpet for the +tiny animals. Sure enough, they were nervously enjoying their freedom +under the bed's protective cover. I succeeded in flushing them into +the open, whereupon they were promptly stripped of their liberty and +lifted, by way of their tails, into the cage. + +I turned out the light and marched into the living room where boy +monster and his sister plotted against me behind suspicious smiles. +I sat down and he left the room; not desiring to be surprised, I +followed, entering his room just as he was about to unleash one of his +gerbils again. "No!" I yelled. He disappeared, leaving the business +of finding the gerbil to me; it took a bit longer this time because the +mite had escaped to the master bedroom before I could detain it. Once +I had the animal by the tail, I returned to the bedroom in time to +intercept the monster's second attempt to free his other gerbil. +Determined that no more searches would take place that evening, the +gerbil cage also decorated the refrigerator top. + +Of course, bedtime was a chore in itself, but one battle which I was +determined to win. Through a stroke of luck or a dream realized, the +two finally went to sleep, leaving me to blink at the T.V. in a +fatigued stupor until I collapsed on the couch. + +The parents returned well after two o'clock in the morning to find me +slumped where I had fallen several hours earlier; I had earned the +sleep, especially under the circumstances that I endured. Having +baby-sat for over seven hours, on which I had not counted, I felt that +my brush with insanity would be buffered by a "substantial" payment. +The husband handed me some tightly folded bills and two quarters as I +stepped into the night air, and by the feel of the wad, I trusted his +integrity and believed that my effort might have been worthwhile, +indeed. The "going rate" was at least 75 cents per hour, with the rate +increasing to $l.00 or $l.50 for every hour past midnight. I +calculated in my mind as I paced toward my house, knowing that I had +been gone seven and a half hours, and turned the bills over in my hand +with anticipation. "A five and maybe a couple of ones. . ." a thought +echoed. I opened the door and entered, removed my shoes, and went into +the kitchen to see what the light would reveal. Unrolling the bills +reverently, I straightened them one by one and put them on the table. +One, two, three, four dollars. . . and fifty cents. I stared silently +at the bills, recalling that my minimum payment should have been $5.75. +I felt used and cheated, and frankly, quite insulted. My mom, too, +was angry and said I should protest my under-payment, but I was afraid +to call "grown-ups" and let the matter drop. + +The following week I received a phone call from the mother, requesting +that I baby-sit some night that week. I had not honestly let the +matter drop, for it had festered in my mind since its occurrence, and +bid me forego further assignments with that family. "No," I replied. +A hush ensued, urging me to explain. "I won't... I can't handle your +kids." In a diminutive tone, the woman acknowledged my statement and +said good-bye; by her response I somehow felt she had just experienced +de ja vu. In certain respects, I pitied her, and in others, I pitied +the children. The latter would one day rise to discover the world was +greater than mother's protective and generous arms could encompass. +Perhaps the former would one day wonder why she had treated "no" like a +word from a foreign language. + +Deep inside I believe that humans desire a sense of discipline from +youth; guidance assures a child that his guardians care about his life +enough to intervene in areas of possible danger or misdirection. +Discipline commands respect toward oneself and others because it brings +order to chaos and reality to life. As I grew and observed my +classmates, I saw those whose parents were not restrictive often led +sordid lives. They lied excessively or vulgarly splashed the truth +before their parents to openly wound them. I cringed to see such cruel +treatment of good people, for these parents had never lived lives +similar to their child. At first I was baffled by my classmates' +apparent hate for their parents, so I compared their lives to my own +and discovered that, as children, tantrums and tears produced their +desires. I used neither, for neither would have proven effective; "no" +always meant "no" whether referring to a request or given as a +disciplinary expression. I respected my mom and dad's authority, which +consequently augmented my love for them. This was essentially the +differing factor which separated my childhood from that of my friends. +I concluded that their "hate" evolved from a lack of respect combined +with the bitterness of leading empty, selfish lives; instead of +searching themselves, they blamed their parents for their frustration. +The parents cannot bear the entire burden, however, for each normal +human possesses a mind which is quite capable of inviting either +positive or negative change into his life. + +Discipline is essential for the attainment of maturity, and the sooner +one encounters it, or becomes aware of its necessity, the sooner growth +can begin. I reflected over my current wish for freedom, and was +silently glad that my parents had always voiced appropriate objections +toward my sometimes doubtful intentions. No one had ever labeled me a +"brat," I mused with satisfaction, so why should I babysit for other +people's nightmares? + +My first "real" job, for which I filled out an application, was as a +clerk in a fabric store. Since my ex-sister-in-law had worked there +and because I sewed occasionally and purchased goods at the store, I +viewed the place as somewhat of an old friend. That fact did not abate +my initial nervousness, however, nor did it serve to reverse my +ultimate opinion of the place once its image had steeped in a boiling +pot of reality. I liked people, but when people became "customers" +certain nasty transformations often took place. This I quickly learned +when, without ample training, I was hurled amid a mob of angry women +who had stampeded into the store for the weekly bargains and expected +rapid service. Once my nerves were ruffled, I tottered precariously on +the edge of tears; I wished to please, but my conscientious attitude +could not tolerate overt customer hostility when I was doing my best. + +After the cyclone dissipated, I would return bolts of fabric to their +various locations; if I did not know where a certain type should be +placed, I asked for direction. Inquiry, I reasoned, was better than +making rash mistakes. This part of the job, combined with cleaning and +general upkeep, became my favorite as I needed not worry about customer +interaction or managerial displeasure. + +After two weeks, the manager called the three night employees to the +counter after closing out the cash register in order to voice some +complaints. Because I was the newest employee, he directed many +explicit implications toward me, essentially blaming me for numerous +misplaced bolts of material which he had gathered throughout the store +and brought to the counter. He reported, also, that the money in the +register and the amount dictated by the receipts did not coincide; +"someone," he said, "has been short changing customers." He looked at +me. "Laurie, you've got to be more accurate and speed up." When the +speech was over and the misplaced cloth returned, we all fled from the +store; company morale, I previously learned, had suffered under this +manager. I reached my car and, once inside, let go of the frustrations +and hurt that had multiplied since the job began, letting myself cry +freely, without restraint. The blame, I felt, was unwarranted. The +assistant manager had told me earlier that week that I was doing fine. +I had not been responsible for the misplaced bolts of cloth, for I'd +not seen those particular patterns that day; a customer could easily +have decided against the material and stashed it in the nearest rack. +As I thought about the excess cash, I recalled that, in past +experiences of making change, I classically over-paid, not under-paid +the customer, which would have resulted in a loss for the store. While +I may have been responsible for some error, I believed that all +complaints could not lead to me. + +For the sake of my nerves, I decided to quit the job. I dried my +tears, drove out of the parking lot and headed home, where I then +called the store and told the manager I was through. I felt better +than I had felt in two weeks. + +My job at the shopping mall was a vast improvement. Not only did I +work for an amiable manager, but I did not have to ring up sales at +all. A cashier was in charge of that responsibility. Moreover, when +I eventually learned to act as a replacement cashier, I had no qualms +toward making change since the machine instructed me "how much" was +owed or received; I had only to count the currency. + +Again, my favorite part of the job dealt with the stock itself, rather +than the customers. I enjoyed helping people when they desired +assistance, yet revolted internally against the thought of +administering high key sales pitches to the public. This was the only +objectionable aspect of my employment at the store, for occasionally +the manager would encourage me to be more aggressive toward customers +and try to sell merchandise to those who had no intention of buying +anything. Admittedly, I would have preferred to hide behind racks of +sweaters, sizing and straightening, than to approach a stranger and +ask, "Could I interest you in a dress today?" followed by a persuasive +cascade of sweetness and sales talk. Such tactics never worked for me +and I found I sold more through helpful suggestions than flamboyant +appeals. Nevertheless, when sales dropped after Christmas at an +alarming rate, reflecting the fact that everyone's closets were full +and their wallets empty, only the best sales people were given enough +hours to add up to a worthwhile pay check. During this decline, I +spent most of my working hours in the storeroom, unloading and hanging +new merchandise. This suited me perfectly, despite the few hours and +accompanying meager pay; if only I could have found a part-time job +dealing exclusively with stock work, I would have been in a state of +bliss, able to simultaneously work and think. . . and be paid for my +time. + +As the working hours decreased and I found that I had spare time beyond +that which was required to accomplish my homework, I sought excuses to +obtain one of the cars and escape my self-imposed prison at home. With +friends or alone, I would shop, run errands, or simply drive around the +city streets. The car became a symbol of freedom and attainable +destinations, an inanimate capsule devoid of judgemental constraints. +In the car I could whoop and holler, cry or laugh; I could vent my +exasperation to the music on the radio, or wallow in a pool of +depression without spreading the effect upon anyone else. + +I was essentially adrift on a sea of emotions, constantly hurled from +happiness to depression and back again. As contradictory as it may +sound, I believe the instability of my emotions was the element which +permitted me to maintain overall sanity; instability was one thing on +which I could depend, for no emotion seethed within me long enough to +create duress of itself. + +I asked myself, "Why am I depressed?" I had no right to be depressed, +in my opinion, yet I felt I had no control over my radical ups and +downs. "I'm healthy for the most part, my hair has returned, thicker +than it was previously, I'm doing well in school and have a few people +to call 'friends' . . . so what is wrong?" Through that year the +question remained hidden in the back of my mind, unanswered yet +unshakeable. I continued to pursue happiness through a confused sense +of individualism and an uncharacteristic flurry of activity. I was +befuddled by my own ambivalence and, to further harass my state of +being, allowed the fluctuating emotions of others to work upon my mind, +thereby creating disturbances beyond all reason. + +To this end, I fancied myself to be in love with a young guy with whom +I had become acquainted through "in-the-hall" pleasantries and smiles. +After two "dates" we discovered we could converse remarkably; I was +delighted by the apparent honesty that we shared and became confident +that our's would prove to be the romantic friendship of the decade. +Having been subjected to hurtful and unreasonable endings of +relationships, however, I had no intention of placing my pride in +jeopardy through a display of groveling affection or stifling promises. +I told myself to subdue my feelings and expect nothing, yet hoped +desperately that the dominoes I had erected would fall in the orderly +fashion that my forethought deserved. + +As it happened, my "dominoes" fell in a manner which had no sense of +order. I learned quickly that "good deserts" had nothing to do with +the final outcome of a situation, and even one's offering of platonic +friendship could be dealt a cruel blow or be considered unacceptable. +Despite these unwarranted actions against my cautious and understated +affection, I could not entirely cancel the heartfelt wishes my mind +contained because he continued, at very sporadic intervals, to +encourage a romance. In no time at all I was thoroughly confused as +to the part I played and my significance in his life. On certain days +he spoke to me at school,and other days I was ignored or avoided. The +same was true pertaining to encounters outside of school, which often +resulted through chance rather than a specific plan. Whether he would +assume a romantic stance or pursue a totally platonic guise became a +valid mystery. This infernal uncertainty did nothing to promote +self-confidence, for within me I continually questioned the purpose of +his unpredictable snubs; was I too tall? Did I embarrass him? Was I +not in the "right" crowd? Questions, unanswered, riddled my mind and +shook my heart. As the school year coasted along, I began to realize +I couldn't necessarily take all of his cold shouldered greetings or +lack of acknowledgement as personal digs against my presence. He had +problems of his own and moods of his own; this revelation on my behalf +only gave me more reasons to worry and dwell on him, however. No +longer did I cope only with my own burdens, but attempted to share the +pronounced emotions displayed by my "flame." When he looked +melancholic, I too, soon adopted the feeling for myself; if he was +happy, I could be happy. I quickly became aware of the fact that my +technique was indeed a lousy one and the potential for happiness was +quite slim. With my friends having only mouths, their ears plugged +with their own concerns, I resorted to the written expression of my +personal pressures. Though the paper could not respond, it similarly +could neither judge or reveal my emotional sieges of ink, for the +hurried scrawls were carefully concealed. In this fashion, many +troubles were rationally resolved; my thoughts were considerably less +hideous when viewed as written words, set apart from the mental clutter +composed of both reasonable and emotional meanderings. I could +objectively scan the bold sweeps crossing page after page and discern +the real from the imagined... My deep felt depression carried +through to today. . . as well as my bad luck! I saw D as I was coming +and wasn't extremely thrilled, which is a shocker in itself; and to top +it off, he barely squeaked out a "Hi" to me. That wasn't too much of +a surprise, because he has been known to ignore a person. . . me, for +example. I must admit I'm really not all here today. I just don't +understand what is going on with him. One day he is my friend and the +next, he is a stranger. . . Oh, well, I can get so depressed sometimes, +it's not even funny! The weird thing is that I'm not especially +depressed today, I'm just in a weird mood. . . When I got home, Dad got +mad because I forgot to tell them about the PSAT test. He asked about +five different times why I didn't let them know. I was so shocked that +I went outside and climbed the big pine tree. I'm upset when I do +that... especially when there are no branches on the lower half of the +tree, and I had to jump to the lowest branch! I got in a better mood +after awhile, but it took a bit of psyching on my part! + + +Spring 1979 + +Walking down the wide highway of life.... +Happy, but confused. +I've noticed you walking that highway too, +And I've often wondered if you felt the same way I do... +And then one day you came to me, +Smiling, and holding out your hand in friendship. +Was it two weeks? Four? +The time seemed to fly past +Whenever I was by your side. +With you, I had no fear to reveal myself... +I felt comfortable and secure +When you were near, +And thought of you constantly +Whenever you were away. + + + +In addition to hurried prose and diary entries, I also began pinning +down my feelings in the form of poetry. Within the poems I could lament +my confusion and aloneness, and the self-dependency which had become +threatened by my offering of friendship and its subsequent futility. + + + + + +Love Rollercoaster + +Days robed in silence...depressed for awhile, +Then turn around with a flash of a smile. +Happy, contented, with work and with play, +Don't get excited, it's only one day! +Tapping my shoulder, "HI, there!" he said, +One hour later, I wish I was dead! +So much confusion, so little I know, +Oh! To run and hide...to get up and go! +Age seventeen and still the same goal. +Filling my mind, my body, my soul. +My love is something I just can't ignore, +But I'm so tired...Can I take any more? +Depression sets in like a cold, dark stare, +And spurs my asking "Why do I care?" +That question comes again and again... +Face it kid...this is the battle that you'll never win! + +Lauren Isaacson +Spring of 1979 + + + + + + + + +Love's Confusion + +Words... +Interpreted, exaggerated... +Glances... +Real and imagined... +Actions performed to hurt, +To confuse, to make happier +Some stranger's day. +I am that stranger, +Jack of many trades. +A translator, +Psychologist, +Handyman, all in one. +Like a stranger, +I am trying to know you. +Like a translator, +I am trying to understand. + +Lauren Isaacson +Spring of 1979 + + + + + +A Heart Untaken + +I gave my heart away, +That's not easy, +No, not at all. +I am...dependent... +On none other than myself. +So why then, am I +Still falling head-first +Into a bottomless cavern? +Yes, I gave my heart away. +But it was left untaken, +Blowing in the wind. +How can I describe +The way I feel? +There are no words +To relate the emptiness +And darkness +Which has prevailed +Upon my soul... +My entire being. +I need to be reconstructed, +Rejuvenated...accepted +By those I love. +Is that asking too much? +How is one expected to live +If no one will accept his love? +He cannot live... +Merely exist. + +Lauren Isaacson +Spring 1979 + + + +Love Is + +Love is, +It has no time, +No place. +When there is love, +One knows; +It can be felt in the air +Like a cool breeze +From calm seas. +Love can penetrate +The heart +Like a sword; +it can be painful, +And tear one apart +Piece by piece +Until one is only half +Of what he was. +And yet, +One hangs on to the feeling, +Scared to go on +But unwilling to let go. +Love is an emotion +When in its truest sense +Is stronger than steel +It will not die +Even after life. +Love is beautiful, +A feeling +Which cannot be matched +Or copied. +Love is. + + +Lauren Isaacson +1979 + + + + +Searching + +My life... +Sometimes like a lovesong; +Contented with the little things, +But forever striving for the love +I feel I missed somewhere along the way. +It's all so confusing, this. +Life... so real, so complex. +It's everchanging, and sometimes +I lose my way and stumble... +Always able to get up once more. +Maybe one day I'll not get up... +Just wait until someone picks up the pieces. +But my wait will last 'til eternity, +For no one travels my path. +Alone? ... no. +Merely unique... one of a kind. +Finding a true friend is a search +Not easily fulfilled... +But then love is not a song easily sung. + +Love is serene and peaceful. +Love can make you go bananas! +Christmas...love with a special kind of warmth. +Love is a joy ride! +Love... the natural high. + + +Lauren Isaacson +April 17, 1979 + + + +As I reflected on the words I had written, I perceived I had turned my +back on my greatest ally, myself. I needed to depend on myself for +strength and happiness, for a burden is essentially one's own to bear. +No amount of sharing and communication will take the place of one's +personal acceptance of a problem; a candle cannot illuminate the +darkness for one whose eyes remain closed. + +I reviewed, also, my diary entries of the months passed. + + +Feb. 9, 1979... Friday the ninth... what a fantastic day! I felt +terrific. I talked to (him)...he came up to me at my locker! I was +the one to say "I've gotta go now." Wheee! + + +Feb. 14, 1979... (He) and I talked. He said he was going to buy a +Valentine's Day card (for me) but forgot! + + +Mar. 8, 1979... (He) and I may go to a movie this week-end for his +birthday (on me). I was a little surprised he brought it up! I was in +a great mood... had a great day!! + + +Mar. 14, 1979... (He's) making it a point to avoid me...nothing new +though, right? + + +Mar. 29, 1979... I talked to (him) at least five minutes straight! + + +Apr. 19, 1979... I'm so down. I sure wish I could get out of it! +This is a real drag. + + +Apr. 23, 1979... I was in such a great mood today. Nothing really +happened though. Ha! Oh, well. Maybe you're happier that way. + + +May 2, 1979... Cry! It would feel better...Bad day. I was depressed +most of the time... + + +May 3, 1979... Talked to Dumbo quite a bit, considering I usually can +never talk to him! I don't know why that makes me so happy. + + +May 21, 1979... Pretty good day. I talked a TON to (him). Yippee! He +said he saw me Friday night on 23rd Avenue. He kept looking at me!! +He said his weekend wasn't that great. I guess that makes two of us. + + +June 1, 1979... Last month I saw (him) once. It was 10 days between +then and the time before. I hope its never that long again, although +I can handle it better this time...if it works out to be that way. + + +June 16, 1979... At 6:30 D. got me and we went to Peterson Park (because +he forgot to take money out of the bank) and played frisbee and talked +while (his friend) filled up the tires with air... it was fun. (He +then took me home and went to a party.) I guess Norm and Mom and Dad were +talking about him... he didn't go to the bank and get some money even +though he knew we were going out that night. Norm told them, "If I +knew I was taking a girl out, I'd make DAMN sure I had some money!" He +was a little mad. Mom told me that. + + +I saw my infatuation was rather pathetic. Ours was an empty +relationship, devoid of stability in its most meager sense. I recalled +how often his intentions were rejoined with apologetic excuses when +those intentions were waived to pursue other activities in which I had +no part. Such treatment consumed trust and debilitated affection, +causing me to turn gradually from my romantic ideal and grasp reality, +despite the pain that the action entailed; self-deceit would only delay +the inevitable hurt that naturally accompanied unfulfilled dreams. + +With summer nearly sunning itself on the doorstep, I fostered no +conscious inclination to fret over my flickering flame; too well I +remembered the previous summer, through which I mourned the loss of a +different guy's attentions (whose attentions, I might add, were the +first I had ever received, as he was my first actual date). I finally +realized, after ruining my entire summer, it was the attention, not the +guy, over which I lamented. I liked knowing that I was, to an extent, +desirable and attractive for my feminine qualities, a knowledge which +had to come from sources other than my mom and dad to seem valid. As I +no longer required a male admirer to uphold or applaud various aspects +of myself to assure my adequacy as a person, I looked forward to the +upcoming months with reminiscent anticipation. + +Among the various events of the summer which followed 11th grade was +the renewal of friendship between Steve, my next-door neighbor, and me. +Throughout junior high our meetings had been markedly sparse, the +result of differing circles of friends rather than personal quarrels. + +After several brief conversations, we discovered we shared common +interests which could provide the foundation for a friendship. Our +"fellowship" introduced me to people who eventually became friends of +my own, and those from school with whom I had previously associated but +drifted slowly toward other interests and destinations. + +The new introductions included Jon, whose companionship colored many +days of the summer and would later evolve into an extended +relationship. Looking at the pages of my diary, the carefree days +described therein now seem to possess a dream-like quality; the days +were bundles of minutes in which only the present mattered. I did my +chores and went out with friends; I threw the frisbee and played +miniature golf; there were picnics and movies and light conversation. +The whirlwind had stabilized, but it hadn't slowed... and I did not +give myself time to think. + +Norm, however, provided me with such time. When we spent several hours +together, canoeing, hiking through wooded trails, or lunching near a +winding river, I was unconscious of time. An hour was not a hoard of +60 minutes crammed sardine-style into the face of a clock. +Conversation was a matter of choice rather than obligation and an aura +of humor pervaded the atmosphere in which jokes need not be vocalized +to be shared and understood. With Norm, I was able to find the peace +which seemed so elusive in other company, and to revel in the silence +that, through my lack of assertiveness, I was otherwise unable to +attain. I felt whole in my brother's presence rather than a torn and +fragmented person who cringed under hostility, watched silently the +destruction which acquaintances wrought upon themselves, and melted +beneath the persuasive tactics used to rob me of time I did not wish +to give. Norm spoke "to" me and "with" me, but never "at" me, an +aspect of togetherness in which other relationships often failed; +thus, as my segmented self fell into entirety, it did not take long +before I realized his presence was prized beyond all others. At a +time in my life when emotional stability was a rare commodity, I felt +lucky to have discovered the mutual compatibility which grew rapidly +between my brother and me; indeed, I believe we were both lucky. Not +often does one encounter an unassuming yet caring relationship in +which no conditions or specific roles exist to induce friction and +jeopardize love itself; it was a gift that I appreciated more as time +passed, yet without hesitation took for granted, feeling confident +that, as I for him, my brother would always "be there" for me, +a listener, friend and companion. If only my other friendships +were half as dependable, half as refreshing! + +Although most of our plans were slated for the weekend, we occasionally +took several hours of a week day evening to go for a motorcycle ride or +take a long walk. Walks were especially enjoyable because they often +included what we labeled "blow-it-out conversations," which were +comprised of disturbing thoughts or events that generally remained +inaudible plagues. Grievances, observations and complexes tumbled +forth to be dissected in a rational means by two brains rather than +one, which would hopefully render a more concise view of the idea or +problem, or dissolve it completely. We also delved in areas of +questions for which there were no answers, posing inquiries for +discussion rather than for the solution thereof. After such vigorous +conversations, we both felt somewhat exhausted, yet relieved just the +same. I was always reminded of a tea kettle filled with boiling water +which had to let off steam or explode; had I been unable to +"blow-it-out," my emotions would have strained violently against my +being, and while a shattered tea-pot could be replaced, sanity was less +easily restored. + +Norm, too, expressed his gratitude for the ability to release emotional +tension through discussion. Living alone had provided ample time for +solitude and the perusal of philosophical writings, but that aloneness +needed to be buffered by personal interaction. Norm was an individual +who required more time alone than did most people, yet he was not an +island, entirely self dependent and devoid of the need for others, and +though his employment allowed a degree of social interaction, it was +only the light-hearted, surface variety in which "closeness" had no +part. Our outings were at once social and personal, depending upon the +present need; that is, each meeting was not wholly devoted to serious +conversation, for that, too, would have become wearisome if depth and +meaning were relentlessly sought. Life truthfully has its burdens, but +conversation need not be added to the list; all things, I believe, must +be tempered, and lacking carefree banter and easy laughter, life gains +nothing. + +With a full two months of my summer vacation behind me, I was looking +forward to a three-week vacation in Syracuse, New York when August +arrived. I would be spending time with Sherry, a pen-pal who had +evolved into a good friend through the exchange of letters. The +previous year she had accepted our invitation to visit Illinois and +accompanied us on a week-long trip to the Colorado Rockies. I was now +repaying the visit. + +Ours was a unique relationship, but one that was understandably +comfortable. Beginning as pen-pals, we quickly noted the potential in +each other for the development of a lasting closeness and a willingness +to listen; these factors, augmented further by our great need to be +understood and accepted as we were, provided a sturdy foundation for +friendship. Each letter became a prize, something regarded with zest +and anticipation, for in it would be heartfelt troubles or elation, and +possible advice or consolation in reference to previous correspondence. +Thus, after two years of personal disclosure, we felt compelled to +meet each other. + +In retrospect, it was amazing that her parents had given her permission +to accept our invitation. Having no clear picture of who I was aside +from a grocery sack full of my letters, which I might add, they were +not allowed to read, Sherry's trip was prefaced by a great deal of +anticipation; her parents coached her, and a long-necked neighbor +preached doom and despair, while friends queried about the need to +visit "some hick girl in the corn fields." She carried the +anticipation with her as she approached our airport terminal; it was +inscribed on her face next to the wary smile and suspicious eyes. I, +too, had been nervous, but by the end of the day, our misgivings had +been washed away by a flood of chatter. When we once again stood in +the airport terminal, tears welled up in our eyes; we were parting not +as pen-pals, but as friends. The days ahead seemed a little more empty +because we could share no more time together. As I prepared to fly to +New York, I fostered nervous qualms, yet my anxiety did not reflect +upon Sherry or her home; I was hoping wildly that we would still "get +along." Letters did not fill the gap that had appeared after meeting +Sherry; before we had been pen friends, but now we were friends who +wrote to each other. It was somehow quite different, and it was I who +felt in need of a shield. + +Conversation was slow at first, with each of us uncertain as to which +topics would spark the most interest. I began to wonder if I had made +a mistake in coming. Her excitable nature sometimes startled me, and +when she told of incidents wherein she had screamed her rage at local +friends, I cringed in silence, hoping that I never would evoke such +fervor. + +As the evening crept away, our tongues relaxed and I felt somewhat +relieved. I could be no one but myself, and I seemed to feel I was +being accepted; within I experienced a mental sigh of relief. Looking +at the clock, we discovered the hour was near 4:00 a.m. and thought it +would be best to go to sleep. "Before we can do anything tomorrow," +Sherry said, "I have to pick up the kitchen and pick up the living +room. . ." I snickered and exclaimed, "Gee. . . you must be strong!" +Any remaining tension broke under our laughter; humor worked miracles. + +The following three weeks passed in a flurry of activity, talk and +laughter. I fell into the role of second daughter and was pleased that +my temporary home proved so hospitable. Whether joking over evening +popcorn or sudsy dishwater, it was obvious that I was no guest, +but a welcome member of the tribe. + +With Sherry and her parents I captured a lush glimpse of the Niagara +Falls; I also accompanied them on a company picnic and a family +reunion. Most of the time, however, Sherry and I ran our own agenda, +comprised of shopping sprees, hikes, drives in the country, movies, and +everything else imaginable. We frequented one particular pizza parlor +with such predictability that our arrival was greeted with quizzical +stares. We also learned the horror of leaving one's car locked in a +parking garage after midnight, when, upon returning via bus from the +state fair, we discovered we had been misinformed as to the supposed 24 +hour status of the garage; though vandals seldom work in another's +favor, a sawed-off portion of a railing allowed freedom from an +otherwise assured overnight imprisonment, which, in turn, would have +left us few options but to search for a phone in some unlikely business +establishment. + +Leaving Syracuse was a melancholic affair which generated an inner +sense of solitude and reminded me that I had no close friends of my own +age and gender at home. Curious though it may sound, I also realized +it was largely my fault, having a high intolerance for mind games, +play-acting, and senseless chatter. Moreover, there seemed to be no +median between the judgmental and the valueless. I could never +tolerate the former group, for no one is perfect, and I was slowly +drawing away from the undauntable latter group. I had the ideas about +life which I would not allow to be tainted through carelessness or +indiscretion; certain forms of filth were, I knew, impossible to wash +away. I began to wonder if one's character could be defiled by mere +association. . . and I drifted further still from former friends. + +I became markedly outraged at schoolmates who acted irresponsibly and +then decided that my ear was the one upon which they could hurl their +misadventurous rot. Initially I listened in silence, disagreeing with +promiscuity and the like, yet maintaining a wall of mute disapproval so +I would not dampen the various relationships. One's sexuality, I +reasoned, was only a portion of the individual and need not pollute the +entire character. Little by little, however, my intolerance toward +certain propensities grew and eventually led to mutual partings rather +than outright broken friendships. Some differences create gaps, and +others gulfs. + +This change of friends produced a mellowing effect on my lifestyle +which I not only needed, but desired, and although I indulged in fewer +social activities, I found this new aspect acceptable, and indeed, +preferable over my past. After I realized my nervous energy was my +mind's plea for help and change, and continual activity for its own +sake led only to emptiness, it did not take long for my "rowdiness" to +wane. I discovered without parental interference that "the wild side" +of life did not conform to my concept of what life should be; I cared +too much for honesty in friendships to enjoy parties wherein +play-acting was a primary focus. The mere idea of taking drugs seemed +incredibly idiotic and was complicated further by its exorbitant +price-tag and illegality; the first element staved my urge to +experiment with drugs, while the last two set that feeling in cement. +Toward alcohol I fostered a friendly regard although I despised +immoderation; liquor could be enjoyed without partaking to excess. I +held little respect for those who required intoxication to have fun and +also disliked seeing an individual's personality change under its +influence, for in my opinion, such revelations demonstrated a lack of +genuineness of character when sober. Although I enjoyed certain +alcoholic beverages, it did not matter whether or not I drank; I was +crazy enough to enjoy life and have fun without liquor, and it +certainly was less expensive. + +For the most part, I felt that my emotions had stabilized. I no longer +was living "on the edge," squinting at brilliant sunlight and then +plunging into gray storm clouds; nor was I tough or immune to pain. Of +course, I did not wish to become a robot, devoid of emotional concern, +yet in certain instances, a lack of feeling would have been welcome. + +Establishing a relationship is, at best, difficult and at worst, +impossible. Because relationships are generally of primary +significance regarding one's happiness or lack thereof, they are +elemental to life. Unfortunately, there is no prescribed formula +pertaining to flawless success in relationships, and one is left to +mimic the designs wrought by others or resort to one's own intuition. +Without a doubt, life is hard. . . barring any drastic handicaps with +which one is born. + +There are those who yearn for youth and pine forgotten tatters of +memory, yet I would not choose to relive the pangs of childhood and +relearn the expectations of society. I recall too well the ill-chosen +words which sprang from my tongue, the unintended regrets which stemmed +from an unimpeded glance or action, and the troublesome problems whose +solutions, though somehow problems in themselves, would have been +solved likewise had the identical factors been presented a second time. +With regret I remember instances which haunt my recollections, though +long passed; there was a boy in church who nervously asked if I would +be "his girl"...and through my pitiful degree of shyness, never gave a +reply; and the homecoming dance, my first and only formal function, in +which I was so utterly nerve-stricken that I was unable to pin the +boutonniere on my date, to eat my dinner, to speak cordially on even +the most trivial and insignificant subjects. I remember the +disappointment which accompanied my first attempt to secure a "date." + + +Oct. 27, 1977... I want to ask Scott to go on the hayrack ride. +Everyone is really pressuring me. + + +Oct. 28, 1977... I asked Scott today...I followed him to his locker and +asked. He said that he was having one on the same night and he'd let me +know. Oh, I sure hope he comes. + + +Oct. 30, 1977... Hayrack was tonight, but I didn't go. Scott never +even called. + + +Filtering through my memories are also the times in which I was asked +on a date and for reasons of my own, chose to refuse the invitation. I +tried to say "no" without hurting, for I knew how difficult it was to +pose such questions, and the way in which a reply was given could +either demean, depress, or simply disappoint. Being asked on a date is +a compliment, no matter how distastefully one might view his "suitor." + +My dating career was short-lived, as I began to view romance in a +highly cynical manner, having found little in the way of true happiness +while "playing the field." I had difficulty enough when I dated one +person at a time. Moreover, I was unable to bear the pretense which +accompanied romance; I had little of the "romantic" in my personality, +and if I played a farce, I knew it would reveal itself in time. It +would be more appropriate, I resolved, to always be myself and thereby +avoid a later explanation of my mistaken identity. + +With my indifference toward romance came an amplified emphasis on +friendship, for it alone seemed real. Platonic relationships had no +intrinsic pressures or expectations such as the obligatory kiss after a +"date"; a touch, if given at all, was supportive, not demanding. + +I loved talking with people and tried to treat everyone in a like +manner. Most of my friends were of the male gender. As always, I was +better understood and enjoyed for my humor by guys and felt more +comfortable in such company. Generally this was no problem, however, I +found certain people so delightful that occasionally one of them would +mistake my enthusiasm as being more than simply platonic in nature, and +not desiring my supposedly romantic inclinations, would begin avoiding +me. Eventually I would realize I had indulged in one too many smiles +or had been too energetically involved in the conversation, and to +solve the misunderstanding without damaging an ego, I would ignore the +individual completely for several days. When my staccatoed lack of +interest toward him finally obliterated his illusion of my deep +feelings, he would resume friendly interaction. It was a rather +humorous chain of events, but one that yielded favorable results. As +long as misunderstandings are possible, I find it comforting to know +that at least some have the potential to be corrected with relative +ease. + +Since stability was one of my higher prerogatives, I continued dating +one guy rather exclusively, especially toward the latter portion of my +senior year. However as he bested my age by a year, he was away at +college, coming home only once each month. Having to reaquaint +ourselves every visit, the resulting relationship was hard to maintain +and wrought havoc on my emotions far more than I had ever expected. I +see-sawed between that which I desired the relationship to be and what +it was. I battled between saving the enjoyable friendship at the +expense of an uncertain romance. Although I cared for him, it was not +the type or degree of caring which should have been associated with our +relationship. Therefore, I often asked myself the validity of the +entire affair. At times the gulf between us was so great that distance +was welcomed because it secured our friendship. I did not have the +furtitude to put an end to our psychedelic relationship, for I was +easily cornered by his overt persuasiveness and flow of rhetoric, which +smothered my ability to think or listen to myself. Moreover, for +better or worse, the relationship provided me with a sense of +protection and an excuse to refuse other dates. Thus, the relationship +continued, despite its flaws, interwoven with other memories and dreams. + + + + + + +Holder Of The Key + +Although I love being at your side, +There's still that part that has to hide +For I'm shielding myself +From a feared remorse +Which would erupt +If your love lost its course... +Shipwrecked and broken +On the craggy shore, +"Look... accept... +I love you no more!" +Friendship is the only key +To loose the me that isn't free! +I hold fast to that sheer control +Which forbids emotion to take its toll +And tear me to shreds... +Leaving naught but remnants, +Nothing but threads +To blow in the wind +Until one day +My spirit would lead me +Ever away... +Far from the lair +Of self-wrought despair. +I'll build me a fence! +I'll build me a wall!... +A windowless room +That's eleven feet tall! +And there shall I dwell, +A vacant shell... +The only escape +From life's loving hell. +An existence blind to reality +Is merely my mind's chosen fantasy +Of what I would become +If I should come undone. +Yet, in a sense, +It is real and very true... +In my love for the world... +In my love for you... +Sometimes I wish +I loved you more... +But still clench the key +To my heart's door. + + +Lauren Isaacson +January 1980 + + + + + + + + + + +Nonsense + + +It was only yesterday, +And hours before when I, +Without a thought of calories, +Had baked a chocolate pie. + +In reflecting culinary action, +Its value I must assess +For in the act of doing so, +I created quite a mess! + + + +Buying property is like peanut butter on bread... +The more peanuts you've got, the better the spread. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 160 + +Chapter 21 +Twelfth Grade + + + +"One must like himself; self-love is the core from which all else +grows, including the ability to give and to accept." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + +Twelfth Grade + + + + +At the onset of 12th grade, I had found employment at a large +department store where I worked in ladies fashions, hanging merchandise +or ringing up sales on a computerized register. I worked hard, +thinking of myself as having just one of many thankless jobs in which +the "reward" came only via Friday paychecks. Yet hard work did pay +off, and my boss had, indeed, noticed. + +A comment I had written in February of 1980 read: Pete came up to me +at work and said, "Laurie, I just want to say that you are a super gal +and a fine employee." + +The next line, written as a matter of fact, stated: I had a hernia. + +Compliments can come as a shock when they are not freely given, but +perhaps that is when they mean the most. + +Three days later I found he really meant the words he had said when he +changed the work schedule for me so I could go to Mexico over the week +of spring break. + + +Feb. 29, 1980... I started crying! He said, "I'll break my back for +someone who's willing to break their's for me." + + +It was almost more praise than I could ingest in three days. Almost, +but not quite. + +Mexico was a sweet memory, although I would never choose to travel +there again. A gift from my parents after having studied Spanish for +four years, the trip was educational as well as recreational, and also +proved to be the most enjoyable group experience I had ever known. + +The tour led by two high school language teachers, skirted the less +wholesome neighborhoods of Mexico City for our eye-opening benefit. We +saw rampant filth encircling the street vendors and gutters which ran +foul with the discarded carvings of meat markets. In such areas a +rotten stench ruled over the otherwise pervasive fumes of car exhausts, +creating what seemed a playground for the generation of a killing +plague. No one looked surprised as a man ran half-clothed through the +crowd, his hair a matted mass which could not conceal the madness +evident in his wild eyes and hideous grin. + +After such sights, a taxi would slash its way into the traffic and +whisk us away on a perilous drive to more hospitable places. Busses +would carry us to major sights where we viewed the country-side, the +pyramids, and museum artifacts. We marveled at the splendor of +Catholic churches, caressed by the many offerings of peasants whose +coins beautified the altars and columns with gold. No where else had I +witnessed such awesome wealth amidst such utter poverty. + +One sight which seared my memory was a church wherein a funeral was +taking place. Undaunted by the mourners, a Mexican tour guide led us +through the church as if death and grief were impersonal matters, +unworthy of respect. I hesitated at the doorway, not wishing to enter, +then realized that I knew nothing about the city and might find myself +lost if I did not follow. I narrowed my eyes in disgust for the +awkward situation and, head lowered in a token of sympathy, filed +quietly past the aisles of darkly clothed mourners. No wonder people +hated tourists; the incident could have been avoided altogether with a +sensitive guide. + +Taxco was the most enchanting of the tour's three cities, for it +facilitated a preserved glimpse of old Mexico. Here the streets +remained narrow corridors of brick, twined up and down the hillside +between stucco buildings like wildly frolicking vines. Palms soared +toward untainted, blue skies, and red tiled roofs basked in the warmth +of the sun. Evening was an enchantment, a brief step into the past. +The stars crept slowly from behind their sapphire blanket as the sun's +last rays set on fire the gleaming dome of a church. As the night +deepened, many of us made our way down to the main street where an +Easter procession was to be held. There we witnessed a reverent +celebration of faith, silently watching a line of worshippers as each +guarded a candle, sheltering its life as their savior sheltered their +lives. In a world of uncertainty, these lovely people were content in +their faith; it was beautiful, but it was not for everyone. + +The final stop of the tour was Acapulco which most resembled a city of +the United States. No one scoffed or gestured comically in our +direction at our "different" types of apparel as they had done in +Mexico City; there, slacks were not considered proper attire for women, +nor were shorts for either gender. One episode in the zoo made all of +us smile when a little Mexican child, curious to see blond hair on a +pair of man's legs, walked up to one in our party, felt his legs to +determine their validity, and then gazed up at him wonderously. + +In Acapulco white skin and blond hair was still the exception, yet it +was no spectacle. Moreover, shorts and "American" attire seemed to be +the rule, which made everyone more comfortable. Personally, I wanted +to make a good impression or leave none at all, for when traveling in a +foreign country, one may offend without the slightest intention; custom +and language differences can create barriers and eventually, prejudice. +Having encountered one "bad egg" in a dozen, it is far less involved +to condemn the entire batch rather than to survey them as individuals; +certain people are more prone to this attitude than others. This +apparently was the type of philosophy which ruled an unforgettable ice +cream parlor patriarch, for when five of us respectably waited to be +served at his busy establishment, we finally realized that we were not +being overlooked but ignored. The man sat motionless behind the +counter with his legs splayed widely and arms folded on his rotund +belly, intently watching the progress made by his employees until one +waitress looked at us and inquired with her eyes. "Maria!" The +patriarch spat the name with agitation. "No!" The girl looked down +and sought another customer. + +This was a new experience; so deep was his hatred that it overruled the +typical lust for profit. We turned from the counter, smiling at each +other. Once outside we all shared a hearty laugh. The stupidity of +the situation was incredible to me, for not only had the patriarch's +attempt to belittle and demean fail, but he had also lost money. I +pondered the scenario, asking myself why it did not bother me, and +concluded that it was because self-satisfaction was of more importance +to me than the manner in which I was viewed by others. One must like +himself; self-love is the core from which all else grows, including the +ability to give and to accept. And, in an ice cream parlor in +Acapulco, I found that self-love is also the best defense. + +Acapulco was the grand finale of an exciting week; white sand beaches +above a frothy surf, cool draughts beneath rustling palms, tempting +meals and flea market sprees, and a special evening roving the quiet +shoreline after sunset. It all seemed an incredible fantasy, +especially in retrospect, having spent a week apart from familiarity. +Only one aspect of the days in Acapulco could have been channeled into +a category other than fantasy; after days of careful food consumption, +the inevitable curse of Montezuma fell upon me. Luckily, I was not so +horridly afflicted that it made any appreciable difference in my plans; +perhaps after so many years, Montezuma's need for revenge had become +less poignant. Or it could have been the Kaopectate. Of course, I do +not support superstitious curses as being the cause. . . but when the +affect is of such magnitude, I bear arms to combat the siege. + +On Easter Sunday we boarded a jet and headed for Chicago. Between +shifting positions, stretching, peeps out of the porthole windows and +in-flight snacks, the hours drifted past. Somehow, the holiday itself +was lost. I simply was not accustomed to spending spring break away +from home, let alone Easter in mid-air. It reminded me of the +Christmas my family spent in Florida; I felt cheated even though I had +fun. My mild depression left with the landing in Chicago, where we +deplaned and motored the remaining distance. + +Norm met me in his old Belvedere. He and his fish car were a welcome +sight as I stepped into the frigid air. It had even snowed since I was +last home. This was reality, I thought with a smile. The trip ended +as suddenly as it had begun, taken in the wintry gusts and buried +beneath the joy of homecoming. I watched the others as they turned and +whirled, anxiously seeking their families and securing their luggage in +a wild flurry of activity. This was the world I knew; Mexico was far +away, and soon its memory would be a distant, clouded image, destined +to share only the past. + +For the present I shared the glowing impressions in my mind, relating +the vast differences amid basic human cohesiveness. Despite various +cultures, people remained relatively the same; I thought of the +curiosity of the child and the calculating hatred of the patriarch, +knowing that such people existed in every city. Well into the night I +rambled excitedly of my experiences abroad, content that I was home. +I might fit in many places, but home was where I belonged. + +I was never much of a romantic. There were inside of me, however, +pieces of idealistic images which, due to their inconsistency with +reality, provoked great surges of duress. These mental pictures, +depicting that which "should be," stuck in my mind and festered there. +Whether they were derived of societal suggestions or secret aspirations +of my own concoction, I could not tell, yet they were infuriating, +whatever their origin might have been, because of their unattainable +quality. The latter part of 12th grade was infiltrated by such lofty +ideals, and I had to watch myself closely to make certain I did not +begin to play a role other than me. "One's senior year," stated the +ideal, "should be a celebration of the past and the future; one's days +should be filled with blissful fun and one's company should include the +steadfast friends made through the course of the years." I observed +classmates and for some, my ideal seemed their reality. Deep inside of +me, however, I knew that, in reference to my life, my ideal was a +sinking ship. I possessed perfectionistic qualities but lacked the +ambition and the need to acquire awards. For myself I wanted to +succeed. I did not, however, have to be the best; depending on so many +variables, who could determine what was "best"? + +Idly I reflected on my achievements: two year member of the National +Honor Society, member of the Spanish Honor Society, and placed second +in the school (after a native speaker) for a National Spanish Exam, for +which I received a Spanish Dictionary. It was not a lengthy or +conspicuous list, but I was satisfied. I could never live up to my +ideal because I disliked public display; I felt that accepting +recognition would direct undue attention and I would be placed on +trial. Within the realm of intelligence, I felt myself to be quite +small; knowledge is infinitous, and to claim praise for assimilating +such a minute portion as was encased in my mind seemed unfit. + +My reactions, or lack thereof, regarding academic achievement were +greeted by my mom and dad with a degree of chagrin and disappointment. +A child's success is a good reflection on the parents; thus, when I +failed to pose for the yearbook photos which honored Society members as +a group, she despaired that the anonymity of my accomplishments would +hurl me into oblivion. Had I seen through her eyes the importance of +recognition, perhaps I would have remained after school and posed for +posterity. . . and for my parents. + +"Blissful fun" was yet another part of my ideal which had no parallel +to reality. Fun was not a given property of one's senior year, a +mindless embellishment punctuating the culmination of twelve years of +public education. Instead, fun was a state of mind, quite dependent +upon one's capacity for having fun. It was imperative to possess +creativity, openness and fearlessness toward work; bored people were +often simply lazy. + +Fun, a highly personal noun, too often was used generically, which led +to overrating certain pastimes and berating others. The result, of +course, was either harrowing disappointment, or pleasant surprise, +depending on one's particular luck. There was also the possibility +that one could fake the role of having fun merely because it was the +appropriate response; this, more than any other aspect of my ideal, +ensnared my sense of reality. I found the power of suggestion, +combined with my mind's ideal, would let me take part in an activity, +pronounce that I had enjoyed myself, and continue to believe such even +after the experience was over; then, in later reflection, I would +realize my pretense and wonder why I had allowed myself to adopt +another's definition of fun rather than pursuing my own intuition. + +Such departures from rationality disturbed me, particularly because +they were uncharacteristic; while I often sat steeped in thought or +immersed in dreams, I rarely played out those reflections in the +physical sense. Furthermore, play-acting was a nuisance because when +such activity resulted in emptiness, it was a sore waste of time. Free +time was one commodity with which I was rather stingy; therefore I +tried to be selective regarding how the precious moments were spent. +Even so,mistakes were made, and less favorable outcomes became a source +of bitter resentment if I allowed myself to stew in their memory. + +Finally, the ideal called for "steadfast friends," created through +mutual interests and communication. In reality, I had acquaintances, +and I had what I called "friends" for lack of a more appropriate word. +With these classmates, I often felt like a mother, a psychiatrist, or +an impartial listener, entirely detached from the situation at hand. +As the "impartial listener" I lapsed into a role such as I described +earlier; if I faced unpalatable situations or discussions while on +"automatic," I could then tolerate them without feeling undue +frustration. I voiced no unsolicited opinions, utilizing silence as +a manner of maintaining peace in my world. Thereby I lost nothing... +nor did I gain. + +As high school drew to a close, I no longer felt obliged to analyze +each moment. Soon all would be different. The hallways would echo no +sound and store no memory of those who had passed. Friends would be +lost to each other and acquaintances would fade like early morning +dreams. Achievements would pave the way toward further education, +jobs, or merely attract dust on a chest of drawers, remembering that +which no longer existed. + +I had enjoyed my time in high school as best I could considering the +topsy-turvy state of my emotions. I had met some fine people and +experienced some genuine "fun." My achievements were satisfactory and +I felt content that graduation was near. I did not wish to relive or +prolong high school. Maybe my ideal demanded too much of life, or +perhaps I was more fully accepting that one's ideal vision of life had +little in common with reality. I knew only that I wished to pursue a +life unfettered by those wistful images. It was time for me to begin +closing one door. + +After final exams, school was recreational rather than educational. +The yearbooks were distributed and I made a point to sign the annuals +of those with whom I had shared memorable occasions or developed +worthwhile relationships. For many, the message in the yearbook was a +last farewell. Some I would truly miss and remember always, even +though they were not persons who had spent time with me outside of +class. + +Impressions were a curious phenomena. I wondered why certain moments +captured my attention. . . the carnation I received on "flower day" +from a junior who had taken notice of me. . . the penny retrieved from +the hallway which my Spanish teacher handed to me. . . an inside joke +which survived two years. . . smiles and humor and craziness. These +were the ingredients of my foremost impressions, and the forerunners of +memories; these fragmented images would survive outside the confines of +the yearbook, and generate fleeting smiles for years to come. + +Graduation was no longer the solemn promenade of grace and grandeur it +had once been. The classes were large and impersonal, and it seemed +that everyone graduated whether they earned the honor or not; a classic +example testifying that, where there is plenty, there is often little +gratitude. We wore disposable gowns and caps, with the latter being so +cheaply constructed that all four corners hung down about our heads in +a mockery of pomp and circumstance, creating a group which looked like +berobed court jesters. + +Due to the behavior of the previous graduating class, teachers +patrolled the group to assure no items such as frizbees, squirt guns +and bubble blowers made it into the field house. I was relieved; while +graduation had lost its magnificence, I still did not desire to take +part in a circus. Aside from our appearance, the ceremony was fairly +respectable. The various speakers neither rushed nor belabored their +material. + +Row by row we stood to file toward the stage. I felt my stomach pinch. +It was an orderly system; a name was called, the diploma was +presented, then a hand-shake completed the scenario. My name was +called. I accepted my diploma, smiling, and proceeded to the principal +to receive a handshake. It was my moment. Then another name was called +as I paced down the center aisle to my seat. For me, all was done. +Another name echoed through the field house. . . a moment belonging to +someone else. + +In the din and confusion following the ceremony, I found none of my +closer acquaintances. The swarming mob whooped joyously, rallying +about and shouting their intended destinations. I suddenly felt the +aloneness I had anticipated, crashing down and separating me from the +flock. What, for others, would come more gradually but perhaps more +painfully as well, I experienced in an instant. Such a large crowd, +and yet I knew no one! Indeed a door had closed. + +I gazed at the crowd, dejected and disappointed, then resignedly found +Jon. We had planned to go out for pizza and "hit a party," but since I +had learned of no parties, the latter would have to be replaced by a +different option. + +"So you've grage-ee-ated, kid," he smiled over at me from the driver's +seat. + +"Yeh. . ." I replied, trying to hide my depression. "You are supposed +to be having fun," the remnants of my ideal entoned. I smiled and +spoke light-heartedly, almost in a reflex action, deriving solace from +the fact that the night was still young. + +We drove to the shopping center which housed the pizza parlor, noting +that a traveling carnival shared the parking lot with the cars. My +eyes brightened; I loved those things. + +Jon looked at me. "Let's go on a few rides before eating," he +suggested. + +"Well . . . are you sure?" I asked. + +"Yeh!! Come on... it's your big night." + +I looked at the vast array of neon lights which blinked invitingly, +trying to decide what to ride first. None of the rides were +particularly ferocious in my opinion, but I settled for the +tilt-a-whirl, a ride which afforded a small thrill. We seated +ourselves inside the semi-circular capsule and the fun began, flailing +us clockwise, then counter-clockwise, as the capsule raged up and down +on its track. It was no generous ride; such carnivals rarely endow its +patrons with their money's worth. The machine grated and clanked to a +halt. + +After exiting I glanced at Jon, who appeared rather stricken by the +glassy gaze in his eyes. He also burped repeatedly, suggesting his +stomach had protested to the ride. + +I almost hated to ask, "You OK?" + +"I'll be all right. . . let's just sit down for awhile." + +We walked to his car and leaned on the hatchback. Several minutes +passed and Jon returned to normal. + +"Let's go and eat..." I urged, having no desire to witness a repeat of +nausea. + +"No, no... it's your night. I want you to have fun. I'm OK, really." + +"I don't know... let's just eat," I replied. + +More persuasion. It was inevitable. + +We went on another ride. + +It was similar to the first, throwing us up and down in unison with the +squall of hydraulics and blaring loony tunes. I ventured a look at Jon +and swallowed hard. His greenish appearance had little to do with the +neon lights. He began to burp once again as we made our final madcap +spins and slowed to a stop. "This is not good," my thoughts roared; I +felt rather frantic; I honestly did not wish to think at all, but my +mind would not oblige. + +While thoughts such as "Oh, please, no!" raced through my mind, Jon's +stomach began venting its frustration on the parking lot. Not about to +just stand and watch, I walked a few paces behind him as he made his +way toward the pizza parlor restroom where he could finish the job. + +He disappeared into the restaurant and I remained outside, leaning +against the building while various emotions seared my thoughts. +Embarrassment, guilt due to my embarrassment, pity... perhaps a swig of +self-pity... and anger. + +"It's your big night, kid." Yeh. Sure. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 167 + +Chapter 22 +Summer 1980 + + + + +"The Colorado Rocky Mountains were my vision of paradise. . .I felt no +spiritual rift with the universe and no emotional rift with myself. " + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + +Summer 1980 + + + + +Summertime was no longer the carefree season of my childhood years. In +addition to employment, I broke a once-solemn vow, taken in early +youth, that forbade me to enlist in summer school. Since I planned to +attend the local junior college in the fall and Speech 101 was one of +it's graduation requirements, I rationalized that I should take the +class before all else lest I died of fright during a presentation; I +then would not have taken all of the other college courses in vain. +Breaking my oath for the sake of my life did not seem to be a frivolous +decision and, in my mind, undeniably justified the class. + +A second reason I wished to take speech through the summer was my +anticipation of smaller classes. When my friend Steve learned of my +plan, he too decided to follow my lead. Unfortunately, many others had +prescribed to my line of thought, and Steve and I found our class +brimming with students. + +Actually the class was rather fun, especially having Steve as my +comrade. Together we endured the awkward moments and embarrassment +and, with sparkling eyes, shared the humor begotten of nervousness. +We looked on as the anxious quirks of our classmates became personal +trademarks which would either be overcome in time or rage without end. +Through the class, whether it was my bombed impromptu on "television," +or Steve's short but memorable sales pitch for "Billy Beer," we +afforded each other an ample dose of moral support, not only surviving +but succeeding. + +Again this year summer was a bit of a whirlwind. A date-book was the +only record of my daily accomplishments, for I seemingly had no time to +write lengthy descriptions of the day's events...or more accurately, I +lacked the fortitude to make time for quiet pursuits. One might have +said I was too busy to be unhappy, but it would not have been quite +true. + +Nevertheless, my date-book overflowed. + + +June 8... Norm and I went sailing; motorcycled to Loud Thunder. We had +pizza and beer at the river. It was nice. + + +20... Went to Jon's after work. We ate at Frank's Pizza and then to (a +store) Party at Jon's. + + +23... 40 hours (of work) this week. Think of the bucks... + + +26... I did my first speech... got an A! Steve and I went out and ate ice +cream afterwards. + + +30... After speech, Norm and I took the BMW to Galena. It was a terrific +day. I loved it. + + +July 3... Speech. Work. Mom and I went (shopping) Steve and I went to +West Lake. + + +4... Work. Jon and I went to (a) nature trail and picnicked, then to the +fireworks. + + +July 6... Norm and I went sailing on the Mississippi. He lost my straw +hat. After supper, we took off with the "kicker" (Motor for the canoe). + + +9.... (My boss) thought I was lying when I called in sick. + + +21... Worked on final speech. Topic: Stress. + + +29... Steve wished me well for Mayo trip. Norm and I took a long walk in +Davenport. + + +30... Packed suitcase; spent 45 minutes in the bathroom... left for +Rochester, MN + + +31...Took tests... shopped...Mom bought me a pair of jeans. Swam for +1-1/2 hours. + + +Aug. 1... Saw Dr. E. and left. + + +One might have thought I would have elaborated further on the results +of my examination. After all, it had been five years since my stomach +operation, and this was my last check-up, the famous "five years and +cured" judgment used by cancer experts. However, the trips had almost +elevated themselves to vacation status due to the scenic drive and the +chance to swim, dine out and shop, for the tests were familiar and no +worse than uncomfortable. Of more consequence, though, was the fact +that I did not feel the joyous relief that should have come with E.'s +clean bill of health; I happily acknowledged his statement, "You would +be more apt to die on the highway driving up here than to get cancer +again," but refused to revel in the news. It was too good, and +accepting it as the irrefutable truth was too risky. + +Mom was delighted to hear of the test results, but she too, held +elation in reserve. It did not seem credible that I was entirely +healthy. I still grew nauseous after eating and experienced other +stomach-related disorders such as food "Sticking" above my stomach and +gastrointestinal disturbances. The doctor had no concern over these +symptoms. My stomach was not what one could label as "normal"; it was +reasonable to assume I would always encounter some problem with it. +Shrugging off the nauseousness was convenient and logical. + +I wondered if skepticism was my excuse to undermine happiness; I hated +to think it was an emotion of my own invention, a manufactured +impediment used because I did not desire to be happy. No, that could +not be! Emotional reservation was self-preservation at work. . . it +was security, and the rejection of the thought that health and +happiness were inseparable components of living. + +Summer relaxation generally came at irregular intervals, disguised as +hikes, canoe trips and motorcycle rides with Norm. I did not find +total disengagement from my daily cares until two thirds of the season +had elapsed. A week's time was not enough by my way of thinking, but +it was all I had been given; it was better to be satisfied with what I +had than to waste time bemoaning that which I did not have. + +This summer Norm and I decided to vacation together. Having discovered +that our day trips went smoothly, we had few qualms about spending a +full week exclusively in each other's company, and with high spirits, +set out at 4:00 on a Sunday morning, bound for Colorado. + +We were so psyched about seeing the mountains that we drove through the +entire day and into the evening. When we finally decided, about 7:30, +to find a motel, the choices were "limited" to "nonexistent," so we +forked out $20.00 for a ram-shakle room. Thinking our chance of +finding a decent restaurant would be slightly better than our luck with +motels, we tried to locate the town's business loop. After discovering +the two traffic signals and skirting the streets in both directions, we +gave in to our hunger and raided a 7-Eleven, which would have been +closed in fifteen minutes. Securing some lunch meat, milk, and a can +of pork and beans, we drove back to our humble room, intending to heat +the beans on a portable gas stove. + +The gas stove would not light. "It had performed famously at home," +Norm insisted, feeling somehow betrayed by the inanimate object +sprawling before him. At least our choice of food could be eaten cold. + +Norm picked up the can of beans and retrieved a can opener from a sack +of utensils, clamping it on the can like a pro. The can galloped +'round and 'round, but failed to open. Outraged, Norm flew at the can +with a metal punch, flailing and prying with a vengeance until a jagged +opening would accommodate a spoon. + +It was not what we had in mind, but it was a Sunday evening in a small +town. We stayed up for awhile, blinking at a show on television. I +felt reasonably content, but Norm stole glances at the traitorous stove +ranging from malice to disbelief. "Man!" he kept repeating, "It worked +at home." I couldn't help but smile to myself; he demanded so little of +life, but on that night, even the smallest favors had been denied. +"Poor Norm," I thought. He was more discouraged than I! + + +Aug. 4, 1980... Got a great little kitchenette. + + +We were enthusiastic. $20 per day or $120 per week bought a basement +level, two room, paneled unit, complete with garage-sale dishes and +pans. The toilet was elevated on a step to assure that it would flush. +It also boasted a relic radio and a T.V. with poor reception. The +best things about the place, though, were the river which rushed +several yards from our door and the ability to procure frozen pizzas +from the friendly owner, Marion. After a day of rigorous hiking, I +would ask Marion to heat a pizza and she and I would talk until the +pizza was ready. + +I felt sorry for Marion. She was a widow who tried to keep the motel +intact for her guests despite rising costs and the continual threat of +delapidation. The place was in disrepair, but having little help, +change was more of a dream than a possibility. She had endured +hardship in life; she looked poor, but with dignity, not despair. +Marion accepted things in a manner which encouraged trust, making +herself welcome company and her motel a homey place to stay. On one +visit, I happened to mention that Norm was my brother. She accepted my +statement with unparalleled grace, although it was obvious by the +glimmer in her eyes that she did not believe a word; she had seen too +much to swallow that story. Having nothing to hide or defend, I let +her believe what she would. With or without proof, one believes what +he wants to believe. + +"That's it!" Relieved of our luggage, the trunk appeared to have been +disemboweled. I slammed the lid and turned around to see one of the +other guests intercept Norm as he strode toward the car. "Hi, there," +the man bellowed. "See you've got a Dodge Dart, too. Got two of 'em +at home. Darn things just won't wear out... " Within the passage of +five minutes we knew more about him than either of us cared to know. +And we hadn't even asked. + +"Come here every year," he stated. We also learned the man delivered +mail for his bread and butter; he was married and had kids. There was +something very unpleasant about the man, apart from his obnoxious flow +of conversation. He was the type of person who was oblivious to his +own abhorrant characteristics, a man who would drown his victim +unwittingly and not realize that he had died. + +When I thought the conversation could grow no worse, his eyes took on +an eerie glow and he related to Norm the events of one of his past +vacations, wherein he and several relatives traveled to Montana. From +a previous trip, I knew Montana was a state resplendent with ground +squirrels, and had enjoyed feeding them on one memorable occasion. The +man, however, found the animals satisfying for quite a different +reason; he, his son and another man spent an afternoon gunning down +approximately 400 squirrels. It was a lavish affair which had afforded +him pure delight; his excitement over the reckless slaughter was +complete and shameless. He had done some ranchers a great service, he +raved. As he blasted away, I am sure that service was the last thing +on his mind. + +I gritted my teeth, glad that none of the conversation had been +directed to me, while Norm, visibly unimpressed and equally disgusted +by the man, inched toward the car. Fortunately, the man's wife +appeared from the darkness of a motel room and we were spared further +discussion of the ground squirrel Armageddon. + +"Be seein' ya'," he offered. + +"Yeh," Norm's tight-lipped response almost had to be cranked from his +throat. + +Pulling from the motel lot was a relief. "Now there is a guy who likes +to kill," I said. + +"Yeh," Norm replied. "A good ol' boy. . . nothing like blowing up a +few rodents on a weekend..." + +The sheer number of his kill was enough to astonish, yet more +disturbing was his unrestrainable enjoyment of the event. There was no +nobility whatsoever in his action, for no one had asked for his +assistance or solicited a need for a specific harvest of the animals. +Certainly the grazing cattle injured themselves in rodent holes, but +killing aside, the man took no interest in filling the holes in the +line of duty. Thus, amid hundreds of bodies, the real menace remained. + +In context of need, hunting was natural, but when utilized as an +outlet, a fulfillment of the need to kill for its own sake, hunting +terrified me. I voiced my sentiments to Norm and we wondered aloud +about the possible outcome if no such outlet was available. How would +the killing need be vented? + +We drove into the park and experienced the reminiscent awe of the +mountains. It was unparalleled beauty. + +After twisting through the pines we pulled off the road at a scenic +turn off and roosted atop a pile of boulders for the rest of the +afternoon. Occasionally a timid chipmunk would appear, nervously +twitching its tail until our presence caused it to scoot behind a rock +or bush. Once again, the sadistic mailman crossed my mind, and I +wondered how the Colorado rodent population would fare. With luck, he +had left his arsenal at home. + +The Colorado Rocky Mountains were my vision of paradise. Their immense +proportion, viewed against the surrounding pines, deluged my senses +with an all-encompassing wholeness and an aura of well-being. No other +place produced such an effect within me; I felt no spiritual rift with +the universe and no emotional rift with myself. + +I could not understand the stop-and-start tourists who drove through +the park simply to justify their bumper stickers; or those who, at a +scenic turn off would jump out, peer over the railing and pronounce, +"Nothing special here" if there were no chipmunks to feed. They wanted +artificial, invented forms of entertainment. If there were no buttons +or knobs to pull, no tour guide, nothing that spoke to them through a +speaker or took them on a ride, the place had no significance. + +Whirlwind tourists rarely ventured onto any of the trails, or if they +did, seldom walked further than one mile. Since all social amenities +had to be packed in, few sight-seers prepared themselves for adversity +of even the kindest temperament. They generally had no poncho, wore +heeled shoes or sandals, carried no energy food, and of course, no +water. Once their mistakes were evident, they wasted no time retracing +their steps, trundling down the trail with parched mouths agape and +pouting loudly for the lifestyle they had momentarily misplaced. Norm +and I generally encountered these people on our return from a long +hike; since our trek had begun early in the morning, we avoided the +afternoon rain and completed our hike long before the sun dipped behind +the mountains, washing the surrounding land in darkness. When I saw a +"typical" tourist attempting a hike while toting a radio or blandly +surveying the scenery, I realized how different I was... and how +thankful I was concerning the former statement. I knew also, that if +it were not for the differences in people, I could not revel in the +solitude that was mine to enjoy. + +Our days in the mountains were excellent. The rain never lingered, +leaving the nights clear and cold. We often returned to the park after +supper to drink in the darkness and listen to the wind dance in the +pines. Apart from society, but for an occasional passing automobile, +we felt delivered, not deprived. Cool winds swept through the +silhouetted trees and curled between tight crevasses, producing a +melodious rhythm which conjured the impression of silence. The noise +of society was stilled in tranquility. + +By daylight we roamed the trails, packing our essentials and my camera. +I never hoped to confine the actual beauty of nature on film, but +toted my camera as a pictorial diary. + +Photographs had become my favorite souvenir for their dimensional forms +recalled statements attesting to one's destination... they were almost +like eyes into the past. + + +Aug. 8, 1980... Sandbeach Lake (a 4 mile hike). It was gorgeous. Got +sunburned. Felt great...not tired at all. + + +Our last hike was to Sandbeach Lake, which was nestled in the high +country at the end of a rigorous trail. I label the trail in such +terms because it did not simply travel upward; it repeatedly involved +many declines as well, thereby creating a hike which was as difficult +upon returning as it was at the outset. However, despite the evils of +the trail, the lake was a reward more than adequate; it was a rippling +sapphire wonder clenched in the palm of the mountains. Its white +shore-line was hemmed by gnarled, yet dignified pines, while the cold +and bloodless splendor of Long's Peak presided over all things, living +and inanimate. + +After reaching the lake, our day was spent lolling about its perimeter +as a cool breeze modified the naked heat of the sun. The place seemed +a virtually untouched remnant of land; we assumed the lake's crystal +water was no less than pure and wholesome, and without hesitation, +drank our fill. As the numbingly cold liquid ran into my cupped hands, +it brought back memories of mountain streams and the unspoiled lakes of +Minnesota. Such draughts were ambrosiac delights. + +When the sun began its westward descent, we regretfully pulled +ourselves from beside the lake and shouldered our packs. Both Norm and +I had come to view my legs as unstoppable, but my energy level after +such a trek was a surprise. As he prepared to rest his legs following +supper, I suppressed a grin and asked if he would like to take another +walk. + +"Noooo. . . " Norm moaned in obvious protest "We've done enough, you +dummy," he asserted, one eyebrow cocked above the other. + +"OK," I smiled, having received the expected reaction. We often +bounced our known foibles off each other for the purpose of mutual +amusement. He was not mad at my suggestion, nor did he think me dumb; +consequently I never expected an affirmative response and would not +have pursued the issue because of its illogical quality. Besides. . . +he was bigger than me. + + +Aug 8, 1980... Both of us are feeling sorta' sick. Probably from +drinking lake water yesterday. + + +It was a bitter pill, but it had to be swallowed. The lake must have +been the culprit. We knew that pools of water were more questionable +drinking sources, but Sandbeach appeared pure beyond question. It +would have been easy to say "Things just aren't what they used to be," +but more likely than not, a passing animal had polluted the water +previous to our consumption and we were victims of chance. + +By evening we felt much better and prepared the car for our early +morning departure. Before trying to indulge in some restless sleep, +however, we drove to the park and made a final circuit of our favorite +scenic views. I branded the magnificence into my mind so I could later +return to the mountains in envisioned thoughts. + +At 4:00 in the morning we were off, drifting down the black road which +wound silently through the mountain pass. Above, rocky sentinels +observed our progress, their formidable figures etched against the dark +mat of the sky. As we coasted deeper into the rocky crevasse, the +stars receded into the morning light, bowing to the far greater sun +which sought dominion over the earth and sky. + +With the coming of dawn, the spell of silence was broken. and we gained +relatively flat land. + +"You know," Norm said, "Once I leave, I can't remember what the +mountains look like; I just can't see them in my mind." + +I was glad that I could; I possessed a hoard of images for reflections. +Unfortunately, though, mental pictures could not be shared. + + +Aug. 9, 1980... Drove straight back. Norm didn't feel good. I helped +him get downstairs and all. + + +It was a long shot, to be sure, but by the time we hit Des Moines, it +seemed ridiculous to check into a motel when home was a mere four hours +away. We kept driving. + +We rolled up to an empty house since Mom and Dad were still on +vacation. Opening the door a certain stagnancy assailed our nostrils, +proof that no one had disrupted the air for days. It was home, +nevertheless, and a few brisk passes and several gusts of wind sucked +through the screen windows dissipated the stillness within minutes, +transforming the house into a breathing creature once again. I was +happy to be home. + +Upstairs I found Norm seated on his bed, his eyes unfocused and +restless. I stopped and he looked up at me. + +"I feel strange. . . it's hard to describe. Nervous and out of touch." +His appearance made me wish I could hold him, shelter him from some +undefinable evil. When I asked if there was anything I could do, he +wanted me to stay and talk; far more than all else, he did not want to +be alone. I sat down on the twin bed opposite Norm's; later he decided +to watch television, so I brought his pillows downstairs and made +certain he was comfortable. After awhile, he announced that he felt +better, and I rose to go upstairs. + +"Thanks," he said "I'll stay up a little longer." + +"Are you sure you're OK?" I asked. + +"Yeh. . ." The fear and bewilderment had gone, leaving a rather placid +figure to stare at the television. Despite his stature, there was +something about Norm. . . an innocence... a vulnerability... that gave +him a child-like quality; and within myself, something instinctual made +me alert and watchful of his needs. Involuntarily, I always kept an +ear peeled for Norm; I never asked myself "why " and it never seemed to +matter. + + +Aug 15, 1980... Went to (the mall) with Mom. Got china. + + +Before summer's end, I was able to realize a dream I had maintained +since I was 13 years old; Dad submitted to my desire to purchase a set +of china, regardless of the fact that it would be in the attic for at +least several years. I was elated, after five years. I still liked +the same pattern, and I simply wanted to buy the pieces while the +pattern was readily available. The rich, coffee hued plates bordered +with muted gold vines would one day bring further enjoyment to my +dinner table. I wondered when I would first use them. . . in an +apartment, to mark the beginning of a new job?. . . or in a house, +the first meal prepared for a husband. . . + +Mom and I carefully packed the dishes in their boxes and I watched as +Dad pushed them, one by one, into the depths of the attic. How could +such a plan be a mistake?. + + +Aug. 22, 1980... Rehearsal dinner with Steve. + + +Mary, one of my first playmates, was about to be married. It was no +shock, she had dated the same young man for eight years. The only +comment that seemed to abound concerning the event was, "It's about +time!" I had no qualms toward the success of the marriage, for if they +had not seen the myriad facets of each other's personalities by now, +they were either blind, deaf and stupid, or extremely keen actors. +Personally, I believed in them entirely. + +I asked Steve to accompany me to the rehearsal dinner, and to my +delight, he accepted the invitation without hesitation. He was my +first choice and, in my opinion, best suited for the occasion. Not +only was he personable and well-dressed but he knew the bride as well +as I did and would have no difficulty engaging in conversation with +the other guests. + + +Aug. 23, 1980... Mary's wedding reception 'til 12:00. + + +It was a lovely summer evening, and as one of three bridesmaids, I felt +elegant strolling down the aisle in my peach gown and picture hat. The +wedding progressed smoothly, with no disruptive children or sideshows, +thus ending a veritable storybook romance in the typical style. + +Once the ceremony was over, several neighbors and friends remarked +that, dressed as I was, I looked like a bride; indeed, after such +processions, I could not deny that I heard my own imaginary wedding +bells. Situations like these were a jaunt from the ordinary, and +indulging in a bit of personal fantasy seemed a natural benefit. + +At the reception Steve and I enjoyed ourselves on a grand scale. The +food and drink and dancing were merriment of the finest proportion, and +we hovered at each other's side throughout the night. Those who did +not know us thought we were married, and although I over-step the +bounds of modesty, I do believe we made a fine pair. + +After the celebration, I held more memories to carefully tuck away. +Mary would not be living on 7th Avenue any more. I suddenly felt a +million miles from trikes and trinkets and Barbie dolls. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 175 + +Chapter 23 +Black Hawk College + + + +"Change. It seemed too simple to be the cure for depression; +nevertheless, a cure it was. " + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + +Black Hawk College + + + + +When fall classes began at college and I found myself on the inside +looking out, time was once again a rare gem. Balancing a full load of +study in one hand and what had evolved into a hateful job in the other, +I soon found myself nervous beyond all levels of acceptability. + +Some people thrived on activity, and the more deadlines they had to +meet the better they performed. I did not. For me, school in itself +expended plenty of effort, and with the added pressure of my job, +wherein I now had to work at a newly installed, central cashier island, +I watched helplessly as my sanity wore away. The new system was +chaotic and inefficient; two cashiers had to meet the demands of +patrons who congregated on all four sides of the island. There were no +numbers or lines to assure that customers were served at their proper +time, and special sales from the surrounding departments were never +clarified to any reasonable extent, leaving us to distinguish +"bargains" through catalogued stock numbers and tips from the customer. + +Under such slow procedures, anger and pandemonium were the routine +terrors of employment. My desire to please was a virtual +impossibility. To the public, "I was the store" and any disagreeable +feature of the store or its policies were doused on me while the upper +echelon stood beaming at a safe distance. "You'll get used to it," one +particularly brash fellow would comment as I propped myself up on the +counter after a long and grueling siege. Then he would spin around and +walk leisurely to the escalator while I gritted my teeth in silence. I +am sure he was responsible for many "bitten" tongues through the years. + +When I was relieved of cashier duty my nerves were as taut as a +bow-string, and to dissipate my energy, I would zing about the +department like an arrow to its target. I hung clothes and arranged +the stock with such speed that an onlooker might have thought I was +competing in a marathon. + +Once home, I still could not relax. Homework, if any, demanded my +thorough attention after work, so I would routinely plug in the coffee +maker and brew twelve cups of caffeine. With a warm mug in one hand, I +was able to perceive with intelligence the content of books and write +themes which otherwise might have dissolved altogether through the +debilitating numbness of fatigue. When I had completed my studies to +my satisfaction I allowed myself the liberty to prepare for sleep. + +"Going to get your four hours?" Norm would tease. Actually, it was +more like six hours. I am sure my body would have preferred eight. +However, the caffeine had the ability to bluff my body's requirements +and I happened to need all of the waking hours I could reasonably +obtain. Thus, six hours of sleep plus twelve cups of coffee equaled +one day of maximum level performance. + +Unfortunately I failed to acknowledge the existence of hidden parts of +the equation which, in reality, were the most important regarding its +successful outcome. One could not give 100 percent of himself toward +all areas of demand; there would be nothing left. Before realizing +this concept, I fell into the hole that I had been so intent upon +digging; having depleted myself, I stood alone at the bottom of the +pit. My confidence was no longer a staff, for it had crumbled on my +way down. + +Thereafter, little I did was worth any merit; it should have been +better. Self-satisfaction was almost an impossibility, so I tried not +to direct notice. Even when I appraised myself in the mirror, I saw +only pounds that needed not thrive on my body. + + +Sept. 14, 1980... Work 12-4. Not a bad day. Pizza for supper. I gotta +lose more weight. + + +I was very depressed, yet so busy that my depression had taken on +emotional nuances of its own before I took the time to utilize +objectivity and see my problem. Meanwhile I had erected many of the +building blocks of an anorexic; though I wished no attention, I felt +emotionally "small" and naturally turned to dieting as a means of +attaining physical smallness. + +What had begun with scrutinizing my body before a mirror and weighing +myself at least twice a day blossomed into an obsession. I became an +expert on the subject of calories, reading every article and scanning +every chart to ascertain that my daily intake of food never exceeded +my minimum requirement. If I ate too much, I turned to exercise as a +partner to dieting. Indulging in a late night snack would make it +necessary to burn the calories before bedtime, and I would do 45 +minutes of leg-kicks and lifts to alleviate the guilt of eating. I +even encouraged a nervous state within myself to burn more calories at +work. I began to view diet pop and coffee as alternatives to eating +without feeling physically deprived. The caffeine helped me to retain +energy without having ingested a bulk of calories. I also lied to +avoid eating. If Mom told me to take some meat, I would say I was not +hungry and would eat it later. Later, of course, never came. I +stopped accompanying my parents to restaurants to better adhere to my +diet plan, not trusting myself when faced with a tempting menu; my +supper would then consist of a bowl of lettuce and one half of a glass +of milk. + +When the subject of dieting became my favorite topic of discussion, I +realized I was not simply trying to lose weight; my compulsive behavior +did not originate from the thought that I was over-weight, but rather +something far greater that I had chosen to ignore. I studied my +obsession and grew fascinated by it. Never before had I given such +power to an emotionally derived fixation (except perhaps picking my +nails into virtual oblivion; that, however, was a habit, not an +obsession, and had no authority over my common sense). + +After its discovery, I looked upon my fanatic dieting as a "willful +distortion of reality," for I knew what I was doing. As if toying with +or testing myself, I allowed my emotions to "feel fat"; since I was +aware of the irrational view of myself, I perceived that it would not +rule me and I was in no danger. Something within me made it impossible +to lose control. I was fortunate; I was able to understand, indeed, +feel the terror of an addiction without personally submitting to its +reign. + +I was curious to find the strength of this radical self-perception and +how long my rationality would tolerate its existence, as it certainly +affected my life on a daily basis. It happened that I allowed my diet +to carry on until I weighed 115 pounds, at which point my parents, Norm +and several friends were truly worried about my thinness. Crazy though +it was, I continued, emotionally speaking, to view myself as +overweight; rationally, however, I knew I was too thin, and not +desiring to be a source of concern for my loved ones, decided the diet +had proceeded long enough. + +Yes, the diet would come to a halt. However, there would need to be +additional changes in my lifestyle to combat the underlying problem. +Because I had allotted ample time for self-observation, I pin-pointed +my problem as having stemmed from physical and mental exhaustion. Also +to blame, but initially less apparent, was an evasive need for freedom +and personal time. . . which had always eluded my control. I was +trapped between asserting a nasty declaration of independence and +submitting entirely to those who would rule my time; total conqueror or +total prisoner seemed my only alternatives, and disliking both, ignored +the issue. + +Returning to the more obvious realm of change as dictated by +exhaustion, my first act of healing was to quit my job. + +The results were marvelous. Even before I was actually through working +at the store, I found the strain had been lifted from my mind. I was +flooded with relief and realized that, for months, I had not emanated +such happiness. Previously, I reflected, happiness only came in the +form of doing something for someone else. Thinking about myself +brought a sense of disgust and the need to deny myself of life's +pleasures. The greatest compliment I could have been given at that +time was, "You're so skinny!" If I heard comments in just suggesting +that I was in any way overweight, I would still take them seriously; +Norm caught on to my twisted thinking and quickly began calling me +"Hair-on-a-stick." It was a name I loved. . . and one that aged with +me, although I never again turned to such destructive means of abating +depression. + + + + +Ode To The Furnace + +A groan, +A rumble, +Click! +Sputter!... +Then...pop! +The furnace turned on, +But my heart nearly stopped! + +Lauren Isaacson +January 1981 + + + +Prey + + +The flight +Of the owl... +Vise-like talons +Stifle life... +The ceasing +of breath. + +Lauren Isaacson +January 1981 + + + + +The Endless Vigil + + +Step carefully, now, +For a house never sleeps; +Beware of the hallway... +The second plank creaks! +The stairs to the basement +Will yawn in dismay +At the touch of a stranger +Tiptoeing away. +Hush!...not a word +Near the southern most vent... +(On revealing one's presence +This house is bent!) +For an echoing message +Will rumble and shout; +"Someone is here, +Of this there's no doubt!" +Step carefully, now, +For a house never sleeps... +Quietly whispering, +A vigil it keeps. + +Lauren Isaacson +January 27, 1981 + + + +Change. It seemed too simple to be the cure for depression; +nevertheless, a cure it was. Not all changes would be as easy as +quitting a job or dropping a class; I would not allow myself to be +fooled by my relative success regarding the cessation of dieting. Some +changes, I realized, would hurt myself and others, and these were the +ones that would deal with my freedom. . . my time; they would be the +most important changes of my life, and to forever avoid these would +lock me in an unhappy state of being. One day I knew they would be +faced, for to deprive myself of happiness would be a deprivation of +growth, and life without growth would be worse than death. Thus, before +growth's stagnation, change. + + +Mar. 15, 1981... I can live, love and laugh because I have known my +emotions; I have experienced ecstasy as well as depression. Serenity, +though, lies midway between the high and the low. + + +I was staring thoughtfully through the windshield. "I think maybe the +reason I can't make decisions is because I lack confidence, I guess." + +Norm glanced over at me from the driver's seat, his eyebrows +punctuating a look of disbelief. "Man," he said, "That's great!" +enjoying the moment to its fullest. + +My statement had rolled from my lips with unflinching honesty. It was +a gut analysis, a spontaneous reaction that could not be retracted once +spun into words. I shook my head. "It's pretty pathetic, isn't it?" I +laughed. It became the joke of the month between us, made more +humorous by the fact that it was true. + +For the most part I was able to enjoy life after quitting my job. My +anorexic tendencies slowly disappeared and I turned my attention away +from food. School was my only real obligation, and though I applied +more pressure to various assignments than perhaps was necessary, I was +satisfied with the final results because I knew I had done my best. I +found that certain subjects made me come alive with interest, and while +self-confidence remained low, confidence in my school work increased +rapidly. Occasionally I dueled with guilty qualms when I was indulging +in recreational activities because I wondered if I had studied enough. +Rhetorically speaking, however, by what measure and under whose +authority is "enough" determined? Norm, more than anyone, helped me to +see the necessity of "letting go". . . of saying, "enough!" and turning +my back. He felt little obligation which allowed him to do as he +wished; when his emotional well-being was at stake, few people could +alter his stance. He spent time as, and with whom, he desired. If he +chose to be alone, he made sure no one interfered with his intention. +At times Norm's reactions unintentionally hurt the feelings of others, +yet his sanity remained intact; he knew his limits, and made certain +they were never reached. + +I, on the other hand, would plow headlong into a doubtful situation at +the expense of my emotional well-being, to avoid hurting another +individual's feelings. I would endure intolerable people and ready +myself for the asylum, while the person rattled on and thought well of +me. After his or her departure, Norm would be responsible for finding +a putty knife and scraping me off the ceiling. + +It was no secret between me and myself that I despised a fight. I +controlled anger with a fervor, frightened that I could not defend my +position if the recipient of my vehemence chose to see red. Quite +removed from anger, though, I could not even wage a modest war against +the persuasive tactics of those who would pirate my wish for solitude +or guarantee myself "equal" time in a conversation; if I was not +blessed with a fair companion, my desire to spend time alone was rarely +respected and my views were seldom heard. How was it possible to say +"no" without being hounded until my response was "yes"?. . .or claim my +share of the conversation without rudely interrupting with, +"shut up!"?... + +I hated to hurt people; I once had a hard time hanging up on a prank +phone call. Nevertheless, I knew I was still slightly depressed, and +until I was able to defeat my lack of aggression, I would continue to +be haunted by the weakness and resent those who dexterously wielded the +power of persuasion over my head. + +During a sociology course based on the family, students were given +various choices for extended study beyond those areas covered in the +classroom discussions and book reading. Because I loved to write, I +decided to keep a journal of my personal views on relationships. As I +had previously discovered, writing helped me to clarify my emotions in +a logical and systematic fashion; knowing this, I looked upon the +assignment quite favorably. It had been some time since I had last +spilled the contents of my mind onto paper, and an assignment dictating +that I do so granted me the time I needed to pursue my beliefs in depth +and reflect on personal experiences and observations. This assignment +would be no waste of time. + +I rarely ventured anywhere without a note pad and pen. When I was +enlightened by relevant thoughts or glimpsed feelings that pertained to +my journal entries, the note pad would suddenly appear and I would +scrawl viciously until I had captured the idea in permanent ink. Soon +I possessed a hoard of ideas and encapsulated thoughts which would +serve to fuel the concepts expressed in the journal itself. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 181 + +Essay: +Views on Choice + + +". . . one's self can be either his best friend or in selfishness, +his worst enemy." + + + +VIEWS ON CHOICE + + + +The normal human mind is to be used; primarily it allows man to +survive. It then allows an immense capacity for growth, and a +definition of values toward compatible co-existence. A child grows to +adulthood, and similarly, his brain and thoughts are able to mature; +he can choose between instinctual selfishness or attempt to view life +with a broader scope, thereby improving the world he touches by +improving himself. The more the mind grows, the more humble its +"master" becomes, for he realizes that knowledge is infinity and +infinity cannot be encapsulated in the human brain. + +It is not enough to say simply "we are what we are," for although there +are certain aspects of one's personality which, I feel, are +unchangeable, I must also believe that man has a certain amount of +liberty over his actions; yet possessing that mental freedom, man also +is capable of perverting both instinctual behavior and societal +standards of conduct. + +The ideas of right and wrong are generally clarified for each person by +his elders when he is yet quite young. Even those with learning +disabilities and those who are not severely mentally retarded have the +ability to distinguish between socially defined "good" and "bad" +behavior. When children grow into adulthood, it is difficult to view +wrongdoing as simply "bad behavior," much less "acceptable"; one has +been taught to think, and then to act. + +Even when the environmental aspects through one's youth are considered, +certainly the expectations of behavior and conduct are taught in the +school; the child cannot say he was not aware of the societal rules, +despite any lack of respect for those rules in the home. Each +individual possesses a mind of his own; he is free to act upon or +disregard negative pressure. + +Saying evil occurred due to environmental pressures is, perhaps, +today's way of avoiding the issue of bad and good behavior, blaming +life's circumstances for immorality, instead of facing the fact that +the person made a wrong decision of his own accord. Those who +continually blame other people and circumstances for their personality +disturbances gain little respect, for one can choose with whom and in +what manner he desires to spend his time. Exceptions shall always +exist, yet often a grand problem can be reduced by making select +changes in one's life; changes such as a transferal from a tough job +situation, or the decision to stop interactions with a "friend" who +truly is not a friend. People must be responsible for their own +actions, although it is always easier to blame, to utilize a scapegoat. +It is virtual music to the ears to hear someone in this age admit that +he has made a mistake or has done a grave disservice to humankind. + +The environment argument robs each person of his individuality, for if +one cannot be punished for wrongdoing then he cannot be applauded for +decent behavior. It would be as if one was a robot, devoid of +character, and stripped of choice. Furthermore, the fact that two +children from the same environment, indeed, the same home, can grow to +be complete opposites in character, subtracts environmental importance +regarding one's disposition and life choices. It is not so much the +environment as the manner in which one reacts to it that forms one's +personality. + +There are countless choices in life; whether to lie, or tell the truth, +to cheat or be fair; whether to be unresponsive or kind, to give or, +like a child, demand constant nurturing. Then, of course, there are +degrees of tolerance regarding the enactment of distasteful traits and +illegal practices. While a minor may snatch a bottle of liquor and +proceed to intoxicate himself in the woods behind his house, an adult +can legally indulge, yet will then climb into his car and drive +haphazardly to his next destination; an under-aged drinker, and a drunk +driver...both are illegal, but for me there is no contest as to which +is the worse offender since the "adult" drunk is jeopardizing lives +with each block he passes. + +When other crimes are committed, such as mass slayings and violent +attacks upon innocent victims, insanity is often utilized as a way to +avoid severe punishment. While certain individuals may well be apart +from reality, surely not all of those who claim insanity are, for they +knew exactly what they did, as well as the implications and seriousness +of the crime. + +When an apparently mentally intact adult commits such a brutal +violation of the societal code of conduct, it is difficult to +rationalize his behavior as acceptable by way of insanity; certainly he +exercised a choice, worsened by the fact that he was an adult. He did +not use self-control; though he felt murderous, he did not have to act +upon his impulse. + +If an individual was bound inextricably to a fore-fated disposition by +(God) then his actions would prove nothing as to the man's character... +that is, his inherent ability to choose right over wrong. If God +undertook the creation of a perfectly "good man," in so much that he, +the man, was incapable of doing evil, the man could not receive +applause for his acts of good will because he essentially had no other +choice. + +In conversations with my father, he often offered an inquiry for +discussion as to which man is essentially the "better" of the +following: a non-drinker who, without the slightest twinge of anxiety, +refuses a drink, or the alcoholic who, fighting desperately, also +refuses a drink as sweat forms upon his brow. My father could always +come to the conclusion that the non-drinker was, in essence, the weaker +of the two described since he felt no temptation in the first place and +could not be congratulated for a decision which created no mental +turmoil. + +The above analogy could be substituted in many arenas of human +weakness. Though the degree of temptation toward wrong-doing varies +among its subjects, I believe the most courage and fortitude of +character is demonstrated by those who are able to rule their impulses +and seek the road of a clear conscience. A battle won with oneself +against injustice will always remain a noble endeavor; one's self can +be either his best friend or in selfishness, his worst enemy. There +are times in everyone's life when two or more choices present +themselves for inspection; and it is not always easy to choose the +ethical course of action, yet for those who are mentally aware of +themselves and the people who share their world, there should ideally +exist only one choice, the benevolent choice. + +It will never be possible for one human to completely judge another's +character, and likewise carry out justice on earth. Even if the +committers of crimes are punished, justice will not come to the victim +who suffered the loss or trauma. The victim's pain can recede, but it +cannot be washed away. My mother told me once that when she was a +little girl, she thought God would strike down evil people, and they +would one day fall over, dead and benign. It did not take long for her +young eyes to see that life was not that way. However, one can, +perhaps, derive a small amount of satisfaction from hope vested in +"ultimate justice" and the idea that a being far greater than the +greatest human is able to detect one's truthfulness and the depth of +his knowledge of right and wrong. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 183 + +Essay: +Views on Awareness + +"An individual who is not one with his inner core cannot hope to give +of himself fully, for his mind encompasses only his life, and not life +itself. " + + + +VIEWS ON AWARENESS + + + +The inevitable passage of time, varying levels of maturity, and our +life experiences are all elements which, in part, have the power to +change our outlook on life and alter our personality; it is yet the +mind, however, which fully determines our reaction. To illustrate this +point, allow me to create the following scenario; two women, both of +whom enjoy a life of queenly leisure, are one day forced to face their +husbands' untimely death, thereby obliterating a prime factor in their +story book existence. One woman, quite distressed, solemnly prepares +for her husband's funeral arrangements. After the initial shock of his +sudden departure from the earth, she is able to settle into her daily +routine once again. + +The other woman, however, is completely unable to accept the solid +truth that her husband is dead. She pines remorsefully through each +day and wearies her friends with her incessant lamentations. So +obsessed with the mourning of her late husband is she, that she +eventually falls into deep depression and seeks the aid of a +psychiatrist. + +Thus we have seen two instances which have had numerous circumstances +in common, yet the manner in which the women reacted to their +misfortune was markedly different. This leads me to believe that an +individual is essentially who he will ever be at birth, excluding, of +course, those accidental occurrences which mar and sometimes obliterate +certain abilities of both mind and body. + +Despite my belief that a person will be essentially unchanged from his +mental and behavioral patterns as determined at birth, there is within +each individual a certain ability to change; however, the potential +must be there. One cannot become someone or something for which he +lacks all foundation. + +That which allows an individual to overcome the reins of selfishness +and base behavior, and to grow toward the best image of himself is +awareness. It is the key to change and self-improvement, and through +these qualities I believe it also sets one free. + +Awareness is not easily given to definition, having so many variables +which shroud its very essence in obscurity. It is more than one's +perception of the world; it is also the ability of an individual to +view himself with objectivity and in turn, understand the way in which +he is visualized by others; it is seeing the world through an eagle's +eyes, and conducting oneself in such a manner as to avoid injuring +humankind; it is demonstrating respect to one's neighbors and +associates in a way which is conducive to nature's intent and societal +congeniality. It is the ability to know when the time is right to +voice one's opinions and when, also, to remain silent; it is +restraining habits in the presence of others which are discourteous or +distracting; it is conducting oneself in a manner respectful of himself +and the whole of society, for without the benefit of the unselfish, the +world could not exist. + +Unlike other aspects of ability, awareness is not a factor which is +easily determined. This is so because there is no scale by which to +calculate awareness as there is in dealing with educational acuteness. +Moreover, awareness does not necessarily reflect intelligence; one can +be extremely intelligent yet possess no sensitivity regarding his +conduct. To further add to the confusion, everyone feels himself to be +aware of his actions; while some undoubtedly control every aspect of +their personality in public situations, others feel as if they are +perceptive, but conduct themselves rather distastefully in the midst of +others. Once alerted to their actions, they are able to alter their +behavior. Still others continue to demonstrate highly irregular +behavioral patterns even after candid instruction, for they feel their +actions are in no way peculiar, and are not hesitant to say there is no +reason for them to change. Then, of course, the true victims of +insanity are not responsible for their actions, for reality has become +distorted and vague; the same is true of mentally retarded individuals. + +Just as every human being has mental and physical potentials, so, I +believe, do we have an "awareness potential." In all things there are +degrees of performance and capabilities which are instilled within us +long before birth; these seeds can sometimes lay dormant until, +perhaps, the need arises for their use or they are, in effect, stumbled +upon by their master. Though we may well attain our potential in a +certain area, whether it be consciousness toward societal behavior or +an inexplicable hatred for the mathematical language, there are other +mental and physical arenas which are seemingly boundless in regard to +one's capabilities; I tend to think of these as one's "natural gifts" +which apparently grow with little effort on the part of the individual +thus endowed. We are not created equal in the mental, emotional, or +physical sense; we do, however, excel in various facets of each. Thus, +while its presence alone determines if one can change, the amount of +one's awareness is the controlling factor of how much one can change. + +Through observation and extensive thought, I have reached the +conclusion that any obsessive self-indulgence or selfishness is merely +a hollow attempt by the individual thus incensed to fill an emotional +void. Self-love is quite separate from self-infatuation, with the +latter lacking all objectivity in thinking because all thought is +mirrored toward oneself. Selfishness is an insatiable hunger which +consumes far too many individuals; as with all obsessive emotions, it +feeds upon the imprisoned mind, destroying the love and replacing it +with malignant desire, resulting in no less than hatred. + +No one can read the mind of another, or delve therein for the +truthfulness of his statements or actions. Only the individual knows +whether he is giving his best or if selfishness is the controlling +power behind all deeds. I do feel, however, that one who displays a +knowledge of all restrictions and codes of conduct regarding another's +rightful behavior toward himself is also capable of returning respect +and cordiality, for obviously he is aware of societal expectations. + +When a person is aware of his faults but makes no effort to change, he +is a leech upon society which drains others of their rightly earned +freedoms, whether as simple as desiring a yard bereft of dog litter or +the wish for tranquillity, or as significant as the right to security +and peace within the home. He who takes from society without returning +something of himself gains the regard of no one. One determines the +way in which he shall be treated by his self-conduct; respect begets +respect. + +The person who indulges in selfishness is a most distressing companion; +he demands rather than asks, and will not take "no" for an answer; he +is opinionated and short-sighted, seeing only the effects a certain +measure will have upon his own welfare; he feels he knows everything, +and will be pleased to fill one in; if he listens, he will misconstrue +the information or turn it around to suit himself. One unwilling to +change himself looks only to his own needs; he is unable to release his +child-like mentality for fear that he shall not receive "his share"; +riding abreast of laziness, rebellion, resentment, or another usually +child-like mode of behavior, he locks himself in a prison which he +himself built. Indeed, he would be pitied if he was not so abhorred; +yet it is unfair to expect a share of the harvest if one has not also +planted seed in the field. Thus instead of attempting to discover the +true problem behind his emptiness, the self-centered individual often +ignores his mind's plea for help and tries to fulfill himself through +that which others will give, creating a most devastating hindrance +toward personal growth. + +One must develop his mind to the point that he can love and accept +himself, and regard his flaws not as hopeless, but rather, attributes +which, with growth, will be overcome. Only through undiluted awareness +can one develop wholeness of character. An individual who is not one +with his inner core cannot hope to give of himself fully, for his mind +encompasses only his life, and not life itself. + +While awareness allows one to discover his faults, honesty clarifies +them. Looking into one's own character can be unpleasant and even +distressing, for there is no one who does not wish to erase certain +mindless inclinations and base emotions from his personality slate. +However, without the initial realization and acceptance of such faults, +no reversal shall take place. It is through these confessions to +oneself that one is able to grow and eventually change into a being +more worthy of his own existence in the realm of nature. I view +honesty as a product of love. Therefore, honesty toward oneself must +be of utmost importance in the development of self-love and the +creation of inner wholeness. In this scope, perhaps it could be said +that irrationality is an attempt to "mask" selfishness, for few who act +toward the benefit of humanity will inflict upon it needless pain. For +the most part, only thoughtlessness proves injurious to the masses. +Just as it is important to nurture one's character, so is it imperative +to see the whole character and weed from it that which desires to choke +and plague its life and surrounding lives. + +I believe that each individual desires to be liked by his fellow man +and have a sense of "belonging" . . . (although certain individuals so +desire companionship that they succumb to the notions of others and rob +themselves of a personality). They want to possess a feeling of +individuality, and be accepted for who they are and wish to become. + +Far from perfect, I realize that I could use an infinite amount of +improvement within my character, and despite the menacing flaws which I +must face, I feel quite fortunate to be able to acknowledge them, for +without detection, they could not be overcome. I hope that I will grow +in strength and love until I no longer live, for when inner growth +stagnates, one essentially dies. + + +Soul's Voyage + +Alone, I observe +In the eerie glow +The earth-bound voyage +Of falling snow. +The trees are all clad +In angelic white... +Such calm I find +On this midwinter's night! +Framed by the door, +'Twas the picture of peace +And earnestly beckoned +My soul to release +That I might lose myself +In night's deepest confines, +Ne'er to return +To life's dismal design. +My heart would not yearn, +Nor would it pine +For a life that was lost +To one more divine. +Ah, but alas! +And how the night flies +From dawn's icy fingers +And wind's bitter cries! +'Twas naught but a dream: +The night gone by +When moonbeam rays +Kissed snow-drenched skies! +Ah, cruel memory! +Disparaging blow! +For my hopes are consumed +'Neath the deepening snow. + +Lauren Isaacson +January 1981 + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 187 + +Chapter 24 +Interlude + + + +"Owning a healthy sense of self-worth was not immodesty +but protection against vulnerability. " + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR + +Interlude + + + + +Jan.--Feb. 1981... I am a loner, used to spending time alone ... +I dislike a lot of contact... + +....I am a listener, although not always by choice... + +....I think a lot... contemplate life (and) death. Is there such a +thing as thinking too much? + +. . .I know myself through observations and experiences and my writing. + +Writing is sometimes the only means through which I can express myself, +for I found that, being a listener, I usually help people more than +they do me. I perhaps begin, but more often than not, I fail to say +what I set out to say. I wonder if this makes good relationships...all +ear and no mouth. (But) I feel better giving than receiving. + +...One must be receptive, or the relationship cannot last. + +...The amount one discloses about (him) self is oftentimes parallel to +the amount of attention given (to him) by the partner. If one listens +with the intensity of a brick wall, it naturally follows that the other +will be less likely to express feelings in other situations...he feels +shut out. + +...He is the chief voice in the relationship. (He) says he will listen +to me, but unless I talk in an unending flow until I'm finished, he +breaks in with a response and continues to elaborate upon it until I +have virtually forgotten my thoughts. I have found short, powerful +phrases the only means to convey my beliefs at times...or reading my +personal essays and poems to him. Sometimes I feel small . . . I am +unable to make myself heard. + + +Feb. 1981... Although a relationship is composed of a great deal of +sharing and companionship, the need for privacy must be respected. +Each individual needs to maintain a firmly established sense of +identity to fully give of that self. Grow side by side and learn from +each other...two vines cannot grow on one tree lest they strangle their +support and eventually, each other. + +...I find it most exciting to discover someone and watch him grow in +his understanding of life. I could not live with myself if I felt I +was purposely attempting to mold another individual to fit my +perception of the "ideal mate." I once told (my boyfriend) that I +would rather break up with him than change him, for propensities which +I found disturbing would be virtually non-existent to someone else. He +has as much of a right to live and love in his own way as I have. + +...The friendship which (he) and I share is invaluable and +irreplaceable. Perhaps it is because I place no supreme importance on +romanticism that our friendship is my deepest gratification. + + +In another composition, I wrote these words: + +I look not for the ideal because idealistic individuals are often quite +disappointed when their "key" is ultimately bigger than the "lock." +Instead I give my best and accept life as it comes. My concept of +happiness consists of satisfying the mind to achieve emotional +stability. I try to look to each day as another chance to grow in +knowing myself and my world. My "ideal" would include a total +acceptance of life and a perfection of love. + + +During that period of time, I also expressed with morbid cynicism my +inability to dissuade a friend from his use of marijuana. The poem, +although somewhat disturbing, projects my hostility toward a habit +which claimed sufficient importance that it continued despite my open +concern. + + +1981 + +Is life (for you) +So dull and meaningless.... +Is it so necessary to escape, +To drift from reality, +To pull away +From summer's soft and fragrant breeze, +And mold into a being +Which is not yourself +But rather, +Some distorted orb of existence... +If you so desire +To kill yourself, +Draw your plans... +Burn the grass... +Blow your charred breath +Into the baggy... +And pop it. +Be daring. +Your loss of life +Seems so indifferent. +Why not go out with a roar, +Like the coming of March, +Instead of this infernal, +Everlasting, +Torture. +The suspense is killing me, +And I'm ready for a good show. +I'll applaud... +I'm a good and experienced audience. +I'll be intent (as you) +On your motive. +Can't you get it over +So I can go home, +As usual, +And take off my clothes +And my make-up +And roll my hair... +So I can play Bozo +Tomorrow +Tomorrow +In the great show +Called Life +That never ends +Except for you, my friend. + + + +It was evident in my writing that I harbored discontent. Perhaps this +was because I had recognized the elements and images of good +relationships. In my written kaleidoscope, I contrasted +generalizations with personal experiences; I was aware of what I wanted +in a relationship of romantic nature and knew that my current +relationship did not have the capacity to fulfill those +characteristics. I had been trying to forcibly extract romantic +inclinations from within myself and adhere them to primarily platonic +feelings. I was not blind; in the brilliant sunlight, I had seen +reality, but rather than facing the light or turning my back, I had +simply chosen to wear sun-glasses to cut down the glare. For a time it +had been the easiest solution; now, with a certain degree of fear, +I knew I could no longer deflect the truth. + +For several months I continued to drift along, contemplating life's +moments and my reactions to them. I had been letting life "happen" +without becoming involved in the decisions that were at least partially +mine; self-confidence had withered, robbing me of my voice and my +ability to decide how my time would be spent. + +Toward the end of spring, my personal analysis bloomed; although the +flowers, my conclusions, were not delicate things of beauty. I found +I had transformed into someone who I disliked, feeding on a tremendous +wall of resentment. Since I was not strong enough to simply +discontinue the romance, I began to create areas of conflict, tempting +him to argue or basting him with his faults. Knowing that he generally +avoided disagreements at all costs, I tactfully asked questions for the +purpose of testing his genuiness of character and individualism. I +tried to induce friction to see when and if he would take a stand, yet +he never would. I began to wonder if he possessed any opinions of his +own. + +Needless to say, the time we spent together was not joyous for either +of us. I grew irritated at little eccentricities and habits, sometimes +with good reason, and on other occasions, without. Even simple +companionship, which I had once valued, became a victim of the blighted +romance; as he sought to do everything in his power to maintain the +romance, stressing that our problems would pass, I strained violently +against his intentions with the hope that our relationship could +deflate to the status of friendship. It was a battle that neither +wished to lose and blazed ever more intensely through the days because +nothing was lost or gained. I was unable to walk away and he refused +to shake my hand. There was no room for compromise. + + +May 30, 1981... West Lake. Doubtful...thought (he) and I might break +up. We just sat on the blanket in silence, and then I went over and +picked a wild rose and brought it back. I showed it to him. "It has +thorns," he said. "Some of the prettiest things have thorns," I +replied. "I know." He squeezed my hand. + + +When summer came I felt the relief of having no obligations. Time was +my own, logically, but I had to laugh at the thought. "Who are you +fooling?" a voice cackled from somewhere. I mused for a second and +then became annoyed. "You don't refuse him calls and dates, because +you are afraid of hurting him, yet, when you are together, you display +few loving qualities!" + +By harboring such hostility, I was hurting both of us. I began to +realize more damage was done through seeing him than if I would collect +myself and entirely pull away from the relationship. + +He did not want to let go, that was a given. I needed more time; that +too was a given. In one last attempt to stress my needs, I asked him +to grant me three days of complete solitude, during which time he would +not call or visit; after some argument, he agreed. + +Time was a gift, and the first and second days were marvelous. I was +alone and it felt wonderful. The third day, however, brought duress +via the mail; unable to let go, he sent me a letter. I was decidedly +angry, considering the letter a breach of promise. After all I had not +asked for much. Three days. It had not seemed an unfair request. + +Disappointed, I folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. +Some things in life seemed so impossible. It was ironic that, through +various ways of caring, people could hurt each other so badly. + +The following events changed my outlook on life toward the positive, +which at the time meant an improved self-image. My parents had noted +my lack of confidence and perceived it was a marked impediment. +Without an agreeable opinion of oneself a person cannot hope to lead a +full life; fear of failure precedes and echoes every step, eventually +leading to emotional immobilization. + +Out of exasperation for my warped self-image, Mom took matters into her +hands and enrolled me in a charm class, acting upon the theory that a +woman's confidence was directly related to her appearance. I objected, +but Mom insisted that I go. Thus, with reluctant steps and an uneasy +stomach, I drove to my first class. + +Students were challenged to enhance unique features with which they +were born. Rather than criticizing oneself, the emphasis was on +improvement. This involved a thorough evaluation wherein one's traits +were honestly viewed, after which a commentary was meticulously written +for the instructor. Every student was given an individual make-up +consultation, and as a weekly assignment, we were to come to class +wearing make-up and proper attire. We learned the correct way to walk, +sit and gesture, and were instructed concerning hair care, manicures, +diets and exercise. + +The most beneficial aspect of the class from my point of view was +learning. . .or perhaps simply remembering. . . that no one was +perfect. Moreover, vanity in carefully measured doses was not +frivolous; beauty dealt more with the ability to project one's inner +self than painting and displaying the surface characteristics. Though +it may sound shallow, the compliments which I received in class by my +instructor were the stimuli I needed to reinforce the image reflected +in my mirror. For the first time in months, I felt good about who I +was on the inside, even though I had to begin my "renovation" on the +outside. + +Toward the middle of July I was able to escape in every sense of the +word when Norm and I took our second vacation together. I knew the +week would grant me time and distance required to objectively view my +troubled "romance." The trip meant a chance for both fun and +reflection. + +We stayed, once again, in the basement level unit of last year's motel. +Upon entering, we quickly noted that no changes had been made. The +same relic radio still graced the dresser, and the same avocado crushed +velvet bedspread sagged drearily to meet the worn carpets covering the +floor. It was somehow a pleasant sight, albeit the fact that the place +desperately needed attention; I guess it was like a worn out pair of +tennis shoes, ugly yet be-loved for the sake of the mileage and +memories which they represented. + +The following morning, as we strode toward the car, we truly felt at +home when we noticed the sadistic mailman of the previous year busily +engaged with Marion. We looked on with amazement. The one undesirable +factor of last year's vacation had reappeared! + +Hoping to escape recognition, we quietly loaded the car while he jawed +away, absorbed in his story of the hour. We might have slipped from +the parking lot had it not been for Marion's eyes flicking repeatedly +from him to us. We both had one leg in the car when a huge bellow +resounded from his direction. + +"Hey! Weren't you the folks with the Dart?" + +We felt as if responding with a "yes" would be an admission of guilt +for some heinous crime. "We were the ones!" Norm replied, pulling +himself into the protection of the car and starting the engine. My +brother was artfully combining politeness with perpetual motion. +A brief exchange ensued as the car rolled slowly backward from its +parking space, then a shift into low gear signaled that the +conversation had ended. + +"Catch ya later," the man yelled after us. He never did. + +Five days dissolved, one into the next, until the week's peaceful +interlude came to an end. The time had allowed my emotions to rest and +my mind to clear. Questions which I feared to answer now appeared to +have lost their malignancy, and I had gathered the courage to enact the +unsavory business of breaking up. Nothing would dissuade me; my +decision had been made and its certainty felt like the cool breezes in +which it had been developed. + +I came home feeling revitalized and cleansed. Nature's splendor, +Norm's companionship and time to enjoy for its own sake; these were the +aspects of life which, for me, made it uncomplicated and full. + +With my decision firmly planted I was a changed individual, and it was +obvious to my boyfriend that the summer would not bring us closer +together. Confidence helped me to overcome his heartiest attempts to +reroute my intentions or confuse my thoughts and within days after +returning from Colorado, I did what we both knew was inevitable. As we +parted, I was drowned in sorrow. . . for myself and for him. . . and +although confidence helped to dispatch a prompt conclusion to a +floundering relationship, it did nothing to absorb the pain which +accompanied such an end. + +Breaking up hurt. It had to hurt. I knew I had done the right thing; +like a canker, my resentment festered when in his company. I finally +cared enough to let go. + +I remember that night so well. We had stopped at a playground to rest +on the swings after a bike ride. I was feeling quite detached and +spoke very little. When the summer sun drifted from view, I stood to +mount my bike, and he rose to receive the customary good-night kiss. I +offered my hand as he approached, leaving no doubt that the romance was +over, but he would not accept a platonic relationship. He was not +ready for that; I could understand, but I would still miss him. + +"Well, I guess you'll never see my black pants," he stated, reminding +me that he and his mother had gone shopping earlier that day. Why did +he have to say that? "Never" was so permanent. I felt tears well up +in my eyes and cloud my vision, and pushing off into the gathering +darkness, I realized that I may never see him again. For years he had +demanded much of my time; now he was rejecting all of it. No, there +was no compromise. + +I pedaled home, half-blinded by tears, then rushed upstairs to my room +to hurl my frustrations onto paper. Writing was the release that I +needed; I had to ask myself whether or not I had done the right thing. +Three pages later I was satisfied that I had, concluding my written +rampage with, "I think I'll make some bran muffins." + +The rest of the summer was spent as I wished, and admittedly took a +degree of adjustment on my behalf. Such a wealth of time was alien +to me. + +As always, freedom had its price. Mine was lost companionship, and I +did experience lonely moments, for he had been my principal friend as +well as my boy-friend. Generally, however, I remained content with my +decision. Not only had my ability to follow through with an important +decision multiplied my confidence, but I was no longer haunted by the +knowledge that I was hurting another individual or trying to ply him +into something he was not. Moreover, as a loner, free time was most +often a luxury; the rare occasions of actual loneliness were remedied +through the former, positive facets of my ultimate decision. + +I excitedly enrolled in the charm school's other class, which taught +the skills necessary for one to become a model. Regardless of my +eventual aspirations, I assumed that the class would prove enjoyable +and fulfill the educational side of a glamorous dream. My intuition +was accurate and I loved every minute, from performing turns and poses +to working with a photographer for my own photo session. + +When the class came to an end, the proprietor invited me to her office +and offered me a cup of coffee. Saying that I showed promising +qualities, she bid me sign a contract with her firm for local modeling +opportunities. I was stunned. My portfolio had turned out quite well +and I had fostered little anxiety in the class, yet such a display of +high regard was a powerful and pleasant shock. Her offer bridged my +loftiest hopes and without hesitation, I accepted the contract. + +If humans could fly, I surely would have soared home that day. I felt +so good, so whole. There was nothing that could impede my sense of +freedom; no one would make my decisions or steal my time. + +Owning a healthy sense of self-worth was not immodesty, but protection +against vulnerability. I knew I could bestow kindness and still be +shunned, or honestly state my opinion and draw hateful criticism. The +difference was confidence. In many ways, life seemed too good to be +true... too good, at least, for me. I could not stop suspicion from +seeping into my mind; even Norm and Mom professed to be rather leary +toward harboring too much optimism. Unadulterated happiness and good +luck appeared in fleeting glimpses for our family, and to feel +differently now was too risky. I therefore enjoyed my newly acquired +good fortune with humility and wary disbelief. + +All good things come to an end, and summer's end paralleled the +beginning of my second year of college. I felt different that year, +quite ready to welcome new opportunities. Looking back, last year's +memories recalled a vision of myself trying to breathe through a +plastic bag while striving to function like a normal human being. Now, +constrained neither by the depression spawned of unfaced problems or +subdued emotions, the world appeared as it should; I had drawn out all +of the hob-goblins that my mind repressed, and scourged them. + +Several weeks into the fall semester I received a letter from my +ex-boyfriend. Briefly informative and somewhat impersonal, I +considered it a peace offering and a suggestion that mild relations +could resume between us. I was pleased. We knew each other's likes +and dislikes, and had spent many recreational hours together; his +casual friendship would be a pleasant addition to my good luck. + +Deciding that enough time had elapsed since the rending of our +emotional ties, I wrote back to him, honestly defining the hurt I had +experienced and how hopeful I had been that we could one day be +friends. After posting my letter, I heard from him again, almost +immediately; his exuberance toward restoring a relationship was +overwhelming, and it was plain that the direction he wished to take was +unlike that which I had mapped. A definite knot swelled in my stomach; +I did not want to relive that which had transpired between us when we +were last together, and I nervously asked myself, "what have I done?" + +In typical style, I suffered for awhile, drenching myself with worry +until I sought my notebook to disentangle the hoard of thoughts that +had just constricted my rationality. + + +Aug. 5, 1981... Is it wrong to have a friendship wherein one of the +involved parties is highly romantically bound to the other, who is +not? . . . Is it wrong to relish each other's company, ruled by the +standards set by the individual who is not involved whole-heartedly? +All of a sudden I feel I have greatly wronged him by writing back... +Is it right to call someone to be your friend, and date him, but +constantly keep him at bay? I somehow feel that I am the bait and the +holder of the pole, while my "friend" is kept running in pursuit. + + +It always helped to see my problems in the black and white form of ink +strokes on paper. Perhaps I was unrealistic to believe that two people +having such different intentions could maintain a healthy relationship. +I would not fret about it, I decided with determination, nor would I +tolerate a reenactment of last year's folly. As long as I remembered +that days were made up of individual minutes, I had no reason to burden +myself with worry over that which had not yet come to pass. If I +controlled the minutes, the hours, days and months would surely take +care of themselves and cause no pain, for as I had written in a +journal, "I can't stand to hurt anyone any more." + +Beginnings and endings, life changed continually under their influence. +Autumn 1981 seemed rich and alluring, a virtual invitation to walk in +the sun. In a diary entry dated over one year later, my memories of +that time were sweet. + + +Nov. 3, 1982... My life was beginning to come alive... From an +experience with cancer five years before, I was given a sharp taste of +the harsh brutality which is an innate, but sometimes overlooked, +characteristic of life. I viewed life as highly impermanent, and +believed that it was too short to spend one's precious time playing +games of popularity and prestige. What mattered was feeling... +experiencing... life to its fullest without marring in any way the rest +of society. Modeling I saw as a potentially exhilarating encounter, +which, like all facets of one's life, would inevitably come to an end. +Carrying this baggage of values upon my shoulders, I felt entirely +prepared for success or failure, and intended to propel myself toward +modeling at full throttle. I had no idea that the end would so soon be +upon me... + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 195 + +Chapter 25 +Return of Cancer + + + +"To reverse the feeling that I was the query in an unfair hunt, I had +to establish for myself that I had complete control over the situation." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE + +Return of Cancer + + + + +It was October and my classes were well under way. Seated at my +favorite table with books and papers sprawled casually about, I was +studying for an exam between frequent sips of coffee and sight-saving +glances around the room. I looked down at myself and tried not to +think; the striped sweater I wore readily acknowledged my asymmetrical +stomach, even if I did not. Whatever it was had not gone away. + +Several days earlier I had noticed a certain lopsidedness to my stomach +region, but not desiring to worry, assured myself that it was +"indigestion complicated by gas" and would, therefore, "pass." The odd +part was that it did not pass, and staring down at my stomach it was +still readily apparent. "Maybe I've always been like that," I told +myself. "After all I did lose three-fourths of my stomach." + +I must not have convinced myself, however, because when Norm and Dad +rumbled down the stairs, I asked them for their opinions. As each took +his turn interpreting the portents revealed by my striped sweater, the +other would say, "Call the doctor if you're so worried." + +I had to agree that it was better than speculation, so I picked up the +phone and dialed the doctor's office. His nurse, a brusque, dominant +figure, answered. I had always been rather overwhelmed by her, and in +my currently agitated frame of mind, sputtered out my name and request +as would an army private to his platoon drill sergeant. + +"Dr. is on vacation," she stated. + +"Uh, could I see the other doctor?" I asked as my emotional ball of +string unraveled a bit further. I only wanted to see a doctor; it did +not matter who I saw. I just had to know that I had no physical +problem. + +"Lauren, Mayo Clinic is where you should go." + +"But I just wanted someone to take a look. . ." + +"If you have a problem, you should go to Mayo..." + +"But... can't you?..." + +She would not even schedule an appointment. + +I had been mildly concerned about myself; now I was in a state of +mental pandemonium. I hung up the phone as tears singed my eyes and +the lump in my throat multiplied to twice its original size. The +nurse's staunch refusal to see me was like receiving an impromptu death +sentence, and implied that mine was most certainly a problem too great +for a family doctor to handle. + +I had not prepared for such resistance and blunt pessimism, but perhaps +tact and sympathy were only smoke screens when one's prospects were +assumed to be dim. The two emotionally soothing elements surely did +nothing to right a physical wrong; maybe she honestly felt that she was +doing me a favor. + +My thoughts, nevertheless, went on the rampage after the startling +conversation, and in no shape to make further calls, I gladly accepted +my Dad's offer to call Mayo Clinic for me. He immediately phoned to +schedule some tests and a consultation with my former oncologist; only +then did my frustration wane. Unconfirmed suspicions were bad enough +without the additional terror of being denied a chance to search for +the truth. + +My new plans for the coming weekend made various cancellations a +necessity. Apart from school, I had accepted an in-store promotional +for cosmetics through the modeling agency and also intended to visit a +friend at college, where Halloween festivities were reportedly quite +arresting. Re-routing my plans was a disappointment, but I had to ease +my tormented mind; excitement seemed to be raining down on me in +buckets, and added a different aspect to the expression "when it rains, +it pours." + +The sense of urgency which had initially wrought such havoc upon me was +squelched by the upcoming clinic appointments, and the week progressed +without further turmoil on my behalf. When Thursday arrived Dad and I +packed ourselves into my car and rolled out of the driveway toward the +unknown answers that we sought to find. + +For the first time, Dad and I were traveling to Rochester on our own. +Because I was having a routine set of tests for a symptom that, as yet, +possessed no form or definition, Mom was going to remain at home and +teach her kindergarten classes. I had no objection to this, since the +entire trip was based solely on the paranoia which sprouted after my +questionable discovery, and frankly I was beginning to feel rather +foolish for even mentioning it, let alone pursuing my suspicions. +It could be anything. . . or nothing at all. + +"It's not stupid if it puts your mind at ease," Dad consoled. +I felt better when he said that. The last thing I wanted to be +was a hypochondriac. + +The envelope of appointment cards held nothing that sounded +catastrophic. There were cards labeled "blood tests" and "chest X-ray" +as usual, and one card that read "cat scan," I stared at the last card +with latent skepticism. The name itself held no malice; with luck, the +test would prove to be painless as well. + +The cat scan, I later discovered, was another means of taking an X-ray, +and with this knowledge, felt sure that I would live to tell about it. +As it was my final test, however, I could not help but wonder if it was +worse than the rest; I had noticed from previous experience that the +more detestable prodding, poking and outright sampling of one's body +was reserved for last, which was appropriate, perhaps, since a main +event was always the biggest fight. + +I sat in my dressing room, musing over the test's infinite +possibilities until I was retrieved by one of the generically-attired +clinicians and led through radiation wonderland to a room housing a +huge device. A circular opening in the machine appeared to devour the +examination table on which I was instructed to lay. This was, indeed, +something new. + +Once inside the room, the door closed and the technicians scattered. +I watched from my spot on the rigid table as some people milled about +the machine and others remained attentive from behind what resembled a +sportscaster's window. One young woman began to prepare my arm for an +injection, so I smiled and seized the opportunity to talk. I always +felt sorry for the staff at clinics; daily they received undeserved +abuse from bitter or frightened patients, as well as a significant +amount of mute apathy. I wanted to disprove the possible thought that +all patients had the personality of cold oatmeal. . .and I wanted to +know just what the test would entail. + +"Does that hurt?" I motioned my eyes at the machine's jowl, which +stood agape slightly above my body. The woman shook her head and told +me to remain very still as the final adjustments were made. + +"Is this all there is to it?" I asked, referring this time to the +injection. + +"Sometimes a patient has to have two types of injections, but you +probably won't..." she said. Her pleasant tone eased my mind and +instilled trust, much like a friend would have done. + +Suddenly everyone disappeared to the observation window and the lights +dimmed. A series of instructions were broadcast from the window and +then the machine came to life, clicking off pictures of my insides as I +held my breath for dictated intervals. + +When the lights flashed on, the woman came to my side again. She told +me it would take a few minutes to know whether or not my X-rays were +satisfactory, so we ventured into a trivial conversation until the +results were determined. Activity resumed shortly, signaling that a +verdict was at hand, so the nurse departed, only to return with an +apologetic look on her face and equipment for an IV in her hand. + +"I'm afraid you're going to need more X-rays," she said. "The doctor +needs more contrast." + +Bad news is a strange concept. It is something one considers but +seldom prepares for; even life's most inevitable pain and indignities +are not taken personally if they remain hidden from view. Everyone +knows that he will age, but until the strand of gray or sun-kissed +wrinkle appears, aging itself can be ignored. + +"The doctor needs more contrast." The statement entered my mind and +closed a door. Up to that moment I did not know if anything was wrong. +Now I knew, and like a 30-year-old who found his first gray hair, was +not surprised. I did not live in fear of losing my health and +happiness; when one deals with each day, he needs not prepare. . . +he needs only adjust. + +I returned my attention to the needle that was about to be inserted +into my arm. "Does that stuff have any effects?" I asked. She smiled +at me and hesitantly said, "Well, we're told not to mention this, but +sometimes patients say they can taste it and those who have had +chemotherapy are psychologically affected by it and want to vomit." +I knew what that meant, and holding back a grimace of displeasure, +said that I had experienced the effect she described. + +"Thanks for telling me," I continued. "I hate not knowing what to +expect." If I was anticipating the worst, the test's actual pain and +discomfort did not seem so bad. With the needle in place, the nurse +turned to me and said, "I hate to have to stick needles into nice +patients like you." + +When the solution began to drip into my system, I felt my stomach +perform an involuntary flip-flop. The hateful taste and sensation had +not changed and I had to wage an intensely conscious battle against a +powerful urge to gag and rid myself of the distasteful invader. After +receiving a compliment such as the one just given to me, however, +vomiting was unthinkable. + +Once again I found myself beneath the scanning X-rays, wondering if the +second search would uncover any answers. If so, I would be enlightened +when we met with Dr. E. + +The only information I was able to extract from the consultation was +that I had an enlarged liver. + +"An enlarged liver?" I spoke the words with a hint of amusement. For +me this was a great curiosity. Liver was something most people refused +to eat; beyond that, it was of little importance. + +Apparently there was much I did not know about the body's dire +necessity of the liver, but the doctor said nothing and accepted my +light-hearted reaction without comment since he was unable to provide +further information anyway. Testing had proven inadequate; beyond the +enlargement, he remained mute regarding the possible interpretations of +the X-rays. Perhaps he did not wish to instill premature fear by +offering stab-in-the-dark diagnoses. + +It was clear to me that I had no option but pursuit; a liver biopsy, +scheduled after the consultation, would hopefully solve the mystery. + +I was nervous. My anxiety could not be shaken, for the thought of a +biopsy engendered memories of the bone marrow test, a test which I +vowed never to take again. What terror had I willfully agreed to +undergo this time? + +It was a relief to hear my name called on the loud speaker; the time +I'd spent in the waiting room was of no benefit to my peace of mind. +I could think of nothing else but unbridled pain, and mulling over +such thoughts tended to have few positive effects. + +After disrobing and donning a hospital gown, I was led into a waiting +room used by other patients and soon began a conversation with an older +woman who also had an enlarged liver. Over the fact that she was +enlarged I did not argue, however, I could not resist asking myself how +much of her enlargement actually had to do with her liver. Whether her +mistake was due to self-deceit or a lack of awareness did not matter; +concern and uncertainty were two elements we shared, and we wished each +other luck as a nurse ushered her from the room. + +I spent a brief while surveying the floor before I was called. A nurse +directed me to a room and instructed me to lay down on a hard examining +table, whereupon I was left in darkness for two hours before a doctor +arrived. Meanwhile my state of mind deteriorated rapidly as I listened +to the sounds emanating from the surrounding rooms. Most were only +voices trailing off into the maze of corridors and finally disappearing +behind various doors of anonymity. However, with my mind housing its +unarrested and nameless fears of the forth-coming biopsy, other sounds +were transformed into horrendous tortures, the likes of which I would +surely undergo. One such fanciful flight of imagination was set off by +the unimpeded verbalizations of an old man whose room was across the +hall from my own. Since my door was propped open, I had noticed him +sitting in his wheelchair and muttering complaints or idly sucking his +gums. Eventually the door closed and his tests began, leaving me to +interpret the activity behind the door through his vocalizations. +There were garbled grumblings, which I had expected, but then groans +replaced words and I began to worry. They were awful. They were the +cries of horror shows and nightmares, scaling a full octave and +attaining a tonal quality which rivaled professional sound effects. +I was impressed; so much, in fact, that my stomach had managed to tie +itself into a perfect knot by the time the doctor arrived. I appraised +the old man's throaty outbursts as the sound track to a liver biopsy. + +Luckily I was wrong. Whatever were his trials, whether real or +imagined, they prepared me for optimum punishment, to which I was never +exposed. Although I was horrified in my solitude and misinformation, +perhaps my final opinion of the test's severity was buffered by the old +man's wailings. + +After my long wait, the nurse who had initially shown me to my room +entered, and finding me lying in the darkness, flicked on the lights +with a round of apologies. She explained the unreasonable delay was +due to an inability to obtain the CAT SCAN X-rays. Generally Mayo's +system worked quite effectively. Considering the large scale of the +facility, I was amazed that things ran smoothly at all. + +The X-rays and doctor arrived in unison and the test commenced after a +brief series of questions on my part. Naturally, I desired to know if +it would be painful and was informed that it "could be." I was then +given a local anesthetic and braced myself, recalling that the pain +killer did little during the bone marrow test. + +"Did that hurt?" the doctor asked. + +"What do you mean?" I countered. + +"I've taken the biopsy," he returned. + +"What?" I was astounded. "I didn't feel anything!" The doctor +instantaneously became my best friend. + +I remained on the table to await the results of the biopsy which had +been whisked away to the laboratory. Since the doctor had to judge his +targeted area through the X-rays, there was no guarantee that he would +hit an affected portion of the liver; if the lab reported finding +normal tissues, the doctor would have to try his luck once more. + +As my luck would have it, another biopsy had to be taken. If that one +failed to produce answers, my condition would have to be determined +through alternate means; cutting into the liver, as in a biopsy, +created the risk of hemorrhage, and therefore limited the number that +could be performed at one time to two biopsies. + +The doctor posted my X-rays on the light box and studied them intently. +I wondered what information he drew from the strange transparencies; +the X-rays told me nothing at all. If I had not known it was my liver, +the mottled shape would have been no more than a nameless abstraction. + +"Are livers supposed to have spots?" I queried. + +The doctor shuffled his feet for a few seconds, then admitted they did +not. I guess it was a stupid question, especially since the elusive +spots were the intended targets in the test, but I had to know all of +the available facts. The truth was my comfort and my ally; it was the +cure for fear born of ignorance. + +The second biopsy was also determined normal. After the long day my +knowledge was still limited to the fact that my liver was enlarged and +spotted; it was information, but it did not satisfy. To Dad the normal +tissues found in the biopsies were good news; i.e., if biopsies in two +different areas were clear, I could not be seriously afflicted. To me, +however, the findings punctuated the necessity for more tests and +promised to prolong the unhappy state of emotions which accompanied a +dearth of solid facts. Thus, as I laid on a hospital bed waiting as +instructed for four hours to protect myself from internal bleeding, and +having worried excessively and learned relatively little from the +former expenditure, I could not look upon the day without thinking of +the expression "much ado about nothing." + +Relatively little testing was done at Mayo over the weekend, so my dad +and I planned to go home for Halloween and two days of normalcy. +Because of my biopsies, however, the doctor recommended we remain in +the city over night to avoid excessive movement and possible +complications. Homebound Saturday morning we planned to return to +Rochester on Sunday evening, at which time I would be expected to check +into the hospital; Monday's agenda would include surgery. Having +exhausted all the other less radical options, an exploratory operation +was the only manner available to determine the mystery concealed +beneath my flesh. + +I was glad to be home. Holidays were made to be spent at home, in my +opinion, and Halloween was no exception. That weekend, though, was +especially important to me. Like my trip to Colorado before the +operation for cancer, coming home was quite possibly my last taste of +the life which I had lately enjoyed; I needed not kid myself that the +operation's results could change my life in such ways that it would +never be the same again. The present was all that was mine, and +nothing was certain but the few hours of autumn sunshine and +jack-o-lanterns which graced the days. Those were the elements which +I embraced with all of my enthusiasm until it came time to leave for +Rochester. + +The drive was memorable for many reasons. Dad and I were, once again, +traveling alone to the clinic; the three of us would have gone, but +since Mom had employment obligations in the form of parent/teacher +conferences, she decided, for the parents benefit, to remain at home. +It was the year's first conference and no one could have substituted. +With my car's heater useless, it was also the first time we drove the +truck. Because the truck had a manual transmission, steering and +brakes, and Mom's blood pressure rose at the mere thought of having to +drive it, we presumed it would nullify her nightmares if she retained +use of the family car. Finally, it was the first time we had ever +driven to the clinic by way of the prolific back roads that skirted the +northern farmland; though we stopped at various intervals to assure our +progress, only once did we find ourselves on the right highway +traveling the wrong direction. + +All things considered, it made an interesting drive, and between eating +lunch in a small town and buying M and M's at a gas station and watching +Iowa's flat land slowly transform into the more hilly dairyland of +Wisconsin, I did not burden myself with the essence of our trip; I +found more importance in enjoying the seven hours than stewing in the +ignorance of my health situation. + +When we reached the outskirts of Rochester, Dad pulled into a gas +station to fill up the tank and I jumped out of the truck for a +stretch. It had been a beautiful autumn day. The buildings now etched +long shadows upon the sunny landscape; soon shadow would meet shadow +until all was covered by darkness. I turned slowly to face Rochester +and my eyes locked on the two familiar buildings which towered above +the city. The clinic buildings, old and new, represented an integrity +in medicine which commanded respect; they could bear the happiest or +the most solemn news, and remain untouched, for in those two buildings +illness and death were more commonplace than health. Brothers of the +same mind and purpose, the buildings formed an entity of themselves, +daily inhaling and exhaling patients irregardless of whether the +patients actually survived. + +I took a deep breath to still the sudden, wrenching nervousness which +clenched the pit of my stomach. The two buildings defined the reason +I was there even if they, as yet, gave me no real answers. It was +then that my joy ride ended and the unhappy reality of retiring for +the evening in a hospital room created waves in my mental calm. Even +my so-called "last supper" was clouded by anxiety. + +One's natural reaction is to run from a threat, and to postpone less +palatable situations as long as possible. For me, however, there was +always a point at which flight and postponement no longer satisfied my +emotional needs, but instead created agony in their own right. When I +reached that summit, I grew intensely nervous and within minutes made a +180 degree turn which boosted me into an entirely different mode of +thought. That which I had fled, I sought, and if I was denied the +pursuit of my goal, I would experience an inner explosion of panic. To +reverse the feeling that I was the quarry in an unfair hunt, I had to +establish for myself that I had complete control over the situation. +In effect I did not "give in" or surrender to a stronger authority; my +flight came to an end through a deliberate, conscious decision on my +behalf. + +And so it was that I finally decided to check in to the hospital and +surrender my body to a world of white. Once I was clad in the gown, my +identity became synonymous with scribbles on a chart, and color, the +brilliance of life on the outside, drained away. Hospitals robbed me +of something; I could be happy and possess a positive outlook, but the +energy and vitality of life was inaccessible. Perhaps this blandness +in my soul was a way of coping with adversity, for if I had little +passion from the outset, no ill tidings could evoke a particularly +heated or irrational reaction. + +Dad left relatively early for his motel, or maybe my feeling of +isolation only made it seem that way. Had I been able, I would have +left also; sterile atmospheres are rather nerve-wracking, and I knew +Dad was nervous enough without the added pressure of whiling away the +twilight hours in a cramped four-bed hospital ward. + +The room had no T.V. so I turned my attention toward the window. Tiny +dots marked streetlights and houses, but the vast darkness prevailed +over most of the scene, creating a solitude which mirrored my own. +During hours such as those in the hospital, I realized how terribly +insignificant I was as compared to the entire world. A person could +lose himself in this world. + +The morning held no delights. I would not even receive a breakfast +tray. I looked forward only to a day of anticipation in which I was +fourth in line to leave for the operating room. I could do little but +stare at the walls and wait for the morning to ripen into afternoon. + +By mid-afternoon I began to wonder if the operation would be cancelled +due to the lack of time, but finally several people retrieved me, +whereupon I was taken through the hospital corridors on a gurney and +given a different perspective of the building than I was accustomed to +seeing. (Unlike some public buildings, I was pleased to note there +were no spit-balls on the ceiling.) + +Riding along the hallway, I also perceived a difference in myself. I +was in the spot-light, the main attraction in a frightening event. . . +and yet I was not worried. A relaxant had siphoned off my excess +nervousness and the remaining anxiety drained away because my waiting +was over. + +In a partial dream-state, I watched as blue frocked workers rushed +about, preparing for my operation until I was wheeled into surgery. +There, bright round lights shone overhead and doctors and nurses craned +their necks to see their next patient. + +"You're going to feel a stick," the nurse warned. + +I watched as the doctor placed the needle in my vein. For the first +time I was aware of my surroundings up to the moment I received +anesthesia, and it was truly an enjoyable experience. The relaxant had +full control of me, and a loaded gun would not have evoked duress. I +looked at the kind and gentle nurse and began to drift away, little by +little, until reality faded and then plunged into a sea of darkness. + +I woke up in a ward which housed three elderly women. My bed was +crammed in a corner of the room with a curtain serving as the only form +of privacy; from my vantage point, I was able to view an extensive +portion of the hospital roof through the window. + +The first person I saw was my father who appeared to be stricken with +concern for my condition. Immediately I asked, "what is it?" to which +I was given a sober reply of "It's cancer again." I was quiet for a +moment, and then thought dryly, "It figures." + +Reactions to drastic news are manifold and multicolored. To say there +is a specific process through which each grief-stricken individual +shall pass parallels the statement that all people look alike. I +cannot regard emotional turbulence with simplicity, for each individual +possesses different levels of consciousness, or awareness, which +likewise renders his ability to cope with a given situation as singular +as his character itself. Though one individual's coping strategies may +closely resemble those of another, they still are unique. + +To avoid categorizing I will remark upon some of the various reactions +I have encountered, including those in myself, family, and friends as +"possible reactions" rather than referring to them as "steps" and +thereby applying on them a more definitive and absolute quality. While +it is possible for people to experience each "possible reaction," not +everyone shall. + +If I was asked to name a frame of mind in which one can best cope with +adversity, I would unhesitatingly say, "acceptance," for it is the most +pleasant manner of greeting and harboring a potentially grim reality. + +Attaining acceptance gives one the ability to objectively view the +hardship and cope, in a very real sense, with the final outcome; this +means there is no longer a fight for life, but an enjoyment of it. +There are no more bouts of pervasive anger, fear, or depression; when +these emotions do occur, they rapidly pass as do the tides of emotion +in the healthiest of people. The problem is seen and understood in +realistic terms, rather than as a boogy-man in the night contesting for +one's life. There are no more superstitious pleas for help, and while +hope is maintained, no more does one cling to blind hope. + +Acceptance does not imply that the individual is happy with his health +disorder; however, it does allow him to live in peace and embrace those +facets of life which he holds meaningful. Once enabled to accept +reality, the individual is secure within himself and can similarly +project that ease upon those who are close to him. + +Unfortunately there is no prescribed method of gaining acceptance; +while some individuals can grasp their difficulty outright and begin to +redefine their lives, others require time to work through the various +stumbling blocks which often accompany trauma. Still others are never +able to attain acceptance and die in turmoil. + +Two factors which I feel can greatly serve toward the goal of +acceptance are awareness and communication. One's reactions cannot be +altered unless he is aware of them; once able to note irrational +behavior (such as anger directed toward a wife rather than at cancer) +he can with time change his actions. Communication's effect on +adversity is that of purification, for conversation purges minds of +fear and lonliness and gradually filters irrationality from one's +thoughts into non-existence. In the following pages I hope to +illustrate the importance of communication and ironically, perhaps, +the few instances wherein communication should be squelched. + +"It's cancer again!" A mere three words, and yet the impact is great, +and the repercussions greater still. It is strange, somehow, to think +so few words could alter the course of a life, and profoundly affect +countless others; yet once imparted, dreams give way to reality, and +agony can filter deep. Plans once one's own must be fulfilled by +another, and the future in which one had pictured himself, shall be +clipped short and uncertain. Losing all that one holds dear is rarely +a kind image, for despite religion or a lack thereof, death is life's +greatest mystery, as it ever shall be. + +The initial reaction to a terminal illness is often that of undiluted +shock, especially cases wherein the patient had demonstrated no drastic +changes in health or felt no persistent pain. Perhaps the dismal news +was revealed after a slight, but disconcerting health symptom; the +doctor was visited with hesitant anticipation, with the hope that the +abdominal protrusion was only persistent gas, or the cough was merely +the stubborn remnants of last winter's cold. Although some poor souls +cannot release themselves from the notion that it is "only a mistake," +or "a dream," most individual's stupification will subside, allowing +them to face up to the situation and deal with it as a factual absolute. + +Because I had sought an appointment with the doctors at Mayo Clinic of +my own accord, I was prepared for any diagnosis which the test results +would uncover. Noting that my stomach region appeared lop-sided I knew +there was something amiss despite my seemingly good health; thus the +result of the exploratory surgery was disappointing, but I cannot say +it was a shock. + +I felt no need to question the test results or wildly seek second and +third opinions. Viewing the pictures taken by the CAT Scan of my +liver, I had nonchalantly asked, "Are there supposed to be spots on it +like that?" Before the doctor had given an answer, something within my +mind yelled, "Of course not, you idiot!" The doctor responded +likewise, although considerably less profound. + +That which helped me deal with my verdict, coupled with my suspicion +that life, for me, had been sailing along a bit too smoothly and the +fact that I had cancer previously, was an unusual strength to adapt to +adverse situations. From early in my childhood I was able to have the +objectiveness to realize that things don't always happen to "the other +guy"; actually, if something could go wrong, it probably would. If +there was a log poised between two opposing banks of the creek, the +odds were that I would fall off of it in crossing. In a world of +"other guys" I was just one, yet that in itself proved I was immune to +no adversity. Thus, instead of "why me?" my question was generally, +"why not me?" I happened to be one of the cancer statistics, and +I was far from alone in my plight. + +Mine was no easy burden, yet it was mine to deal with as best I could; +wallowing in a murky pool of self-pity would accomplish nothing. When +I felt a wave of pity tempting me with its utter worthlessness, I would +accommodate it for a brief period and then cast it away to pause and +reflect upon those whose health involved more horrid complications +than my own. + +In keeping with some individual's idea that everything happens to the +other guy, often the same people will feel that they are alone in their +suffering. The person who cannot empty his mind of envious jealousies +toward the healthy only further torments himself, and subtracts from +his capacity for peacefulness. Although those who yet possess their +health should appreciate it, they should not be made to feel guilty for +their fortune. Every mortal being will one day find himself confronted +by life's ultimate reality, death. + +My dad, characteristically pessimistic, was not overly surprised by the +news that my cancer had returned. After all, he was quite used to bad +news. It was just one more undeserved bombshell to fall upon our +family. One might assume that time and past anguish would have +provided a natural immunization to further emotional rending. Still, +somehow he felt the pain; I saw it in his eyes. For Mom, the news was +emotional heartburn and swept like a roaring fire through her chest. +After Dad phoned her she caught her breath, walked to my old bedroom +and stood in the doorway for a long while. Then a feeling of anger +added fuel to the fire; she had remained at home for conferences, +giving her time and effort for the children of other parents, yet some +never bothered to attend their scheduled conferences. It had been a +slap in the face; coupled with my poor health report, however, Mom felt +victimized, as if by traitors. She stayed home. . . she "should" have +been there. + +Mom stared at the lime green walls through a transparent screen of +tears and remembered me as a little girl, long-limbed and skinny. It +was happening again; the impossible had returned to deal its final blow. + +The pain of reality is not solely one's own. If an individual's +relationships with family members and friends are of foremost +importance in his life, the news of his illness will have a profound +effect on everyone. Their reactions play a significant role in +determining the patient's sense of emotional stability and well-being; +he must witness the emotional pain felt by his loved ones, evident +through tearful outbursts, inappropriate anger, or pervasive gloom, as +each person thinks of the future and the way in which the loss will +affect his own happiness. I feel it is crucial to share the internal +suffering openly and honestly between family and friends, for a health +difficulty, although borne by one, is a burden felt by everyone +personally involved. + +Though I had prepared myself for whatever the outcome might have been, +I had not been certain that the enlargement necessarily predicted the +presence of cancer. There were, after all, many other disorders that +could cause the liver to enlarge. My haunting emotion that I had not +overcome cancer was now parallel with reality; my "balloon of +health" was beginning its descent. I focused my eyes on three flower +arrangements which were blooming profusely on my nightstand appearing, +it seemed, out of nowhere. They formed an odd contrast to the bleak +and antiseptic atmosphere, as if to say that life can continue even in +such places as hospitals where dim hopes and faltering heartbeats evoke +a sense of gloom which permeates entire corridors. + +I began to barrage my father with questions, many of which he was +unable to answer since he had not yet conversed with the doctors to any +great degree. He could only tell me that the surgeon opened my +mid-section and took a biopsy. Seeing that the cancer was widely +distributed throughout my liver, he was not able to operate and +therefore sewed up the incision with best wishes. + +Because the cancer was the same type as I'd previously contracted, the +doctors believed that it had never actually disappeared in the first +place, and spread without their knowledge to the liver. This might +have occurred at an early age, lying dormant, or more probably, +spreading slowly until it had touched numerous sites. Leiomyosarcomas, +presumably, are considered primarily "older women's cancers" which may +spread to the lung; this baffled the doctors to such a degree that they +placed me on research after the initial bout, at age thirteen. To find +that it had again defied their previous knowledge as to the behavior of +the average leiomyosarcoma, recurring in the liver without so much as a +trace in the lungs, was considered absolutely mystifying and unique. + +Despite the uniqueness of the cancer, the fact remained that I was a +young woman with a dreaded disease. . . one that had supposedly been +"cured" by the lengthy operation and chemotherapy treatment. I +reflected how my oncologist (cancer specialist) had reassured the +permanence of my cure by saying, "There is more of a chance of your +being killed on your drive to the clinic than of having a recurrence of +cancer." He was that sure. + +I do not envy the doctors. Daily they encounter sickness and health, +yet are limited in their ability to heal and assure their patients of +continual well-being. They are accused of being incompetent when they +cannot act as God. They are assumed to be uncaring and detached, when +in all actuality they would lose their sanity if they were subject to +emotionally react to each individual sadness. When they deliver the +truth to a waiting patient, they are often called tactless. They are +blamed for finding a health problem and thus disrupting their patient's +happy-go-lucky lifestyle. Personally, I'm content with doctors and +feel a need to demonstrate that gratefulness. When the surgeon visited +my room after the operation, I greeted him with a smile and attempted +to make him comfortable. I knew it wasn't easy to face me; we looked +at each other like old friends and he took my hand in his own. What +could have been said that had not already expressed itself in his eyes? + +I questioned Dr. Telander about the various specifics of the operation, +and casually inquired as to the reason they did not "simply rip the +sucker (my liver) out?" He then informed me that one cannot live +without the organ. Slightly embarrassed, I said that I had never been +much of a biology student and continued with other questions. I truly +was not aware that the liver was an organ of such consequence. + +Although I never encountered Telander again, I was assigned to a doctor +who made one or two rounds daily to note my progress. I bombarded him +with any questions which happened to cross my mind, no matter how +stupid they seemed. + +Earnest conversation between a patient and those with whom he +interacts, whether doctors or family members, is a necessity. Although +the truth is often painful and frightening, I am a faithful advocate of +knowledge over ignorance, and feel it is to one's benefit if he can +receive the news of his illness in a manner which is, at once, tactful +and concise. + +Rather frequently I have heard accounts of close relatives of a +terminally ill patient begging the doctor not to divulge the full +implications of the patient's health. The plea, usually something to +the effect, "Oh no, Doctor, you can't tell him. . . the truth would +kill him!" is somewhat curious in the context it is used, for +doubtlessly the patient will die whether he knows all of the facts or +not. For those who doubt the beneficiality of telling the truth, let +me further illustrate my assertion. After receiving a clean bill of +health, a person who has, unknowingly, contracted leukemia continues +with increasing difficulty to do the activities which he formerly +accomplished with ease. This individual is not ignorant; despite any +clever lies that initially might have given comfort, it will be evident +that something is wrong as symptoms gain momentum. Withholding +information depletes the individual's right to spend his time as he +wished and, I might add, to work through the possible stress that is +associated with such devastating blows. + +The most terrifying part of a horror story is when the killer is yet at +large, faceless and unknown. This general prefix applies to any fear, +I feel, because once the unknown is brought into the light and +understood, it can no longer evoke the terror it had when it rampaged +through the mind as a veiled monster. A person is not afraid of the +dark, but rather, what lies concealed within it. Similarly, illness +can evoke feelings of terror as the body degenerates before an unseen +attacker. If a person is educated about his illness, I believe a great +deal of trauma could be avoided. Instead of presuppositions, one had +facts, and as in the horror story, once the killer is recognized, the +audience is given the hope that the victim will see and overcome the +horrid pursuer. With regard to the patient, this could mean hope +instead of futility; when described symptoms do not appear, the patient +assures himself of more time to enjoy his redefined life. + +If a patient is led to believe his life is far from ended, he may put +off preparations for those who shall survive him. When, through +misguidance, he discovers that he no longer has the time which he was +"allotted," he may feel frustrated and foster deep regrets. +Preparations cannot be made without a previous knowledge of one's +illness and should one fall rapidly into his demise, there shall be +no time for the assumption of his rightful choices. + +Many people have confessed their more precious moments were spent after +the knowledge of their forthcoming death. Life was lived to its +fullest, since unimportant worries fell venomless before meaningful +concerns. There can be rediscovery of those aspects of life which are +so easily taken for granted; one can relearn to see the world other +than through the tunnel vision of self-preoccupation. Look up and +drink in the sight of a star-filled night; peruse the ground for the +tiniest flowers, and catch and return a stranger's smile. Savor the +smell of an orange and feel the cool rain pelt upon bare arms. +Often the most elemental of things bring the utmost pleasure. + +I had only two objectives to accomplish while in the hospital; +education and recuperation. With regard to the latter objective, I +pressured the doctor, to a certain degree, to note my rapid rate of +recovery so that I might be able to sample hospital food. I wanted to +make certain that I ate solid food in days, not weeks, as had been the +case on my initial stay at St. Mary's. My body cooperated with my +scheme, and I was soon eating voraciously. I didn't care what +everyone else said... I thought the food was delicious.... even though +my first meals were made up of liquids or soft food. It was a joy to +be able to eat again, and my body was in dire need of replenishment; +I was never nauseous following a meal... perhaps my stomach was too +starved to concern itself with the extra energy it would have consumed +in making me sick. + +The ward in which I was recuperating was rather small for the four of +us who slept there, and I was more than exuberant upon receiving the +information that I would soon be moved to a semi-private room. The +ward was buzzing constantly with activity, as the elderly women were +given various medications, mental awareness quizzes, and frequent +visits by the physicians. Visits by nurses would occur throughout the +night and therefore afforded little true relaxation. Privacy was also +a difficult matter, since curtains were the only form of separation +from the crowd; I often wished to speak with my father, but felt +undeniably hindered to do so, as I did not wish to evoke an atmosphere +of secrecy nor did I want to impart to the general public one of my +personal concerns of fear. Another observation of my surroundings, +which I might add, I found more humorous than disturbing, was the fact +that my roommates doubtlessly felt quite at ease due to their obvious +lack of consideration for the more lady-like behavior customary in +other social situations; they freely gave full reign to any of numerous +gastro-intestinal noises which plagued their comfort, creating a +laughable facet of hospital living that perhaps few would appreciate. +True to character, I tried my best to squelch any roars of hilarity and +enjoyed the entire affair silently in the confines of my corner. My +move to a semi-private room was a remarkable improvement, and I found +my roommate to be amiable and very sensible. A middle-aged woman, she +was hooked up to at least two machines to drain impurities from her +system. Her unpleasant state was further increased by her husband's +bland concern; she was alone at the hospital, which was made even more +apparent when her call to home spurred less attention than did the +football game her husband was viewing on the T.V. Although she +chuckled about the brief episode, I am sure the apathy on the other +end of the line must have hurt. + +Shortly after my placement in the room I was allowed to eat "regular" +food. To be quite candid, I was elated upon hearing the news and asked +when I would be receiving the first sampling of solid fare. +Surprisingly, I was able to procure a snack that very evening and +feasted royally. My nurse cautioned me, not wanting me to have +difficulties later with indigestion, yet no such ill consequences +occurred and I contentedly slept the entire night. + +Having been placed on solid food, I rapidly gained strength and +proceeded to exercise my body to further aid in its full recovery. +I still tired easily, however, and found myself obliged to nap on a +regular basis; in this I have always been fortunate. . . I have an +ability to sleep despite adversity. Sleep is the only drugless manner +in which to temporarily release oneself from a troubled mind, providing +of course, that the subconscious does not wreak its own havoc through +the presence of nightmares. + +The day came that I had been working toward with such intensity and +fortitude of spirit. . . that being the day of my release from the +hospital. When the doctor made his morning visit he informed me that I +would be able to depart early the next morning. I asked whether I +would again see Dr. E. before leaving, and learned that a visit was in +his plans. As it happened, he arrived shortly, and before my father +had eaten breakfast; this allowed a one to one confrontation which I +truly preferred. + +Whether through avoidance or mere circumstance, the doctors never paid +any visits when my father was present. They would make their daily +rounds early in the morning, long before he had arrived, or at night +when he left for his motel. This seeming "avoidance" could have been +due to the fact that I was no longer of child status, and the doctors +felt that decisions should lie heavily on my behalf rather than +confusing matters by including the emotionally wrought inclinations of +my relatives. + +Personally, I was relieved that I was able to confront the doctors +alone, thereby allowing a fluid question and answer session, +uncomplicated by concerned family members who might have misunderstood +information, or in their excitement, failed to hear other facts and +necessitate repetition; these group encounters are seldom low-key when +they do occur, and thus I found myself ill-prepared to deal with such +intense conversation while still drained from the operation itself. + +When Dr. E. entered the room I had prepared myself for ingesting a fair +amount of information and sat upright in my bed with a pad of paper and +a pen to capture all that he was about to tell me. Moreover, the days +which I had just spent in the hospital were not simply taken up in +leisure time activities such as watching television or browsing through +magazines; I had devoted a great deal of time to serious thought. + +I feel that everyone has a limit as to how much he will endure, both in +the physical and emotional sense. Since physical well-being reflects +one's emotional health and vice-versa, the body will set its own +limitations if one is but aware of them, and of course, heeds them. + +It is not living, but the quality thereof, which for me determines my +capacity to endure physical or mental pain. Life with excessive pain +is merely existence, and it is precisely that mode of existence which I +shall always wish to avoid. Life for the sake of life is merely the +fearful abhorrance of death, the final cycle in earthly existence. + +Undergoing a full year of chemotherapy was sufficient time for me to +grasp a clear idea of the drugs and their side effects. I knew at 14 +years of age that I would never again be placed under such physical +duress; I knew that my emotional health would be in turmoil. To once +again attempt to prolong life through such dreadful means would be a +price too high to justify. + +If one cannot say "Enough!," he is reduced to a mere shell of his +former self through treatments which cannot cure; the illness itself is +not so cruel. Moreover, one who accepts treatment without a hope for a +cure dies in pain multiplied by the lack of peace which reflectance +would have brought. + +When cancer was once again found to be the culprit behind my distended +stomach region, the decision whether or not to accept treatment was +virtually incontestable. My only objective was to leave the hospital +and return to my redefined life; I desired to regain my strength before +it waned as a result of the cancer itself, and this was possible only +if I had no treatment. I felt that this was the beginning of the end +of my life, and I did not wish to relinquish any of that time toward +the pursuit of impossibilities; treatment is a poor word to bestow upon +an ineffective poison which would deplete life's quality. + +The doctor wore a distinctly business-like air as he proceeded to +explain the details concerning my general state of health. I +methodically wrote his words on paper so that I would not forget any +relevant details in my later discussions with my family and friends. + +The available treatment was chemotherapy, and although there were +different drugs in addition to the former lot, he professed that none +would actually cure my type of cancer. The result of undergoing +treatment would be the temporary shrinkage of the tumor, with the hope +perhaps, that a new and promising drug would be discovered in the near +future; the side effects would echo those which had so delighted me on +the previous encounter. I could not help but wonder if the time lost +during the administration of treatment is subtracted from the days +which one supposedly gains from having it. + +Seeing that I was not reacting to the option of treatment with feelings +of great joy and anticipation, he then turned to the more sober issues +of death via liver encroachment. Listening attentively, I made certain +that all of my questions were adequately answered before he fled from +the room. + +Liver cancer, he said, was usually painless; if pain was a factor, my +doctor could prescribe a remedy which would lessen the discomfort. As +the liver dysfunctioned, it would lose its ability to metabolize body +chemicals; unable to rid the body of poisons, lassitude would set in +while the appetite decreased. Finally, sleepiness would overcome any +effort to remain awake and eventually result in a coma until death. + +I felt sorry for Dr. E. as he told me these facts. I could tell that +this visit was extremely difficult for him since his eyes did not often +meet with my own and he seemed eager to sprint from the room. I had +been a "five years and cured" case; the fifth year after my first +operation he dismissed me with a clean bill of health. We had given +each other cordial good-byes, never thinking the next year would bring +such disappointment. + +Before he exited the room, the doctor restated that the chemotherapy +treatments should commence within a month if they were desired, perhaps +his way of punctuating the option which he knew I did not wish to take. +I nodded in acknowledgement. It must be difficult for a doctor, one +whose profession is that of helping people live, to find he is unable +to offer a cure; it brings to the surface the fact that medicine, +although miraculous in many ways, is not omnipotent. Once again we +said good-bye, yet this time, I knew it would be our final farewell. + +One of the more difficult tasks I had to perform was expressing to my +family my wish to forego treatment. They needed to cling to the hope +that there was something to be done for my malady, and were not pleased +upon hearing my steadfast rejection of chemotherapy. Since I had +foreseen, somewhat, their probable reaction, I was prepared for a +lengthy duel and had therefore decided to write on paper the key +directions that I wished the conversations to follow. + +The two discourses which ensued were emotional, yet controlled. I knew +I had a weighty task to perform if I was to gently but thoroughly +bespeak my desires to my worried father, and later my mother and +sister, and further persuade them to accept those decisions. I +candidly explained my repugnance toward chemotherapy, punctuated by the +facts that it had not worked previously and the doctor had related that +although there were new drugs, none could cure my type of cancer. With +all sincerity, I said I did not know how long my life would prove to +be, yet I wanted to maintain a life of quality, for that best equated +my idea of what life should hold for each individual; I desired to own +a sense of peace which could never be attained if I continually chased +the spectrum of miracle cures so prevalent in a world whose main +objective, for many, is the procuring of wealth. Time itself meant +little if it did not also have the amenity of joy, and in my 19 years I +had experienced more quality than some individuals realize in a +lifetime of 80 years; I stressed that my family was an important part, +indeed, and inherent part of that quality. + +I hoped that my family would be satisfied with my judgment, although +their disapproval would not have altered my stance; I feared they would +attempt to force treatment upon me through relentless conversation and +in so doing, make life at home unbearable. This, happily, was not the +case. + +After receiving my dissertation, my father needed time to think and +sort out the information he had just heard, and decided to take a +lengthy walk into town for the duel purpose of eating lunch and trying +to digest the disturbing truth which cancer brought to the surface; +mortality does not concern itself only with the aged. While he was +gone, I replenished myself with both food and rest. My mother was to +arrive in the afternoon, and I fully realized I would have to repeat my +performance for her and Sharon, my older sister. I wished to appear as +normal as possible. I had curled my hair and applied my usual dose of +eye make-up to improve any pallor which might have been visible due to +the operation; I did not want my appearance to evoke unnecessary +amounts of gloom or despair. Satisfied that I had done my best to +improve upon myself, I settled back in the bed, clad in the glorious +hospital garb which resembled pillow ticking and decided that I +coordinated rather nicely with the rest of the decor. + +When the entire group arrived it was already late in the afternoon. My +father accompanied Sharon's family on a tour of the area, leaving only +my mother and Sharon to visit with me directly. I noticed that my +mother had lost weight, underlining the worry that was inscribed on her +face; Sharon's face echoed that emotion, and I knew I must speak with +care. It can be difficult to avoid mechanical speech when one is +trying to maintain control of his emotions, yet to do so can prove to +be less injurious to the listeners if they share one's feelings on the +topic being discussed. Cold facts divulged without the benefit of a +warm heart will only multiply the pain; there is no sense in hurting +loved ones through callous explanations. + +It was with painful resignation that my family members then present at +the hospital accepted the future which I so desperately needed to +control. More than my resistance to treatment, (for they too had +witnessed the drastic effects which are inherent characteristics of +chemotherapy) the family was besieged by the inevitability of my death. +There was now the real possibility that I would die long before my +parents, and in this they felt little capacity for contentment. At the +close of our discussions, I believe everyone derived a handful of +solace through the hope that "miracles DO happen"; there were reports +of complete remission and cases in which the cancer inexplicably +vanished, leaving no trace of its former habitation in the individual's +body. Continuing research in the realm of cancer treatment was also a +source of emotional sunshine to my family, and allowed everyone to look +toward the homeward journey with anticipation. + +I felt exhausted. Though I truly enjoyed seeing my mother and was +grateful that my sister's family had made the time-consuming trip, I +was happy to grant their leave to partake of supper. As they departed, +I sunk back into the bed with a sigh of relief. It had been quite a +day... and it was not over yet. I attacked my dinner tray as if it was +the only food I had seen in days; it is amazing how an emotional strain +can deplete one's energy as thoroughly as participating in a rigorous +activity. + +While I was alone with my roommate, we opened the curtain which +separated the two halves of the room so we could talk and feel more in +tune with the world. I felt extremely lucky to have been placed with +such a personable lady, as television is a poor excuse for +companionship (unless one is sharing a room with an unpleasant and +irrational whiner!) After my family had departed, she expressed that +she had been rather awed by my duo performances. She said she +"admired" my strength and ability to verbalize my feelings, and +although I graciously accepted her compliments, I told her it had been +a topic about which I felt quite strongly. When one's decision is +incontestable, and is fueled by past experience and anguish, the future +can quite easily be foreseen. + +I believe that one has made the correct choice if, after his decision +has been voiced, he feels an overall contentment and freedom from +excessive amounts of mental duress. Everyone must live with a +patient's choices, but only he dies with them; this is why it is +crucial for a patient to voice, and the family to heed, his personal +opinions regarding his future. + +Later that evening the troop returned from their meal and converged on +the room. Since it was rather small to comfortably house six visitors +on one side, we made our way into the hospital corridors to see those +sights which happenstance would reveal. We eventually found ourselves +in a quiet waiting room which boasted several comfortable and very +accommodating couches, as well as a few tables upon which the numerous +fragments of jigsaw puzzles were scattered. At this point, any form of +diversion was welcome, especially for Sharon's kids who doubtlessly +felt a trifle suffocated in an atmosphere where everything squeaked +with cleanliness and relentless order; I'm sure they were not the only +ones who felt intimidated as they passed through the marble hallways. + +We entertained ourselves as best we could, electing to remain in the +vicinity of the carpet and couches until it was time for them to leave. +Engaging in small talk and battling with the jigsaw puzzles until +totally infuriated at our lack of progress, the night fell away. When +the visiting hours had reached their end, my parents and company bid me +good-night and left memories of the day which had just elapsed, as well +as renewed excitement for my release from the hospital. I reviewed the +day's events as I lay tucked between crisp sheets and a mound of +pillows; it had been an exhilarating experience, yet one that brought +little actual joy except the knowledge that one has been understood and +has found peace with himself. + +I greeted the morning with exuberance, and the physician in a likewise +manner; it was as if I radiated undiluted joy. I watched as he +methodically checked my lengthy incision, and then assured him that I +felt fine when he quizzed me about various details concerning my +general recovery. Well aware of my excitement, he cleared my passage +for dismissal and had me sign any necessary papers bearing witness that +I had indeed left the ward on that day. As I rattled off my happiness +for going home, he smiled, knowing the elation was no personal +reflection on him, and said, "Home's always the best place to be." + +When breakfast arrived, I attacked it with customary glee and then +turned my attention to packing. I also took great pleasure in making +myself presentable through the application of some eye make-up and +donning civilian clothes; it seemed that my release from the hospital +was not final until I had my shoes, instead of bedroom slippers, on my +feet. I am sure that it is quite psychological, but I think that white +smocks make an individual feel worse than his physical health should +dictate! + +I did not wait long before the family arrived and the time had come to +be escorted from the building. Amid the rousing excitement, I wished +my roommate a speedy recovery and presented her with one of my floral +arrangements; it filled the space where her husband's bouquet should +have stood. Looking back, I hope it brought more happiness than +sorrowful longing for those unforgettable considerations which were +never hers to enjoy. + +My dismissal was something akin to a landmark affair for me. Although +I was in the hospital for only a week, the freedom to walk in the cold +November wind embellished my spirit with a feeling of vitality. +Standing amid the elements of nature, it was not difficult for me to +accept the cycle which bonded my existence to all living things. To be +consciously aware of life's complexities was living in its truest +sense; in life is both urgency and tranquility, yet when viewing life +as a whole, there is little difference between the two. Thus the cycle +is congruent; though it changes, it remains the same. + +It was in this state of mind that I left Rochester, Minnesota. Later +that day I was welcomed by my brother, Norm, who then received the +"news" with the added support of my parents. We were generally in good +spirits, which evoked a rather frustrated, "I don't see what you're all +so happy about!" assertion from him; that we should be pleased when no +remedy was available was disconcerting. . . with time, however, he was +able to understand the importance of quality in life. He also was one +who did not do those things which would bring turmoil to his life. If +one continually succumbs to the notions and desires of others, his own +thoughts are rendered meaningless, and likewise, is his existence. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 212 + +Essay: +Suffering + + + +SUFFERING + + +Cancer, or any debilitating injury or illness cannot be viewed as an +act of God which is bestowed upon an unsuspecting public as randomly as +winning tickets in a perverted lottery. I reject the thought that any +supreme diety would choose certain individuals to suffer and allow +others to live peaceful and fulfilled lives, or through their own +choice, aimless, meaningless lives; I do not feel that a God would thus +inflict an individual either to punish him for wrong-doing or through +suffering, make him into a stronger human. Though it may be a +consolation to believe that suffering has a purpose, I believe that an +individual's pain has no more divine purpose than if he'd stubbed his +toe. While the mastery and acceptance of ill fortune will make a +person stronger, it would then seem that everyone could benefit from +grief, and God would therefore assure each person of his parcel... but +it doesn't happen that way. Grief is part of existence, and while +certain people may have more than "their share" as far as statistical +averages follow, nature does not operate through calculated averages. +I believe cancer befalls individuals just as blight will infest a +perfectly healthy tree and cut short its life expectancy. It is +interesting to me that many individuals will always attempt to justify +their illness in such manners in order to keep their faith intact; as +far as they are concerned, a loving God must have a reason for doing +such a thing to them. People have forgotten that illness is a part of +life, and perhaps more prominent is the fact that many refuse to +acknowledge their own mortality. Just as illness is an inherent factor +in nature's infinitely complex cycle, death also belongs to the natural +order of things. + +"God will not give us any more than we can bear" is also a disagreeable +reason (to my way of thinking) for explaining why suffering is God's +gift to us. Far too often, the burden is too hard to bear and the +person is unable to cope, leaving him bitter, enraged or even insane. +This cannot be pigeonholed neatly as suffering which was to the benefit +of the individual... or that which was "no more than he could bear." +Moreover, why would a diety wish to dole out pain to some simply +because they could "handle it" while allowing others to go their merry +way through life because they would have "cracked" under the grief? +The latter group may empathize with the former lot, yet they cannot +"enlarge their spiritual horizons" through observation alone. Thus, +while the former group grows in insight and reflection, the latter +enjoys life's surface values and are bereft of the "enjoyment" which +true suffering would bring. Who, then, is the better off? + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 213 + +Essay: +Quality in Life + + +QUALITY IN LIFE + + + +Another aspect concerning religion and death which never ceases to +amaze me is the devout Christian who believes that one should strive +for every possible breath 'til the end, as if life for life's sake is +of foremost importance. To me, this is saying that heaven is not as +great as proclaimed; if their faith, indeed, is so steadfast and +secure, would not the proposition of the imminence of heaven produce +more smiles than that of another painful breath of life? + +I feel that life must contain an element of quality to be worth the +actual existence. To me this would mean wrapping myself in thought, +and perhaps, subsequently unleashing my hoard of mind-words onto paper, +where they would then remain for later perusal. My thoughts and sense +of self are more precious than any physical activity I might pursue, or +monetary affluence I might acquire. This fact may be the reason why I +am content despite physical limitations and inconveniences and my +deformity in stature. Though if it were my choice, I would most +definitely elect to be of stout health, I feel that I am yet rich in +the far greater facets of character; for it is one's mind which makes +the person, not the body. + +When I see one who is healthy, I don't envy that person, nor do I feel +I "deserve" health more than "so and so" who lives a wild life but +remains healthy. In fact I would never trade my life for that of +someone else. I would still want my mind, body and soul. While I may +detest my body's waning functions, I would not care to live in +another's body a life which had no meaning. Moreover, it is not +possible to know the sorrow which he might have borne, or the gripping +habits which have tortured his mind. If I've ever envied a person, it +was only my former, healthier self. + +Moreover, quality of life reigns over the quantity of one's days. If +one has attained a level of consciousness with which he is content +despite ill tidings, he has reached a sense of quality in existence, no +amount of time will better that which only the mind can attain; after +all, what is ordinary existence but the pursuit of aspirations which +shall place shelter over our heads and feed our hungry bodies? For one +fostering a higher ideal of life, every day matters are not a bore or +resentment; they are inherent facets of life which easily yield to +accomplishment when it has been acknowledged by that individual that +there are unseen elements far greater than a comfortable lifestyle +which renders life meaningful. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 214 + +Essay: +Bargaining and Prayer + + + +BARGAINING AND PRAYER + + +The idea of "bargaining" for more time never really occurred to me, +although I was quite aware that this type of reaction was often enacted +by an individual whose life was to be lessened through physical +incapacitation. I shall always smile to remember the movie "The End," +wherein a terminally ill man determines that suicide is his only hope +to retain dignity in death; he tries countless measures to kill +himself, all of which fail due to their haphazard nature. Finally he +swims out to sea in the hope that he will tire and drown, but at the +last moment, decides he actually wants to live and calls upon God to +give him the strength to swim ashore, tempting God with a 50% pledge +and regular attendance in church. The movie was a humorous comparison +to the way in which some people truly bargain for more time; I feel +that this type of reasoning can only injure the individual, especially +if God should "reject" his proposal through a worsening of his +condition. + +A healthier alternative, which also allows for the patient to maintain +his religious stance.... if indeed religion is important in his life... +is to instead "hope" for a longer life. Hope does not as easily fall +into the realm of religion and therefore remains a separate source of +emotional comfort; there is no dependency upon God, doctors or other +people to cure him. + +Given the fact that man was blessed with a mind of his own, which is +essentially too complex for him to understand, it amazes me that he +continues to speak of the mind of God as if bestowed with +acknowledgeable characteristics, abilities, and functions. Often +people will say, "God gives one the strength to bear loss... pain... +hardship... etc." as if one bereft of inner fortitude can expect to be +given that gift through prayer. + +I have always believed it to be more fruitful to pray for strength +rather than a cure when faced with terminal ailments. I do not believe +that one can "lean on" God and await replenishment, since I cannot view +the essence of God as a crutch or in any other way which would place +Him outside of one's self. If God resides within an individual, He +cannot be a crutch. + +Perhaps it is better to say that one's belief in God gives him +strength; for if God sent strength as an answer to prayer desiring +strength, why do not all people receive the feeling of renewal? Why +are some left to insanity, psychosomatic disorders or neurotic +behavior? To credit God for one's strength would only serve to +discredit His "unanswered" prayers, as is the case with physical +disorders. I do not believe God would endow one with the fortitude to +deliver himself from anguish and neglect the emotional appeals of +others. Housing such thoughts can be devastating. + +It is one's unrealistic expectations of God that can sometimes create +turmoil for an individual, which again may result from the attempt to +personify God. This attempt on the part of an individual to personify +his deity often results from his need to feel guarded and loved; +without family or friends he can still have a heavenly father and thus +is not alone. My strength comes from within, and is augmented by +loving family members. I tend to think, rather than to pray, for I +feel the unity of all creation is within me and encompasses all things; +thus even my most quiet thoughts are not spoken in emptiness. + +When people said they prayed for me, I looked at their statement as one +of thoughtful kindness because it demonstrated that they cared for me +and my family. Yet within, a voice would scream that praying for +health misused the idea behind prayer. Although prayer means vastly +different things to each individual, I like to think of prayer as a way +of communing with God; while there are many who ask God for favors in +prayer, to me this cheapens it. I feel it should be used for the +attempt of attaining oneness with the eternal spirit and nothing more, +unless it is to unify one with himself and allow him to dismiss his +selfishness to think of and unite with others. This well-known quote +echoes my sentiments: "God, grant me the serenity to accept things I +cannot change, courage to change those I can, and wisdom to know the +difference." + +To further elaborate on the subject, I would assume that an individual +who divulged in prayer such a "bargain" would eventually feel the shame +brought about by the realization that he would never have sought this +plea or offered his humble services had he not first been stricken by +physical illness. Most likely the thought would have never crossed his +mind. One would think that the person would have waved God's flag in +times of health and prosperity. But, as with the vast majority of +people, thoughts of one's own death rarely occur to those caught up in +the robust living of life. Thus guilt can both evoke, and be the +product of, promises too great to keep. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 216 + + +Chapter 26 +Categories of Acceptance + + + +"Even the smallest pleasures seem more meaningful when they are shared, +while the tragic moments are buffered by love. " + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX + +Categories Of Acceptance + + + + +I was home once again, and my greatest wish had been realized. Somehow +I thought my life would now be simplified, and that I could wield +complete control over the ways in which I desired to spend my time and +conduct my remaining life. + +With something akin to fascination, I looked at myself in the mirror +and focused my eyes on my protruding stomach region which would one day +be the cause of my death. The subjects of death and other intense, +wrenching emotions possessed a magnetism which had always held me +spellbound. I was drawn to the startling views of human tragedy in +both literature and art forms; a life tottering precariously on the +edge of sanity or mortality could offer a glimpse of the more painful +aspects of reality which many often neglect to acknowledge. Images +which accurately depicted the horror of war or the anguish of a mother +of a stricken child were those which captured my attention; though +beautiful works would please my eye, only the gripping views of life +held the capacity to stir my senses. + +The thought that I now shared a common bond with those gripping views +of existence similarly held my fascination. I wondered what my family +would undergo during the harsh period following my death; I pondered +whether I would see earthly lives when I no longer was part of the +world. I spent lovely afternoons in peaceful reflection, drinking in +the earth's beauty to somehow retain the days as if they were my last. +Time itself lost its importance as I embraced the cycles of nature and +my own life as one, rather than separate entities. I marveled at the +pitiable lack of control we, as humans, have over our lives; after +attempting to rule the world, we are at last brought to the level of +all things through the element of mortality. I shared a kinship with +autumn following the rediscovery of cancer. Like a tree divested +of its leaves, its only proof that life yet flourished deep within; +I questioned when my color, too, would fade, rendering me helpless +against winter's icy grasp (death). Death was no romantic notion which +smuggled lives on moonlit nights; it was merely an endless cycle. + + +Nov. 1981... I quieted my thoughts and listened as a distinctly +familiar echo of sadness resounded in the autumn air. It seemed as if +the old tree above me was attempting a futile last stand in the face of +the impending desolation of winter. A blast of northerly winds +scattered the furiously spinning leaves to form a semi-circle about my +feet. + + +I picked up the leaf, noting its fragility as it crumbled under my +touch. I realized that I was observing a change of seasons in which +only brittle remnants of spring remained to display that life had +actually existed. A gust sent the fragmented leaf to be buried +unceremoniously in the midst of thousands of other leaves, which were +rustling their distaste for their hapless plight. + +I watched several more leaves rattle a loud protest as the wind +determined their fate. Another leaf, one which could easily be labeled +as a spectacular tribute to nature itself, was swaying gently in the +crisp breeze. It was different from the other leaves, seemingly +unafraid of its destiny. I continued to watch until it was slowly +delivered to the ground to rest in silence at my feet. + +That is the way death was intended to be, I thought; stealing quickly +over its prepared and quietly waiting subject, death overcomes life +with no struggle and no outcry. I sighed and wondered when I, too, +would be beneath the dried and decaying vestiges of many summers passed. + +I culminated my restful sojourn amongst the colorful show of leaves +with thoughts that have frequently entered my consciousness during +reflective intervals; one must first accept death if he is ever to +understand life. + +I will never forget an incident which occurred shortly after my release +from the hospital. Seated in the middle of the shopping mall, I was +engaged in observing people hurry in and out of stores, and while my +face did not radiate feelings of great joy and elation, I did not wear +a mask of sorrow either. Just then, a man happened by and remarked, +"smile, you're not going to die!" I remember how idiotic that phrase +sounded to me, and it left me speechless. "Yes," I thought, "I shall +die. . . and sooner than you might suspect." Everyone dies. + +Quite apart from denying my illness, I found myself quite preoccupied +with it, and initially it was difficult to carry on in a "normal" +fashion in the sense that I could not detach my mind from the fact that +I had cancer again. After learning of my recurrence I immediately +began thinking thoughts such as, "if I subscribe to this magazine, +I wonder whether I'll receive all of the copies. . . ," and while +driving down the road, "I wonder if I'll ever get a speeding ticket," +or when in a pet shop, "if I got a parrot, it would outlive me." + +I remembered my china dishes and realized that my dad had been right; +I should never have purchased something which represented the future. +The future did not belong to me. . . it was dissolving before my eyes. +My dreams were changing out of necessity, since most dreams depended on +time for their fulfillment... and time was one amenity that I could not +hope to claim. + + +Nov. 1981... I dismissed modeling altogether after appearing in a +luncheon (style show), which I enjoyed entirely. I somehow felt unable +to accept the demands of the career when I felt my health situation was +so uncertain and unreliable. Admittedly, I could have modeled for a +short time. Somehow, though, it didn't seem important any more. I was +tired... + +I thought of the teenager who had a car, yet lacked the fuel +to drive it. + +I speculated as to whether or not I would witness the spring-time +again, and could not help but question absently if my 20th birthday +would prove to be my last. I was unable to release myself from the +thought of my impending death; I wasn't simply Lauren Isaacson. I was +"Lauren Isaacson, victim of cancer." I identified myself with the +disease and found my thoughts encompassing various subjects with cancer +continually in the back of my mind. I never denied the presence of the +disease, nor did I wish it on someone else, and perhaps this is what +allowed me to bridge a period of gray disillusionment so common in the +acceptance of solemn news; I would much rather face a heart-rending +truth than to live amid a cloud of fantasy derived of the mind. Tumors +have no conscience, and no amount of wishing, cursing, or bribery will +cause the disease to disappear. These mind-games will one day come to +an abrupt, emotionally wrenching halt or lead to personality +disturbances if not corrected; such reactions only injure the +individual or those with whom he must associate. + +In coping with a weighty truth of such magnitude, the family as well as +the patient, will experience various and ever-changing emotions, and I +believe it is quite important that these feelings are ventilated. +Simply because the family is not afflicted with the illness does not +mean that the individuals are immune to its emotional nuances. In +fact, the family is sometimes the worse off; they essentially feel +helpless, unable to ease physical pain or shield their loved one from +his frightful pursuer. + +When the family is able to openly converse on the topic of the +patient's illness and imminent death, the entire affair seems less +formidable, rather like a beam which is directed upon the unlit +recesses of a room, thereby dispelling the uncertainties which lay +dormant in the darkness. Because there are manifold reactions to +adversity, related conversation will evolve at varying rates. While +some people would be ready to speak candidly after a brief time, others +need to ingest the situation gradually and should not be pressed into +heavy conversation directly following a shock. Moreover, there exists +in most humans the great need to face life's circumstances with dignity +and composure and would not, therefore, relish a serious discussion +until they could do so without losing control of their emotions and +causing a tearful scene. + +Although it is unhealthy to continually dwell on the plight of the +family, silence is debilitating. . . especially if it evolves through +avoidance of the problem, rather than simply the inability to verbalize +one's thoughts. True coping deals with self-expression, not the clever +avoidance thereof. One should never attempt to stifle grief, for to do +so will create unendurable stress; and what, I might add, is so +terrible about venting one's sorrow in the form of tears, when the +situation certainly merits that behavior? + +Anger is an understandable reaction to the discovery that one harbors a +debilitating disease, for since everyone must eventually die, surely +there are more pleasant routes toward that destination if given the +right to choose. Moreover, anger is thought to be a less degrading +form of expressing depression. No one wants to suffer or restrict +himself in a manner unnatural to his lifestyle, nor lose his sense of +control, no matter how much or little he actually has. + +If anger is a prevalent emotion, its release is necessary; yet +projecting that anger on undeserving family members or hospital +personnel is unfair. Anger is counter-productive when wrongly +displaced; fanatical rage and irate demands are increasingly ignored +and replaced by the unfortunate avoidance of the enraged individual. +No one can benefit from this chain reaction. + +An alternative which could be used by the patient having the +objectivity to discover his outward rage is anger expressed through +writing or intelligent conversations rather than transforming the anger +into unfounded complaints. The problem is not the unsmiling intern, +or the wife who arrived ten minutes later than planned. The problem is +health, and if not dealt with, attitude as well. + +A reasonable exception is when the patient's anger is derived of pain; +it is virtually impossible to be civil if each breath heralds another +moment of severe physical anguish. This belligerence should not be +taken personally by either relatives or hospital staff, nor should the +unfounded anger described above be ingested as relating to their +presence or prescribed duties. + +If it is attention the patient needs, it is more likely to be given +if he behaves in a manner deserving of amenity. It is a pleasure to be +near a person who, despite his personal problems, can retain humor and +conduct himself in a respectable manner. If my experience is any +indication of the quality of the residency in hospitals, I found the +staff to be most personable if treated likewise. On the rare occasion +that a patient is forced to abide a hostile nurse, or one who refuses +to believe that he is suffering to the degree that he claims, a +complaint is well within reason. One case in particular concerned an +incontinent elderly woman who, after an accident over which she had no +control, was chastised by a hostile nurse, resulting in tears which +should never have been provoked. A patient is not paying for abuse; +moreover, a hospital without patients is just a stone building, and its +personnel is up for hire. Inflicting emotional anguish has no place +in the medical profession. + +When I felt frustrated by the constraints which resulted from my +cancer, I encountered no pervasive or continual anger. Furthermore, +the anger was targeted at the source of my inability to function +properly, rather than projecting it toward an innocent companion. Mine +was the self-contained anger similar to that which I would feel after +entertaining influenza for nearly a week; weary of its limiting effect +on my mobility and general well-being, I would hurl devastating +thoughts inward, then later proceed to calm my cantankerous spirit +and await the arrival of health. + +My father held a rather negative view of the possibility that good +could prevail over evil; he always expected the worst, and often was +quite right in his assumptions. Even so, expectation does not cancel +one's disappointment at having supposed correctly, and his broken heart +was obvious. A touching moment in a movie, a poignant verse of song or +the reading of one of my poems was enough to send a tremor through his +voice in a later attempt to speak. Often depressed or angry, he was +tormented by the many adversities which had befallen our family. It +just didn't seem quite right that he should have such difficult burdens +after he had lived a morally conscious life; others, lacking all sense +of moral responsibility, seemed to live long and healthy lives, or died +simply because of their own ignorance and gluttonous indulgences. +Hounded by such sources of resentment, acceptance was gained, then lost +once again at varying intervals when he viewed the healthy, but empty +lives whose health, he thought, should have been my own. + +Aside from the family, my dad had no confidant or close friend. He, +like many members of the family, was quite self-sufficient. +Unfortunately, one's self-sufficiency, displayed in grave situations, +can discourage closeness, whether consciously or not. Thus, when such +an individual truly desires someone to hear his concerns, no one is +near enough to care. Even persons with whom one had worked on a daily +basis can prove to be unenthused listeners; often their association +clearly ends within the confines of the job description. + +Though not always apparent, my dad was a highly sensitive individual. +An injustice or injury persisted, inflicting pain and stress. More +than anything I believe my father needed unsolicited affection and +demonstrations of sympathy; lacking these, especially from his +co-workers, Dad felt himself betrayed by the one group with whom he had +spent so much of his time. He could easily have drowned in self-pity, +for no one wished to help with the bailing out of his broken heart; +sorrow was like a hat which only he could wear. + +My father would, on occasion, mention that if he had not married, or +had children, he would not have had to experience the pain of losing +dear children or seeing them riddled with health disorders. Life +without emotional grief would be "easier" and more stable, yet to +shelter ones self from close relationships would also be an enormous +deprivation; love is the foremost joy of living, and it cannot grow +through alienation from society. Even the smallest pleasures seem more +meaningful when they are shared, while the tragic moments are buffered +by love. To separate ones self from affection for others denies a +virtuous human potential to develop, as it simultaneously creates more +emptiness than that which occurs upon the death of a loved one; the +grief-stricken survivor has memories, but the emotional hermit has only +stability. There was indeed, a sacrifice for love. It was one that my +dad was willing to take. + +In one of our conversations, I once asked my father if he thought he +had basically accepted my health disorder. He replied, "I don"t think +I will ever accept it, because it's not acceptable." For his part, +maybe he just lives with it. What other choice does one have, +excluding madness or suicide, but to live with it? (It just doesn't +mean that he has to like it!) + +Guilt very often accompanies the illness or death of a loved one, and +can be released through conversation. The unfounded sort, stemming +from regrets such as a patient's unfulfilled dream which the relative +felt he impeded, or a mother's inability to detect subtle changes in +her child's health, is a counterproductive, if not debilitating, manner +of reacting to the problem. These emotions are quite corrosive to the +individual, and it is important that they are quickly corrected; this +can be done through attentive listening and positive reinforcement. + +After discovering the malignancy in my stomach, my mother effectively +chastised herself by asserting that she "should have noticed that I was +eating less and getting thinner." She held on to her belief while I +tried to assure her that the extent to which the cancer had spread was +not her fault. I reminded her that many children are rather lanky and +thin when they are growing too rapidly for any food which they eat to +transform into fat; the body needs the nourishment to sustain itself, +and has no excess for insulating purposes. With time and reassurance, +she finally dismissed her guilt; I listened to her statements, +returning not with, "You shouldn't feel that way," but with reasons +which effectively reinforced the pointlessness of her guilt. As with +any invitation to change one's outlook, a person fostering guilt must +be shown why his view is unreasonable and needs to be altered. +Statements such as "Don't feel guilty" define the desired destination, +but offer no direction as to the means of attaining that goal. I have +sometimes wondered whether this type of guilt is not merely a +subconscious means of inflicting punishment upon ones self in order to +more deeply share the pain felt by the ill person. Guilt which is +evoked through hateful thoughts or malicious wishes toward the ill +person is sometimes more difficult to manage, due to the fervor with +which the mental darts were hurled at the patient before the onset of +illness. Abreast a wave of superstition, the guilty party quietly +blames himself, feeling responsible for the evil which befell his +victim. It is important for the guilt-stricken individual to realize +he does not control the hands of fate. To further complicate matters, +often the dying or deceased individual is surrounded by an aura of +purity, and it is deemed unfit to denounce his character despite the +validity of the statements. Though loss makes memories all the more +dear to the heart, I feel that one should not forget that these people, +sick though they are, are human; they possess irksome habits and have +made foolish mistakes as does all humanity. To elevate an individual +beyond his former limitations is an open invitation toward the housing +of personal guilt, since any negative emotions concerning the patient +will be thought of as hostile and unfounded; one is not only denying +the disturbing propensities of the patient, but also, and more +important, he is denying his true feelings, thereby trapping himself. + +In this scope, I might add that elevating a person who has not yet died +can create an undesirable situation for him, in that he may feel +threatened by this new and unrealistic public opinion of himself which, +consequently, is greater than he is able to uphold. + +Another sort of guilt, planted by the patient, is somewhat related to +the above. Although conversation is generally thought to be a healthy +exchange between concerned individuals, there are those who, +unfortunately, take the business of sharing their health problem +wholeheartedly. Applying no restrictions on themselves, they +continually voice their complaints until a situation is created wherein +the complaints are more of a burden to the family than is the illness. +I feel that reactions such as these on the part of the afflicted are +unfair and completely selfish. Forcing constant awareness of an +illness upon a loved one is cruel and emotionally debilitating. + +When a situation such as the one described occurs, I wonder whether the +patient truly loves his "subjects"; a caring individual would still +want his family to derive joy from living despite his inability to +actively take part. Jealousy has no place in love, especially when a +loving relationship is placed in jeopardy by the imminence of death. +A patient's jealousy can often promote guilt; ultimately, however, +it begets only resentment, not true love and devotion. + +My father was acquainted with a man whose wife was a constant source of +worry. She was what I would call "the delicate type," in need of +constant attention and sympathy whether she truly needed it or not. +The day finally came when she found herself bedridden, demonstrating +the symptoms of an actual health disorder, and her personality took on +the shrieking demeanor of an angry bird. She expected constant +nurturing care from her husband, yet nothing he did would please her. +After hounding him relentlessly to pick up an item at the store, +she would be enraged because of his "lengthy" absence. + +Eventually the poor man agreed to place his wife in a rest home in her +home town. However, through her injection of guilt, he still felt +obliged to maintain a daily vigil by her side. The man became +emotionally and physically exhausted, and suffered to such an extent +that his sanity was nearly obliterated; in tearful, emotional outbursts +he would relate the "sad" condition of his wife, and elaborate in +detail their conversations and prayers, never thinking that her's was a +very disturbed mind. Bereft of any other communicational outlet or +friendships, he accepted the blame for his wife's unhappiness. In +effect, he was starving for conversation and emotional support, causing +an irrational view of reality. + +Although, toward the last portion of her life, the wife was mentally +incompetent concerning her nasty behavior, she would have been capable +of changing her actions earlier in life, yet, through a jealous and +self-centered need, she obtained a constant awareness of her presence +by lamenting any flaw in her well being. The husband may have enjoyed +the initial pampering as a means of elevating his feeling of +self-worth; here was a woman who needed him. However, as any excess +can be overwhelming, her preoccupation for comfort was his final +undoing. Had she thought less of herself and allowed him the freedom +to breathe, the obsessive guilt she strove to plant would never have +taken root in his mind. + +It is essential that the patient allows his family to continue in a +"normal" fashion, for it must be accepted that there will be a time +when life must carry on without the sick individual. This is not to +say that a husband should start to seek another mate before his wife +meets her demise; behavior of this nature is cruel and, I believe, says +that his wife was not loved but only needed for the beneficial comforts +she could provide. However, continuing attendance in a church, or +meeting with friends should in no way be thought of as frivolous or +forgetful of the sick, but rather as a form of therapy for the living. + +I wanted my family to continue its current lifestyle, and for the most +part, that was no problem. However, Mom continued to feel guilty about +her health and ability to do anything she desired while her young +daughter was forced to stay home. + +As my cancer progressed and I did less in the social realm, spending +week-end nights at home, my mother became concerned about leaving me +alone when they went on a small excursion or nighttime gatherings; she +worried that I might be lonesome or scared, or need help of some kind. +It was somewhat of a chore to assure her that I would be fine; should I +be scared or lonesome, it would pass, and with regard to my health, she +would be powerless to aid in my comfort even if she was at home. As a +final effort I confessed that I truly enjoyed being alone sometimes. +I too needed room to breathe, to feel that, even with my severe +limitations, I was yet in control of my life. It was important that +I knew I could take care of myself if the need would arise. + +Guilt may derive from actual wrong-doing on the part of the +guilt-ridden as well as the causes described above. Whether spurred +from emotional neglect, mental abuse, infidelity, or another source, +this guilt is the only type which I feel is worthy of its keeper. When +an individual knowingly hurts another, yet makes no attempt to correct +himself, the former deserves to feel the grasp of pain. No apology, no +matter how magnificent, can take the place of past injustice. +Therefore, while the past is history, perhaps these regrets can best be +handled by a silent oath to behave differently on future occasions. + +The refusal of friends to face my health situation always brought about +a keen sense of frustration on my behalf, modified to a certain extent +by pity. It is impossible to attain any depth in such relationships, +since continual avoidance of reality cannot be upheld. + +One such relationship, in which a friend would not acknowledge the +presence of my illness, was eventually transformed into a virtual +charade. Conversations revolved solely around trivial matters or +reminiscent revelries. Discussions of the present surrounded her +doings only, for the least hint of my illness would leave the +conversation stunted. Because I never cared to dwell on my ill health, +any remark was of the passing sort, yet even these seemed too much for +her to abide. It was as if the pre-cancerous person was the only "me" +which existed for her; my entire self was no longer acceptable. As no +change occurred, our rendezvous became less and less frequent, and +eventually subsided altogether. I felt uncomfortable having to hide +behind a mask of my former health for my company to be tolerable; it +was better to be alone. Friendship must be built upon honesty if its +true potential is to be realized. + +Frustrating to a lesser degree were those who could withstand a cursory +mentioning of my illness, but would then perform a mental backflip and +begin discussing another topic as if I had no problem at all. It +seemed that their understanding of my health condition was not +congruent with the activities which they considered me capable of +negotiating. Stifling an open-mouthed, incredulous stare, I would then +attempt to explain that I was unfit for that particular suggestion, but +perhaps we could find a mutually agreeable alternative. I always tried +to coax one's realization of my health situation, rather than +attempting to "cram" the truth down uncooperative throats. + +It is so difficult for society to abide the thought of terminal illness +and death, especially in those we love, and therefore it is often +ignored in a conscious effort to prove its nonexistence. Though it is +natural to attempt to flee that which seeks to invade one's happiness, +running, unfortunately, shall not make the menace disappear; the young +are not the only group of people who, when faced with the illness of a +loved-one or friend, search desperately for their "running shoes." + +While the voicing of feelings is very difficult, it can bring peace of +immeasurable degree to yield to their expression; after a loved one +dies, one can no longer deny that he was terminally ill, and is left to +cope not only with the disease, but with its ultimate effect. Where +there might have been memories of a loving farewell, there is +emptiness. Just as spoken words cannot be recalled, words which are +left unsaid are merely lifeless fragments of conversations which might +have been, and forever plague the happiness of the individual who +elected silence instead of self-expression. + +The utilization of excessive denial toward the fact that a disease is +incurable can jeopardize one's time and quality of life. Denial +alienates its victims from family and friends. While the patient, or +conversely, his relative, continually galavants across the country in +search of a miracle drug or pretends the truth shall not come to pass, +lost days can never again be regained. The feeling of hope afforded by +such futile excursions and mental conjurings is, I believe, less +beneficial than are the quiet and intimate interludes which might have +taken their place. The longer one avoids the unfaltering truthfulness +of such a situation, the less time he has to enjoy his remaining days +in a "normal" fashion. + +Unlike certain studies on illness and death, I cannot feel that denial +is parallel to hope, nor can I think of the need for hope as a lack of +acceptance. As I soon discovered, self-absorption in a traumatic +illness eventually becomes monotonous, and one will naturally turn his +mind to encompass other interests. This is perhaps more prominent with +extended illness, as the patient and his family pursue routine +activities while a "lack" of symptoms permits. Although cancer is +definitely part of my life, it is not my whole life. While I have +never thought a cure was likely to be discovered, I know there are many +involved in cancer research; thus, as I live day to day, a ray of hope +shines through a door which is not completely closed. Hope injects an +element of pleasure in lives which would otherwise be stagnant +reflections of death itself. While there is yet a chance to survive, +and discomfort is not the primary essence of each day, one tends to +think of life; it is all we, as humans, truly know. + +Luckily my family and better friends did not avoid my problem. There +were times when we felt pressed to talk, and let go of the tears which +were usually held at bay throughout the day. Disappointment and faded +dreams stabbed my father through the heart, and he lamented the many +sadnesses with an angry vengeance. Mom's aching for that which could +not be often liquified into tears. Norm, on one of our walks, would +blandly state, "No luck at all . . ." The need to speak, and the +responsibility to listen, alternated between us, and strengthened our +relationships; the patient is not the only one in need of a tireless +ear. + +I had to be able to be free to talk and joke of my illness, not hide +its existence in the corner of my mind. It was part of my life, +becoming as natural as eating and sleeping. Had I been forced to +conceal my feelings my life would have been one of loneliness and +despair; I would only have been what people wanted to see... +an image, not a real person. + +I was alive, housing an alien growth, indeed nurturing it, so that it +may fulfill its purpose. To try to impede its fixed intent seemed +futile; cancer desired to squeeze life from my body many years ago... +and now it truly appeared that it would succeed. Thus, almost pleased +with the belief that my life had found its rut, from which it could not +be removed, I wanted to live in a manner conducive to good spirits. +No one, I thought, would interfere with my peace. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 225 + +Chapter 27 +Frustrations + + +". . . I did not want to exist on a roller coaster, constantly grasping +an inflated balloon of hope for each successive "cure" . . ." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN + +Frustrations + + + + +Returning to college was difficult, as it prompted numerous +explanations as to the cause of my absence. I was honest, relating my +situation as gently as the English vocabulary allowed. I wished no +pity, simply the same cordiality which before had greeted my entry into +the room, and happily this I did receive. Yet more than this, I found +within many eyes a deep incredulousness, as if they were simultaneously +amazed and frightened that such a horrid disorder had pounced so near +to their own lives. Their faces proclaimed "it cannot be!" while they +tried desperately to transform my words into a statement which they +found reasonable and within their capacity to understand. How could +such a thing happen to someone "so young." + +One particularly agreeable friend wasted no time in asserting that I +would follow a plan consisting of health food and soon find myself +"detoxified" and on my way to full recovery. Dubious, and rather +self-protective, I hesitantly agreed to accompany her to the local +natural food store to see if the owner knew of any promising, no-fail +treatments for cancer. Once there I was shown a variety of self-cures, +ranging from herbal diets, to drinking carrot juice and exorbitantly +priced tea. I failed to see how such measures could possibly help, for +if they did, would not everyone with cancer be flooding into the store, +rather than laying bedridden in a hospital ward? I looked around at +the people. They appeared to be ill. Carrot juice drinkers, I +presumed! At any rate, water infused with plain tea sounded more +appealing to me, and my friend and I sat down at one of their tables to +peruse several books on the subject of cancer. + +Because I had so thoroughly resigned myself to my inevitable death, I +did not relish the thought of inquiring into cures; it was as if these +"cures" threatened my happiness and sense of emotional security, for +once acceptance has been attained it is not easy to smile upon that +which may destroy one's inner peace. When I would try to explain this +feeling, people often thought I housed a "death wish" or that I had no +zest for life. It was a chore to explain this was not true, but +rather, that I did not want to exist on a roller coaster, constantly +grasping an inflated balloon of hope for each successive "cure" and +then falling into the despair of disillusionment when it failed to +enact its promise. I hoped my attitude did not injure my friend's good +intentions; ironically we were each looking out for my well-being... +she wished for my health and I for my sanity. + +Scrawling several book titles and clinics on a piece of note paper +I dismissed myself from the store into the fresh autumn breeze. +I determined to check out a book on vitamin C therapy at the library +before going home, although I honestly hoped that the information +therein would prove doubtful and not merit further investigation. +Maybe I was some sort of an odd-ball, I thought, toting the book under +my arm. . .everyone wants to see me cured but me; I wanted that also, +but without the lies and shams that treatment often entailed. + +After thoroughly scouring the book for details, I found my previous +assumptions to be correct. It was not proven that vitamin C increased +one's life expectancy and, as I had also surmised, the ingestion +of large amounts could render some ill effects, ranging from mild +discomforts to more serious complications. I was relieved to read +this, as I disliked the idea of taking massive doses of anything; +I respected moderation. + +The toxic effects of vitamin C were excessive gas, nausea and diarrhea +(of which I felt I already had enough), urinary burning, irritations of +the mouth, and injury to the tooth enamel, dehydration, a depletion of +minerals in the body, and finally, a temporary increase in pain for +terminal patients and possible risk of hemorrhaging for those with +advanced cancers. Additionally, I found it interesting that vitamin C +in massive doses could speed one's demise if he was near to death, +while bestowing more energy upon those who were not; as I had no way of +discovering in which stage I was classified, should I have been near my +death, I felt no urge to roll out the red carpet of welcome by taking +vitamin C. + +So it was that one option of treatment had been thankfully discarded, +and my friend reluctantly nodded in appreciation of my rejection of +vitamin C. I shared an affinity with normalcy and serenity in life, +yet in time I began to see the many trials which lay before me and my +goal; even simplicity is difficult to attain when love and concern are +one's barriers. + +Another reaction to a dreaded diagnosis is what I would call "a feeling +of desperation" by the relatives. Flooded by the reality that a family +member may soon die, a relative may override his usual rationality by +playing doctor and assuming what is best for the patient. This type of +behavior is understandable; often a person who loves another will +attempt to do all that is within his capabilities to comfort the sick. +Through fulfilling his own emotional needs, the relative is then better +able to cope with the illness, for he feels he has not simply watched +his loved one fade away. + +The relative's source of emotional comfort may lie in the steady +pursuit of all hopeful treatment, reading any related publications on +the disease spanning diet strategies to mega-dosages of vitamins as a +potential cure, or perhaps arranging prayer sessions to pray the +disease away. When one boasts an array of caring friends and +relatives, the suggestions fly; it is quite a compliment and should be +viewed as such. The patient, however, should not feel pressed by these +informative offerings, and always remember that he has the right to +decline their pursuit. + +In dealing with an over-zealous relative, it is imperative that a +patient communicates his desires to the relative in a manner that will +accommodate and acknowledge the concern, yet enable him to follow his +own needs. Everyone has a right to decide that which is best for his +emotional well-being, and to assume that an individual's needs are +identical to one's own is, indeed, a great folly and disservice to the +other. + +When a person makes choices for another without first consulting him, +it is a direct violation of personal freedom; reactions to this type of +treatment vary. A generally meek person may feel obliged to abide by +his captor's urgings, either through fear of opposition or an +indisposition to openly hurt, an act derived, supposedly, of pure +concern. This type of person is quite vulnerable unless his relatives +are protective of his wishes and do not extend their boundaries when +decisions must be made through making personal demands. When a plan is +devised, fully knowing both the quiet disposition of the patient and +the fact that the plan in question would prove to have a disagreeable +impact on him, the enactment of such a plan would be nothing short of +overt maliciousness. + +Another reaction to this decision-making effort may be fury, with the +patient recklessly attacking the relative's "good intentions." +Although anger is justifiable in such situations wherein the patient's +desires were completely overlooked, I feel that wrath is punishment +more harsh than the over-wrought relative merits. One might argue that +if the relative truly had the patient's well-being in mind, he would +have inquired into his wishes before enacting his own. Though +basically true the argument cannot stand alone without also expressing +the necessity for the patient to accept the chaotic mental states +possessed by his relatives as a natural reaction to their own sorrow. +Anger demeans its subject's need to retain hope, whereas a thoughtful +explanation will yield a greater understanding of the entire situation +as faced by all those concerned. + +Because I value the ability to choose the routes which I wish my life +to follow, I have similarly felt it is only fair to allow others that +freedom as well; while I may have voiced an opinion toward a subject +concerning someone other than myself, I would never feel it was +acceptable behavior for me to take any action toward the fulfillment of +that opinion. My oldest brother was different from myself in this +regard, as the following story will demonstrate. + +Often Todd would take issues into his own hands, apparently feeling +that his way was undoubtedly THE way. It was virtually impossible to +illustrate another viewpoint. Consequently when I received the +diagnosis that I had cancer once again, the dark cloud which fell over +the family receded somewhat after my resolution to forgo chemotherapy, +yet Todd, who lived some distance away from the immediate family, was +unfortunately less informed as to my generally good state of health at +the present time and proceeded to think only of my rapid demise. +Telephones, unhappily, cannot relate the entire picture of one's +health; had he been able to actually see for himself that I was not +fading away with each passing moment, I'm sure the turn of events +would have been different. As it was, however, he decided we were not +preparing ourselves for the onslaught of my disease, and unbeknownst to +us, made an appointment for us to speak with the director of the +"family hospice" service at the local hospital. + +On Thanksgiving weekend everyone came home. I was in immensely good +spirits, as I felt so very fortunate to be out of the hospital and with +those I loved. Moreover, I was happy with my decisions and glad to +feel physically well so soon after the exploratory surgery; I knew my +health would not decline before the holidays, and in this I found +contentment. + +In the afternoon I dismissed myself from the festivities so that I +could rest. Shortly after my disappearance, Todd and his wife found +their way upstairs to my room and asked if they could talk to me. They +entered and we discussed my health; I was glad to answer any questions +which might have been forgotten, or otherwise left unanswered. They +then gave me several books, two of which concerned the topic of death, +namely, "On Death and Dying," and "On Dying With Dignity." Todd +quickly made the statement that I didn't have to read them if I didn't +want to, slightly embarrassed by the whole affair. I wasn't offended +by the gifts, but thought them to be rather humorous. I thanked Todd +nevertheless, acknowledging that many people have benefited from +reading those books. I further said that although I felt in no need of +assistance with regard to my handling the disease and eventual death, I +would perhaps read the books simply to see what the doctors had to say +about their keen observances of the dying. + +Before our discussion had come to a close my mother came upstairs to +join the group. Todd tried to conceal the books he'd given to me. I +wondered about his effort of secrecy; did he have second thoughts as to +the appropriateness of the gift, or was he concerned about Mom's +reaction? I once again squelched a smile, noting how death is a +characteristically dismal and uncomfortable subject; we all made our +way to the main floor. + +The following day everyone was gathering up their belongings for their +journey homeward. As the day progressed and Todd had made no effort to +pack, I became suspicious. He finally voiced the plan that he had in +store for us, that being to talk with the director at the hospice +service. We immediately rejected the idea, saying we had no intention +of utilizing the service at the present time. It was then that he told +us he had actually made an appointment for us, and the director would +be expecting us in a few hours. Since we had first thought the idea +was a mere suggestion, the negative feelings of anger did not surface +until now. + +Norm, sensing as I, the trouble which was bound to occur, excused +himself before making a scene. He decided to take a walk to displace +his rage. I firmly told everyone that I was not going; I didn't want +to start digging my grave before my demise, not to mention the fact +that I did not wish to die in the hospital if it could be avoided. But +above all else, it was the principle of the whole affair that set off +my self-protective behavior; I would not have my decisions made for me. +My parents were also angered at the thought of their being entirely +left out of the decision to see this man, multiplied by their lack of +preparation for the discussion which was about to take place. At last, +understanding Todd's concern, they agreed to accompany him. As I +watched them file into the car, I wasn't quite sure if a battle had +been lost or won; perhaps in the forgetting of principle, followed by +the acceptance of the former, no one truly wins. + +Letting one be free is sometimes the hardest gift to bestow upon +another person, yet it can be the one of greatest value. Without +personal choice, freedom is but a laughable reality. + +Another case which was marked by what I would consider faulty and +injurious judgment involved a couple who had been married for 52 years. +This couple was a classic example of opposing personalities living +together under one roof; she was a rational, mild-mannered lady, while +he was obnoxious in every possible sense of the word, needing to be the +constant attraction and principal authority presiding over any group or +function. He had to have his way or he would make life truly miserable +for the unfortunate individual who attempted to voice an opinion, +carrying out his revenge with cruel indignance. + +After suffering what appeared to have been a stroke, the woman was +hospitalized only to discover that a tumor had formed in her brain. It +was evident she would not have long to live, so she decided to forgo +the torture which would accompany chemotherapy, the sole option of +treatment, and explicitly informed her husband of her wishes. As time +passed and her condition grew worse, she eventually lost all ability to +verbally communicate; it was at this point that her husband bid the +doctors to administer chemotherapy, with the supposed hope that she +would regain some of her lost functions. Consciously aware of the +decision which had been made by her husband on her behalf, yet +incapable of voicing her opposition as to its commencement, she was +forced to submit, for the last time, to her husband's self-centered +dominance. He saw in her eyes that she begged to be released from the +treatment, but he played the ignorant fool and watched as she quietly +faded into the obscure limbo of unconsciousness. + +All through their life together, until her quiet end, the man thought +only of securing enjoyment for himself. When he felt his well-being +was in danger, he sought only to maintain his happiness, which had +little to do with the welfare of his dying wife. This was apparent in +his total lack of empathy regarding her wishes, and the merciless +ignorance of her speechless plea. + +It is difficult for me to believe that such selfish persons exist, for +I hope the vast majority of people will conquer their selfish +tendencies in order to facilitate the desires of their loved one, even +if it shall mean a more rapid decline in health. It is important to +realize that only the patient suffers bodily pain; it is ultimately he +who must undergo the treatment, which could in fact, significantly +alter his overall comfort. + +For these combined reasons, I feel it is fair to allow a mentally +intact individual to decide how his remaining days shall he spent; this +is why open conversation among family members is of such great +consequence. When the illness prevents further decisions on the part +of the patient, it is then up to the family to respect his previously +stated wishes and, should further decisions need to be made beyond +those which had been specified, strive to make new options benefit the +patient's comfort. Above all else, kindness should prevail and guide +in the solutions to any questions which might occur concerning the +patient's death. A patient should not be made to suffer through a lack +of acceptance on the part of the family; behavior of this sort not only +uses the dying, it overtly abuses them. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 230 + +Chapter 28 +Christmas 1981 + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT + +Christmas 1981 + + + + +I had always loved Christmas, but it was special that year. Like all +else in my life Christmas had not actually changed; the lights were no +brighter, and the first snow was just as brilliant. However, I +realized that the holiday could easily be my last, and I wanted my +final memories to be vivid. + +To make the most of the day, preparations were always begun directly +after Thanksgiving. The Indian corn was packed away and the Christmas +decorations took their place, transforming the house into an +inescapable reminder of love and happiness. Each ornament, given to me +by Mom for my own future tree, I unwrapped with care, wooden men, mice +with glasses, corn husk dolls... they added life to a sapless tree. + +Cookie baking commenced following Thanksgiving also, and continued +sporadically up to the 23rd of December. Because Mom was engaged with +her kindergarteners, I often baked the bulk of the cookies during the +season. Dad and Norm also appreciated my endeavor, but for reasons +unrelated to Mom's. + +The most fun I had was shopping for gifts. Norm did not share my +enthusiasm in this area. His miserly side sometimes bloated to +monstrous proportions, and since he seldom indulged in frivolous +expenditures, he saw no reason to do so for anyone else. However, more +than having a penchant for saving money or a distaste toward giving +unneeded gifts, his aggravation could have been a result of his +agoraphobic nature; Christmas meant shopping and shopping meant stores, +and stores meant people, and all four elements meant chaos and +incredible stress for Norm. Occasionally we would stop and browse in a +shop if he was not nervous, especially when we were on one of our +drives that skirted small towns; otherwise we avoided heavily crowded +public areas. + +After Thanksgiving my brother and I drove to the Amana Colonies in +lowa, a tourist attraction in themselves. We wandered into several +shops. At one, a shop selling woolens, we happened upon a shearling +coat of rugged beauty and timeless appeal. + +"What a coat..." Norm inspected the workmanship and overall appearance +with something akin to awe. + +"I wonder if I should try it on..." + +"Go ahead!" + +I had never witnessed Norm so utterly engrossed by something of +material significance. He slid the coat off its hanger and, +shouldering the bulky hide, stepped before the mirror. Few people +could have pulled off a look like that; he resembled a veteran +mountaineer. + +"It really looks good," I said. + +"Yeh, not bad, huh?" It wasn't immodest; it was true. He replaced the +coat and, giving it a long look in parting, strolled out of the store. + +"That was some coat," he raved. Norm talked about it all the way home. + +Half-way home I knew what I was going to buy him for Christmas. + +The following afternoon found my dad and me on the highway, heading for +the colony so I could buy the sheepskin coat. Clenching my purse, I +couldn't wait to relinquish the folded bills in my wallet. + +"This is going to be the best Christmas!" I exclaimed. + +Dad looked at me as if I had slipped into lunacy. I hadn't expected +him to understand; he was too bitter about my recurrence of cancer. + +I thought of the previous Christmas when Norm had given me the gold +watch necklace. I had been flabbergasted, not only because of the +great expense, but because of the love expressed through its purchase. + +The coat was a similar expression, plus a great deal of gratitude. I +needed to say thanks in a way that would last. I never stopped to +calculate the length of a lifetime, but believed the coat would survive +that long. + +On Christmas Eve the gifts were opened. + +"Norm, what do you think of mine?" I baited him. + +"Didn't you get my gift yet?" I continued. + +He looked about his feet for unopened packages, but found nothing. I +knew he would not; the coat was still in my closet. + +"Oh! I guess it's still upstairs!" I raced up the steps to retrieve +the coat, then decided to put it on and wear it downstairs. + +Unable to rid my voice of its smile, I presented him with the coat +hanger. + +"It's all yours," I said. + +Norm looked at the hanger, the coat, at me, at the coat again. + +"You're kidding..." + +"No!" + +Tears welled up in his eyes as the truth sunk in. Perhaps Norm best +described the way he was feeling when he said. . . "what a load!" + +It was almost more than a person could handle. + +We took a nighttime stroll after our celebration ended. The air was +crisp and clear and stars blinked like thousands of tree lights. Apart +from our conversation all was silent, befitting the midnight hush. +This was, indeed, the best Christmas. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 232 + +Chapter 29 +Self Imposed Barriers + + + +"I am nature, and like all aspects of nature I, too, must respect +the passing of seasons within my life." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE + +Self Imposed Barriers + + + + +I too, was capable of erecting quite formidable barriers to my health, +happiness and general desire for peace. The initial days of my last +semester at Black Hawk College had me floundering desperately for +sanity; I had talked myself into attempting 17 hours of credit so I +would receive a degree rather than merely transferring my hours to the +next college if, indeed, there would be a "next college." Had I not so +enjoyed sanity, I might have allowed myself to entertain this wretched +state of turmoil; as it was, reason soon came to my rescue and I was +able to fling one enormous subject back into the sea of college +courses. Having discarded the excess weight, I was perfectly capable +of continuing my other subjects with ease and enjoyment, and +accommodate my tendency toward perfectionistic behavior through my +attainment of an A average. + +Perfectionism is a behavioral pattern which is not easily discarded, +yet when one fostering this destructive mode of thought is able to +control it, and reach the irrevocable conclusion that perfectionism is +a desperately counterproductive personality, he is able to +substantially reduce his mental anxiety. One ruled by perfectionism +finds no happiness, and must also face the future in a similarly +uncompromising light. Since no one is perfect an endless struggle +continues throughout one's existence. + +One course which deserves mention if only for its intrinsic quality of +humor was called "biofeedback." Of many options, a student was +required to choose a course under a certain category despite its utter +worthlessness regarding his degree. These were often regarded with +contempt, as students felt them to be a sheer waste of time; +nevertheless the courses were an easy "A" for those who applied a +modest degree of interest and effort. + +My elected class centered on controlling and tempering one's emotions +through the relaxation of individual body parts, and eventually slowing +one's involuntary functions such as heart rate and breathing. These +various forms of relaxation were monitored by electric devices attached +to pulse points on the head and arms. + +More interesting than the machine, however, was the teacher who +lectured to us. Apparently her method of relaxation worked incredibly +well, for she would stand in front of the class and speak so calmly, so +slowly, that she nearly fell asleep mid-sentence. As the class wore +on, those seated about the room would either begin to fidget +uncontrollably or gradually transcend earthly consciousness into a vast +ocean of dreams. I often found my mind wandering aimlessly, far from +the room in which my body was confined, yet I fostered a benevolent +sympathy for the dreamy instructor and tried to concentrate upon the +content of her messages, though like a flower in tight bud, they took +forever to unfold. When it was finally time to depart, and we all +dashed toward our cars, I could not help but wonder whether it was safe +for her to drive thus relaxed. + +In addition to discovering new methods of relaxation, I desired to hear +other opinions which dealt with emotions and the control thereof; +I fought a battle with depression a year earlier, and won; thus my +interest stemmed from former conflicts which, resolved, inhabited my +memory only, yet stood as steadfast reminders to listen to my mind's +plea for rest. + +The assignments in the class were not in the least rigorous and usually +consisted of merely reading books of the "self-help" variety. With the +exception of one book, those which I read were generally "compatible" +with readers, meaning that they took all stands in general but none in +particular. The book with which I had extreme difficulty was based +upon the premise "If it feels good, do it," for which I have little +regard. + +1982: "I have decided that, although Dr. D's speech within the book +denies it, he is also an insecure person; or perhaps he is simply vain. +My reason for so stating this was due to my observance that Dr. D's +cover photo is purposely cut in such a manner that his unquestionably +bald head is concealed from the general public. Baldness is certainly +not uncommon in our society, nor is it something which should be looked +upon in shame. After all, you are what you are... body and mind +are a unit! + +Moreover, if his photo was so ingeniously cut for the purpose of +vanity, he needed not "grace" us with his countenance on both the front +and back covers of his book. + +I further noted that his title and choice of attire coincide in such a +manner that one is led to believe the book is of a different content. +To more clearly explain myself, "erroneous" is much too easily confused +with "erogenous" especially when teamed with D's low-cut knit shirt +revealing a sparsity of chest hairs! + +An individual seeking guidance toward finding his own beliefs and +personality is quite vulnerable; suggestions made by self-assured, +confident people will create a vivid color in his mind. Therefore, it +is important that one who is easily persuaded guards against such +flagrant and opinionated views of personal conduct, lest he be drawn +into a mode of behavior which is worth less than he merits. + +I do not believe that a person housing a low self-image should be told +to feel free to exercise his wishes as long as they please only him; +while no one respects a person who compromises all of his beliefs to +please or "be liked" by others, one who succumbs to his every whim +despite the ill consequences toward others also gains nothing. It is +beneficial for the uncertain individual to ingest each successive +suggestion, and choose which is his desired path toward improvement. + +Reading self-improvement books was often a disappointment as I found +the content to be disagreeable in ethical terms or some startling and +conclusive evidence which I had already concluded on my own. I also +pitied the individual who needed to read such books before realizing +that he fostered depression or another debilitating emotion; yet hoped +that once his repressed emotions were brought to the fore, he would +find the altruistic guidance needed to become an emotionally balanced +individual, rather than a monster begotten of the misguided advocates +of selfishness. If everyone abided by the "philosophies" stated in the +latter books, the world could not be a tolerable place to exist; +lacking concern for one's fellow man, society would fall into disarray +and collapse altogether. + + +Mon. Mar. 15 1982... On this 15th night of March, the heavens once +again proclaim that spring indeed will come. Beneath the shroud of +haze one is able to catch fleeting glimpses of lightning, followed by +the inevitable and distant roar of thunder. Each day possesses a unique +beauty; I am happy that I did not miss this event. Perhaps the steady +beat of rain upon the roof-top will lull me to sleep a sound, contented +sleep. . . the thunder again claps the listening ear while lightning +sears the gray sky to the realization that a new season is close at +hand. I sleep... with peace of mind and body... and rejoice in nature's +splendor and complexity which man cannot begin to understand. Is not +mystery the food which keeps one alive? + + +It is spring once again. Here I sit feeling at once happy and sad +toward the coming of another season. A balmy and gentle breeze now +whispers through the budding trees, taking the place of winter's harsh, +relentless chill. With each rain, with every ray of sunlight, the +grass hurries to be lush and green. Nothing can hold back the passage +of time. . . of the seasons. + +I am flooded with an almost uncontrollable urge to cry. . . to loosen +all my burdens upon this strong and vital earth. Yet one cannot +unleash from himself that which is his part in nature's unceasing life +cycle. I am as essential, or nonessential, as every living organism; +it must follow then, that I make no demands which cannot possibly be +fulfilled. I am nature, and like all aspects of nature I, too, must +respect the passing of seasons within my life. + +Things change rapidly; still others remain relatively the same; across +the ravine, the graveyard stands as a solid marker of the past, and a +constant reminder that no one leaves the earth alive. + +Forget it. I cannot write. It seems that one's inner thoughts happen +to be the most difficult to express. Writing used to be easier. But +then, perhaps, the more one (experiences) the harder it is to write it +down. The nearer one is to death, the less words can express one's +true feelings. Words would not do justice to my feelings. Perhaps I +am only passing off my inability to write... but I think not. However, +I shall try again... Am I at the end of the road? Have I nothing left +to say? + +Spring soon descended on the earth, and though I tried to envelope +myself in its many splendors, I felt them spinning dizzily away, with +summer following close behind like a shadow which remains hidden due to +the dimness of the sun. The forthcoming season was recognized as one +of rest and relaxation, but viewing the month which lay before me +brought no inner comfort, for my time had already been reserved by the +desires of others, gazing apprehensively at the calendar, months were +swallowed by demands which I felt I could not impede, so concerned were +those who wished to "see me," the rarity which would soon disappear +from the face of the earth. "How shall I withstand the whirlwind?" +I asked myself. "When am I to live?" + +For one who is essentially a loner, not only wanting, but needing, time +alone, enjoyment of life decreases as social activities increase. +Initially, I plunged bravely into summer, hoping that if I met its +demands head-on, I could more easily manipulate my necessity for quiet +interludes; I further supposed that significant hints would prove +sufficient impetus under which to situate free time. Alas, I was +wrong, and to my dismay, found myself on the edge of thorough emotional +duress. Rather than risking a relationship due to a brash, beseeching +plea for peace on my behalf, I allowed myself to rend internally, +leaving a tattered remnant of myself at the summer's end. There is +only one respite to that assertion, that was time spent with Norm on +the week-ends or on the trip to Colorado... + +It is a rather strange sensation one encounters when he fosters dreams +and desires and yet, simultaneously, knows that those dreams are that +which, in all probability, will never materialize; and while one deeply +feels the disappointment of this unattainable goal, he also accepts the +situation blandly as a matter of course. + +Toward the mountains I felt just this emotion. . . desire and inability +mottled with the acceptance that had already developed within my mind. +Coupled with the internal disappointment of the "now" was the +realization of that which I was capable of mastering the former year. + +Despite these physical limitations, however, I am still able to +thoroughly enjoy the mere sensations of the mountains by way of my +eyes, ears, and touch. Here I can still derive a satisfaction... a +feeling of solitude... which no other type of atmosphere can fulfill. + +It is my opinion that only a brash fool could not love this atmosphere. +...this is no place for hate... it is for life, emotion, and death +and for the celebration thereof. + + +Sept. 2, 1982: + +Here I sit, casually observing the transformation of summer into the +cloak of early fall. It is slightly unbelievable that summer is now +slipping away as smoothly as the wind shuffles my hair. I enjoyed the +summer, but the time has elapsed from one day to the next until the +days themselves are lost in a hazy dream. Had I only the chance, I +would rearrange time to include the serenity which I now possess. I +feel that my early summer was washed away in a blur of nervous, albeit +necessary, activities; I remained uncharacteristically surrounded by +petty occupations to retain a shred of sanity. . . so reved up was my +emotional stability that I neglected, unconsciously, to step out of the +race. I felt cheated. . . having so little time and yet so much I +desired to accomplish. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 236 + +Chapter 30 +Autumn at Augustana + + + +"School was not a "given" in my life. . . I had no other alternative +but to uphold a charade of normalcy. . .that gave my parents the right +to hope. . . " + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY + +Autumn At Augustana + + + + +With summer drawing to a close, my friends slowly drifted their +separate ways as the fall semester of 1982 beckoned and bid them to +cast away the carefree mood of days gone by. I, too, readied myself +for the new semester with apprehension; the purpose of continuing +school in my state of health eluded me, yet I felt too weak to contest +the arrangement. Drained from months of activity which depleted my +energy and abused my emotional stability, I knew also that I had +developed further symptoms of liver malfunction during the summer. +Even the mildest days, with temperatures reaching no higher than 70 +degrees, would cause my body to overheat; if I did not remedy the +situation by chewing ice or removing myself from the location, I would +sweat profusely, and eventually obtain a relentless headache and +nausea. This symptom was altogether annoying and seemed to me a huge +inconvenience, as I could not sit comfortably in an atmosphere which +most people heartily enjoyed. In addition, I would tire easily and +found it increasingly more difficult to perform the least taxing of +functions such as rapidly ascending multiple flights of steps, without +reaching my destination quite breathless, my heart pounding at an +alarming rate. + +Knowing these effects would not subside, I dreaded the coming months. +September and school seemed to fit together like pieces in a jigsaw. +I could not help but wonder where, in the world, I would possibly find +a niche. + +I initially enrolled in four classes at Augustana, feeling obliged to +retain full-time status if I intended to obtain an education within a +reasonable period of time. From the outset, I elected to study German +as well as two other "staples," those being a Geography course and a +course in English literature. I still entertained the romantic notion +of traveling to Germany one day, utilizing with fluency and grace my +haphazard rendezvous with the native language. After two weeks in the +class, however, I deemed it too much of an emotional strain to attempt +a new tongue under the pressure of the teacher who radiated the +likeness and temperament of Adolph Hitler. Quickly moved to a +decision, I dropped the course to add another in English which tackled +the various plays of Shakespeare. This, I thought, would be more apt +to lie within my realm of understanding. + +The first class of the day was Early English Literature, which was +taught on the lower floor of "Old Main," a stately edifice which, to +me, seemed to possess the ability to gather and retain heat within its +confines. Each morning I would mount the cement steps which led to Old +Main, hoping that "this time" some windows would be open to allow cool +air to cleanse the room of its persistent stuffiness. Sometimes before +class, one window would be breathing fresh air into the room, exhaling +through the open doorway the stale air which otherwise choked the room. +Upon the teacher's arrival, however, the door would automatically +close to "keep noise to a minimum," and I cringed with dismay as the +circulating air stopped dead in its tracks. + +As the instructor spoke of the early legends of the Norsemen and the +icy gales in which men battled, even my wistful images of the frozen +climate could not impede my body's growing internal heat. I would +begin to feel as if an oven had been opened in front of my face, +followed by an unrestrained flow of sweat. I fought to retain my sense +of humor and enjoy the class, but as my hair began to plaster itself +closely to my scalp from the heat, concentration gradually lessened +until I could think of nothing else but fleeing from the classroom to +the fresh air outside. At the end of the hour, I dashed through the +door to the nearest restroom in an attempt to restore, to a reasonable +degree, my appearance. On many days, I actually looked as if I'd just +been swimming and had not allowed my hair to dry. + +Depending on the amount of time I had to spend between classes, I was +sometimes able to sit outside and let the breeze dry my hair and cool +my body. A shortage of time or inclement weather forced me to simply +walk to my following class, where the cooler room eventually afforded a +more comfortable situation for me, allowing me to slowly dry off. + +Throughout the hours between my second and third classes, I would +purchase and eat lunch and then situate myself in the least obtrusive +spot I could find to study or write. On several occasions, I was able +to visit with an old friend, with whom I'd initially become acquainted +at church, and who, I might add, was virtually the only person I felt +comfortable addressing. When she appeared, time passed rapidly and +easily. She also dispelled some of my fears about the campus (among +these, the library) by ushering me through the quiet corridors of the +rather intimidating building. + +To my friend I also expressed my feeling that the school had a more +impenetrable barrier than any other I had experienced, giving one the +impression that the circles of friends which existed could not afford +any new members. Repeatedly, I had offered triflings of conversation to +classmates, only to be answered with blunted replies or silence. Since +the bulk of the students were not daily commuters, she had experienced +the same treatment her first semester and therefore concluded that the +best way to feel a part of Augie was to reside in one of the +dormatories until she had developed several friends and +acquaintances, and then return home to live. + +I knew, of course, that the next best way to meet people was to join +organizations, and as the old saying goes, "get involved!" My mom used +to suggest that I sit down with a group at lunch, introduce myself, and +start talking. I suppose there are those who would have success with +this type of salesmanship, yet I could never barge through closed doors +into a conversation of which I had no knowledge. This would seem more +an invasion of privacy than an extension of friendship. My general +health was also an inhibitive factor; apart from my appearance, I was +tired and weak, and did not desire to explain my situation to others +for fear of adverse reactions. Fatigued from attending school and +studying my lessons, I felt I could ask no more of myself; I extended +my friendship and smile to those who would accept them, but attended no +extracurricular functions, desiring instead to use up any reserve +energy in doing those things at home which I most enjoyed. It helped to +understand the general flavor of Augie as being intrinsically different +from my former school; I did not react to its indifference as a +personal affliction, nor did I seek out various social groups to forge +a place for myself in the hearts of others. + +Through my weary and knowing eyes, I observed the turmoil of which I +was not a part, feeling worlds away from the carefree and jubilant +frolic which bespoke the presence of health. I felt suspended in time, +as if all else moved about me, each following his desired route, while +I stood rooted before a dead end. Never before had I encountered such +desolate helplessness, yet I did not wish to change places with anyone +... even with cancer quietly closing in. Though health could have +endured some improvement, with my mind, my values, I was content. +While certain individuals under my gaze possessed what seemed to be +genuine character, I saw also those who chatted constantly about petty +concerns and displayed no depth or true emotion; their lives were a +farce. If this was the trade-off for being part of the social +whirlwind, I was content, as always, to watch unobserved from my +stationary corner... + + + + +The Observer + +I am the satellite, +The worldly observer +Of a spinning mass of confusion. +I am equidistant +Between humanity +And the heavens, +Between star-strewn galaxies +And streets besmeared +With innovations.... +I see and compute +And attempt to make sense +Of this confused world.... +Though the heavens +Are complex, +I believe they are not +Half so much as are +The roads of human life. + +September 10, 1982 +Lauren Isaacson + + + + + + + + + +Negative Aspects + +In my world +Time passes slowly, +Allowing moments to reflect upon the aspects of life +I coldly rejected: + +I see meaningless lives, +Bereft of all worry, +Flaunt worthless smiles, +And empty laughter. +Pessimists carry frowns +Behind trudging feet +Upon leashes...... +Forever dragging their burden +Of discontent to the world. +Souls haunted by loneliness +Hang their heads in despair, +Their eyes searching desperately +For the shred of compassion +Which will never come, +Until loneliness surrounds +And follows their every step, +Heralding irreversible regression: +Chronically depressed +Cling to sadness +As their sole purpose in life, +While their troubled minds +Create wistful images of suicide. + + +September 12-15, 1982 + +Lauren Isaacson + + + + + + + + + +Masks + +One may choose +Countless masks +To portray his image +Unto the world, +And yet it seems +That ultimately +Masks are shattered; +Revealing that which +Resides within. +It is wise to discern +Between one's mask +And self +Before life exposes +Untainted features to humanity, +The one body +Which is utterly ruthless +In its judgment. + + +September 15, 1982 +Lauren Isaacson + + + + + +Perhaps my most enjoyable hours were spent outside on a hill +overlooking the campus. On the hill, I felt serene; every other place +on campus I felt my life slipping away, as if I was carrying death +within me. Here I would sit in idle reflection and muse on the autumn +leaves falling lazily to the ground. The squirrels, with their crazy +antics, were desperately hoarding all the acorns they found, burying +and reburying until I'm sure even they didn't know where the acorns +were. And I mustn't forget the restless breeze, ever blowing and +hinting of winter. I shared a bond with autumn that was, at once, +beautiful and sad. In life nothing truly ends, although there are +countless births and as many deaths. With or without my own existence, +life itself would go on, virtually heedless of one heartbeat lost to +forever. In this reflective and tranquil mood I would transfer my +thoughts to paper to better clarify for myself and for others the way +in which I viewed my existence. + + + + + +The War Within + +Daily, it seems, I feel the alien +Presence that resides within, +Slowly pressing life from my +Faculties in a bland attempt +To reign in full over my ravaged body. +Neither do I madly oppose nor readily +Submit to my ruthless attack, +But attempt to retain a shred +Of normalcy in my existence. +Life takes what it will, and +Being a product of two lives, +I am subject to be called +To nonexistence, as is all creation. +Nature permits no flattery... +No favoritism...hence the +Ultimate equality of mammals, +Whether man or beast, in death. + +September 27, 1982 +Lauren Isaacson + + + +The third and last class of the day was geography, dealing with the +conflicts of urban life and the planning of cities. It was what I +would call a "crash course," as it was a full quarter of work condensed +into a mere four weeks' time. The first test, being somewhat of a +midterm exam and covering a great deal of the text and lecture +material, was given after about two weeks; I need not say, perhaps, +that I found the class to be quite exhilarating. Indeed, it kept me on +my toes, if I may borrow a well used phrase, and taxed my eyes as well. +My efforts proved worthwhile, however, and I scored highly on the +initial exam. A final exam and a project were the only remaining +obligations of the class, leaving two English courses as my sole +exertions for the rest of the quarter. It wasn't a bargain, but then +nothing could be had without making an allowance of some consequence. + +After attending my class, I would gratefully return home, exhausted, +and lie down for several hours. I generally did no homework on days I +went to school, saving my energy for days off and weekends. School +coincided with drudgery, for I was no longer deriving any pleasure from +life. If I was not in school or studying diligently, I was thoroughly +fatigued and unable to pursue diversions of my liking. It seemed to me +that I was nearly committing suicide through the over-exertion of my +failing body, playing the role of a normal person when I was unfit for +the rigorous portrayal. + +As the days passed, I began to see the utter ridiculousness of my +situation. I felt lifeless after school, and began to wonder why I +maintained the effort; I had no foreseeable future in which I could +utilize the knowledge obtained in college, and my time and energy thus +spent gradually took on the guise of futility. It was after two +occasions of pathetically wetting my nightgown (due to the fact that my +exhausted body did not heed the brain's warning of distress) that I +decided to accept defeat. The demeaning situation described above +occurred only during sleep after school days, which, consequently, +were the days that caused the bulk of my exhaustion. + +School was not a "given" in my life; it was a factor over which I had +control. Initially, I felt I had no other alternative but to uphold a +charade of normalcy, for that gave my parents the right to hope and +feel, perhaps, that life for our family was somewhat akin to the +societal norm. Although I had experienced deep tremors of anxiety +toward the thought of attending school during the summer months, I too, +deemed it best to carry on; I could not abide the image of myself as +an unproductive, and therefore, devalued member of the family. Also +within me was the question of whether I could manage the demanding +pressures of school, and the need to somehow prove to myself that +I could, both mentally and physically, pass the test. Though my +assignments were well accepted, my physical performance was far below +average; my will was strong, but my body could not keep up. The +decision to drop all of my classes spelled defeat, for I disliked to +quit, but even more it meant relief and the freedom to entertain my +desires in a comfortable atmosphere without overly taxing myself. + +My parents looked upon my action with more regret and pain, for it +brought the issue of my ill health to the forefront. Now it could no +longer be concealed behind a wall of books or hours spent out of the +house, for I was home all day, every day. My mom persisted in her +assertion that "if only you'd taken just one class. . ." it could have +added excitement and social interaction to my life. Had I enjoyed +school as do habitual students, I might have followed her suggestion, +yet I found my free time to be an immense improvement and would forgo +none of it to sit in a stuffy classroom. One need not attend a college +to expand his intellectual horizons, and I had no intention of falling +into illiteracy; I merely wanted to do what I wanted, when I wanted. + +Having scored highly on my first geography exam and completed the +English assignments successfully gave me the confidence that I so +needed, and further led me to believe that I would have otherwise been +a capable student; while I suffered a physical defeat, I had not failed. + +With no obligations to fulfill, my life was rejuvenated with a +simplicity which could best be described as wonderful. I truly reveled +in the autumn splendor and my spirit possessed a vitality which had +nearly been smothered by a mere four weeks' toil and stress. My +general health improved markedly as I was no longer plunging all of my +energies into school's demands. I now could heed my body's warning to +rest as needed, and thereby enjoy more fully the other areas in which +my interest thrived. The thought that time was rapidly slipping by +gave way, once again, to the essence of quality which had, for a while, +escaped my grasp. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 243 + +Chapter 31 +Depression + + + +"It is essential to realize that no matter what type of adversity one +may have to face, the ultimate self is the inner self." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE + +Depression + + + + +When a person is told he has a terminal illness, depression is a very +natural reaction. Not only does the individual have to face a disease +which shall bring about weakness and failure of one's bodily functions, +but also he is obliged to acknowledge that the culmination of his life +waits on his very doorstep. + +For myself, it was not the fear of death which brought about various +intervals of depression, but rather the realization that my dreams for +the future and the reality thereof would not coincide. Occasionally, +as time passed, I would also become disheartened by the way in which +the cancer was transforming my body in a visual sense. I had always +taken pride in maintaining my figure for my health and appearance, and +now I was helpless against the shape I was quickly becoming as the +cancer grew. I was also aware of its effect internally, and exercise +gradually tapered off into nonexistence. I found my lungs unable to +fully inflate, and my heart beat would hover around 100 beats per +minute with only mild exercise; fear would soar when I would, without +warning, desperately need a bathroom. + +I did not hate my life, yet when I was afflicted with nausea for hours +in a day or forced to miss an anticipated outing because of diarrhea +and the need of a bathroom in close vicinity, my spirits could plummet +and make me wish that death was close at hand. While those things I +most valued I still possessed, the magnitude of my physical condition +would surface when I would once again be harshly reminded that +"normalcy" was no longer credible, as if that state of being was a rug +which was being swept out from under my feet. + +In addition to feeling inconvenienced by cancer, I also experienced a +sense of worthlessness, although of a different sense than that which +I felt upon my initial bout at age 13. When I was younger, I placed +a great deal of importance upon physical attributes; consequently the +post-treatment loss of all my hair, necessitating the purchase of a +wig, resulted in the questioning of my parents affection. I could not +understand how anyone could possibly care about a bald, rather +skeletal, daughter. + +My later loss of self-worth centered more on my inability to perform +certain household chores, attend school or maintain employment. I was +incapable of strenuous tasks and the fluctuations in my health were +such that a steady job would be unthinkable. Since I no longer felt +that I acted the part of a "good citizen," guilt quickly crept into my +mind. I was living under the wing of my parents as I watched friends +initiate themselves into the mainstream of societal expectations; +theirs were blooming lives, while I seemed stranded in a murky, +stagnant pool, simply taking up space. I was eventually able to +resolve this self-inadequacy through interaction with my family and +friends who, I observed, did not think less of me as a person simply +because I did not conform to the standard ideal of accomplishment; +those with whom I had close association knew and accepted my +weaknesses, and sought my companionship despite any inconveniences they +might have had to endure because of my presence. Moreover, and +possibly of foremost importance, was the fact that I finally accepted +my limitations and no longer attempted to prove to myself that I could +still do something for which my body was unfit; I admitted that +self-restriction, or at least careful government of my activities, +would allow me greater flexibility and opportunity in the long run of +affairs. + +It would be a lie to say that, having aged six years, I no longer fell +subject to self-devaluation through a loss of physical attributes. As +my waistline disappeared and my stomach began to protrude (for lack of +anywhere else to go), I grew increasingly more self-conscious of my +figure. Even at the outset, I considered my midsection enormous, and +purchased oversized shirts to conceal what I believed to be a horrible +deformity. As the liver continued to expand, for which I had been +mentally prepared, I began outgrowing clothes, especially pants (due to +the waistline) shortly after they were purchased. Soon I was giving +pants to my mother who wore a size 12; winter coats which did not +button were also handed to Mom who accepted the gifts as graciously as +the occasion permitted. The waist which had measured 24 inches grew to +32; the stomach protruded far beyond my bosom, a ghastly 37 inches in +diameter. People began to ask innocently, "when is it due?" I could +not deny it, it followed me everywhere. . . glaring at me through each +piece of clothing. It bid me "good morning" and packed me to bed at +night. + +Perhaps one of my most distressing fears was the idea of encountering a +school mate who was not aware of my health situation, and either be +labeled as "pregnant" or "stout." Pregnancy out of wedlock was +completely unacceptable to me; while the lack of control which would +accompany mere weight gain was also a speck in my eye; I revolted +against both assumptions with similar distaste and simply hoped to +avoid familiar faces. If such a meeting did occur, I would generally +explain my current state of affairs, although I also disliked +blackening one's day with news which was generally categorized as +traumatic and distressing. When a person inquired into how I'd been +spending my time, I would have to subdue my urge to devalue myself due +to the impressive answers I failed to relate. As a whole, reunions +were rather a blemish in my day. + +As I came to identify myself not with my "deformity" or my +accomplishments, but instead with my personal character, I felt more +at ease in group situations. + +It is essential to realize that no matter what type of adversity one +may have to face, the ultimate self is the inner self. Deformities mar +the surface, but they need not devastate the interior; one's +personality needs to be projected beyond the body or the face, just as +it has to be expressed by the "normal" individual. A pretty face does +not assure the observer of an equally beautiful personality. There +will be those who will be uncomfortable in the presence of a stricken +individual, but those people should be given patience and +understanding; reactions are frequently simultaneous and the result of +shock or immeasurable pity, not incivility or rudeness. Those few +individuals who are cruel and insensitive are not worth the anger they +provoke, for they are the children of ignorance and have not lived +through pain and strife; for some, empathy is not inherent, it must +be learned. + +I also found it to my benefit if I would candidly mention my health +instead of trying to conceal it like an illegal drug; I discovered that +although it was difficult to hear of my misfortune, it was easier than +if the burden had actually been their own. + +The pervasive sadness which can strike when one grasps the reality of +illness does not endure forever, unless in self-pity, one allows +himself to be drawn into such an utterly oppressive mental state. +Sadness is a part of life which makes joyous moments all the more +valued; man is an animal, and in so being, it is characteristic of his +make-up that he feel pain and pleasure. To deny one's feelings, or so +dwell on one aspect, is to deny one's humanness and natural traits. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 246 + +Chapter 32 +Basic Day + + + +"Autumn. . .the world was filled with sound, a veritable grand finale +before the penetrating hush of winter." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO + +A Basic Day + + + + +I loved autumn, a season both riotous and melancholy, and it was best +shared with those I loved. Thus I spent a great amount of time with +Norm. We shared a mutuality which spanned the insignificant to the +more complex modes of thought in such a way that neither of us felt +compelled, nor hindered, to speak. As comfortable in each other's +company as we were alone, our relationship did not possess the usual +tensions and expectations so prevalent in most friendships. That we +enjoyed each other was enough. + +Through the week, Norm worked second shift as a custodian at a local +junior high school. Since he didn't depart for work until 3:00 p.m., +his daily routine at home usually consisted of leisurely activities, +lest he become too tired to properly do his work. + +We shared the upstairs, which was divided into two separate rooms with +an accordian door, providing privacy that was sufficient, yet far from +sound proof. Generally we would wake around the hour of 9:00 a.m. +Either the static notes of his clock radio or a rustling which attested +to his hastily making the bed would usher through the door, and harken +the beginning of another day, or I would rise first and find Norm +staring at the ceiling among an entangled mass of sheets. + +The person who made it downstairs first was the one who, if Mom had +made some for herself and Dad, divided the morning "gruel." Since the +family had recently acquired a microwave oven, the machine allowed a +quick and thorough heating of the cereal if one simply transferred the +contents of the pan into stoneware bowls. + +Because several hours had passed between Mom's preparation of the +cereal and our reheating of the same, it usually molded itself into a +solid bulk shaped exactly to the pan's dimensions. This made dividing +easier but deftness was needed to assure that each half found its way +into the bowl. On one particular occasion Norm, spatula poised in +hand, was directing each slimy mass into its bowl when one half escaped +his control and proceeded to flop onto the counter, splat on the floor +and go skidding across the waxed tile. I found this affair to be +thoroughly amusing as it was in the same scenario which I had starred +only a week before. Perhaps it would not have been so humorous if the +cereal did not have such a nasty appearance, which in itself would seem +to ward off any potential consumer. Moreover, hot cereal had quite a +lengthy history between Norm and me. + +When I was in fifth grade, Norm was to see that I ate a decent +breakfast before setting off to school, since Mom had once again +decided to renew her teaching certificate and was employed as a +kindergarten teacher. At the time I fairly detested the appearance and +taste of cereal, yet managed to choke down a moderate amount before my +taste buds rebelled, after which no promptings, no bribery, would make +me swallow another spoonful. Norm, feeling it was his duty to inflict +some sort of punitive action upon my finicky tongue, would then lead me +into the bathroom, and make me watch as he poured the remaining oatmeal +into the toilet and flushed it away. Although some people might have +found this treatment cruel and definitely unusual in nature, I was +struck by intense hilarity upon viewing the mottled gray food hitting +the water, looking and sounding like an enactment of the flu season. + +A few years later I retaliated in kind by saying that the cornmeal mush +he was then eating looked like an exact replica of what I'd seen about +the floor of the cage in which the bears resided at Brookfield Zoo. +"You had to say it, didn't you?" he scowled as he looked at the yellow +meal still staring him in the face. Although hot cereal had a +personality all its own, sporting a slightly different appearance each +day, certain mornings, it just didn't have the eye appeal to start the +taste buds rolling. + +Eventually our bantering jokes collided with such frequency that they +lost all of their effect and we would continue eating, undaunted by the +grotesque conjurings which were sailing about the kitchen. Though by +now a standard joke, oatmeal suffered no lack of humor; to us it was +inherently funny. We did not tire of the commonplace and routine; +where there is love even the most insignificant of things has a spark. + +Having eaten breakfast, whether hot cereal or an alternative, we would +often fall upon the task of washing and drying the morning dishes. +Neither of us minded chores. I have often witnessed people who so +rebelled against performing a simple task that in the time they wasted +voicing their complaints the chore could have been accomplished +completely. When one's mind is filled with happy thoughts, work takes +on an entirely different perspective, and mindless tasks give one time +to think. I am not attempting to say that, with the proper attitude, +work is always entertaining and fun, yet protests only serve to +multiply the weight of a potentially simple task. + +Helping with the chores at home also gave me a sense of usefulness and +made me glad that I was able to be productive in certain respects. I +have no regard for those who will, in the name of ill health, sit idly +by and observe others do all the work, when they in fact are yet quite +capable of doing it themselves. Laziness as a result of illness is in +itself a severe malady. It is also an enormous character flaw which +speaks loudly of the one thus afflicted. . . more so, perhaps, than the +person realizes; slovenliness wins no friends. I have also discovered +that laziness begets more laziness; it is a weed with far reaching +roots that thrives on itself and holds one imprisoned. It is wise to +guard against this behavior, lest one be transformed into a useless +heap of flesh and blood, for its seeds lurk within even the most +industrious of people, and cheat them of life. Thus, whether in unison +or alone, the dishes were done, thereby lessening Dad's workload to a +degree. Dad's retirement moved him to exercise the household chores on +the main floor (although this did not include the preparation of +meals), while I maintained the upper. Group cooperation helped +everyone, even though Mom could still be seen flitting about the house +on weekends, pushing this and poking that; her activity was compulsive. +Even her work as a teacher was better described as "full-time and a +half." + +Our mailman had the accuracy of a Swiss watch. Each day, whether +glorious or gloomy, the telltale moan of the mailbox lid would resound +at exactly 9:30. Then, if one was quick, he could be seen striding +away at a brisk pace, already two houses up the avenue. + +Having developed a keen interest in stocks and futures, Norm generally +received the majority of the day's hoard, and the brokers barraged him +with a large round of literature and calculations proving that their +firm was where money could be made. Unceremoniously sorting through +his various letters, he then would bound upstairs to read the Wall +Street Journal, disappearing, for all practical purposes, at least +an hour. + +I also looked forward to the coming of the mail, although I didn't +receive much of interest aside from an occasional letter. The +remainder of my mail, like that addressed to Norm, were attempts to +direct my money into the hands of others; while his letters requested +money for investment, mine were in the form of catalogs and most of +which could not be classified as an investment, but rather, an +accumulation of commodities to be purchased. Junk mail, however, was +better than none. + +The noon hour sent Norm downstairs again, and the three of us visited +for a while before again pursuing our own interests. Afternoon would +find Dad bustling around the house, fixing one of the numerous +household maladies, peering under the hood of a car, or during outdoor +months, maintaining the yard. Norm could usually be seen dozing in a +lawn chair, strategically positioned for the best view and the most +sunshine. Even frigid temperatures would not keep him indoors if the +sun was poking its face out of the clouds, for he would don boots and a +snowsuit (or "Pepto-Bismol suit" in his opinion, since such attire +appeared to bloat the individual thus clad) and, lawn chair in tow, +trudge faithfully to his choice location in the snow. He also managed +to take a daily stroll in the woods behind our house. No season would +keep him away, whether the woodland carpet consisted of spring flowers +or newly shed leaves. The contentment on his face was obvious; +the simple, honest life yielded remarkable returns. + +I spent my newly acquired free time in much the same manner as did +Norm. Although I never frequented the snow-covered landscape even in a +sedentary fashion, I did make the most of the other seasons, with +autumn topping the list. I loved to watch the leaves cascade to the +ground, and listen to the eerie rustling of wind through the trees. It +was as if the world was filled with sound, a veritable grand finale +before the penetrating hush of winter. + +When the weather did not lend itself to lounging amongst the trees, I +entertained myself by scanning through photography or nature books. +Having parted only recently with the demanding curricular schedule of +college, I shunned literature for a time, electing instead subjects +which could easily be laid aside without risking an interruption of a +thinly-woven plot. + +During the hours before Norm set off to work, I always made myself +accessible for conversation without being an imposition on his space or +freedom. Anything I was doing could be finished later if he desired to +talk, and consequently, we often sat over a cup of tea and pursued +various topics of interest. The subject itself never mattered, for the +companionship was the delight. The atmosphere we shared was unlike all +others. Receptive to the same mode of thought, the flow of +conversation was easy and unhindered. + +Near 3:00 p.m. Norm would rise from his chair with an accompanying, +"Well, better shove off. . ." and grasping his lunch bucket, paced out +the door to his car. After he had gone I did those things which our +conversation had delayed. Chores and other functions always waited to +be done; dust is very patient, and can easily be put off for an hour +or two! + +Despite Dad's flurry of activity around the yard and home, he always +found time to take me to lunch. We ate at restaurants once or twice a +week, which pleased me to no end, as I had enjoyed dining out since I +was quite young. Even though my lunch and stomach seldom tolerated +each other, it was worth the effort. The food, at any rate, tasted +good on the way down. + +Mom returned home from work usually between 4:00 and 4:30, although +5:00 p.m. stints became increasingly familiar as the years passed. The +age-old thought that one's work is easier as the years unfold did not +seem to hold any truth with respect to Mom's career. Her day never +came to an end, even after she dismissed the classroom. Armed with at +least one tote bag, she would continue her work after supper and into +the evening, often falling asleep to attest to her fatigue. She was +the only person I knew who could fall asleep and continue writing a +sentence, although admittedly the content of a sentence produced +through these means lacked all human sensibility and she would be +obliged to begin anew. + +Depending largely on the state of my health, I would help with the +preparation of supper in varying degrees, sometimes fixing a large +portion of the meal and other times doing little more than setting the +table or peeling vegetables for the salad. Apart from helping Mom, +meal preparation allowed us to catch up on the day's events, ranging +from my occasional outings to Mom's cantankerous and incorrigible +youth, of which there was always at least one per class. + +When the dishes once again found their way into the cupboards, the day +had slowed to a quiet pace. Dad would prop himself up in his recliner +behind a wall of newspaper and give an onlooker the impression that he +was avidly perusing the articles. Only a steady puffing or an +occasional snort would indicate that the downcast eyes saw no more +words on that page than would the gaze of a blind man. Mom remained +awake as long as she puttered about the house, but once seated, soon +acquired the visage of a woman drugged, weighted eyelids transforming +her eyes to slits. At this point, I could leave the room entirely +unnoticed. It was grand that we found each other so relaxing. Perhaps +the moral of this paragraph is that no one falls asleep in the presence +of someone he does not trust. + +My parents probably considered they had struggled enough to remain +awake, and by 10:30 settled into bed; I did not do likewise until +after midnight. Often I was still rustling about when Norm returned +home, and stationing myself on a kitchen chair, would oversee his hasty +reheating of the evening fare. Observing Norm eat was no lengthy +ordeal, for an entire plate-full of food could vanish in minutes. +A food's aesthetic appeal held little importance as long as +the flavor was agreeable. + +Despite the fact that I had no school or work to punctuate weekends, +they remained quite different from the rest of the week if only because +both Mom and Norm were home all day. Saturday and Sunday were the only +days when they saw each other since their work schedules did not +coincide, and would therefore catch up on the latest tidbits of +information while Mom did the laundry. Mom couldn't just sit and talk; +she had to be mending a sock, or sorting clothes or folding towels. +Her industriousness was not an exaggerated view of the work ethic +driven into her as a child. . . merely her nervous energy seeking an +outlet. + +Invariably weekends would bring at least one outing for Norm and me, +whether this consisted of a motorcycle ride, a drive in the car, a +walk, or a combination of many alternatives; a picnic was almost always +on our agenda. With my decreasing tolerance for heat, fall was +especially wonderful. The air once again attained a seasonal crispness +which beckoned us to bask in the sun or amble amongst the woodland's +profusion of color. A feeling of serenity pervaded the entire +landscape, a scene transformed after the chaotic months of summer. No +children's cries pierced the tranquility. . . no dirt bikes invaded +one's thoughts. + +Toting KFC and a six-pack of beer, we would situate ourselves alongside +of the Mississippi or travel to a park and eat beneath the trees. +Lingering for hours in the cool breeze of autumn and then, perhaps, +hiking on a trail or country road for a stretch, was leisure at its +best, and life was most worthwhile. These were the days I loved, yet +of more importance than the day was the person with whom I shared it, +for it is not the experience but rather the presence (or absence) of an +individual that truly raises life's moments above the mundane. Never +had I encountered such utter compatibility; we thought in the same way. +Norm often said, "We might as well not talk at all," because certain +occasions would find us simultaneously blurting out identical thoughts +and then stopping our tongues in midair. "Oh, well." The end result +was obvious to both of us, so there was no purpose in voicing our +viewpoint or observation. + +Norm seldom aired his feelings toward a person, for he was able to +demonstrate his tolerance and love for an individual through actions +and, not unlike many people, found it extremely difficult to verbalize +that which resided on tender ground. When someone's love for another +is clear, words, though pleasant to the ear, merely add warmth to the +heart. Rarity bestowed Norm's statements with more value; since the +words need not have been spoken to be understood, the words themselves +only clarified his feelings. + +More than once, however, Norm asserted that he was not sure how he +could handle my death, for aside from our great companionship he +thought of me as his touchstone with the female sex. There was not a +large array of women associated with his line of work, except for the +teachers who were yet in their rooms when he arrived, and he did not +wish conversation to become difficult simply through a lack of social +contact. How well I understood his statement; a steadfast advocate +of personal "self-sufficiency," I feared dependence of any kind upon +habits or people. That I so enjoyed Norm's company was, in itself, +a trifle unnerving because a loss of such magnitude would prove +devastating, yet Norm and death were two words which, in my eyes, +spanned the distance of one star to another. It was unthinkable that +Norm would die before me. + +Though Norm's words left me feeling worthwhile, nothing would alter the +course of their sincerity and eventual pain which he would feel simply +due to their actual existence in his mind. "I just wish you'd start to +get better." I just wished I could oblige. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 251 + +Chapter 33 +Treatments / Hoax + + + + +"What if...?" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE + +Treatments / Hoax + + + + +Amid the rising flood of new treatments and landmark cures which lapped +temptingly at our doorstep, I began to wonder if any supposed cure +really honored its name. I was tired of the restrictions which cancer +had placed on me, and my interest toward alternative methods of +treatment grew as rapidly as the size of my liver. I even questioned +whether a liver transplant was a possibility, but was forever wary of +the suffering involved; though I desired health, I would endure no +drastic measures toward that end, and knew also, that most +"possibilities" could never, for me, turn into a reality. + +Though not actively pursuing articles, I would read or hear about the +progress of various treatments as discovered by my parents; I was never +surprised to learn that the drug or method in question was ineffective +with my type of cancer; characteristically a slow grower, a +leiomyosarcoma was also remarkably tough and resilient to the most +terrifying of chemicals. + +Not easily persuaded into the acceptance of hopelessness, however, Mom +and Dad continued to inquire into the success of publicized drugs at +their source. The more controversial forms of treatment were also +investigated, and naturally their administrators claimed to have +realized at least a modicum of success. Admittedly, the thought of +undergoing treatment about which little was known seemed disconcerting, +and a mere description of certain treatments nearly made my gums +recede. One such method which sounded horrifyingly barbaric called for +the boiling of one's blood; after it had been "purified," it would be +routed back into the system once more. "If he lived..." I thought. +However, I had been on the research file while undergoing chemotherapy, +and it had been no delight either; no one of faltering strength could +long tolerate its effects, although some individuals have been known to +have received an injection on the day of their death. When man +realigns his values, perhaps one day chemotherapy also will be thought +of as barbaric and indeed, inhumane. + +After countless suggestions and subsequent dead ends, we were given a +new lead from a woman who worked at the church; a lead which, in her +opinion, sounded quite promising. Quizzing her for every detail, my +father immediately fell to gathering phone numbers, including past +patients of the doctor and the number through which an appointment with +the doctor could be made. A travel agency in California would set up +the time of departure and also take care of every detail of the stay, +from hotel accommodations to the treatment itself. Incidentally, the +treatment was administered only in Greece. + +Excitement pervaded the atmosphere at home as more information was +procured. The treatment boasted rave reviews, stemming from renewed +vitality to complete cures, yet side effects and discomforts as a +result of the injections were few and insignificant; indeed, the method +used sounded the least objectionable and the most productive of all +those that my parents had pursued. + +Once all readily available information about the treatment had come +into our possession, we phoned several former patients who lived in our +vicinity to interview them, so to speak, and obtain any additional +thoughts concerning the trip as a whole that might otherwise have +escaped our knowledge had we only read the pamphlet prepared by the +agency. We wished to receive no surprises of the negative kind through +ignorance, especially in a foreign country. Real or imagined, however, +the patients all expressed a degree of faith in their progress after +having undergone the series of intravenous shots; if nothing more, +perhaps this "doctor" administered high-priced hope. + +We discussed the option of a trip to Greece as thoroughly as possible, +not only among ourselves but with friends. Nearly everyone thought our +idea was quite splendid, and were happy that we were planning to try +it; they offered strength and support to our decision. Only two +individuals, my brother and his wife, voiced overt objections to our +plan; they questioned the authenticity of the treatment, not wanting to +see us be taken by quackery and false claims. We too were frightened +of that aspect, yet amid our uncertainty we thought that such a chance, +however questionable, should not be relinquished through skepticism +alone. "What if. . .?" was also a question too great to overlook when +the decision involved life and death. + +Housing slight reluctance, I agreed this new option was one that I +should try. Quite conscious of the amount of money which the trip and +treatment would ingest, I felt the affair was an extravagance of which +I was not worthy, but my father insisted that he would spend his life's +savings if it would restore my health. The money spent on the trip +would be an investment in happiness should it prove worthwhile, and the +risk incurred was an integral part of it... for we were dealing in +"futures." The return we sought was not of the tangible sort; it +existed as yet only in our dreams. + +Although I remained skeptical toward the validity of the treatment, I +could not suppress a glimmer of hope despite the hoard of fears that +took refuge in my restless mind. When the word "treatment" was denoted +as a "cure," an involuntary spark of anger was kindled in my chest, +spurred from present doubt and past disappointment; I wished to shield +myself from the gloom of overridden hope due to an empty cure, and +therefore attempted to foster little actual hope for any development +related to the disappearance of current symptoms and health disorders. +I could not, however, deny my family their renewed hope by objecting to +travel to Greece; I envisioned an image of boundless joy which my +health would generate among the family and circulate through the homes +of friends. + +A beam of hope infiltrated the confines of doubt in my mind also, and I +felt ready and rather anxious to accept this treatment as a means +toward the rebirth of health; this was one chance I could not pass by, +and perhaps there would no longer be a need for groping in the +obscurity of medical scams and hypocrisy if truly it was a cure. +I hoped the doctor was worthy of the trust which he had apparently +secured, for I was about to bestow upon him some of my own; if he +begrudged my lack of complete and unadulterated trust, so then it +must be, for such was the limit which my heart could withstand. + +Although the journey would be no pleasure excursion, traveling to a +strange and distant continent with uncertain health, I understood the +expectancy and purpose behind the trip, and vowed to follow the +instructions given by the doctor carefully. If the treatment +demonstrated no result, it would be through no fault of my own. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 254 + +Chapter 34 +Journey to Greece + + + +"Perhaps the sky is the sole glimpse of home that I have here in Athens + . . . the sky is always a constant factor." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR + +Journey To Greece + + + + +The day of our departure arrived amid a tidal wave of apprehension. +My excitement was not of the healthy, gleeful breed, but rather the +stomach-clenching variety that I would "wish away" if it was possible. +It was, once again, fear of the unknown that assailed my thoughts when +I should have been looking forward to new and interesting sights. +Making the diagnosis was simple; believing in it enough to admit the +silliness of my fear was not as easy. . . and nothing but +confrontation would smother that fear. + +I stood in the airport lobby wishing I had already gone and returned. +As the gate opened, I decided to take one large jump and move through +the metal detector and on to the official waiting room, where I +proceeded to stare a hole through the floor. Shortly before the plane +was to be boarded, a group of friends appeared to bid me farewell. We +were separated by a railing, but their warmth passed over the barrier +and embraced me. While the hugs and fair greetings did not dispell my +fear, I realized the amount of love which would be packed in my +suitcase for the month. Norm, my Uncle Les and a couple from our +church had also seen us off; love would sustain and lend buoyancy +during the hard times. + +I felt my stomach surge as the plane taxied near the gate and people in +the waiting room spilled out of their seats toward the doorway. It was +time to go. Sharon was traveling with us to Greece, inspired to go +through curiosity and concern about my health and the Greek doctor's +proclaimed cure. She had always wanted to visit Greece, and when such +an opportunity presented itself, it seemed ridiculous to simply let it +pass. + +I definitely was not traveling alone; the four of us formed our own +support group en route, exchanging conversation and smiles through the +dubious hours in which we flew over land and sea. Despite my family's +presence, however, homesickness began to set in shortly after lift-off +and graduated as we progressed. While the American top hits buzzed +happily through the headphones oblivious to the foreign space below, I +thought of home; when the snow capped Alps crossed our path, I thought +of Norm. Home. . . Norm. . . I knew they would be missed. Frankly, +they already were. + + +Diary: + +Jan. 12 1983... Last night there was a party, as anticipated, for the +Americans; it consisted of numerous Grecian delights, such as bhaklava, +and various other pastries. . . many of which were laden with honey. +There were also filberts and almonds, as well as beautiful steaks for +those desiring to partake. As for myself, I committed the +irretractable message that I was a "liver patient," and thereby was +denied the joy of a potentially ambrosiac steak. Such is life, +(no luck at all). + +Today I woke up at 6:30, as well as every hour on the hour throughout +the night! I went to the clinic... with Mom, this time... I received +my shot. The moment he administered the shot, the reaction began. I +felt as if my entire body had been assaulted by a blow torch! Several +minutes later, my face turned a lovely shade of red. Also simultaneous +with the shot was a distinct flavor of salt. I returned to the Akrion +and rested 'til 11:30, at which time I ate a breakfast of oatmeal with +honey and two pieces of toast (the latter of which I learned were +forbidden until after the 19th treatment. Oh well, hopefully that will +be the least of my follies). After drinking nearly an entire carafe of +water, I returned to the room and slept until 6:00 p.m. Following my +lengthy siesta, I ate a meager supper of greens, cucumbers and carrots +(salad) and a baked apple with honey and walnuts. + +A terrific addition... I got diarrhea... (pew). Must be because I'm +screwed up (times, meals, etc.). Sorry to say, impinged on Sharon's +right to fresh air while she was showering... + +The people, both patients and families and Greeks... all nice. + + +Jan 13, 14, 15, 16... Never have I felt so utterly depressed in a place +as I do here in Athens. Perhaps it is due to the fact that I am here +for the purpose of cancer treatment, not merely diversion. I have not +the energy nor the desire to do much sight-seeing. My meals are +routine and boring, not to mention that they do not provide sufficient +energy. Indeed, they are a hindrance to activity. Breakfast is +oatmeal with honey and a baked apple. Lunch is a salad and baked +apple, and dinner consists of a salad, apple and rice (if they have the +latter). I was so worn down after the bus tour Saturday that I nearly +cried when the waiter said there was no rice to be had. Nuts provide +energy, but too many of those can be a sickening experience. + +The first two nights I nearly went without sleep. Sharon snores +excessively while I, on the other hand, am quite a light sleeper (hear +all). In addition, a hi-way passes close to the hotel with motorists +ravaging the noise level at all times of the day and night. I began to +wonder if I'd sleep at all, so Mom and Sharon changed rooms. I guess I +needed Mom's support much more than I knew. She is quite mellow. . . +and I need all the relaxation I can possibly have. Somehow, I couldn't +handle Sharon's intensity, and I became more and more on edge. + +Yesterday I got too tired on the tour and broke down in the afternoon. +Once again I was glad Mom shared the room with me. Never before have I +been so easily shattered as here. I cannot seem to handle anything... +usually I never cry or get too terribly upset. Traveling is usually a +blast. + +I slept well last night... I didn't have a nap because by the time +I got hold of myself it was time for supper. I got down to the +restaurant quite ready to eat, but when the food came I couldn't eat +much and nearly lost control of myself again. We went back to the +rooms and I had another attack (with several more to follow) of +diarrhea. Glorious! + +We tried calling Norm but the line was either busy or kept ringing. +I called Jon but he wasn't there (at school) so I talked to both +of his parents. Slept very well. + + +Jan. 18, 1983... Things are gradually becoming easier to handle, +although my desire to return home as soon as possible is yet a +prominent thought in my mind. Today I had my 5th treatment; I didn't +seem as hot or as red as I had yesterday, although the taste of salt +still remained as usual. My right arm is bruised due to some seepage +during the injection; it is a small price to pay to allow my left arm +free for both the 6th injection and blood test. I learned today that +if the blood count failed to drop at least two points, the doctor +dismissed you as a lost cause. Diarrhea has accompanied each bowel +movement, which makes defecation less than a delight. However, this +symptom often occurs among those being treated, so I settled into +accepting that my upcoming weeks would prove likewise. I wonder if the +injection is made up at least partially of Vitamin C; large dosages +cause a red face and diarrhea... Time passes much more quickly than I +anticipated it would. Hopefully the remaining weeks will be similar. + +This afternoon I began to feel rather dizzy. The room would swim when +my eyes were open, while I would be in a half-nightmare when my eyes +were closed. I was tired, but didn't wish to sleep; closing my eyes +brought on imagery too strange to describe... I merely saw the other +hotel guests coming toward me, then falling away. Open or closed eyes, +I remained rather dizzy. When I got ready to go to the Tuesday night +party, my hands and forearms would get sporadic surges of numbness each +time I would grasp a certain way. Scary. I went down for a short +while but was soon escorted by Dad to my room due to dizziness... and I +had begun to cry! Freaking out again. I guess the shots work on the +nervous system. What a fiasco this is. + +Dad brought a tray of food to me. Slept great... Mom had to turn off +the bathroom light and cover me! + + +Jan. 21, 1983... I have never seen such a day as this wherein the wind +whistled through the halls and rattled the windows yet ceased not once +throughout the day. If storms be the wrath of God, winds surely must +be a prominent accomplice in the tumultuous siege. + +I had my 8th treatment today and the final one of the week. The doctor +had to stick me with the needle 2 times before striking a rich stream +of blood into which he could inject his serum. I thanked good fortune +for the smaller needle as he delved into my wrist. + +The afternoon brought on a dull ache in my I liver which gradually +subsided and disappeared after numerous excursions to the bathroom. +The diarrhea was still raging in full force. + + +Jan. 22, 1983... I spent most of the day employed in writing letters +which will be taken to the states and mailed via "Sharon express." +Norm called around 7:30. We were all still in the restaurant finishing +our supper when Ullysses summoned me to the phone. I was so happy to +hear from him... it was great that he called. + + +Jan. 23, 1983... Sharon left for home this morning around 7:30. I was +unable to see her off due to a lack of cooperation from my bowels. +After several attacks, I made my way down to meet civilization. +Breakfast was the customary oatmeal with a side dish of peaches. +Feeling rather peaked, I ascended once more to my hermitage +on the 2nd floor. + +More than slightly depressed, I had to escape to the bathroom for a +silent cry when Dad persisted to rattle the change in his pockets. +Somehow my nerves wouldn't take the incessant jingle, combined with the +knowledge that he was doing same out of sheer boredom and nervousness. +It would break his heart if he should know how nervous his action and +loud speech make me. There is not one thing in this room to cushion +noise. Dad would do anything for me if it would make my disease go +away. Some things, as always, are better left unsaid. + +Lunch brought a rather nice change and lifted my spirits considerably. +I was able to have fish, and although it is not customary for me, +I relished each morsel, along with a salad and peaches. + +Weekends are more difficult to withstand than week days, often times. +I seem to fall into a depression and am susceptible to numerous +emotional tides. Homesickness is a heavy load when one doesn't feel +well. I love to watch the clouds from my bed through the room window. +One lazily floats along while another totally overtakes its careless +rival. Perhaps the sky is the sole glimpse of home that I have here in +Athens... the sky is always a constant factor. + + +Jan. 25, 1983... Monday and today found me in quite good health and +happily high spirited as well. Sunday was a bleak day for me... it +seems that homesickness hits the hardest on weekends. There is +definitely a lot to be said for a routine, especially in a situation +such as this. + +Monday I spent much of the day in the lobby. My desire to be sociable +and mingle with the others returns when I feel good. The morning +dawned with rain, although the afternoon heat soon shooed the clouds +away to other parts. I received the questions I had asked of Helen, +fully answered. + +Breakfast was transformed into a veritable form of euphoria for me, as +I was able to add to my morning fare a delicious "bear claw" donut. +After a brief rest I descended upon humanity in good health and +spirits. Aiding my good mood was the fact that we were able to change +our return flight date to the 9th of February and sign up for our seats. + + +Jan. 26, 1983... Hump day! After my shot I feasted on 4 left-over +Greek donuts before ordering my regular breakfast. I again ordered +oatmeal and a bear claw, but was forced to take half of the donut to my +room to eat later. Lunch was much more than I was prepared for... had +fish, green beans, and a cabbage/carrot salad. Needless to say, I +found myself happily full (altho' I wasn't nearly as full as last nite +at the party when I consumed salad, rice, nuts and 6 donuts)! + +After lunch, I retired to my four walls to wash my hair. That in itself +is an experience to behold. One has two options, the first being to +utilize the sink, whose drain is in dire need of dran-o. In this case, +one remains dry but runs the risk of accidentally flipping one's locks +down into the stench of the drain and thereby defeating the initial +purpose of washing the hair. The second option is to bend over the +contraption which is in Greece, labeled "a shower." This consists of a +porcelain base and a faucet with a hose and hand-held shower head. One +selecting this means of shampooing the hair must lean over the base of +the shower and manipulate the shower head in such a fashion that will +allow the entire bathroom to remain as dry as possible. Leg cramps, of +course, are an acute possibility in this prime position. Another +hazard could be the wet floor, for it is always wet after having used +the shower. To keep dry is a laughable impossibility with this device; +any articles of clothing should be placed in another room. I proceeded +with the latter method and became quite damp. + +My next operation to perform was the washing and drying of my nuts. It +may sound crazy, this nut-washing ritual of mine, but I look at it this +way; the last thing I need during my stay is to get sick from eating +filthy nuts! So, I wash them, because one never knows whose dirty +hands may have processed these nuts! + +Another report I must make.! I have had a firm bowel movement! Joy of +joys! It is the first since my arrival and the beginning of my +injections. + +Mom suffered a hair-raising scare when she feared that her passport was +lost. While madly searching through desk drawers and coat pockets, Dad +calmly assured her that if she did not find it, she would simply spend +the remainder of her days in Greece. It was found, incidentally, in a +zippered compartment of her enormous purse from where, of course, it +had never strayed. + +On their daily excursion, Mom and Dad disposed of the 3 cans of green +beans (purchased for my use) which were suspected to have an acute case +of botulism; the top of the can was bowed. I took very kindly to their +effort and was careful to stay on their good side until the beans were +scattered on the hillside. + + +Jan. 28, 1983... Today wasn't as glorious as Friday's are built up +to be. My blood test didn't drop into the 2's like I'd rather hoped +it would. I was 3.I from 4.I, which was considered "good." One must +realize, of course, that anything that happened around here is "good," +whether it be a painful or uncomfortable reaction, a drastic blood +count drop, or feeling terrific. + +There has been a considerable amount of conversation on the subject of +"how many shots" are enough. Some people would take as many as the +doctor would willingly inject. I cannot live from one shot to the +next. I feel that if this stupendous serum is doing the job, I'll +know... the tumor will diminish in size. If after 3 months, there +seems to be no "progress," why send blood. I don't take much stock in +the blood tests anyway. Moreover, one cannot even conduct his life +normally if he waits for test results. I have to be able to just say +"enough" and live my life. I can't always be waiting... life is too +uncertain to not give and take joy from each day. Simply "being" in +existence is not, for me, what "living" is all about. I'll have been +here a month when all is done and paid for, and 20 shots will have been +administered. That's what I have figured upon, and what I am prepared +to have, but it's all I'll have. You have to stop somewhere, and who's +to say that will be it. One has to be able to let go... I let go a +year ago, and I can't hang on to shreds of hope. That doesn't bring +happiness. + +Yesterday was a wonderful day aside from the shot. The doctor had a +hard time finding my vein, and he doesn't seem to wait for it to +surface anymore without first probing for it. After the shot, I +couldn't sit because too many non-patients were there. Finally I dove +for an empty seat, almost on the verge of crying. + +After breakfast, Tasos took Mom and me to downtown Athens to shop for +my fur coat. It was rather strange, because Christos also drove his +rover with Donna and Margaret. We'd asked for 1 driver; we looked at 2 +furriers, the first of which was owned by one of Chris' friends. He +had a motley selection of furs which were over-priced but poorly +constructed. I was distressed after that shop, but we continued on, +stopping at a nice furrier who had well made coats but sold for more +than we could afford. Our last stop was a furrier called Toronto Furs +where Mom had wanted to go all along because she knew they had decent +prices and furs. That's where I got my coat... a dark mink tail, +finger-tip coat. It's very pretty and cost $337.00! I was pleased +with it, and it's something I'll have for many years (bought with +money I'd been given from friends). + +We went to an oceanside restaurant (Donna, Tasos, Mom and me) +afterwards. It was a beautiful day, and the food was good. It was the +first day I could have bread, and their's was great. I felt as if it +didn't happen, it was so nice. Mom offered to pay the bill, which was +a lot more than we'd anticipated for the size of the meal... (around +$26.00). Then Mom paid Tasos 1000 drachma for taking us. . . it ended +up being a rather expensive day. We didn't say anything about paying +Chris... why should we... we'd only asked for one driver. + +I got a letter from Jon when I came back... it was really nice. + + +Jan. 29, 1983... We all got up early and went on the 1 day cruise on +the Aegean Sea. I was tired, but I had a good time. We didn't have +very long to look around each island, but it still was a good tour. +On the Island Aegina, we took a bus tour on the winding roads and +country-side to a site of ruins. I took many pictures, and it was +quite a view from the top of the mountain. The next island, Poros, we +had only a glimpse of because of the half hour time limit. The last +island, Hydra, was nice and we were able to look at some shops. +I bought earrings and Mom a crocheted dress. I finally got rid of a +rather pesty Tunisian who was following me around. I'd met him on the +boat. I wanted to look at the island, not him. Norm and Jon called. + + +Jan. 30, 1983 (Sunday)... I woke up sick and had a temp of 101... it's +going around here, as everyone seems to be ailing. Even in Athens. +Mom and Dad's church class called at 6:15 and a lot of them talked... +were so surprised and pleased. It helped to have such support. + + +Feb. 3, 1983 (Thursday)... Dad was unfortunate enough to have caught +the malady that has seemed to have stricken our hotel. Rumor has it +the whole of Athens has had the germ. I also heard today that a new +group of Americans are to arrive this coming Sun. but that they will be +refused treatment. The Travel Agency supposedly sends people over to +Greece despite warnings from Alivizatos to stop, because of the nice +profit they reap from each booking. Alivizatos wants to work in his +labs for a time and to do so, he needs to have a break from patients. +He's now treating some 90 Americans, plus an unknown number of Greeks. +(He should be quite well-off.) + +One of the white patients was talking to a black man in our group and +she remarked that it was in God's plan that white and black get along +well together. Conversation then turned to the possibility of +rejection of the new patients coming and she stated, "Well, we were +just part of the plan and they're not part of God's plan." +The reasoning, to me, was incredulous. + +Many of the guests are leaving Friday. . . tomorrow. . . for the U. S. +I'll really miss Connie and Ron. At supper many pictures were taken. + + +Feb 4, 1983 (Friday)... It was a real zoo today. Those leaving had +their shots first and then the remaining people were taxied rapidly to +and from the doctors. At 9:00 they took the people to the airports, +all nearly having hernias, because the plane departs at 10:00 and it +takes 40 min. to get to the airport. I'm glad we'll be taking a taxi. + +Blood test today. . . he barely coaxed enough out to use. It bubbled +and spurted so slowly, I was wondering if I'd get another stick. + +I thought it might be appropriate if, at this time, I attempt to +describe our hotel room. That which one first encounters is, of +course, the door. It is equipped with a skeleton key lock which +usually tends to deny rapid entry or exits; if one persists, the door +will eventually open. However, if one is besieged by a severe case of +diarrhea, it is advisable to think twice about locking the door. + +Once unlocked, the door opens with a loud squeak, followed by a short +moan (a protest for having succeeded with the lock). Shutting the door +quietly is a virtual impossibility, while a door left ajar is a prime +target for a thundering slam. + +Once inside room 20, and upon inspection of the floor, one immediately +notices 2 very suspicious yellow splotches. Ignore them; they'll be +there 20 years hence. To the right are 3 doors, 2 of which open into a +closet housing a clothes rack and hanger. The other boasts 2 drawers +and a shelf. The drawers are where one hides the dishes from the +restaurant. They are used for mid-day snacks; any empty dishes in the +room will promptly be swiped by the maid and returned to the kitchen. + +To the right is the bathroom, having the obligatory sink and toilet, as +well as a showerhead. There is no shower curtain. The sink has been +on the verge of a clog for 2 weeks, while the toilet insists upon +running until extra attention is given to it. The shower remains a +true experience which no coward would dare to operate. Mom has used it +only once in the entire time we've been here, preferring the tried and +true sponge bath method. The floor, which is of green marble, is quite +interesting, as one is able to imagine pictures in it's design while +contemplating upon the plastic toilet seat. + +The main room is comfortably small (Dad's is uncomfortably small) and +contains 2 single beds complete with iron-hard pillows, sheets, 1 gray +blanket, and 1 two-tone brown blanket that Jon would surely approve of. +Bedside is a night stand supporting a dial-less telephone with a +nerve-shattering ring. On the opposite wall stands a rickety desk, a +luggage stand, and a chair. The third wall has 2 chairs and a set of +double doors which open onto a small balcony. Outside shutters and +faced drapes provide the necessary shelter and privacy. + +The floors, tiled in green, have 2 rugs, 1 beside each bed. Both the +former and the latter are typically dust ridden, despite the maid's +honest attempt to maintain a degree of cleanliness; the hotel has no +vacuum cleaner, and no plugs if it did. + +The walls are a shiny mint green; upon one wall is a picture of a +typical Greek village, and above the desk is a mirror and light. There +are also lights over each bed and a swag dangles precariously over the +foot of my bed. + +The view of Athens is spectacular, especially at night when the smog is +not evident. Licensed drivers may only drive on alternate days to help +in the control of smog. The sunsets are marvelous. On a clear day one +may catch a glimpse of the Aegean Sea sparkling in the distance below +the many various mountain peaks. + +Throughout the night one can hear the Greeks as they drive late +(customarily), cars, trucks, and motorcycles, battling the mountain +roads, and dogs barking..... between 12 - 3 A.M. The roosters begin to +chime in early morning. Noisy? Yes, but one gets used to it, and if +tired enough, sleep cannot be kept away. + + +Feb. 5, 1983 (Saturday)... The trip to the heart of the Flea Mkt. was +cancelled unanimously by Mom and me. The weather, in the morning being +lead gray skies shedding a sleet-like mist, became gradually more +severe as the day progressed. By mid-morning, the sleet had +transformed into jumbo snowflakes and rapidly proceeded to blanket the +entire area in an unexpected cloud of white. The Grecians were quite +delighted with the entire affair, as snow is rare in these parts; the +last blizzardy condition was 15 years ago and caused Athens to close +down. The people are ill prepared to drive in such conditions and find +themselves at a loss in this type of weather; cars were strewn on all +sides of the road. + +As for myself, I was also happy with the snow; my only protest would be +if it would hinder my departure on Wed. Otherwise I reveled in the +beauty I was shown today. I was on the verge of sinking down into the +bed to rest when Norm called... that was a nice addition to my day! +I went down and ate a small portion of green beans, rice and bread. + +We had a party in which Mom and I had a part... at 7:30. It consisted +of our Artist Game, Becky Pate's rhythm game and Donna's auction, the +proceeds of which went to the dishwasher at the hotel restaurant. +Refreshments ended up the fiesta. . . it was a nice break for a +Saturday nite. + + +Feb. 6, 1983 (Sunday)... I began my day by snapping several pictures +from my balcony. Subject: snow-covered mtns. I figured that I had +better record them on film before the sun's heat chased all of the snow +away. I went to breakfast promptly at 9:00, ordering my usual morning +fare, oatmeal, honey, 2 toasts, and "red" Nescafe (the decaffeinated +kind). Following breakfast Max invited Mom and me to a game of +Scrabble. I nearly won point-wise, but Max cleared his slate of +letters first, thereby adding the total remaining letters from all of +our slates to his score. + +Lunch was very good today. . . my fish was cooked to crispness, the way +I like it to be fixed. Following that meal, I hastily made my way to +the Greek-English Dictionary to look up "crispy"; perhaps hereafter my +fish dinner can always be crispy! + +My blood test results were favorable, as far as it counts. I dropped +to 2.5. The shot went well today, and I returned to have breakfast +before venturing to the Flea Market in downtown Athens. + +We caught a cab on the road above the hotel. It's a lot easier and +less tiring for me than if I'd have to ride the bus all the way +to Athens. + +The Flea Mkt. can be described very simply as a low-brow, motley array +of shops, most of which carried a wide selection of goods which +repeated itself over and over through the area. It was actually a +pitiable sight to see. Few of the people had heaters in their shops, +and many appeared quite destitute. + +The junk was over-priced; however, the merchants seemed unprepared for +much bartering. I moseyed in and out of many shops without having been +offered one price reduction. I ended up with 2 belts, one reduced from +120 drachmas to 110, and the other to 100. + +After browsing awhile, Mom and I stopped and I got a pita bread to +munch on for energy. Mom ate the sausage that came with it (38 +drachma). + +I found my way into a shoe store on the edge of the market and bought +2 prs. of boots. . . one is a smooth red leather short boot, and the +other is a gold suede knee boot (1200 and 1800 dr.). + +Lunch was at a corner restaurant. I had cabbage/cucumber salad, rice, +and bread. + +Cab... strange guy... + + +August, 1983... After last Diary Entry... + +My last journal entry about Greece dwindled into nonexistence as home +became part of the foreseeable future, with broken phrases and words +serving as the one reminder of my excursion to the Flea Market and a +strange encounter with a Greek who had repeatedly asked, "You American? +You marry me?" + +The following morning the three of us were packed on a jumbo jet amid a +screaming mob destined for New York, and thoughts of Greece had made +way for other, more prominent images. The red pointed shoes from +Athens which were peaking out of my pant legs, the in-flight snacks, +the certainty that our plane would crash on the way home. . . I desired +to be home to such a great degree that paranoia became a plague, and +I fancied my emotions were similar to those who are threatened in a war +zone; in effect, if I was not killed in Greece, I would die on the way +home. It was as if Fate was not an idea; it had taken shape and lived, +exuding a force that controlled relentlessly and completely. + +Upon reaching New York, and transferring to a different and +considerably less crowded plane, my fear dissolved. We had traveled +all day with the sun, and now it had overtaken us. The lights of New +York twinkled like a brilliant network of gold on black velvet, +covering the city's filth with delicate grace. I watched the points of +light stretching endlessly into the darkness, and knew I was home; no +foreign words rolled off the tongues surrounding me, yet a balanced +variety of creeds and colorings spread about the plane. + +Chicago possessed the essence of the midwest; when we reached the city, +I was overcome with happiness and bought a bold red tee-shirt that read +"Chicago." Mom noticed my purchase and questioned me; after all, +I was probably the only patient of the Greek doctor who had not acquired +a GREECE tee-shirt. The way I saw it, tee-shirts made statements. +Some people wanted to express how they felt, others wanted everyone to +know where they had been. I merely wanted to emphasize my gratitude +for being home, and red carried the message with adequate force. + +One flight later, the three of us stumbled wearily off of the small +plane that had delivered us to Moline. I had not slept in over 24 +hours, but I still recognized familiar faces, and many greeted us as we +walked into the terminal. Besides my aunt and uncle, a group from the +Circle C Class (Circle in Christ from our church) milled about, holding +a "WELCOME" poster and wearing great smiles. It was a royal welcome to +be received by one such as I, and it assured Mom and Dad of the support +which rallied in their time of need. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 263 + +Chapter 35 +In Limbo + + + +"Friends were beginning their exodus to distant places . . . it meant +appraising my own life and facing, time after time, the stagnation +which it represented." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE + +In Limbo + + + + +April 1, 1983... There is something left to be desired about living in +a state which can be described as "limbo." I am neither happy nor +unhappy. I cannot plan, because planning would only dig my sense of +"loss" to a deeper level. I am unable to live my life in the ways in +which I like for fear of ruining the Alivizatos miracle cure and +because of my general lack of energy. I think I can do something but +when I actually try, it fizzles into dust; I haven't the energy. +I sometimes feel a world apart from all else... in Greece I lost my +zest... or what zest I ever had... for living (in my sense of the +word). Perhaps I can look forward to normalcy only after the six months +period has come to an end. At least then I'll know my verdict. . . +as I had before I went to Greece. + + +June 26, 1983... Today the bomb blew up that was ticking in my brain. +I guess one might say that emotional explosions are a rarity in my +case, however, I am lucky enough to realize when I've reached the point +of mental saturation. It seemed of late, that all I heard were +complaints and conversations necessitating an obligatory response +of heartfelt sympathy. + +I should never expect less than the truth when I ask "How are you?" +There is then a symphony of habitual ailments; I receive quite an +ear-full and the health report is consistently poor. + +The next uplifting conversation was with Max, the master of +personality, and a virtual ball of fire, (I jest, of course). His +lamentations include numerous health difficulties, among them his +artificial limb. Undoubtedly he is far worse off, in my opinion, +than I. + +However, I don't relish conversations riddled with bits and pieces of +Greek reminiscences; I prefer to forget the entire affair. Moreover, +I battle to maintain somewhat of a conversation. . . silence can only +last so long before I become unsettled and feel nervous tremors pacing +through my stomach. I am thoroughly exhausted once I am home. I am so +tired of sob stories; they are no longer any good with me. I wonder if +I lack tolerance for people who eternally lament their personal +plights. Others also have problems, but muffle them to a far greater +degree. Life's too short to taint other's lives with one's own +depressions and sorrows; talk but do not burden! Perhaps, also, I have +no sympathy for people who completely deny death and cannot accept it +as a normal part of the life cycle itself. I hope my mind can now +relax... I have twice today relieved it's pressure. I can now, with +luck, bid my senses goodnight. + + +August, 1983... Is there really any sense to my life anymore? +Sometimes I hate my life. I seem to be going nowhere... my pendulum +has come to a slow stand-still. It seems that all the progress I had +made 2 years ago has left me empty-handed and stripped once more. +Selfworth is altogether laughable in context with my life. What, after +all, is my purpose for being here? I do no more than spend other's +money, take up space and burden my family with my lack of physical +attributes. I feel that I could hold no job. . . I sometimes spend +hours in one day running to the toilet. After eating, I always run the +risk of feeling enormously nauseous for the duration of several hours. +And stamina? Sometimes I have it, sometimes I don't. + +Marriage? Who and how? At times I can barely take care of myself. +Kids would be unthinkable, for reasons of conception as well as taking +good care of them. What would you do while you were afflicted by runny +bowels? And as far as a husband goes, he wouldn't exactly be getting +"prime stuff." I'm a sight to look at... the type of body that +deserves a full wardrobe at all times. + +I don't understand why my cancer has to grow so slowly. Life can be +such a burden. Some days I feel as if I've done nothing except eat, +sleep and feel sick. And yet I feel guilty for not "pulling my weight." +I don't want to be a chronic complainer and ailing 'til death bids me +depart. I feel like a pussyfoot. . . I need ice or I'll overheat or +sweat; I have my personal air-conditioner so I can survive the summer +headache free. Sometimes I can't do much in the physical sense, and I +feel as if my body is going to the dump. I have a whole sack or two in +the cubbyhole filled with slacks and jeans that my ego will not allow me +to throw away. False hopes still contemplate "recovery" in a bland +sort of way. I suppose with all sincerity, however, that such luck is +not to be mine. In all likelihood, I'll live to a ripe old age +carrying an overgrown watermelon in my stomach, only to die by some +freak car accident. Dream on, Laurie, for dreams carry no malignancy; +dreams can be kept alive or brought to nonexistence as the individual +mind sees fit. They can nurture or destroy the dreamer simply by his +own desires. + +Wisdom comes to an abrupt halt when one's ego considers himself to be +entirely wise. The casual admittance of one's own ignorance, however, +carries the implications of true wisdom and intelligence. + +Nor do the wise mock the ignorant, for wisdom is a learned state, +forever questioning and forever growing. The wisest of all human beings +initially possessed a child's mind. + +How happy I am that I do not feel compelled to uphold an image of a +person I desire to be. Life, already appreciably complicated, need not +also pressure one to act out the role of a personage whose standards +are determined by a certain group in society. I find utter humor in +watching the "necessary" actions of certain people, such as businessmen +in suited attire and professors with their obligatory beards and pipes. +I sometimes wonder if they would continue their hopeless charade +if they knew how comical they appeared to an impartial onlooker. + +Even as a child I found it horribly ridiculous to do things solely to +please others. The "others," as it is, could care less for you as an +individual anyway. I felt as if I was not only cheating myself, but my +true friends also, if I was any less than my true self. I remember +observing in agitated silence as fellow students would deliberately +trod on the less popular children to somehow augment their low sense +of esteem. Though I was seldom bothered by their childish mockery, I +pitied the hapless recipients of their relentless derision and marveled +at the insensitive cruelty of their incessant gestures and remarks. +This, I suppose, led me to believe that man is not intrinsically good, +and that goodness is learned only as the result of the societal necessity +to survive. If not for this stark realization, I truly wonder what +would become of man as a whole. Would he be reduced to canine +barbarism or would there still be certain bands of people who would +break from this sheerly animalistic behavior to nurture a livable form +of existence, complete with an intricate set of moral ethics? + +As seen in my entries following the Grecian trip, I became depressed +and frustrated as a rejoinder to the special diet. I felt constrained +by hope, not freed by it, and was deeply relieved when six months had +passed, for then I was able to return to what I had come to know as +"normal." It was obvious that the Greek doctor had done nothing to +cure my ailment, for the cancer continued its growth, manifested in my +shrinking wardrobe vs. an increasing waistline. Because the waiting +was over, there was no need to spend more of my precious time engaged +in obligatory hope. I would forge onward. . . and forget the cures. + +If nothing else, the Greek diet developed an interest in food and its +preparation. Indeed, I was so obsessed with food that I was plagued +by it; if a diet is so rigorous that it demands constant awareness to +succeed, I believe that success is far more difficult to attain. +Throughout the weeks of the diet, I baked with incomparable zest and +learned a wealth of information about cooking. Bread baking was edible +chemistry; it became easy to respect chefs and their tempting creations +as I paged through cookbooks. In no time at all, I had a hobby which +extended beyond the need to make natural food as specified by +the doctor. + +One slightly irregular recipe came to me through a book by Euell +Gibbons; Violet Jelly. Yes, flower preserves. I'll never forget the +day Norm and I went to the park and I picked a quart of violet +blossoms. To be honest, I tried it to see for myself whether the jelly +was as exquisite as he claimed. It was a lovely lavender flavored ever +so delicately. . . and not objectionable to the palate. + +Baking was not my sole enjoyment, of course. I loved to photograph +wildlife and create still-life compositions. . . I enjoyed dining out +and traveling to places both foreign and familiar. . . shopping was +always a pleasure, with or without money... and the library, with its +hint of musty volumes and quiet dignity, was also a favorite haunt. +It was easy to be interested in many things, despite the fact that +my plans often failed to cooperate with my bodily functions. + + +August 29, 1983... I have spent a good deal of time tonight feeling +sick. For a while there I was really beginning to wonder if my +Nutregrain would make a debut appearance in my clean toilet bowl +(it didn't) so I will leave further writing for tomorrow. +It is now 1:00 A.M. + + +I was used to feeling sick. Actually, I had forgotten what it was like +to experience true health; stomach and intestinal difficulties had +become a way of life. As time passed, however, I could not deny the +damage that cancer progressively wrought upon my strength and general +capabilities. Daily walks ceased after bowel complications (i.e., the +immediate need for a bathroom) over-shadowed the enjoyment of the walk +itself. Stress due to heat was also a great enemy that followed and +preceded every outing or event, and between the two impairments, I grew +increasingly more reluctant to pursue activities; I had to weigh the +importance of the activity against the possible complications that +might arise and thus spoil the engagement altogether. No longer could +I say "yes" without mental hesitation; simple activities were not +simple any more. + +The summer of 1983 was hot beyond belief; with record high temperatures +throughout, it was determined that life would be much more livable if I +could have an air conditioner in my room. Shortly thereafter, another +was procured for use in the basement's T.V. room, which afforded me a +higher level of mobility. My family enjoyed the cool air so much that +a third air conditioner was installed. Even my dad found a place in +his heart for the electrical marvels and, I believe, appreciated them +more than he would have cared to admit. A diary entry read: + + +August 29, 1983... I think Dad held out on buying A/C so long because +he liked the idea he could take it. + + +Under the same principle, perhaps, was his derision toward mosquito +repellant. Dad withstood bugs with an air of stoicism that bordered +hard core. + +Despite the heat, I managed to take several excursions through the +summer. The first and longest was to California, where I helped a +friend settle into an apartment before embarking upon a career. Many +friends were beginning their exodus to distant places and it was fun +to see where they would be located. . . even when it meant appraising +my own life and facing, time after time, the stagnation which it +represented. + +Norm and I took our fourth annual trip to the Rockies during the +tourist season's heaviest crowds, yet we were lucky enough to stumble +upon and catch a cabin that had been dumped by previous patrons. We +determined that Marion's establishment had certain irregularities +which, despite its underlying personality, we desired to forego; after +all, a basement unit with no scenic views or T.V. reception was rather +dreary on a rainy day. + +As my health had begun to fail, I was obliged to remain near the more +populous areas of the park while Norm hiked to his satisfaction. It +was not the same as the former trips for that reason, but I loved the +mountains, nevertheless, and loved the fact that I still had the +ability to see beauty in life when my own was not ideal. I focused +myself on thought and photography, instead of those aspects of living +which no longer remained within my physical grasp. + +For years we had spoken of renting mopeds to scour an area of the +mountains; so it was that we decided to break down and seek out the +adventure. What fun it was! At a maximum speed of 45 mph I felt as if +I was traveling at a tremendous pace. More humorous than thrilling, +however, was the way I passed Norm on the hills; he appeared to be +standing still, his bulky coat billowing in the brisk morning air. The +trek had been a product of procrastination for three years; when we +removed ourselves from the seats and turned in the mopeds, we were glad +that we had finally put forth the effort and money to try something new. +It was an indelible memory; it was also a memory that would never +repeat itself except in dreams. Later I realized how fortunate I had been +to capture the moment and make the memory; certain experiences are given +only one chance. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 267 + +Chapter 36 +Reflections + + + +"I don't care for rainbow chasing. . . it's a long drive down the alley +of blind hope. I prefer not living in the shadows." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX + +Reflections + + + + +AUGUST 25, 1983... I have decided to, once again, embark upon the habit +of keeping a diary. Just having finished reading the entries in my +previously written diaries, I rediscovered many memories and +consequently, remembered how important it can be to retain a shred of +ones self... no matter how brief... for the sake of future reference. +Words tend to bridge gaps of time, and help to bring to rest troubled +minds. I hope my words herein shall prove worthwhile. . . both to +myself, and to whosoever may one day be the keeper of these journals. + +Today I began, also, to write the story of my life... in it I hope to +touch on experiences, trials, thoughts, both from past years and +present. I wrote three pages concerning my earliest years thus far. + + +Nearly three years have passed since I wrote that diary entry, and much +in my life has changed. Indeed, life is waning rapidly and there shall +be no clever cure or miracle. For this reason, I shall simply use +journal entries to describe my life in many instances; writing, in +itself taxes my stamina. + +What became of my relationship with my former boy friend? Time changes +relationships as it does all things; so does circumstance. My +recurrence of cancer exhumed a need for closeness, and what should have +been better than dating to answer such a need? Because I knew I would +not establish a relationship given the constraints of my irreversible +disease, dating was not the threat it had been, and I was able to +maintain a relationship without becoming terrified of romance. +Romance would never be part of my life. + + +Sept. 8, 1983... I really had a hard night. I was in the john for 3 +hrs. with the feeling my intestines were infested with worms. It is +almost worse than throwing up. By ll:00 I could finally go to bed. +Mom undid my covers for me. . . she's such a good mom. + + +Sept. 16, 1983... Dad got the reply letter about a new experimental +treatment for "Big C." It was on 20/20... they only give it to a +select group at Johns Hopkins in Maryland. It's funny. I'm scared to +get better. . . I might let everyone down if I'm not the superperson +(achiever). That's stupid... I could always take the civil service +exam to try to be a postman... I would've liked doing that... + + +Knowing I had a bit of a melancholic streak in my blood, Norm used to +wonder if I simply did not wish to live. "You take all of this so +well... I don't know if I could handle it like that." "You just live +with it," I told him. (I had often been depressed in high school and +at Sears). After having cancer for three years, I woke up one sunny +morning and glanced about the upstairs. "I don't want to die" crossed +my mind like a flashing neon sign. I was slightly stunned. Though I +was prepared for death, that in itself will not stifle one's zest for +life as long as there is something to live for... one day at a time. +Perhaps in my battle for a normal life, bereft of hair-raising +treatments, I had merely thought, "I don't want to live if I can't do +so with quality." Because life on any terms was not palatable did not +mean that I desired to die. Never before had I truly contemplated +that idea! + + +Sept 21, 1983... I talked with Alene (Greece patient). She is doing +well. Max is going back for more treatments. Jenny is taking chemo in +New York and Connie died. Mom and Dad didn't tell me. It doesn't make +me depressed... it is just the truth... death happens to people... even +patients of the revered Dr. Alivizatos. It didn't help me... my waist +measures 31 1/2. + + +Sept 25, 1983... I called Jon utilizing the teleconnect service and we +had a nice 1/2 hour conversation. He once again urged me to come out +before Christmas, saying he was unsure of his stay at his current apt. +and the rainy season begins in Nov.-March. I seem to grapple with the +idea of flying there; I somehow hate to retain a relationship which +seemingly has no future. I couldn't see myself living in Ca. with my +current situation. It's always been difficult for me to visit Jon +when I haven't seen him in awhile. Something always holds me back. + + +Sept 26, 1983... Dad called the Metabolic Treatment Cntr. in Chicago. +A foreign accented woman referred Dad to an affiliated cntr in Cicero, +II. From there he called the Cancer Society in Davenport only to be +referred to an 800 number in New York. He dialed this number +explaining the situation at Johns Hopkins. (They called Fri. A.M. +I have the wrong type of cancer for their treatment). The Metabolic +people are not doctors and their claims cannot be substantiated. She +combined Alivizatos in the same category. Mayo was right in their +answers. Chemo... a treatment... not a cure. Dad called the Clinic in +Cicero. They had moved! The main office didn't know that! What a +fake! They use a tape with a man's soothing voice to sell an empty +cure. A discussion broke out between the 3 of us at home. It endured +for the better part of 2 hours. What scared me was the fact that Norm +was pushing the chemo option. I guess my desire to live or to just +grasp each day isn't that desperate. + + + +The Dark Pool + + +I am +That stagnant pool +Of life +Around which +A vibrant world +Revolves. +I watch +As friends +Are initiated +Into the expanse +Of change +Termed reality. +I stay +Imprisoned by webs +That do not break +Shaded by leaves +That never fall. +I wait +Aware of the options; +To grasp madly +A tattered shred +Of existence, +Or preserve all dignity for +The final breath. + +Lauren Isaacson +September of 1983 + + + +Sept 28, 1983... Made reservations to go and see Jon. . . rates are +unbeatable at $329 round-trip fare from Moline to Frisco... +regularly $600 + + +Sept 29, 1983... Drove to Dubuque in my parent's Citation...got sick +after lunch at the Ryan House. . . nausea endured a better part of the +afternoon. Didn't go with Sharon and Galen to the church potluck. +...ate an English muffin and 2 eggs... nausea again... +normal around 9 P.M. + + +Oct. 2, 1983... Made waffles for Norm and me... did dishes... cancelled +KFC plans as the day became too warm for me. Jon called; I was bummed +out for some reason. I felt like crying. I was thinking about the +years (a couple years ago) and how one takes feeling good for granted. +Then when Jon called, I remembered how soon I would be going to Frisco. +I wasn't emotionally prepared to go so soon. I was flooded by +seemingly small fears, yet to me, the fears are so real they become +monsters. I was scared about sweating for 3 hrs. on the plane, having +to go to the bathroom, getting tired, sick, etc. I want to make my +trip as easy as possible, so I'm not taking a suitcase... just a couple +of flight bags. It bothers me that I'll be waiting a maximum of 7 hrs. +for Jon in the Frisco airport. I don't particularly relish that idea. +I'll probably be fine, however, I'm haunted by all of these fears +beforehand. + + +Oct. 4, 1983... I've been nervous for about 3 days now. I keep +thinking the plane's going to crash or something will happen so I'll +never be home again. I guess that says where I'm most comfortable. +Everything I eat sits in my stomach like so much lead. + +I hemmed my black Lee jeans and my $15 Gitano jeans, packed one flight +bag with clothes and one more with my camera, magazine, book and such... +to take on board with me. Mom and Dad took me to Bishops for dinner... +a so-long affair... washed my hair. I wish I felt better about going. +Les sent me a card. I thought it was a so-long and have a good trip one, +but it was a regular card with $50. I was shocked! I called him and +thanked him. Well, it's goodnite for now. I hope my bad feelings are +unfounded! I don't exactly want to die in a plane crash. What a long +way down. (ugh) + + +Oct. 5, 1983... The day began for me at 4:45 A.M. I figured I'd allow +ample time for my face to emerge and get a quick bite to eat, but I +figured wrong. I departed in a flurry at 5:45 without having eaten. +Dad drove unusually slow, or so it seemed. We got to the airport with +sufficient time for me to go to the bathroom and then some. We weren't +rushed in the least. Les came too, but I was too nervous to really +talk and feel "civil." + +On board at 6:30 I was seated by the window in an MVA plane. I spoke +with a man with a complete beard and moustache en route. He asked for my +phone number. I hesitatingly replied that I had no pen or paper but +that my parents were in the phone book. "I really hope he won't +call... what would I need with a date?!" + +Panic stricken, once again, when I reached O'Hare, I rushed excitedly +to my next gate of departure, and there spent 45 minutes of +anticipation. After boarding, I endured 15 or more minutes of sheer +panic due to the stuffy atmosphere of the DC 8. After take-off it +cooled down quickly. . . I was quite relieved. + +Breakfast proved to be good; I rested a bit. . . I was fortunately +situated on the window seat, the middle seat was empty and the aisle seat +occupied by a slightly corpulent and very silent businessman. (He, by +the way, finished his breakfast entirely.) + +Upon landing I put both my bags in a locker... the wait proved to be 6 +hours. Jon came. . . he looked "real good." It was a super and balmy +night. . . we walked to the Seasons restaurant. Jon treated. + + +Oct. 6, 1983... Things got pretty emotional for a while as we tried to +sum up the situation between us. Situations change and they will never +be the same again. I love Jon, but neither of us are ready for a +relationship. Marriage makes all things so dreadfully black and white. +My health is the foremost difficulty, as well as the miles that +separate us. I sometimes don't feel capable of being a good wife, nor +do I feel that I'd be able to live so far away from my family... I need +the support. I felt better, nevertheless, after our discussion.... +at another time I had written down my thoughts concerning our +relationship. (Just as one's mind cannot long remain inactive, +so also will our love (for each other) change as the years progress +toward eternity. If love indeed be true, change can only enhance its +fullness, and this need never be feared, and must never be ignored.) +This kind of love, for us, could never be. + + +Oct. 8, 1983... A hazy day. . . headed for Yosemite. . . had enjoyed +Saratoga and a drive into the mountains the night before. . . had dinner +at a place with a Scottish atmosphere. After taking pictures, hazy or +no, we started back. . . bought 2 pumpkins. . . during the week days I +spent my time reading... Jon did home work in the evenings... we had +dinner "in," at Wendy's, at a Chinese restaurant, at Marie Calendars... +I showed him how to hem his trousers. . . we carved our pumpkins. . . +mine looked like Foo Man Choo. . . his looked like a mask. . . they are +both neat. I took pictures of them. . . + + +Oct. 12, 1983... Today's the day to go home... Jon came for me at +noon... we ate at McDonald's. I read a bit of this diary to him en +route to the airport. As usual, it was difficult to say goodbye. I +have a 2 hour wait before boarding my plane... Dad picked me up and we +had a late snack at Perkin's. . . when Norm came home from his +night-shift we talked til 2:00 A.M. + + +Oct. 22, 1983... Was amazed to realize that some of my friends feel I'm +a prisoner in my own home! It is definitely not the case... + + +Oct. 31, 1983... Happy Halloween! After chores I went for a walk in +the woods with my camera equipment. . . wish I didn't get so out of +puff when I climb hills or just walk... took a nap... this is the 3rd +pumpkin I've carved this year! + + +Nov. 2, 1983... Got ready to go to the library But No!... my bowels did +not cooperate. Norm has the laughable habit of setting the gummy caps +of toothpaste tubes on the sink, thereby leaving a characteristic green +ring. After several days, the green rings gradually but steadily +accumulate and I break down and rinse away their interesting circular +design. One day, while preparing to brush my teeth, I called Norm in +to observe my progressive "cap off, squeeze on brush, cap on" movement, +which allowed me to replace the cap without marring the sink top. +I laughed, he smiled, and the day passed with no further green rings +appearing upon the sink. The following day I found 3 rings, made +doubtlessly, in quick succession and accompanied by a note saying, +"Old habits are difficult to overcome." I thought that was great! + + +Nov. 4, 1983... Upsetting is the relationship between Jon and me, for I +know it will go nowhere. I feel more at ease here where I know I'll be +listened to and understood. I feel as if the better part of myself +simply blows past Jon in my attempt to speak or read my thoughts. He +misses my meaning completely. I couldn't take living in an atmosphere +where talking proved only to be a one-way message, never to be received +and merely bouncing off the walls until it eventually buried itself in +its own silence. + +I found a postcard that read. . . "If you love something... set it +free. If it comes back... it is yours. If it doesn't... it never +was." I never sent the card. + + +Nov. 7, 1983... I had an odd sensation while drying the supper dishes. +Perhaps "disturbing" would better describe my fleeting emotion, for I +experienced a strongly chaotic urge to impale myself with a steak knife +while drying it. The feeling was so brief, yet so very intense, that I +almost wonder why reflex action alone did not carry through with the +brain's message. Self-preservation reigns first and foremost, perhaps, +even within the most morbid thoughts. + + +Nov. 9, 1983... The folks went to bed half-cocked at me this evening. +Mom started up the endless preaching on the irrevocable horrors of +alcohol and drugs, leaving one to stand alone in a flurry of statistics +and evil stories. This led to the adolescent eccentricities and peer +pressure and curfew and all the topics on which they hold themselves as +authorities. "I never had to break away when I was a kid. . .never." +Well, he (Dad) was given slack and choices and he chose abstinence and +church. OK. So What? But he still can't, nor can she... understand +the grip they held, and always will hold; that "I told you so" dangling +over your head when the party didn't live up to your expectations. . . +the solid 12:00 curfew, at which time the pumpkin would explode if one +wasn't home, let alone the knowledge that you weren't doing anything +BAD anyway, nor would you if you stayed out 'til 4:00 A.M. Lack of +trust or what? The inability to make one's own decisions can be a +painful blow to one who knows he's capable of making competent +decisions. A little less questioning, a little more room to breathe, +that's all. Perhaps I became so tense tonight because I sometimes feel +the walls closing in on me now... the way it had during those painful +times in high school. I feel no longer I'm in control... I've somehow +relapsed into mommy's and daddy's little Laurie Annie. Sometimes I need +backing... when I freak out or feel sick... but I'm supposed to be a +woman. I can vote. I can drink in my own state. Very Big Deal. And +a lot of good it does me now. Rationalization: Good thing I had the +ability to have fun with and around liquor before the bomb broke. It +was fun, but I liked life fine without it, too. It's no integral part +of existence, but it has it's place. I only wish they would understand +that. At least I can write without being reproached. When this is +read, I won't be around to counter attack. + + +Nov. 16, 1983... A guy called asking about Greece. His sister has +cancer. . . much of her face was removed, as well as other lymph nodes +near the neck; also one breast was removed. She "eats" through a tube +in her nose. Boy, have I ever got it good. I'd kill myself before +resorting to that sort of butchery. I told the guy straight truths as +I knew them; I didn't feel the treatment worked for me, but others +would bet money it helped them. I advised to really consider before +going, as it was a difficult trip for even those of hearty stock. + + +Nov 17, 1983... I ate breakfast and shoved off around 8:30 for Dubuque. +It was a beautiful drive due to the mist-shrouded lowlands and the frost +which lay over all things, both alive and inanimate. I saw a +particularly picturesque scene, complete with grazing horses amongst +the white grass, so I determined to pull off the highway and retrace the +road to the best point. I had snapped two photos when a highway patrol +pulled over across the road from me. I felt certain that I would defy +my potty-training for a moment. "Is that your red car parked up +there?" to which I answered "Yes" and a hasty, "Is it OK to be here?" +He had thought perhaps I had engine trouble and he was going to help. +I thanked him and he replied that I could take as many pictures as I +wanted. I have a deep fear of cops which has no real basis, especially +of late; I don't break the law by speeding. Rest-at Sharon's. . . +attended a weaving open-house. + + +Nov. 18, 1983... Sharon and I drove to Mt. Horeb after breakfasting at +"Spikas." Again there was heavy fog and Sharon pulled on the headlights; +I made a mental note of her action to avoid leaving the lights on for +the length of our spree. Unfortunately, I misplaced the mental note, +and the lights were grinning at us upon our return an hour or so later. +The engine was "deader" than a frozen road apple; luckily we'd parked +along side of a gas station and the attendant promptly "jumped" us (or +rather, the engine). It cost 2 bucks. Big deal. Sharon drove back +after our rather short spree... I'd hastily gotten sick after drinking +some tea. I left for home around 3:00. . . experienced fair amount of +diarrhea once home... oh well ... we ate at Bishops for supper... it's +Friday, after all. + + +Dec. 21, 1983... I talked with Mom for a good amount of time. . . I +asked if she believed that I wished cancer on myself. . . I was past +my depression when I once again found out the bad news; moreover, +my depression subsided after some changes were made in my life. . . +quitting Sears and dropping a class I didn't like... +anorexic tendencies had dwindled as I made those changes. + +Then I asked if she believed that one could cure ones self through the +desire to beat the disease. Question 1: Why would a person who didn't +want a disease, contract one? Question 2: Why wouldn't it work for +every one? Or would one have to believe. . ."know." . . .that he would +be cured if he simply believed in such a thing? It helps to talk of +such issues, for at times I do become confused. I feel instead that I +have resigned myself to my problem realistically... I don't care for +rainbow chasing. . . it's a long drive down the alley of blind hope. +I prefer not living in the shadows. + + +Dec. 26, 1983... Although it was not easy to attain, I remember feeling +once that I had my life by the reins. I could do anything, because I +felt I had control of myself. If I failed at one thing, no matter. . . +I could do something else and succeed. Now I feel trampled beneath that +stallion of life whose reins I so confidently held; I have no control. +Even my emotions, which before I prided myself in keeping so carefully +concealed, crash from my grip. Jon, too, is no longer in my grasp. He +has grown more confident and self-assured, and I like what I see... but +I feel as if he's no longer in my league... as if I'm trying to love a +diamond when I know full well that I can afford only glass. It's never +easy to lose status. I've lost so much that only a miracle of nature +could allow me to recover my low self-worth. Jon deserves so much, +and he has "the right stuff." + +I feel so much better seeing him at home. I look as good as I can hope +to look because I am able to get the rest I need. I felt like a shadow +of myself in San Jose. . . a wound-up toy that kept walking even after +the tension wore down. + + +Dec. 29, 1983... It's funny... Jon and I shared so much, yet somehow, +nothing ever came of it. Perhaps the sorrow I feel is partially due to +the knowledge that nothing can possibly come of it given the current +situations. It's difficult to let go of the only lengthy and worthwhile +relationship I've ever had, knowing full well that it's the last. I +will never be in the situation to date... it's an added tension that I +probably do not need, nor would I have the opportunity to experience. +It would be like buying bald tires for your new car... I'm "spent." + +I feel that all I can do is to enjoy the time I can spend with Jon +taking one day at a time in the same way I live each day as it presents +itself. I can expect nothing, for to do so only makes shattered +expectations all the more trying. + + +Jan. 4, 1984... It's rather entertaining business, this autobiography; +it's fun to be able to sit back and remember the ways in which you saw +the world as a child. Truthfully, my mind still thinks the way it did +then. I've merely learned more, gained objectivity... but I'm +essentially the same. Perhaps one changes more than he thinks, +however, it could be that, so gradual is the widening of that +perception, one is not really aware of the changes amassed in his +brain. Nevertheless, I'm enjoying my writing, trying to include all +material which is of marked consequence. + + +Jan. 5, 1984... Today was rather a wasted day in that I was unable to +venture downtown due to the frequently repeated trips to the bathroom. +However, I did listen to the subliminal tape which Norm gave me for +Xmas. It is composed of seashore sounds and is relaxing. My tape is +entitled "Phsyconeuroimmunology...Beneficial Influence of the Mind on +Health," which was described as being helpful with regard to the immune +system. Maybe it'll get rid of my "Big C"! That's a long shot but one +can't just roll up the carpets and close shop. At any rate, it's cheaper +than Greece and couldn't hurt. I'll just have to be wary of any +cravings... if I suddenly get the indispensable urge to drink only +coke, perhaps the input is an advertisement Ha! + +I can never quite go along with the idea that one gives oneself +diseases. At 13, I didn't know what cancer was, death via a serious +illness was the farthest thing from my mind, much less my desire. I +believe the reason I can... at times... accept my plight now is that +1. I've had it before. +2. I never really quite accepted the diagnosis that I was "cured." +3. I've been sick to my stomach for years following my first + operation. . . I was never leading a "normal" life. +4. I've always felt "doomed" to a degree. +5. I've tried chemo and it didn't work; since I hold American doctors + in high esteem, I am not as readily accepting of other country's + "cures," especially if there are no facts to back up their claims. +6. I cannot live from one "cure" hope to the next. Disappointments + become unbearable if that is all one ever encounters. + +I can't believe that I would want what I have, given all of the +suffering that I've endured. Sometimes I wish it could all end, either +by my recovery or my death. Living half-way becomes difficult when +one's prospects are bleak. If only I could be healthy... feel +healthy... the things I'd want to do!!! + + +Jan. 12, 1984... I stopped at "Rags to Riches" and inquired whether they +bought clothes which were second-hand, since it was a second-hand +clothing shop. (So intelligent a question, no?!) She informed me they +work on consignment. I have 16 prs. of pants that I intend to bring +in. It is rather difficult to let go of those pants. I guess +somewhere in my head, I hoped that I'd be cured and be able to fit them +again. But the chances of that are slim. My body doesn't seem to be +able to "get on" the road to recovery. I'd be exceptionally healthy if +I wasn't such a physical wreck. + + +Jan. 15, 1984... I made breakfast for Norm and me... then we went to Wild +Cat Den... we took a good hike back into the park... it was snowy so +wore Mom's high boots. I really did well, I thought; I felt good. +Going up the steep grades presented a bit of a problem, but otherwise +it went better than I had thought. (Maybe the tape's working.) + +My slides are good! For my first attempt at still-life, I'd say I +really did well. + + +Jan. 22, 1984... I made breakfast for Norm and me, then after doing +dishes together, I got my camera equipment and we took off for Loud +Thunder, around to Muscatine, and back to Credit Island. I used my +sunset and graduated filters. We had lunch at Hardee's. Les came for +supper. Mom had a roast. After everyone was in bed, Norm decided to +cook up that brown macaroni that I'd bought last year while on the +Alivizatos diet. I'd never gotten up the nerve to cook it before. . . +curiosity got the best of Norm. He put cheese in it to help the +flavor, but actually the stuff wasn't too bad. It was more grainy +because it was never processed. We watched "Funny Girl" on the late +show but gave it up. It wouldn't end 'til 2:00 A.M. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 276 + +Chapter 37 +Zenith of Grief + + + +"I didn't associate God with loneliness; the two were separate, and to +bond them would have been inconceivable. God did not forsake me. I am +part of Nature. . .this is natural, as is my grief." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN + +Zenith Of Grief + + + + +I am beginning this new journal several pages before the old one +expired! Perhaps this is because it is rather a new beginning for me. +One must bridge countless mountains throughout his existence, and some +of those mountains are much more difficult to climb than others. +It has not yet hit me fully that Norm is dead, and this will be the +hardest truth I will ever bear. It is through the selfish nature +of human beings that we suffer and mourn over a drastic loss, for the +deceased is no longer subjected to the routine pangs of life itself. +I derive comfort from the knowledge that Norm led the type of life he +desired, for so many individuals spend time involved in relationships +they despise, or in jobs they abhor. Norm didn't worry about attaining +what so many casually label "success," that being a career that "looks" +right. Success is having established a set of values and living by +them; realizing time is precious and therefore shouldn't be wasted +on petty grievances and concerns. Moreover, a life having quality +is a life which is peaceful. Norm led a quiet life, spending many +waking hours doing that which pleased him. He was not selfish; +one must please himself before he can expect to treat others civilly. +He was easy to be with, and would let you be... he wasn't out to force +his opinions and desires on others. + +I feel terrible now, but I know that my life was touched by a very +special person. For that I shall always feel grateful. It is better +to have had a beautiful relationship and have it end, than to never +have experienced it at all. Norm was my mainstay in life. When things +felt as if they were falling apart, it was always to him that I would +turn. He was my companion and my best friend. We could share so much +because we shared the same thought process. Seldom does a person feel +completely at ease with another, and yet with Norm I was. Conversation +wasn't necessary, but it was one of the finer parts of our relationship +because we so well understood each other. + +My life will never be the same without Norm; of all people, I feel it +will be the hardest to be without him. My thoughts are so displaced. +I feel dead. He is at peace now, or at least I choose to think so. +One never knows of the after life until he himself has expired. +Superstition and blind hope forced me to pray that he would live and be +normal. To be comatose or paralyzed would be worse than death. It's +funny; he felt so strongly that his purpose in living had not yet been +fulfilled, and he had a zest for life to one day find that which would +(in his mind) fill that commitment to life. I once again found that my +beliefs were true; prayer does not help those things over which we have +no control. It is a formal way of hoping. + +Strange as it may sound to individuals who cling so desperately to life +that they will torture themselves for one more breath, I wish I could +have died before anyone else in my family. That, you see, is a +coward's way out of mental duress. This is by far the worst blow ever +driven into me; if one was to sum up the worst possible occurrence to +give to me, fate couldn't have picked a riper apple. It's not that I +don't care for others. . . but Norm was special to me. + +I also hate to see Mom and Dad so terribly wracked with pain. Not one +child has been left unscathed by bad luck, while some families live +a storybook life or screw up their lives out of their own stupidity. +There is no such thing as justice in life. There is no equality or +fairness. It is a fragile world, and so many seem bent on +self-destruction while Norm simply wanted to live in harmony. + +Only yesterday I was lamenting my inability to do things alone. I'm +scared to go on walks, etc. . . especially now that I feel at a rather +low ebb physically. Now I must do things on my own or not do them at +all. And it's not the doing, but the mutuality of sharing a joke, +a glance, or idle conversation. He won't be there, and he will be +so horribly missed. I hope you have found your ultimate peace, Norm. + +I woke up this morning to the sound of harsh, uneven gasps of breath. +I thought Norm was having a bad dream, so I hurried to his room, only +to find him on the floor; his chest and waist were along his bed and +his legs were tangled in the bedsheets. I shook him and yelled his +name, but no response was made. After several sputtered expirations +of air, he seemed to attain an unearthly calm. I suddenly thought, +"this may not be just a bad dream.". . . he wouldn't wake up. I ran +downstairs at 6:20 A.M. and told Mom... she woke Dad and they went +upstairs. He still was the same and I dashed for the phone and dialed +911 . . . they were here in five minutes. I kept flicking the yard +light as they approached our house. . . a crew of two paramedics and +later two policemen. All the while before they arrived, Mom and Dad +were administering CPR... they took him out on a stretcher, still in +the same state. I believe that I witnessed his last breath. +I lost my touchstone. + +Dad kept saying, "can you believe this?" I was shaking violently, +still in my nightgown. I felt as if my bowels wouldn't hold. Mom was +so worried about covering him up as they left the house; he wore only +his bottom half of his sweats. His arms were dangling over the side of +the stretcher as he was carried through the doorway... the paramedic +told Mom not to worry, that the main thing was to get him to the +hospital. + +As I was dressing I felt disgust within myself at my concern to put on +my make-up. Why should I care what I look like? We were taken to a +small room to wait, it was cooler. I had to use the bathroom. A woman +was there with us most of the time. . . to console us or help in case +we "went off the deep end." + +I still hoped that with the technically high developments, they would +revive him. They worked and worked; Dr. Murrell said it was very bad. +Later he came in again and said that he was gone. I was thinking that +I'd be asking him how it felt to be gone and then revived. What passed +through his mind? I never got the chance. I wonder if Norm knew I was +trying to wake him. Perhaps that which comes after earthly existence +was so sweet that he chose not living. Maybe it's that good. +I hope so. For Norm. + +I felt as if I had been reduced to a pulp after a calamitous beating, +yet I could walk, talk and seemed to answer in a relatively normal +fashion. My insides felt like so much lead; I felt dead, bereft of all +poignant senses. Weak-kneed, we headed toward the parking lot, leaving +Norm's body on the operating table. There would be an autopsy. . . +none of us wished to see him again before they removed his corneas. +I didn't want a blue-lipped memory of Norm, color had drained +from his lips while he was at home. + +Mom and Dad had to begin making arrangements for his cremation and his +memorial service. I chose to remain at home and alone in the house. +I promptly sat down and wrote page after page of my feelings, needing +to express myself with a certain degree of permanence afforded by +written words. It was as if I felt panic stricken that I might forget +a facet of Norm if I didn't capture everything now. Finally, exhausted, +I decided to go upstairs. Hesitant to relive the mornings events, +I climbed the stairs and looked about. It seemed so empty, so utterly +lifeless. . . the sun was obscured by gray clouds which multiplied the +lonely effect. Had Norm been alive, the place would have simply been +a room. Now it took on a character of its own, as if a bloodless ghost +sought to haunt my mind with idiotic schemes. Reality hits hardest +when loneliness sets in. I didn't associate God with loneliness; the +two were separate, and to bond them would have been inconceivable. +God did not forsake me. I am part of Nature... this is natural, +as is my grief. + +I began to straighten the furniture which had been hurriedly displaced +to facilitate a wider exit with the stretcher. Looking at the tangled +mass of bedsheets sprawling about the floor, I determined to change the +bedding, and thus save Mom some of the stress. I felt like +a mechanical man, functioning precisely as I'd done countless +times before; doing menial tasks brought no comfort. . . +it only helped to pass the day. + +My thoughts raced... I began to fantasize... would they think I was +guilty... would I be suspect as in a murder case... when they said he +was gone, I had felt relief, for I knew he had been without oxygen far +too long. I thought about his corneas given to Iowa City... how would +he see... how ridiculous to think that...I thought about how safe I had +always been with Norm as my "guard" . . . now he was gone . . . +the daily excursions, the trips to Amana, Wild Cat Den, Loud Thunder, +Davenport, Credit Island, the boat races, sailing on the Mississippi, +even the winter picnics... all over now. + +Norm was an ultra-sensitive person, not only self-sensitive, but caring +for others. He had an acute awareness with regard to feelings, +and seemed to know when to simply let be. It was a quality that few +possess. . . a quality that few understand. It was this quality that +made Norm so easy to be around. He didn't demand the full capacity of +one's attention; he was personable and low-key; he allowed one to relax. + +Every facet of his life mirrored his goal of inner serenity. He often +spent time alone, walking for miles to attain physical and mental calm. +Meditation was also becoming a valued discipline in his daily routine. + +I am glad that I was given the opportunity to develop such a close +relationship with Norm through the passage of time in which I was +growing into the person I am now. He played an integral part in my +life, and I feel somehow linked to him in an undefinable bond. Our +sharing and understanding for one another spanned the seemingly trivial +nature of a common joke to the mind-searching questions for which there +are no answers. To say that he could be replaced is mere folly. Only +once in a lifetime can one share so much. I am fortunate to possess +the memories; I only regret having to end the making of memories so +soon. We were two loners with a common bond. +Now I am one loner, alone. + + +Jan. 24, 1984... I am fatigued... it took two hours to fall asleep. I +was thinking, and I was scared that I'd have awful nightmares. I kept +seeing him lying on the floor, and I was at first so certain that he +was only having a nightmare. We could've had a stroke of luck like +that...I woke at 6:20 A.M., the time that yesterday morning I awoke so +lightening fast to the sound of uneven breathing. I went to the +bathroom, then lay in bed until 8:00. I didn't seem to have +much use for sleep. + + +So many people have come today with food and the plants are also +numerable. Janet sent me a red rose, shortly afterward she appeared in +person. Kristi even called from Cedar Rapids. So many care. + +Todd, Debbie and Sharon arrived near noon, before that time, I'd tried +on Norm's shirts and discovered they looked better than many of my own. +I will be keeping the newer or nicer ones. It's a comfort to have his +things near me. I changed the sheets on my bed because Sharon will be +in my room throughout the duration of the week. + +The radio-tape player that Norm ordered arrived today (UPS). I felt so +sorry for the delivery man. He knew Norm. Todd called the doctor who +performed the autopsy on Norm. He said death was caused by a left +coronary occlusion, which is a heart attack via a blood clot. Because +of the location. . . the upper left side of the heart. . . death occurs +suddenly. Even if he had had a check-up it was not felt that the +problem would have been readily identifiable. It was also something +that would have been fatal if he'd been in the hospital at the time it +occurred. Death is final within one or two minutes of the initial +attack. This was most likely a gradual situation which would not be +apparent to the afflicted individual. Every indication is masked, so +gradual is the effect. Norm's organs were said to be over the normal +weight due to amassed blood; the heart was not pumping efficiently +enough to flush out the blood and therefore it clung to the tissues of +the various organs. + +I felt so relieved that an actual cause was found. I kept thinking +rather accusingly of the Agoraphobia tapes. I also wondered if he'd +had a dream in which he died, and then as a reaction to subconscious +thought, the body began the death process. It's always been horrid for +me to remain without the facts. I derive a sense of satisfaction from +knowing the truth, or at least the truth as best one knows it to be. + +I feel, at last, that I have attained a certain degree of peacefulness. +Norm was and always will be a part of me, so great was our degree of +sharing and mutuality. His companionship is gone forever, and yet the +feeling of oneness shall endure through time and into the furthest +reaches of eternity. Our being of opposing sexes enhanced the +relationship. I lived for Norm and to be with him. In myself, +I see him. My actions. . . my thoughts. . . are not manifestations +of togetherness, but rather a singular uniqueness shared by us/we two. + + +Jan. 25, 1984... I carried the inner peace with me for the entirety of +the day. After breakfast I fed the bird, and then shut myself up in my +old bedroom to write Norm's eulogy. I had written approximately half +of it when Rev. Hess came. He's a good guy, and easy to talk to. He's +the first minister I've ever encountered who admitted that religion is +a personal thing with some people, and that one can accept other's +viewpoints without compromising his own beliefs or criticizing +conflicting views. I read aloud the parts of my writing which I had +completed. He will read my final copy on Saturday. I elected not to +do so for dual reasons: I am nervous in front of crowds, under the +circumstances, the nervousness would be worse. + +After lunch, Steve and I went to Wild Cat Den. There was a fresh cool +breeze blowing. I missed Norm, yet memories were sweet. It was good +to get out of the house and into the wind. We dropped off my film +and mailed my photo entry. + + +Jan. 26, 1984... I think that too little time spent alone is taking its +toll. I went upstairs and I listened to my tape and another album; +then I dug out the note which Norm wrote me when I was in Greece. + + +Jan. 27, 1984... So well do I recall the day in which we rode in black +limousines to the cemetery. It seemed to me a ghastly promenade in the +midst of such grand January weather; I felt myself to be an actor +in some morbid sideshow in which I was to don my most lamentable +countenance so as to better give casual onlookers the expected +performance. Instead, I chose to focus my eyes upon my knees, where +they remained riveted until we motored into the graveyard in our +stately, yet somber vehicle. + + +Everything within me screamed and rebelled when we once again were +instructed to issue into our allotted seat for the return trip. The +entire essence of the black limousines seemed to me a gruesome ritual +of bygone ages. My sorrow was not an emotion which I desired to splash +among the city streets with an air of pomp and circumstance; it was +grief as personal and private as those thoughts I shared exclusively +with Norm and my ever-true notebook. To ride thus seemed to make a +mockery of that which was actually taking place, becoming an event +rather than the tribute to a deceased and beloved individual. + +"God needed Norm in heaven with him," was a phrase spoken to attempt to +comfort us. Some try to see a purpose in all things. . . a way to make +them less hurtful. Others view death as the ultimate "bad thing" yet +need to justify God's love by saying that "it was all for the best." +Then there are those who say, "God gives you pain because He knows you +will grow stronger." Boy, that makes me want to run to a church and +shout "Praise the Lord!" + +It is difficult to know what to say to someone who has suffered a loss. +It is painful enough to visit, to witness the anguish. It is more +difficult to bring comforting and meaningful words to the +grief-stricken. Can one praise God for His kindness and love when the +situation is nothing but grim and senseless? Statements must also be +chosen that do not somehow suggest the mourner is to blame, that had he +done something differently, the outcome would have been altogether +reversed. Awareness of ones self and others helps immeasurably during +a confrontation with adversity, for among the numerous reactions to a +given situation, mutual respect is of foremost importance. Everyone +reacts differently. + +I hope Norm has found peace. He certainly deserves a sojourn of +tranquility. His tapes of Meditation and ESP came today in the mail. +Mom and Dad have received 120 cards so far! It's unbelievable how many +are concerned and respond. + + +Jan. 28, 1984... It was rather a madhouse today, as a carload of +relatives popped in unexpectedly near lunch time. I escaped to my +upstairs room before it was time to go to the Memorial Service. I +couldn't bear the commotion on the main floor. The limousine once +again brought us to the church. It was hard to remain composed as I +walked into the church and found my way to the parlor. I brushed my +hair in a nearby restroom and then returned to wait for the service to +begin. I was scared for what the service might be, my only knowledge +of memorials being the bleak hopelessness so common to funerals. + + +Rev. Hess delivered the formalities in a manner far from depressing. +He read several scriptures including the congregation in one; there +were three hymns also sung with the congregation. He read, also, the +poem "Birches" by Robert Frost, and then my contribution to the +service. After the service we filed out, utilizing the center aisle +just as we had entered the sanctuary. + +We formed a receiving line to greet those who were at the service. It +was unbelievable to see the multitude of people who came to pay their +respects to Norm and the family. It seemed as if the line would never +end. Mrs. Griffin (Kathy) brought me two glasses of water during the +reception to keep me fairly cool. Nevertheless, I sweated profusely; +by the end of the line, my hairline was soaked and I was thoroughly +fatigued. It seemed that many found my writings meaningful; moreover, +doing so was quite beneficial to me. Many desired a copy of it, so +Rev. Hess said he would make some copies and put them in the office. +I hope no one will use any part of the homily for another service; +I wrote that for Norm. + +Steve was good to return to the church after taking Kim Segura home. +I rode to his house after the service, electing to forego the trip home +in the black limousine. Once home, I went to my "old" bedroom to lay +down. I couldn't actually sleep, but the rest itself did some good. + +The house was crawling with relatives until after supper. Little by +little the crowd gradually dispersed, leaving the comparatively small +group of the Johnson's, Todd, Debbie, and Mom and Dad. I once again +stayed up rather late. We needed to talk. + + +Jan. 29, 1984... Today in the afternoon the Waterloo threesome (Todd, +Debbie and Bonnie, Debbie's mother, plus the canine, Bandit) were the +first to depart. Todd drove my little red Swinger; I hope he will keep +it looking nice. I must simply let go and guard my sanity; it is not +worth tearing yourself into emotional rages and tatters, however, I've +never been able to rationalize having nice things if one doesn't care +for them. Sharon seemed to need to stay a while longer. She was upset +over so many concerns accompanying a loss of such consequence. I hope +she will be able to find peace within herself. Perhaps it is easier +to do so in her own home. + +Nights always bring out the spooks which I conjure up inside my brain. +I decided to lightly illuminate Norm's room to allow the shadows to +disappear. We also decided to leave the door to the upstairs open; +I'm frightened of noises sounding like gasps or snorts of air, as they +remind me of the way in which I was alerted to Norm's predicament. +I'm not afraid of his spirit, but rather of the nightmares which might +evolve from the trauma of finding Norm and the inability to help. + + +Jan. 30, 1984... In the afternoon I ventured outside and mailed a few +thank you letters. It had snowed about 6 inches last night and I woke +up to a beautiful landscape. I walked down below the house a ways, not +going into the woods because I have difficulty climbing back up even in +the summer. The new snow left a track which could easily be followed, +leading me to think that an individual could never truly be alone when +traversing a snow laden landscape; he could easily be detected even if +solitude was what he sought. Once inside, I attempted to write a poem +about my thoughts, beginning with this. + +A solitary foot path... + + + + + + +Solitary Footprints + + +A solitary foot path +Upon the fallen snow +Betrays the quiet secret +Of whither I might go. +Through spring's bouquet +His footsteps passed, +And summer's veil of green. +He watched the autumn leaves +Sail down +And winter skies +Shed cloaks of white. +His path, each day, +The snow betrayed +While strolling through +The woodland brush, +A hoard of prints +Which marked a man +Whose spirit melded +With the land. +Taken in the grasp of night, +The man no more +Will trod the snow. +I searched by day +To find his path, +So quickly did he steal away. +But nature masked +His many tracks, +As winter oft will do, +And I remain +To softly ponder +Whither he has gone. +The steadfast essence of the man +I carry in my soul, +But mine shall be the only prints +Upon the winter snow. + +Lauren Isaacson +January 30, 1984 + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 284 + +Chapter 38 +Personal Belief + + + +"Why was it so necessary to nail down as truths those aspects of life +which had no answers?" + + +" . . . I did not even touch the vastness of Being and even less +the essence of nonexistence." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT + +My Personal Belief + + + + +If through the very mysteriousness of life one is able to grasp a +sustaining faith, perhaps this alone is proof of an undeniable presence +in the heavens. I am humbled by knowledge, and simply through that +which I shall not understand, I have developed the belief that +existence on earth is only a mere wisp of that existence which shall +follow one's death. That I do not know what will occur after death +does not worry me; at best, I hope for a unity with an all-encompassing +entity, yet I would not reject the thought of eternal rest. What peace +I have comes through hope and limitless possibilities; it does not rest +in an established faith. If there was ever a working force to sway my +personal beliefs toward a more assured stance with respect to an +eternal life, it was after the death of my brother. I was the only one +present at the moment of his death, and his long expiration was +followed only by peacefulness. His face was that of a young man at +rest. There was nothing to fear in that silent face, and my grief was +only for myself. + +Two days passed, filled with anguish, when a quiet peace settled in my +chest and I realized that he never really left my inner being. In me +he lived on. + +Following weeks and months brought dreams of Norm, some of which were +given the quality of messages rather than mere conjurings of my own +mind. Thoughts never before conceived in my conscious mind appeared in +my dreams concerning after life; also within my dreams were those +subjects about which Norm had dreamed. It was as if he was living +through me; in my actions, I saw through his eyes. + +Many people think of death as the worst occurrence which they shall +have to bear, especially when their lives have been relatively without +pain. Death is no menace to me in itself; the unpleasantness of ill +health or the grief of losing a loved one is that which, for me, evokes +the wary anticipation associated with death. + +Given the basis of Christianity, it seems amazing to me that some of +its followers so desperately fight death. They believe in a life +everlasting, where in heaven they shall reside, cleansed of sin, +forever with God. Yet despite this promising array of unearthly +splendor, they seek to prolong life with vigor rather than celebrate +their nearing death. If indeed, they are so certain of heavenly bliss, +there should be no need for fear and death should be more valued than +life. + +I do not truly consider myself to be of one established faith for I +detest labels, as it immediately implies their inherent limitations. +Moreover, my religion is a very personal thing, not bound to a certain +mode of thought; labeling would only provoke attention... some of which +is difficult to manage. + +I recall several conversations centering on religion in which each of +my questions was countered with a quote from the Bible. I soon felt as +if I was talking with a programmed robot rather than an intelligent, +capable human being. They all seemed bereft of opinion. "But what do +YOU think?" I'd ask, agitated. "It says in the Bible that..." I knew +it was futile to continue. They had been robbed by their own church +denomination; it seemed to me a terrible injustice. + +I am unable to accept the Bible as the whole truth, for I feel +existence and its counterpart cannot so easily be explained. While +there are those who profess to believe wholly and completely, I think +certain individuals find it easier to accept their religion's creeds as +truths to avoid the unanswerable questions brooding deep within their +minds. This one problem of life is solved. Perhaps, also, some +individuals are fearful of fostering doubt toward God and salvation, +lest they be turned away on judgment day. To these people, thought is +sinful; yet I believe one is given an exquisite mind with which to +reason and evaluate stimuli; it is a natural function to be inquisitive. + +It always bothered me when people would state as a fact that which was +only faith. Why was it so necessary for them to nail down as truths +those aspects of life which had no answers? Despite my thirst for +knowledge, I reveled in the endless possibilities, knowing that I did +not even touch the vastness of Being, and even less the essence of +nonexistence. Since either belief or disbelief toward a given thought +could be one day proven entirely wrong, I found no malignancy in +uncertainty. + +I do not feel that living a "good life" should call for a reward in +after life; an indestructive and morally objective existence should be +a reward in itself and should not need the impetus of a reward to live +righteously, for that implies one would live in a lesser degree of +goodliness if he was certain no reward would come in a later form of +being. + +The thought of reincarnation into another earthly being after one's +death is, for me, an unpleasant thought. I look upon each being as an +individual which is part of an ultimate whole, and in that belief, +reincarnation has no part. The only indication which could be +attributed to reincarnation are those instances when a person speaks in +a foreign tongue and laments an historic occurrence; the spirit of +another speaking through a living person. To a lesser degree, there is +the inexplicable, yet common feeling of de ja vu. If a person has +never been in a place before, how could he feel that he has seen it in +another point in time? As mysterious as these happenings are, I would +rather think of them as earthly contacts made by uneasy or tormented +spirits, rather than any sign of reincarnation. Then I would hope that +there is nothing but rest after death, although the reality of this +wish certainly is not augmented by tales told of those who have, so to +speak, departed and then have later been revived. I would be quite +annoyed if, after lapsing into a serene dreamland, I wake, only to find +myself deposited on earth in the form of an infant, destined to bridge +the tide of humanity once again... + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 286 + +Chapter 39 +Reminiscence + + + + + +"What man thinks of as solid "truths" could be obliterated once one has +passed from worldly existence . . . " + + +"one's beliefs, once established, remain a cane to lean upon throughout +those times of uncertainty and change." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE + +Reminiscence + + + + +I was reflecting how some people lump together instances which, +personally, I feel are complete opposites. Case in point; the +dissimilarity, in my opinion between telling a person he has a piece of +cake on his chin and telling someone he has a pimple on his forehead. +I would be grateful to the person who would say, with discretion, that +food had somehow missed my mouth and had adhered to the skin +surrounding my mouth. There is nothing more degrading than to have had +a lovely luncheon, followed by a shopping spree, only to discover upon +looking in the mirror at 5:30 p.m. that you'd been carrying a splotch +of cake on your face for the better part of the day. In the event that +someone announces that you have a blemish on your face, however, I feel +nothing short of mild revulsion toward that individual for augmenting +an embarrassment which you've already acknowledged to yourself upon +awakening. Chances are that you are fully aware of the exact longitude +and latitude of the facial offender which so hatefully appeared on your +face. I simply feel that comments of that nature are unnecessary +because there is absolutely nothing you can do except to hope it exits +as rapidly as it made it's debut. Unlike the piece of cake which can +be whisked away after its detection, the blemish remains until full +maturity and disappears only when it is quite prepared to do so! +Thus ends my dissertation on facial concerns. + +Much of the fear that I now perceive deals with the question of where I +would go should I outlive Mom and Dad. I feel so utterly dependant +upon them, especially given the condition of my health and my inability +to earn a living of my own. I had depended on Norm in the event I +should have more years of life than my parents; we had said we could +live together, and my worries were somewhat allayed. I hope I will die +before them, although I realize this would hurt them deeply. Hidden +inside me is, perhaps, a coward which seeks the road of least +resistance. Given my past degree of luck, however, I'm sure that my +wishes will not come true. One must take those things in life which +are difficult to endure and attempt to grow with each new development. +Life seems unable to be a "no load" experience; perhaps it is +impossible to think that the sunshine and the rain maintain equal +balance. + + +Feb. 2, 1984... It was good to drive Norm's Chevette today. It seemed +the barrier was broken and I was comforted; also to know that I could get +out, that I could drive the car with competence and at the same time, +I could feel close to Norm. It's easier to shift than Dad's Chevy truck. + + +Feb.7, 1984... Some of the reason I felt so bad that awful Monday +and Tuesday was the feeling that it should've been me. It was as if an +angel came to retrieve a soul at 5440 and got the wrong room. Everyone +was expecting me to die, and it would have been a lot easier... + + +Feb. 11, 1984... It began to storm around 12:30 while I was still +down-stairs. I've never experienced such a loud and brilliant display of +nature's fireworks at such an unlikely time of the year. Upon hearing +the noise, I elected to turn off the T.V.in favor of listening to and +observing the lightning. It was quite intense for a brief period of +ten minutes or thereabouts. I wish it would continue to storm +throughout the passage of the night. . . it would effectively break +the monotony of sleep. + + +Feb. 12, 1984... Sunday's just aren't the same... it was a gray and misty +day, temperature of 52. I guess the committee at Church went to the +Bishop to obtain a replacement for Rev. Hess. I'll miss him...he was +the only minister with whom I felt at ease to express my true feelings. +With others, I was backed up against a wall. I must believe as they +did. . .if God knowingly created man as imperfect beings which had to +attain greater knowledge through experience, how could He +simultaneously punish them for eternity simply because they doubted His +existence or some of His principles? It would, in my opinion, be folly +for Him to place such a temptation as Knowledge (the apple) within +man's perception and then command him to shun it at all costs; an +all-knowing Being, God would have already been aware that man, yet a +child in mentality, couldn't resist such a command, just as a child +is unable to keep his hands in his pockets in a souvenir shop. + +Man has a mind for a purpose; to think, to inquire into the unknown, +to rationalize the meaning of this complex universe. If God had not +wanted man to think, he would have created man as an imbecile, and would +never have placed an apple tree in Eden. I feel that through +questioning, one grows. No man knows of that which comes after life on +earth. One can only hope for serenity; the certainty of heaven is yet +a dream, to claim otherwise violates all sense of rationality. What +man thinks of as solid "truths" could be obliterated once one has +passed from worldly existence; perhaps "truths" could just as rapidly +change through higher vision on earth. The longer I live, the more I +realize that nothing is certain and binding. One can simply hold beliefs +with the hope that they are at least true in part. Knowledge can +undergo change as quickly as a new discovery is made which breaks a +former "law" of nature; one's beliefs, once established, remain a cane +to lean upon throughout those times of uncertainty and change. If those +personal beliefs accommodate room for such change, one's growth is not +stunted; rather, one is able to rise above the poison and find fresh air +once again. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 288 + +Chapter 40 +God, My View + + + +"God is my inner sense of wholeness and peace, melding me with all +creation." + + +"God could be no less than infinitum." + + + +CHAPTER FORTY + +GOD, My View + + + + +The wealth of unanswerable mysteries which Life presents has led me to +create a hoard of personal speculations as to their possible solutions. +Following are those insights which I maintain as "possibilities" and +those with which I heartily disagree. Included also are the +possibilities with which my mind has struggled yet cannot truly "claim" +as my own beliefs because of their sheer incredibility. Attempting to +rationalize that which is not an "absolute" has always been one of +man's delights and obsessions; my speculations have brought peace to my +mind in a chaotic world. They are my own, with which I can live in +harmony through all of life's crises. + +When I was young, I would listen to the Bible stories and sermons and +soon began conjuring an image of God in my mind; in essence, He was an +old, white-haired man, seated in the clouds in a brilliant robe at a +magnificent desk, holding in his large hands a mighty scroll of the +names of his earthly subjects. As I learned more, and was given his +personality as if it was truly a simple, well-known fact, I began to +foster deep feelings of rebellion, yet I knew not the reason for my +disgust. + +Only years later did I realize I was not the pagan I had thought myself +to be. I believed in an infinite creator, yet the problem I had with +established religion and church was my antipathy toward the restrictive +quality which language itself bestowed on God. To give attributes to +God placed him within fathomable bounds and he could not be Everything, +as I so needed to believe if I was to believe in a creator. + +I think of God not as a person, or a being to whom one communicates as +if to a friend, but rather as a core and ultimate unity of all +creation. God is all things tangible and intangible...he is +Everything. I do not worry over the question of whether God is the +sender of morality among humans, for the creation itself is enough of a +reason for me to justify a power which is to be awed. Injecting within +an animal the capacity to love beyond himself, and mourn for more than +the loss of his own life further supports my heartfelt admiration. +I have never thought to blame God for wrongs and injustices because in +nature all is not fair; we, as all creation, are part of a life cycle, +an endless wave of being and nonexistence. God is my inner sense of +wholeness and peace, melding me with all creation. + +If one can accept the biblical statement, "God created man in his +image," as true, then perhaps there can be other speculations drawn +from that source. Since man is generally capable of growing beyond +self-love, and, through life's observation and experiences, gaining +wisdom; it is possible that God, also, is growing, reaching ever +outward just as the universe itself is said to be expanding. +As humanly inconceivable as forever seems to be, I feel God could be +no less than infinitum. There is not a wall but that something exists +on the other side; even within emptiness is the presence of nothing, +which in itself is something!! + +No one will ever know the mind of God while trapped in the vessel of +human flesh... No one will know how much he controls, indeed, how much +he is able to control. Perhaps he can control suffering but does not, +or would control the pain but cannot. We must live with the knowledge +that pain exists in the world for both the good and the heartless. + +We are taught as children that if we behave we shall be amply rewarded. +Eat your vegetables and you'll get a cookie. If one is an honest, +diligent worker, he will gain success and honor. Religious teaching +also states that the righteous will prosper. Attentively listening, +many ingest these tales of fortune and assume that their earthly reward +is forthcoming. However, the world cannot live up to the story-tellers +"idealistic view" and we see with distress that our childhood tales had +severely bent realism. A member of my church cheated on a test, +unobserved, and later received an A while another student who also +neglected to study received an F. The former was not punished, nor did +the latter student, who honestly failed the exam, receive +acknowledgement for his honesty. + +A drunken man slammed into an unsuspecting car housing a mother and two +children. The drunk barely felt the impact, but the mother and one of +her children simultaneously cracked the windshield. It was the third +offense, and again he merely paid a fine and the damages. No one was +seriously injured, yet the man was not fairly punished for inflicting +undeserved wounds and mental anguish on innocent victims. + +While instances like those illustrated above are numerous and quite +prominent in daily life, usually destroying the bulk of one's childhood +idealism, certain individuals cling to the "reward ethic" until evil +befalls their lives; it's difficult to completely shirk childhood +teaching, so firmly rooted in the recesses of the brain. This is why, +I believe, there is a possibility for tension between ones self and his +religious stance upon facing unpleasant or shattering news. "God was +supposed to be my shield from evil!" followed either by the conclusion, +"God is unjust," or "I must have done some great disservice to the +Lord." + +If I needed a reason for the existence of "evil" in life, this is the +most agreeable one that I could surmise. For there to be freedom in +life, there must also be choice. Choice necessitates at least two +possibilities, and perhaps it is here that good and evil come into +view. If God is the ultimate creator of all things, He then knew that +existence would bring nonexistence, and all things would have its +natural counterpart. Good without evil would allow no choice for +individuality and we would be reduced into mentally-bonded puppets. +Being the creator of all things would not necessitate his intervening +in all life, for within his framework, nature balances itself. The +most calamitous effect on the natural world is when it becomes +off-balance; thus to control suffering would also place limits and +restrictions on humanity's freedom. Mental freedom is better than +bondage, yet for freedom one must sometimes pay a great price. God can +be everything without standing above humanity as a punitive figure; +though he may embrace life he does not necessarily have to control it. + +When viewing "bad" occurrences in a more practical light, perhaps it +could be maintained that "badness" can only be so labeled by the one +who is placed under an immediate threat. Surely a mouse dangling +precariously in an owl's vice-like talons would call his predicament +"bad," yet the owl would find only good in the circumstances at hand, +for through the mouse, he is able to sustain himself. Consequently, +I feel there must be illness and old age, and ultimately death. The +earth could not support its population of animal and human life if +there was not the presence of death. Indeed, those of us who live +today would not have lived if there was not death; birth into a flooded +planet would be impossible. Thus, nature controls itself; though +imperfect, it is an infinite miracle, ever growing and continuous. + +Perhaps it is because I never believed in the story-book image of God +often presented to me from the outset, that I did not have to grapple +with the seeming contradictions which life gradually brought to my view +contesting either God's undying love or a person's goodness due to the +presence of suffering in the world. When God is viewed as nature +itself, or at least the core of the natural world, injustice becomes +less of an issue regarding the distribution of pain among societal +members. Each day in the wild, countless deaths make way for new +births and sustain those beings which, for the time, live on. Life is +agonizing for the victim and sweet for the victor; yet the one who +survives may fall prey to the hunger of a greater beast. . . +and life continues. + + + + + + + + + + + +PAGE 291 + +Chapter 41 +Continuum + + + + + +"I have walked in the mountains and seen the beauty surrounding me. +I have heard the babble of a stream and the eerie hoot of an owl." + + +"I can see and hear. . . I've known what it is to feel +physically normal. Some people never do." + + +". . . the core is intact despite the withering exterior. + . . . that undefinable part of oneself that lives beyond +earthly existence." + + + +CHAPTER FORTY-ONE + +Continuum + + + + +Feb. 13, 1984... I have often thought, "If only I could make time stand +still.".. when I am involved in an enjoyable day. I know that wish +could not possibly occur, but if it could, it would most certainly be +a selfish desire. In that same instant, perhaps another individual is +struggling with overwhelming sorrow, and an extension of that sorrow +would cause the individual many times more difficulty. No, it is much +better that time continues. The inconsistency of life necessitates the +seconds, minutes and hours which make up a day. Life is, at times, +difficult to bear, and time passes, allowing one to rest and derive +solace from the bits of serenity found here and there along the way. +I would not elect to make a change (even if I could) in the system of +time unless I was able to better that particular moment for all +concerned. + +After Dr. Freeman stilled my paranoia and filled my cavity, I'm +conscious that my own worth (in silver) has escalated! I sat outside +on the "stoop" (what a name). . . suddenly I was inspired to compose a +poem. . . I rushed inside for a piece of paper upon which I could +unleash my inspiration. It was a beautiful day, complete with sunshine +and snowy clouds sailing rapidly by overhead. + + + + + +The Truest Friend + +The air is fresh +With the promise of Spring... +Sap flows to the treetops, +The chickadees sing +The insects respond +To the warmth of the sun +And the grass will stand tall +E'er the day is done. +Myriad clouds reign +A flawless blue sky... +Short-lived is their kingdom +Through which they fly +For springtime delivers +Their wealth to the earth +To nurture the land +With the newness of birth. +The time so quickly +Hastens by. . . +Soon spring is gone +And summer, nigh +(As after dawn, +The pearly morn) +Upon warm wings +The summer is borne. +Time goes on +Like an endless maze, +Melding seconds to hours +And hours to days. +The seasons reel onward, +Ever the same, +While humanity strains +Against winds of change. +It is well that time +Is beyond man's control +For to meddle therewith +Would but injure the soul. +Time, alone, is willing to share +Grief too great for one to bear, +For time will come +One misty dawn +When the mind has grown +And sorrow is gone. +Perhaps time +Is one's truest friend... +One's sole companion +'Til the very end. + +Lauren Isaacson +February 13, 1984 + + + + +Feb. 20, 1984... I had a brief cry in my room while holding my green +parakeet. It seems to know Norm is gone. I can just hear Norm saying, +"Even bird misses me!"... he used to get a rise out of me by saying how +good he was... "Even bird LOVES me!"... or looking in the mirror at his +reflection he'd say "Damn! I'm handsome!" he would never get his hair +styled so he'd ask me if I liked his hair and when I'd just smile he'd +say, "Dummy!"... it was a standing joke... I made Dad's birthday cake, +then sat outside for a time and wrote another poem about emptiness. + +The Cure + +It was not food I hungered for +Nor did I seek material gains... +I thirsted not for toxic drinks +Or pills to mask life's heartfelt pains... +I did not look for merry crowds +To fill my days with mirth; +I only sought totality +And peacefulness on earth. +Into this world, I came alone +And so, I must depart; +My life-long cure for emptiness +Was loving from the heart. + +February 20, 1984 +Lauren Isaacson + + + +Mar. 19, 1984... I realize some people who keep diaries do not include +those things which would detract from their personalty. However, I +feel that a journal cannot be complete without those embarrassments, +for they are a part of me and help me to improve myself. I speak of +negligence and selfishness tonight. . . I came across 3 toggle buttons +in my sewing things which Norm had purchased months and months ago. +They were intended for his big sweater, and I'd volunteered to to sew +them on; I never did, and eventually. . . until now. . . forgot about +the job completely. Now I regret my laziness with regard to +follow-through on projects. It just seems so stupid of me, and I +wonder why I put it off. It was not a big hassle... I just never got +to it. + +Another thing of which I am ashamed is that since I can't eat +everything, I tend to be rather protective or hoggish over those +certain foods which seldom make me sick. One such food is cake. At +the steak supper the other night, they were selling baked goods. We +bought some things, among them 6 creme-filled cupcakes. They were +delicious, similar to Ding Dongs. Anyway, I ate 3 of the 6, and then +tonight, Dad was going to have another. . . the last. . . and I was +silently upset. Later Dad said I could have it, that he didn't really +want it. I felt bad even though I hadn't mentioned anything aloud to +him about my wanting it. . . perhaps we foster a bit of selfishness +whether we will admit it or not. I am disgusted with my own selfish +quirks which occasionally spill out, but at the same time I feel +fortunate that I am able to be aware of them. Awareness leads to +overcoming faults. Later I took pictures of a hibiscus and of birds +near the feeder using my 2 x extender. I again embarked upon my quilt +project, sewing together more squares. It seems that I have sad spells +whenever I sit down and reflect upon Norm, recalling our times +together. Whenever I'm alone, I tend to break down. I'm glad I can +release my emotions. It seems incredible to me that Norm and I won't +be sharing Canada together. I have no desire to go with any other +person, for it wouldn't be the same at all. I hope it will work out +with Mom and Dad. (I will have to remember my ear plugs, for both +snore!) I'm sure I can enjoy the trip...I'll take books and my journal +to tide me over in the car. + + +Mar. 23, 1984... It seems, as yet, an impossibility that Norm and I +will no more share the lovely transformation of winter to spring, and +all those seasons to follow. Perhaps my time is now best spent alone, +for in this way I shall be able to be with him in my mind and feel +within myself those qualities which we shared. + + + + +Perpetuation + + +Skeletal remnants of autumns bygone +Habitate the woodland floor +As if, in silence, to assure +That through each death +New life will come. + +And so it is that spring explodes, +A vibrant mass of color, +Flaunting the essence of life itself; +Thinking not of life long past +But only life forthcoming. + +In the wake of smold'ring heat +Emerald cloaks a naked branch +And guards the fruit +Which bear the hope +That blossoms will not cease to bloom. + +When golden overtakes the green +And shadows yawn 'fore noonday sun, +A message, though unspoken, blows +'cross weary field and aged grove +To beckon, as to timeless friends, +A sojourn shared 'neath winter snow. + +And thus, a pod from which all life has flown +Must bid its earthly stance farewell +And harken to a chillwinds' call +To rest unto eternity. + +Lauren Isaacson +March 28, 1984 + + + +April 1, 1984... April Fool's Day came and went without incident... it +was great to feel better! The afternoon was well spent in a lawn chair +outdoors. I thought of many things, and it was nice to be alone... +read some old poems and writings and then wrote a new poem about +hatred. I really like it... + + +Fatal Emotion + +A mind which houses +Naught but hate +Kindles eager flame +Which lick the doors +Of happiness +Until the one +Who lives within +Becomes engulfed +And is consumed. +A fire which feasts +Upon itself +Is not a means... +It is an end. + +Lauren Isaacson +April 2, 1984 + + + +April 4, 1984... It's almost as if Norm never lived here now. I've +always been very adaptable to my environment. . . I guess I've had +to be. I've seen so much change, and if I didn't roll along, I could +never be able to stand everything. I think a lot of Norm when I'm +alone, but when I'm busy I can let go of my problems. I wouldn't be +writing so much if all was "quiet within." I also realize that some of +this "buying binge" which I have been experiencing of late has to do +with my sense of loss. I'm trying to restore that which has been taken +from me through material finds. I seem to need to keep my mind +occupied. . . two things which satisfy me most are my photography and +my room. . . aside from my writing and being outside. Hence, my +purchases for both of these "passions" of mine. I would get the things +eventually, however, the need is here now. . . I am fortunate enough to +possess the "means" through the use of money I would have used for my +college education. . . I have not waited; after considerable thought, +I have made these purchases, and have found all to be very much to my +enjoyment. Mom said, "It's good. . . there's so little you can do +now!" I guess she's right. I'm limited physically... + + +April 5, 1984... Decided to simply relish the beautiful day! I sat +outside in a lawn chair, photographed more flowers and then wrote a +poem. I really enjoyed the afternoon! Sherry (Syracuse, N.Y. pen pal) +called and we talked for quite a long while. She's a good kid; +be coming around July 1st. + + +Reflections + +Though each day comes +But once each year +Nay, only once forever +I cannot block +My mind's dispute +That this day's twin +Has dawned before. +It seems as if +The time has lapsed +In naught but +Backward motion, +Encompassing +That long-lost day +E'er before the changes passed. +Perhaps through these +Reflective days, +The mirror +Of more carefree times, +One may rekindle +Tender sparks +Which in the darkness +Burst to flame +To guide and warm +The dismal heart. + +Lauren Isaacson +April 5, 1984 + + +April 14, 1984... Started our trip to the Smokies...had a good day. + + +April 16-19, 1984... Took pictures of forsythia, redbud and +rhododendron; the mountains are gorgeous! It has been cold enough for +light snowfall in the higher elevation, adding to the beauty of the +deciduous trees as well as the pine. Each day I'm having trouble with +my bowels... I had to go to a gas station... nearly had a nervous +breakdown... it was locked... when I finally got the key, I could +hardly get it open in time. I was beside myself with anguish and +terror. Shortly before, I had a similar experience with another +bathroom. While in a park area, I was afflicted with the dire +necessity to "go."... it is difficult to make a nonchalant brisk +stride convincing as one hastens to the "john." In Gatlinburg I had +yet another siege, but luckily we were at the motel. I drove only +two times on the trip. . . sometimes we would have to stop within +a very short time... I was so scared! I feel like a Class A Slob! + + +May 27, 1984... I'm off on another rampage concerning feelings and +other people's dogs! I get so infuriated by careless dog owners who +believe that everybody ought to love dogs too, (as well as the +distasteful traits that go along with them). Mom said that it is just +natural for a dog to mark it's territory, that it must be an +unchangeable characteristic. I said it could be unlearned. . . did you +ever see a seeing-eye dog that paused to mark each tree? The poor +blind person would not be able to make it down the street! So much for +that subject! + +Mom and Dad thought it in my best interest to re-furnish the up-stairs +room that had been Norm's. I'll make it into a living room. + + +May 29, 1984... Death is the end of life on earth as the living +perceive it to be, however, man will forever derive solace from the +hope that death does not also herald the end of awareness. + +Sometimes I wonder why an individual chooses to write at all, for I'm +quite certain that there is no thought written today which has not been +written previously. It is astonishing to read the words of Plato and +his associates, for one discovers again how alike man's thoughts have +been throughout the ages. Taken in this scope, it is truly egotistic +of someone to claim his ideas as unique at all. We are born and +develop at varying rates, but even the highest of minds have no doubt +had their equal at some point in time. Despite similarities, I write +for necessity rather than immodesty; I have little doubt that my sanity +would be thus intact if it were not for the scratches which I +frequently mark on a page. + + +May 30, 1984... I watched the partial eclipse of the sun through a +paper-punched hole! Gary and I left for Wild Cat Den at noon. I +drove... since Rt. 22 is "under destruction" I had to go on 61 through +Blue Grass. We hiked on the trail and I snapped a few pictures. Once +the moon passed away from the sun it was hot again; I became rather +overheated as we walked back on the road. + +After I got back, I started feeling pretty rank. I over-did and +overheated too. It took me the rest of the day to get back to normal. +I always "hammer" myself out in the sun or when I do something. It +makes me mad because it's an inconvenience. I guess I'm always testing +myself or trying to prove I can still do some things. + + +May 31, 1984... I struggled with a poem about memories and how they +fade (but that's not all bad)!... photographed a yellow iris, +spiderwort, a daisey-like weed, and some chickadees. . . I again +grappled with the main elements of the poem, finally setting the whole +package aside to retain my sanity. (It wasn't really that bad!) + + + +Faded Memories + +The mind records pictures +And fleeting sensations +Of life's precious moments +And futile concerns; +Images as random +As pieces of film, +Developed with care, +Preserved with love. + +Yet, in time +One's pungent impressions +Of years gone by +Are obscured +By a fathomless haze; +The imprint +Of a radiant smile +And laughter, +Tender as the dew... +The image from a mountain top +And autumn's coral moon... +But also dark imaginings +And mornings +Bleak and gray +Are strewn among +The misty hoard +Which time +Has struggled to displace +And bury +'Neath a tranquil sea. + +The unhealed wound +Evokes more pain +Than does the faded scar... +So should it be +With memories... +Fragments scattered +On life's path +To mingle with nostalgic dust +Should not besiege +The growing mind +With sorrow or despair... +For once dismissed, +The inner self +Can, with the whole, +Be joined as One. + +Lauren Isaacson +May 31/June 1, 1984 + + + +First Impressions + + +There is a friendly countenance +That still my mind holds dear... +A face of striking character, +An aura sure and strong... +He seemed to own that innate spice +Which tender few possess... +Without trite conversation +I knew him as a friend. + +Perhaps the passage of an hour +Would prove my image wrong... +Yet could it be that feelings +Speak more truthfully than words? + +Lauren Isaacson +June 2, 1984 + + + + +June 4, 1984... Sometimes it seems to me as if those afflicted with +long-term or chronic illnesses, whether physical or mental in nature +are often able to find and retain meaning in life. It is rather +discouraging that many cannot shape their lives without such +catastrophic events, for all around there are reasons for contentment +and understanding if one is but openly aware, and perhaps, willing to +spend time alone, immersed in thought. + + +June 11, 1984... Mom came up because she knew I was upset. . . we +began talking and finally the hatch on my emotions gave way... then I +rampaged about how there was the notion that Mom and Dad were to blame +for all of our family's strange and various ailments. "It had to be +something to do with their combination to make all their kids have such +odd disorders." Well, I don't believe it. Some people always have to +point a finger of blame for their own misfortunes. Mom and Dad didn't +give me Big C. I just will not buy that. And to blame parents for +being screwed up in the head is not intelligent either, because it not +only is the parent but the way in which the kid deals with what his +parent says, that make or break problems. People do the same thing at +work... it never has anything to do with their own personality... that +people have a hard time being around them... well, I got it out and +cried a bit and it really helped. Mom was up here 'til 12:00! + + +June 12, 1984... Looked at a few slides in the morning... upstairs a +better part of the day. . . so tired. . . slept most of the afternoon. +Dad sold Norm's motor for the canoe. . . we sure had fun with that... +once a year was enough, but boy, what a riot. I always think of our +late fall ride when we had KFC along and we bought some Grolsch beer +because I needed a bottle of it to draw for art class. It was so +brisk, we needed to wear our "Pepto-Bismol Suits" (snowmobile suits). +It was also great in the summer to lean over the bow and let it bounce +over the waves. I have so much time to sit and think, yet less control +over my emotions... weakness causes me to be upset concerning things +which I would otherwise forget about. Now, all I can do is talk it out +or write it out! + + +June 14, 1984... I look into the star-filled sky and feel that there +must be a Creator; the galaxies continue beyond the farthest reaches of +man's telescopes, and so they must continue forever, for if there +should be an end... a wall ... then surely something must lie on the +other side; and thus, I am overwhelmed. + +If only people would not be blind unto themselves! If only they would +hear and understand. . . but then there would be no need to talk. + + +Life Song + +A cool breeze filters +Through summer's last green, +The raiment grown weary of bygone heat, +Weaving with the insects' drone +An eerie, melancholic spell; +Forever crickets seem to chant +Amid their restless, aging cloak, +Singing through both day and night +As if their ever present trill +Will mask their own mortality. +So vigilant these singers are +Yet they are not aware +That those who never cease to sing +Their daily melody +Simply mirror common thoughts +(And mirrors but reflect the song +That Life is wont to sing.) +Beware the cricket and his song +Lest you, as he, be singing still +When autumn shadows yawn, +For never can one live again +the hours of singsong mindlessness +When one sought not that higher note +Which would embrace eternity; +The change which robs each creature's breath +Is deaf unto Life's steady chant +For what is Life +But numbered days +That march from countless decades passed +Unto the land beyond? + +Lauren Isaacson +June 15, 1984 + + + + +Sensory Dreams + +My eyes yearn to see those things +Which I have never seen... +To scale the highest mountain peaks +That rule the evergreen... +My legs desire to trace the way +'Cross meadows, fields, and streams +And to traverse that narrow path +Where few footsteps have been. +I would love to feel the wind +Upon my flowing hair... +To hear the birds and smell the flow'res +And breathe the unspoiled air. +If stars were made for wishing, +And dreams made to come true +I'd conquer all my frailties +So these dreams I might pursue. + +Lauren Isaacson +June 16, 1984 + + + + +Captive +(Milkweed Pod/Man) + +Borne through the air on silken shafts, +The product of a waning life +Is hastened on its windward course; +Imprisoned in its silver craft, +It journeys toward that fateful end +Where it shall rival life and death. + +Man thrives upon the tender thought +That he is master of his life, +Remembering not the autumn seed +Whose dormancy is blessed with life +Through nature's will and circumstance; +Yet is not man as surely bound +Unto his birthright's soul and mind, +Entrapped upon the winds of time +And captive of the senses? + +Lauren Isaacson +June 17, 1984 + + + + +Beyond + +How I long +For a place beyond +Where land and sky are one +Where the beam +That will shine +Upon fruit and vine +Is a true, benevolent sun... + +Where age and time +Are not maligned +Like sun obscured by cloud +And battle fields +To peace shall yield; +Old scars it will enshroud... + +The unseen frights +Of moonless nights +Nowhere shall be found +And love will fall +On each and all +As rain upon the ground... + +Here joy shall wind +Throughout the mind +As streams toward a pond +And I, to One, +As all, to One, +Eternally shall bond. + +Lauren Isaacson +June 10, 1984 (1st and 2nd) +June 21, 1984 (finished) + + + + +Time spent immersed in thought is time best spent. One can cleanse his +mind and clarify his beliefs, as well as open himself to the objective +definition of new ideas. Some thoughts: Marriage can be +self-inflicted punishment. The habitual liar will bury himself alive. + +Mom finished typing all of my poems dated from my time at Augie to the +present... they look nice. + + +July 1, 1984... I think my spending spree is quite similar to Norm's +after Tracy took off. It's like you are trying to fill a void by +masking the same old place. It keeps the mind occupied, too. . . but +no matter how occupied the mind becomes, trivial concerns never quite +do the job. After all the money is gone, the emptiness still persists. +At least I can enjoy the mutuality of our relationship, and look +forward to great things in the future. . . long after I am released +from this "earthly bondage."... it must be worth any trials one need +endure previous to the journey into "the beyond." I believe I shall +see Norm again, as I do now in my dreams. + + +July 3, 1984... I woke up and speedily dressed. Hyman's was going to +deliver the furniture. Les and Dad took my antiques upstairs before +they arrived. Everything fits and I think it looks great. It was +rather amusing... one of the topics we hit upon while the movers were +upstairs was the raft of old bottles (whiskey) I have displayed on the +console... (from the Thrift Shop). One of the fellows said, "Women +shouldn't drink when they're pregnant." I wasn't completely sure, but +I thought he was referring to me. When I went down to get the check +for him, he said, "So when is it due?" I said, "Don't feel bad, but +I'm not pregnant. I have a liver problem... my liver's enlarged." +I felt sorry for him; how could he know? He was just trying to be +friendly... maybe he had a family of his own. I guess the episode did +make me realize that I don't exactly look like a "stick" anymore. . . +but it was rather funny. + + +July 7, 1984... haven't done much today... didn't feel too great... did +take Steve to The Dock for a late birthday celebration. He likes that +place the best. I could just eat the salad, bread and Won-Tons. We saw +a guy with a hole the size of Texas in the seat of his pants; he was +taking a woman to eat at The Dock! I wonder how he'll feel when he +finally discovers why everyone is smiling at him?!! + +We sat at the Moline Riverside Parkway for awhile, 'til the bugs drove +us out. . .there were millions of those "cheap bugs". . . what a waste! +They're built so cheap... all they can do is incubate, breed, shed +their skins all over people's cars, and then die! + + +July 10, 1984... This is the first day in, well, I'll bet a year or so, +that I didn't apply a speck of make-up on my eyes or elsewhere! It was +another HOT day. Mom and I worked on the rag rugs. She cut the warp +thread to size and I strung three strands through a needle and +proceeded to tie the fringe on the rug. Yesterday she unpacked all my +china from the storage boxes in the cubby holes; we put it in my +antique buffet. It looks great! It's fun to see it all again. + + +The Day + +I watched from my bench +On the sun-dappled lawn +As the cool glow of morning +Aged to radiant noon. +From youth to prime +In naught but hours +With n'er so much +As a backward glance, +Disdainful of its hapless plight. +Scarcely had the Day begun +When shadows bent from earthly things, +Yet steadfast to its mission bound, +It envied not the youthful light +That shall tomorrow take its place, +But with unselfish wisdom +Shed its golden beam upon the earth; +And when the distant western sky +Let go the aged, fiery disk, +Whence, for hours, it reigned complete, +Precious little time remained +To cast upon the glistening haze +A brief reflection of the Day +Whose life had touched eternity. + +Lauren Isaacson +August 23, 1984 + + + +"Of Butterflies" + +In a shaft of yellow light +A monarch captures on her wings +An ambered, opalescent glow +While sailing on the Breeze of Life. +A seeming drunken path she weaves, +As if berefit of aim or goal, +For fields of flowers compose her world +And nectar sweet sustains her breath. +So high she flies +Yet sees no more +Than that which self-indulgence brings; +How glad am I +That through these eyes +I see more than the butterfly. + +Lauren Isaacson +August 24, 1984 + + + +Aug 27, 1984... I had a tension headache tonight. It finally went away +after talking with Mom. Sometimes I wonder if I'll die the same way +Norm did... I have a bump on my thigh... who knows what it is! Then I +was thinking how every time someone sleeps in the other room or near me +on trips, I wonder if they're "gonna die on me." What a drag it was to +find Norm. Strange how I always kept an ear peeled for Norm; sometimes +I wonder if we have a 6th sense that tells us things apart from the +conscious world. + + +Sept. 1, 1984... I'm such a turd sometimes; I hate myself. I always +balk when someone starts to sing, no matter who it is; Mom loves to +sing, and with her it's also an emotional outlet. Whenever she sings +though, I cringe and she stops. Today she was going to sing a song +(that told a story). I uttered a small protest. She stopped, +apparently quite hurt. After I did that, I felt like nothing, but +there was no way to recall my "ugh" once breathed into the air. She +said, "I have feelings too," in answer to my, "I'm sorry, Mom!" and +went downstairs. When I'm writing I'm an intolerable creep to be +around. I don't know why I didn't think first and be considerate. She +always listens to my writings, no matter how trivial; why can't I abide +a few notes of song? I wish I knew why song grates so heavily upon my +ears... it always has. I most certainly have a terrible voice and use +it only on the rare "happy birthdays" and so forth. I'm kind to +society in that regard, at least. For now, I wish I could find a .45. + +Mom came up and we talked. I feel better now. She felt sorry for +being too sensitive and what she called "uppity," and I expressed my +regrets too. After a cry, we both felt better. I guess we both felt +rather stupid! + + +Sept 6, 1984... Mayo Clinic sends out a form letter for its Statistic +Unit. I wrote... "It has been nearly 3 years since my re-diagnosis of +cancer and I'm still alive to tell about it. As the afflicted area is +my liver, I experience the symptoms generally associated with liver +diseases (so I am told), such as over-heating and water retention. My +liver has expanded to such a degree that casual onlookers sometimes +mistake my appearance for that of a pregnant woman. I was once asked +when I was "due"! Perhaps I should've said, "I don't know... so far +I'm 36 months along." + +So much for my reply to Mayo Clinic... I sometimes find it hard to +believe I've lasted so long; liver cancer is seldom smiled upon as a +long-time acquaintance. If it weren't for Big C, I'd be real healthy! +I also stated that should some breakthrough be discovered for the +curing of leiomyosarcoma I'd appreciate notification. . . until then, +it is best to create one's happiness each day. I worked more on my +story... it's fun to do actually. + + +The Miracle Of Chance + + +The spider spins her silver threads +Into a silken sheen +Deftly pouring forth her self +Unto the net which is her life. +Though possessed of marked skill +This artisan shall reap no wealth +Begotton of her grand design, +And yet the misty hand of dawn +Transforms her modest web of silk +Into a diamond-scattered orb, +Sparkling as a precious crown +Before the rising sun; +Thus wrapped in lace +She mans her snare, +Entrusting nature with her life. +The spider dangles weightless +From her wispy spinnerette, +As does all existence hang suspended +In the grasp of chance. +For each successive heartbeat +Froms the web which heralds every breath +And leases yet another moment +From the miracle called Life. + +Lauren Isaacson +September 19, 1984 + + + + +QUALITY: + + +All things considered, I feel that I have had a beautiful life. I have +loved, and been loved in return by a warm family, and developed a +once-in-a-lifetime closeness with one of my brothers. I have been +blessed with a certain degree of intelligence, common sense, and +awareness. My countenance is agreeable and unobtrusive, and I have a +pleasant, though realistic outlook on life. I am adaptable to change +and strive for growth, not stagnancy of character. I have walked in +the mountains, and seen the beauty surrounding me. I have heard the +babble of a stream and the eerie hoot of an owl. + +Though I am no longer able to actively pursue many of those diversions +which have so colored my memories, I yet possess their image in my +mind. I once felt the pleasure of vitality and physical endurance +marked by an unblemished body, and though my body is no longer +beautiful to behold, nor functions as it once had, yet it sustains me. + +I am fortunate to live in a comfortable style among furnishings and +sentimentalities I love, and have the option to be alone should that be +my need and desire. + +I am thankful for my many blessings, for I have a good life. Quality +cannot be marked by time, but rather, by the smiles along the way. + +10/1984 + + + + +Oct. 5, 1984... When I dropped the film off yesterday, I was mentioning +that I wish I knew some practical use for the film canisters. The clerk +said, "Now that you're pregnant, maybe you can use them as rattles if +you fill them." It always is a cold blow and it strikes me speechless. +I wonder what people think; I wear no rings... oh well, I know I'm +straight! That's what counts. I'm enjoying the sheepskin rug I +bought in Estes Park. It's gorgeous! + + + + +Traces Of Autumn + + +Autumn plays no timid song +And wears no modest vestment, +Flourishing its last hurrah +Before a restful interlude. +Dying leaves fall to the ground, +Whispering in the gentle breeze +To haunt the heels of passers-by +And gossip to the cold north winds. +The sweetly reminiscent smell +Born of leaves now laid to rest +Permeates the autumn air +And bids the traveler raise his head +To breathe the singular perfume +Before the icy gales of winter +Rob all traces of this heady scent, +Left to linger only in the mind +With autumns passed and indistinct. + +Lauren Isaacson +October 14, 1984 + + + +Oct. 19, 1984... I took a drive but was fearful of stopping to take +pictures while alone... what a chicken. My Beauty Book order came. +Everything is nice; items will make perfect gifts. + + + +Destiny + +Though autumn weaves its image +With an all-pervasive air, +Encompassing one's senses +in its splash of brilliant color +and the rustling of the leaves... +in the scent of drying foliage +blowing freely through the trees... +and the taste of ruby apples +and the crispness of the wind, +The barren months which lie ahead +Touch upon one's very soul; +The slanting sun sets trees aglow, +Their leaves a restless fire +Kept alive by northern winds until, +As embers blackened by the flames of yesterday, +They tumble to the ground... +Carpeting the well-clipped lawns +And waiting for the icy hand +That shall transform their shape to dust. +Like the child who aged beyond +A once-beloved bear, +Leaves--uniform as paper dolls +Cut by fingers deft and sure-- +Casually are flung aside +As if their purpose has expired. +Quietly a funeral dirge +Mourns balefully amid the breeze, +Heard by all and yet ignored +As if death denied may not unfold. +So silently the coldness seeps +Into the autumn breeze +And birds fall mute before its touch +So one might think the very chill +Had robbed their throaty cries. +No more leaves cling to the trees, +Making idle chatter, +For winter siezed their quiet voice +And hid it deep, 'neath frosty snow. +Silence reigns ov'r one and all +While clouds converge in murky skies; +Death obscures ones vision +To a darkly shade of gray, +And yet in time, the clouds recede, +Rendering warm the gloom-filled heart +And purging sorrow from the mind. + +Lauren Isaacson +October 21, 1984 + + + +Oct. 22, 1984... It was a great day, until after lunch. I got +sick...it was extra discouraging when I realized the beautiful day was +passing me by. I finally settled my stomach and Mom and I drove on +some rural roads. Later, while in the safety of my home, I had the runs. +... Sometimes when I feel so sick, so lousy, I cry... but this time +I feel too sick to make the effort... so I just sit. + + +Oct. 24, 1984... Mom and I took a drive to Loud Thunder. I took some +pictures... it was beautiful out. There was a stick bug on me... +they're strange little creatures. Later we drove to Petersen Park. +Mom suggested I write a poem about the man who was using one of those +metal detectors. He was the inspiration; I did so, once home...I like +the poem. + + + +Copper Pennies, Golden Leaves + + +An old man strolled through autumn leaves +Waving slowly 'fore his path +A wand to guide his watchful steps. +Were it not for earphones +Clapped upon his graying head +And a tiny garden spade +Warming in his gnarled hand, +I'd have thought the man was blind; +Yet blind this man might well have been +For all that he refused to see; +With eyes feasted on the ground, +He looked for copper, bronze, and gold. +A rusted bauble on a chain, +And perhaps, some pocket change +Lying 'neath the colored leaves +Was an afternoon's hoard... +And a splendid reward... +For several hours spent +With his back bent to the sun. +'Twas a shame he could not see +The wealth amid the shining trees... +The leaves turned golden by the sun +Falling near his outstretched wand +Yet of no value in his eyes. +After all his sightless quests +Are only shreds of memory, +This man shall have no hoard of wealth... +Only pennies in his hand. +The golden fragments in my mind +Are wealth beyond an earthly price; +For ten million copper pennies +I'd not trade a single thought. + + +Lauren Isaacson +October 24, 1984 + + + +Oct. 25, 1984... I made Mom and Dad's bed, but neither seemed to take +note. That's OK, each probably thought the other did it! + + +Oct. 31, 1984... I love Halloween... I carved two pumpkins after Dad +cleaned out the internals for me. Sick, sick, sick after supper; I get +so depressed. I decided to write a poem; I wanted to cry, but it +would've taken too much effort. Time is better spent writing. + + + +Yesterday's Dreams + + +My heart is filled with salty tears +My eyes shall never shed +And my mind reflects the many roads +These feet will never tread... +Forgotten and exhausted dreams +And those that cannot come to life +Are buried like the husband +Of a newly widowed wife; +So while the dreams of yesterday +Shall never be exhumed +Perhaps those of tomorrow +Shall defeat the moldering tomb. + +Lauren Isaacson +October 31, 1984 + + + + + +I've been thinking about Halloween as I knew it. I loved it so, even +though I didn't care much for the candy. It wasn't such a worry then. +Now everyone's scared; afraid some weirdo will put a pin or poison in +the candy. They even X-ray the treats. Dear Abby feels "trick or +treat" is a threat! Most kids wouldn't know how to trick someone. . . +when Dad was a kid they put entire hay wagons on top of barns or tipped +over the out-house. . . soaped windows and often were dunked by the +inhabitants of the house as they stood under an upstairs window pulling +their rat-a-tat-tats! They deserved the cold soaking. + + +Nov. 1, 1984... My stand on immigration, abortion, and criminal justice +would probably classify me as nothing short of an inhumane and +prejudiced killer. I have my reasons, however. I believe there must be +quality in life or life is simply existence. Population growth hinders +peace within humanity, and chaos results, not happiness. Abortion +saves children from neglect, inherited negative patterns of behavior +such as moral outlook and personality traits that would be given from +the mother and the erstwhile father. Finally, one who violates or +murders another person does not deserve life, for he gave his subject +no choice; in innocence the victim lost his life. + + +Nov. 5, 1984... Mom and I enjoyed an amusing situation today while +running some errands. Moline's 23rd Ave. is under construction, and a +truck hauling tar pulled in front of us. A red light stopped us behind +the truck, it's exhaust chokingly black. A workman was standing along +the curb, engaged in conversation; when the truck started up again, it +blew black smoke directly into his face. He noted our sympathetic +amazement concerning his predicament and immediately stuck out his +tongue in the direction of the truck, thus portraying his disgust of +the entire affair! Some of those little shared moments can "make the +day"! + + +Nov. 13, 1984... Sometimes I wonder if at least a good third of my life +has been spent sick. . . whether from Big C or other junk! + + + + + +The Wings Of Time + +Bourne upon the wings of time +Memories cloud my eyes today, +Masking o'er the tempting sights +Which seek dominion of my mind... +Childhood years that mocked +The very passing of the days, +Wishing time would hurry on +Quickly, as the setting sun. +I smile upon those early years, +Fueled by futuristic dreams, +For long I did not have to wait +'Ere time clipped short the youthful flame. +One need not beckon unto time, +Master of the endless hours +Both passed and yet to come... +When life is gone, time remains, +Ancient, yet forever young. +Passed moments and tomorrows +I live only in my dreams. +Today is all I truly have, +Bourne upon the wings of time. + +Lauren Isaacson +November 24, 1984 + + + +I've thought so much about the "givers" and "takers" in a society. It +is amazing to me that there are actually those who feel no obligation +whatsoever to help or to give to others. Unbelievable! Most people at +least feel a twinge of guilt about being so selfish. If everyone was a +taker, the world would be nothing but "existers." Nothing would be +accomplished or invented. Why is it that a taker must always be asked +to perform a duty? Perhaps selfishness breeds laziness... let George +do it! + +A child cannot give except with the knowledge that he will at a later +time be amply rewarded. Maybe this trait cannot he overcome if the +awareness factor is not there to aid in "overcoming." + +When one gives freely and without expectation, it is beneficial to both +self and others. Givers do not hinder. + +Why do takers think they are so special that they don't have to offer +conversation, aid, or show gratitude? What contributes to their lack +of obligation? A lack of conscience, or is it a lack of conscience +awareness??? + +The lazy and the selfish will not put themselves under any strain... +neither will the inherently low-esteemed. Perhaps a low self-image +combined with an inability to face that image leads to ingratitude... +gratitude would compliment the other, thereby raising his (the"others") +status. . . and lowering one's own. No matter how old this kind of +person grows, he will never mature. It inspired another poem... + + +Aged Child + +Possessed of apathetic eyes +Which mirror only childish wants, +He kindles flames of disbelief +When thoughts bereft of rationale +Are thrown amid the unspoiled breeze. +The unrivaled child of woe +Amongst the realm of thinking man +Exerts naught but vehemence +Toward duty and concern. +Ill mannered and unkempt, +An animal regards itself +More frequently, indeed. +Demands spill forth, +Yet aid will never be returned. +The mind, developed, yet constrained +By ropes he will not cast away, +Displays a blatant haughty show +And retreats behind a stagnant pool... +A silent product of neglect. + +Lauren Isaacson +November 25, 1984 + + +Nov. 26, 1984... I put the lights and decorations on the Xmas tree. +It's nice to have the house look like Christmas. Mom and I went to Dr. +M. She had some growths burned off and I had some questions. I feel +so stupid. Nothing can he done. My heart races, I have that bump on +my leg, swelling, nausea, the runs, heat problems, low lung capacity, +emotional weakness, tire easily, appetite fluctuates as does food +appeal, thirst, and water retention. All that can be said is that my +case is very unique. . . questions really have no answers. + + +Nov. 30, 1984... I have another dissertation to expound upon. . . to +those needing to "find themselves," let me say this: It cannot be done +by cheating on your spouse, or hitting the honky-tonk bars; rather, go +away in a remote wilderness or park, and all alone, spend time getting +to know who you are and what you believe in. There is no turning +yourself away when you are alone. . . you must face who you are. + +Should you find that you do not like who you see, trust your judgment. +Don't go running to a "shrink" to have him tell you "you're OK." +Chances are, your own opinion is right; take the traits you dislike +and try to improve your disposition. Find the love you buried under +trivial matters. Trying to improve is better than hiding behind a mask +you loathe and despise. + + +Dec. 18, 1984... Thoughts on my extensive reading: Strive to attain +harmony with your beliefs, for the price of discord is bled from the +heart. Attempting to rationalize that which cannot be rationalized +is a cruel and purposeless task that shall not be mastered; it is like +digging a foundation through unyielding stone with a paper shovel. +It cannot be done. + + + + + +Feb. 25, 1985... I wrote again today; if I can keep a decent momentum, +I'll make progress. After supper and a bout with diarrhea, I decided +to try to venture washing my hair in the shower. Even a simple task +becomes a worry. The shower is in the basement, the toilets are on +first and second floor; what if I should encounter another siege? + + +Feb. 27, 1985... I wrote more today, although it was rough going, words +weren't flowing. I wish summer was not coming up again. February flew +past, and my story is not half-way. I get so tired, or sick, +interrupted or otherwise side-tracked. When I can write, there's no +guarantee that I'll be able to get my brain jump-started. I need a new +battery; perhaps I have "Writer's Retardation." . . . writer's cramps +aren't sufficient! + + +Feb. 28, 1985... Sharon came around noon. I had one of those really +sick days. Later in the afternoon I could sit outside; I wrote a poem + + +The Present + +Do not forsake the present +Holding fast to yesterday; +Do not search for treasures +Buried deep and long decayed... +A moment lost cannot be won +For memories fade as the setting sun +And n'er will be regained. +'Tis best to think of what you are +And one day shall become. + +Lauren Isaacson +February 28, 1985 + + + +Feb. 28, 1985... I got sick at night. I hate it, +but I just have to sit it out. + + +Mar. 2, 1985... Afternoon sunshine brought me outdoors. I was in a sad +and reflective mood; the poem follows... + + + + +Life's Dusty Road + + +On life's dusty road I tread +Alone, save for that inner peace +Which bears me 'long when spirits fall +From that which is and cannot be; +For sorrow is a grain of sand +Which festers in the open heart +And preys upon the tender mind +Which seeks the sun +Beneath the clouds. +I cannot claim a smoother trail; +Though faltering steps impede my way, +I travel on through misty glade +Past crossroads of a different hue +And onward, though deep shadows loom. +Footsteps mingle with my own +Yet on my path, I walk alone; +The dust I bear upon my feet +Attests that my road is unique. + +Lauren Isaacson +March 2, 1985 + + +Mar. 4, 1985... Mom gave me a permanent today. I feel like Goldilocks! +It's fuzzy and appears to have been braided... but it's an improvement +over my limp hair. The liver must have taken it's toll on my +"extremities."... hair, nails; I hope my teeth don't go! It seems to +be better for me to eat throughout the day whenever I feel hungry. +It is truly March; the wind's a regular terror! + + +Mar. 7, 1985... Tomorrow Norm would have been 34. It seems rather +strange. I wrote a profound thought yesterday; "Does not the sunrise +from out of the Darkness?" + +I finished re-reading the 2nd of the Tolkien trilogies +and began the 3rd. I love those books. + +My room and "living room" are so neat. I just love having my "apt." +...it wouldn't be this way if it weren't for my Big C. I'd be making +money somewhere and probably still live here, but as far as furniture +goes. . . well, who knows? Maybe I'd have done this. I know I'd also +have wanted to save and scrimp for a down payment on a house. Strange +how a person's life can be so altered from that which one had desired. +Health means so much, yet few are thankful for it. I remember how +great it was to climb in the mountains. . . now that is all I have... +memories of health long passed. I suppose I didn't truly have health +since late grade school years. Cancer had been with me for a long time +to have grown so large in my stomach. But of course, cancer isn't my +foremost pain. . . that comes only from the death of Norm. I used to +laugh far more often, for we were always joking around. It was such +fun. I'm lucky to have had such a relationship at all, for few do +in a lifetime. + + +Mar. 12, 1985... Needed to sort through my clothes. So many I can +no longer wear. + + +Mar. 13, 1985... I wrote a letter to Jon. One of the patients who +journeyed to Greece called. Max (another patient) died yesterday. I +tried to calligraph a card for his mother, but couldn't seem to control +the pen well today. Whenever another of the group who went to Greece +dies, I wonder when I'll go,too. Almost all of the ones I knew are now +dead. Some cure! It had, at the time, seemed rather promising. Some +have said they didn't see why we went; if they had a loved one, they'd +probably be on the first plane! + + +Mar. 27, 1985... It was just 65 degrees; I sat outside in shorts and a +light top. A balmy spring breeze is filtering through the still-barren +branches of the oak trees, and despite a slight chill in the air, the +sun obliterates any shiver which might otherwise have broken upon my +skin. + +Mom persists in weeding, nurturing her plants, not heeding the +complaints of her aching back, while Dad rakes and resets the ground- +mole trap. . . "What could be more disturbing than a mole-infested +lawn?" And I sit... and observe... and listen. Across the hill, a +child chants a rhyme unperfected, to the hap-hazard beat of a jump +rope. The adjacent hill delivers the sound of a tree-trimming crew +ripping the remnants of a tree to shreds. The birds surround me with +a joyful chorus, assured that soon spring shall arrive, while a fly +attempts to sun itself on my knee and is foiled in its attempt. A new +and unfamiliar bird joins in the chorus, while a rake scrapes the lawn +in a rhythmic pattern. An incoming plane drones toward the distant +airport and is gone seconds later, only a minor disruption to the day's +overall serenity. + +A can drops and hits the cement; the wind chimes attest to the steady +flow of the soft breeze. A child hollers a rhyme. I wish she would +shut up. Ah, she has! Or so the moment portends. + + +April 1, 1985... (April Fool's Day) I "got" Mom by telling her that +I flubbed on one of the posters I was making for the Salad Luncheon +publicity. I finally finished reading "The Rosary" +a candy-sweet idealistic-love romance. + +Mom has begun to clean my upstairs; it's so good of her to do it. I +get so tired; I guess I have to give in, sometimes. + + +April 2, 1985... A good day! Wow! I wrote a lot! + + +April 3, 1985... Mom is doing all the typing for me; I'm so weak, +I really don't feel like doing much. + + +April 7, 1985... I am having a good day! What a change of pace. I'm +re-reading Jon's old letters. They bring back memories. Mom and Dad +had a good day with the rest of the clan. She brought back a lovely +lacey and beribboned egg to be used for a centerpiece. Sharon sent a +tiny basket with pink flowers and a miniature rabbit for me. She is +always lavishing me with demonstrations of love and affection. +Scott and Brad appeared to enjoy the books. + + +April 11, 1985... Problems again, but not so I couldn't enjoy the day. +It was in the 60's. I wrote a poem about spring. + + + +Spring + + +All that which +I cannot be +Is part of its +Vitality... +The hov'ring bee, +The blossom fair... +The youthful bird +Upon the air... +A burning sun +That buries snow +In shallow graves +From whence life grows; +Embracing both new seed +And breath +And shielding each +From thought of death. + +Lauren Isaacson +April 11, 1985 + + + +April 21, 1985... I've been reading Sherry's old letters when I tire +of writing. It's difficult to write about my first cancer experience; +reliving it is not easy. + + +April 22, 1985... I reminisced high school days; I remember a period +when I went through a swearing stage. Crazy. It doesn't exactly build +one's character, but for the time, it got one's point across. This was +only between close friends, of course. I never cared for public +vulgarity in any fashion. It's crazy, too, how one word is considered +"vulgar" and another, meaning the same thing, is not. Who decides +these things, I wonder? The one that really cracked me up was that the +proper British had to come up with a past tense of the word "shit."... +in their speech, it is "shat." + + +May 6, 1985... I tried to write outside, but it was impossible. Gnats +kept insisting on flying into my eyes. Mosquitoes were buzzing around +my legs, although none seemed inclined to feast; perhaps they were +still too young to know what to do with a human. When I used to be +able to do things outside, it was no problem; indoors bugs don't bite, +nothing seems an annoyance. Once inside and in the comfort +of air-conditioning, I wrote a poem. + + + +Seasons Of Life + +One mirrors many seasons within his very life; +The lush bouquet of springtime, hoarding life, vitality. +From the verdant, yielding mind sparks, like tree sap, +Bubble through one's firm, yet supple limbs. +Unleashing youthful hopes and dreams for growth unhindered, +Unrestrained by roiling clouds and murky skies. + +As the spring to summer fades, so also, does the life mature, +Observing as the inky clouds derived of haughty restlessness +Recede into one's memory, to live subdued and quiet lives +'Til time denies their former flame. +The waxing moon of summer skies illuminates high-flying clouds; +The vessels of one's dreams attained, and hopes of liquid silver. + +As summer dies, glamour wanes, and silver dreams to gold transform; +Shade not the sun from aging hearts, but bask therein and mark the glow +Which glimmers deep on ancient joys and even where dark shadows fall. +Despair not in autumnal gold! +In holding fast to summer's hue, beauty passes by, unseen, +And spoils itself 'fore winter's grasp. + +Crushing life with frigid hands, winter heeds no stricken gaze +Which kindles in the youthful eye whose untouched life is yet benign +Unto the last, eternal chill; yet fear, alone, cannot impair +The misty sight of spring's new hope; +And though one life the snow enshrouds, in other lives, +Breath rallies still depicting seasons, fair and strong, +And promising life shall go on. + +Lauren Isaacson +May 6, 1985 + + + +May 9, 1985... Mom asked if I'd like to give Sharon my bike because +hers is so difficult to pedal.. I don't know...I hate to let go of it +just yet. Some days I feel normal. Stupid, I know; guess it's part of +my way of maintaining hope. Another idiotic drama! Yesterday I asked +Mom to get some angel donuts. They were tarring the road, so she +brought two twists from Jewel. I nearly began to cry. I felt like +such a jerk; I have so few pleasures in food to look forward to; +it just hit me! + + +May 10, 1985... I calligraphed a Mother's Day card, put a $20 bill in +it along with a box of pretty soap for the big day. + + +May 11, 1985... I've read Jane Eyre, The Crucible, the four of +Tolkien's, Catch 22, The Stand, All Quiet on the Western Front; +most of them show human emotions in the raw. + + +May 12, 1985... We had a picnic; it was a beautiful today. Les brought +me a dozen roses; they're beautiful, too! Jon called, but I couldn't +talk long... problems, again. + + +May 16 1985... I wonder how much time, if any, I gained by having Chemo +the first time around. I had no other choice, especially since it was +thought to be a cure. I never would have it again. . . even if it did +slow the growth. Living without sickness, caused by the treatment, is +best. + + +May 17 1985... I get "down" in the mornings; physically, I'm at my +lowest ebb; it affects my emotional stability, too. + +It's strange, but nice weather almost always makes me mad because I +feel obligated to get out in it. But, I can't write on my book if I'm +outside; there are too many distractions, mostly in the form of bugs in +my eyes. If I'm inside, I'm letting life pass me by, and yet, I'm not +neglecting my writing. It gets to me that I can't actually do much +anymore except sit around outside. No walks, bike rides, or walking +down in the woods. Oh, well. + +I decided to get my camera and did get some shots of a great yellow +butterfly in the Beauty bush. Hope it turns out well. + +UPS delivered another of my Lillian Vernon orders. I'll have a choice +as I give gifts. I calligraphed a poem inside of a blank card for +Steve's graduation. Then I took it and the Indian rug I bought him +over to Moore's. We had a nice visit. + +My legs are like lead stumps. I've tried to cut out salt; why I'm so +plump way up to my knees, I don't know. + + +May 27, 1985... I just noticed the whistle hanging from my towel rack. +I put it there a few months ago in case I needed help. I was having +diarrhea so badly. I wondered how long I'd last. It's weird, but having +my death forecast is strangely comforting. So many things I won't and +don't need to worry about. I know and accept I'm going to die. What is +hard is that I still enjoy certain things; I don't really want to die. + +Everyone is frightened of dependence. Loneliness is not a fear... +helplessness is another matter. + + +June 16, 1985... My legs look like Lincoln Logs. Oh well, I'll create +a Father's Day card. + +Black? ... White. +Wrong? ... Right. +Up? ... Down. +Smile? ... Frown. +In? ... Out. +Whisper? ... Shout. +Good? ... Bad. +IRREPLACEABLE? . . . DAD. + + +June 22, 1985... Mom has been bringing up my meals. It's so warm for +me to come downstairs. The folks bought an insulated drapery to close +off my living room. The bathroom and my room will remain cool. Mom +also brought me three maternity tops. She told me it was very +difficult for her to buy them. I don't know whether I'll keep them or +not. Vanity is a funny thing. I keep hoping I can look good in +something, but it never ends up that way. My clothes are dwindling in +number, and some are not too hot. Mom also got me a purple nightie; +it's really pretty. + + +June 25, 1985... I'm glad I didn't have to go out and try on clothes. +I'll keep the things Mom brought me. It would be hard to shop... +physically and emotionally. + + +July 9 thru 13... another bout with the "runs." I was so down for +a time. I get depressed from reliving the past. Some things are +difficult to recall in such detail as I illustrate a part of my life +with the feelings I experienced at the time. It's draining; topping it +all off is the fact that I don't have much I can do to alter my life +now. I get sick of feeling sick, nausea, diarrhea, and weakness; the +daily scheme of events some days. I get weak; I cry. Well, I hope its +over for a time. At least I'm not down for this entire day! + + +July 22, 1985... the day started out great. . . good mood. . . even sat +outside for a time. After supper my heart started racing, palpitating +like a tick. My normal beat is 110-120 which is rather high. We tried +the breathing in a sack, holding the breath. Nothing helped. Mom +called the doctor and he prescribed valium. The druggist said they +would call when it was ready. They never did. Finally Dad just went +over; there it was, just sitting on the shelf. + +Man, my chest hurt so, I thought I was having a heart attack. The +valium didn't help much. That was 3 hours after the episode had begun. +Mom slept upstairs on the couch; it was a bad night. . . sweating, +aching, and of course, that rapid heart beat! By 9:00 the next morning +it finally slowed to my normal fast rate. What relief. That was a 15 +hour trauma! I don't see how my heart can withstand it! + + +July 24, 1985... There isn't much that can be done for me, but it is +nice to be so relaxed. I'll take the valium for awhile, especially +while I'm so weak. Mom and Dad are a genuine godsend to me. I don't +know what I'd do without them in times like this. I look bad; white +face, dark eyes, I had best avoid mirrors! I got a catalog of basket +kits. I might send for some things. Mom talked with the doctor about +the heart episode. He said I should take the valium as soon as an +attack begins; if it persists after a 45 minute period I should go to +the hospital and be put on a heart monitor to see what is wrong. I +hate not being able to take the valium. I liked being "zoned out" for +awhile and so completely relaxed. I can understand why people allow +themselves to get hooked on a tranquilizer; they afford a great deal of +peace and mental relaxation. + +Another thing that spurred my agitation was the fact that I enjoyed +being pampered by Mom. She'd wake me up, help me get cleaned up for +bed, and bring me trays for each meal. It was so comforting, like the +feeling of well-being which is so prominent in one's youth, when +parents are the primary source of protection and the sustaining power +of life. + +Well, I got over it. I guess I just didn't feel like facing reality or +my life's idea of "normalcy" yet. + + +July 29, 1985... I had a great surprise... Jon sent 6 long stemmed +roses to me saying, "I hope you get better soon." It was so nice and +so unexpected, especially since I've been feeling rather isolated +lately. I wrote him a thank you letter. + + +Aug. 1, 1985... I got a letter from Jon; another nice surprise. A +letter can be held and read over and over again; a phone call is soon +just a memory. I have the "runs" again. Mom brought tea and warm +bagels all day. It helps a lot. + + +Aug. 11, 1985... I've decided to sell the Chevette and my Viscount +(bike); it's so stupid... they just sit there and I'm not going to get +any better. I'm 39 inches around the middle. The bike was $156 new +and it's in good condition. I'm asking $75 for it. + +Mom did a raft of typing this past week. I sat on the front steps with +Mom and Dad in the afternoon. It was 75 degrees and so beautiful. + + +Aug. 25, 1985... It's strange, but when Mom and Dad are gone all day, +like yesterday, I feel half mad when they return. The truth is that +I'm not mad, I'm only in need of some conversation. I need to tell +someone about my concerns, or at least have someone around. I do want +them to go out; they need to get away. I had the runs; I'm rather +amazed also, by my ever-growing shape. . . it's hideous! And I have +tons of water retention. Oh, well! It wasn't my best day; I wrote all +day, anyway. + + +Sept. 11,1985... The Chevette has been sold. I should get a refund on +my insurance, too. The girl came with her boyfriend to pick up "her" +car last night. Dad took a personal check for it; I wish he would have +said "NO" to it, but they are probably OK. If not, I just sold my car +for $100. (Great) + +I couldn't sleep for a while, because I was worried about the check. +So... I got up and clipped my toe nails! (What therapy.) (And it +didn't cost a cent.) + +Today it is 70 degrees, sunny, a slight breeze, ah! I also have the +check in my account. Dad phoned to see how much of a refund I'd +receive on my insurance. . . it's just $50. Not exactly half of what +I paid for the 6 months, but they're not giving up anything! + +I found the 4th and 5th grade postcards I sent to Mom and Dad from my +camp. They will go in my book. + +Yesterday Margaret and I went to lunch. At the cash register the guy +said, "Looks like it'll be in the winter." I couldn't figure out what +he meant for a second, but then I realized that he thought I was +pregnant. I said I had a "liver ailment" and that many made the same +assumption. It never floors me at the time, but later I have to admit +that it bothers me. I start thinking about it; I get mad at myself +because there's no way for me to look stylish. I used to try to belt +big tops and "blouse" them over pants. Now, it looks ridiculous. I +never thought I could get this big; having to wear maternity clothes +and such. . . but then, I never thought a lot of things. Swelling legs, +going from a 31-I/2 inch span (in my middle) in the fall of '83 to a 39 +inch middle now. (Normally I had a 24 inch waist... I thought I was +enormous then!) It's funny, but it just keeps on going, and you have +to accept it. At least my face is OK and I can enjoy some things. I +can see and hear and am reasonably mobile. . .and I've known what it is +to feel physically normal. Some people never do. + + +Sept. 13 through 15... Weather has been gorgeous! I've been able to +sit outside. It always inspires me to write poetry. One is about how +life never really changes. + + + +Continuity + + +The tenth morn of December +I was severed from my mother's life, +Forced into a hostile world +And with a cry, drew my breath. +Christmas came, then New Year's Eve, +Yet nothing really changed. +Days passed by, and soon, years too. +My eyes focused on the world +Which offered more than it received. +I found love, and later, fear... +Then grief, and peace of mind; +I witnessed death and mourned for life. . . +Yet nothing really changed. +The world revolved and buried sorrow +In a mask of time. +Now I am weak, +The refuge of malignant death, +But still the seasons flicker on. +Leaves adrift, float to the ground, +While acorns burrow in the earth; +Remnants of life +And the hope thereof +Together meld as one. +When I depart, +Life slows not... +And nothing will really change. + +Lauren Isaacson +September 15, 1985 + + + + +Meditation On The Wind + + +In the trees, cool breezes sing, +Directing leaves with steady gusts +And urging forth pure harmony +From swaying, fully laden limbs. +No sweeter sound could ride the wind +Than gently rustling woodland brush; +I drink the soothing music +Playing lightly on the wind, +And instantly I feel refreshed, +For whispering leaves wipe cares away +And liberate imprisoned minds. + +Lauren Isaacson +September 16, 1985 + + + + +Sept. 29, 1985... I have been so swollen lately. My middle hurts when +I lay too long; getting up helps. I have the runs; couldn't go to +Dubuque for Mom's Sept. birthday; couldn't go to Margaret's to +celebrate her mother's birthday. I finally spent 2 hours of the +afternoon just sleeping. I finished a poem I was writing about Norm. +It follows... + + + +Eternal Bond + + +Captured on a dismal morn +When winter's cloak +Concealed the sun, +My brother journeyed +From the earth, +Perhaps to grasp another time, +Or rest beneath the heaven's stars. +Perfect sorrow filtered deep +Within my mournful soul; +With sightless eyes +I scanned my mind, +Rendering memories whole. . . +And images, like broken shards, +I struggled to restore +Lest any trait be left behind +And thus, in death, forever die. +Crippling grief and grim despair +Withdrew its shadow from my heart, +For in myself, his life went on; +The steadfast and eternal bond +Which formed in life +Failed not in death. +We laughed, we smiled, +We understood, +And though I now must walk alone, +To loneliness I'll not succumb. + +Lauren Isaacson +September 29, 1985 + + + +Oct. 17, 1985... It's great this time of year, although melancholic. I +sat outside most of the day. Then, as I watched this "mite" of a +squirrel, he struggled furiously to retain his grasp on a branch. He +frantically succeeded in attaining a safer location; he was noticeably +upset. It inspired a poem. I wrote one the day before; I'm not overly +thrilled about it, but that's life. + + + +Autumnal Essence + +Splendor, bold and riotous, +Bespeaks the grand autumnal mood. +Blackbirds cackle unrestrained +Among the trembling golden wood +While agitated squirrels bury nutmeats +'Neath the fragrant turf. +Fruit trees, heavy-laden, bend +Their branches toward the earth, +Spilling wealth from fertile lands +Into eager, out-stretched hands. + +Lauren Isaacson +October 16, 1985 + + + + +Ascent To Reality + +From beneath the autumn leaves +I watched a youthful, auburn squirrel +Leap cautionless from limb to limb. +With no rival but himself +To test his acrobatic feats, +He bethought he'd mastered all +And, bathing in a pool of pride, +Washed apprehension from his mind. +The tiny sprite performed his dance +From tree to wind-tossed tree, +Alive with joy and pure delight... +He knew no pain, no discontent, +And thus immersed, called life a dream. +But noonday warmth soon disappeared +And golden rays slashed through the trees. +The sun cast spotlights on the lawn +And made the trees let go their crown. +Darkness stole the crimson glow +And, as through his domain he flew, +The squirrel ran before the night, +Thinking he could out-wit time. +On agile feet, both swift and sure, +He sailed into the shadowed trees, +Yet missed his mark in failing light, +Betrayed by faulty, youthful pride. +Catapulting toward the earth, +The wind reached out and caught his pride +And blew a limb within his grasp +To buffer his naivete'. +Life was not a blissful dream; +He panted in unsteady breaths, +Drawing strength from wisdom gained +Through time and circumstance. +Ascending toward the lofty heights, +His vision was renewed. . . +The world became Reality +Both beautiful and cruel, +While he transformed to earthly size, +A minute parcel of himself +Yet elemental to the whole. + +Lauren Isaacson +October 17, 1985 + + + +Daydreams + +Today I reserve for dreaming, +For dismissing the hectic world, +For unleashing my burdens unto the wind +Where, no longer imprisoned, +They'll haunt me no more. +If only today, how high I shall fly! +Soaring amid the fragrant breeze, +Adrift with the blackbirds +And fluttering leaves, +My freedom will beckon me +Rise higher still +And my spirit, unshackled, +Will lounge on the clouds +To create wistful visions +Of heaven above. +But daydreams must end +With the red setting sun +And, like autumn leaves, +Succumb to decay. +For today, dreams exist, not for 'ever, +Sustaining when all else runs foul. +Dreams, alone, are the soul food of God. . . +The ambrosia of heaven on earth. + +Lauren Isaacson +October 24, 1985 + + + +Oct. 27, 1985... Todd and Debbie came yesterday. We had a wiener roast +for lunch; it was quite appropriate as the day was crisp and clear. + +Today, after lunch, I asked Mom how long they would be staying; she +thought I was complaining and said, "sometimes I wish it was all over +for me so I wouldn't have to listen to all of this; everyone thinks +only of themselves, yes, everyone is so selfish." When I recovered +slightly I said that I hadn't meant it that way, but that I was scared +about getting too tired... I didn't want to say that, it sounded +selfish, too. + +Too often I have experienced hurtful things when there is a visit; +while one can forgive and try to start anew with each visit, I find it +impossible to forget. When hurtful statements are made, that person is +still the same; there is still that part lurking behind the individual +and it becomes difficult to know how "genuine" is their countenance. + +Mom apologized for her earlier statement; she was tired and rather +depressed. She said she "hurt" for so many people, she felt she was +falling apart. I had been so afraid of hurting her with my +confidences, afraid I wouldn't have anyone to confide in; I felt +incredibly alone. I was so happy she came up; I don't think I could +have handled such desperate loneliness. It was great to have a hug. + + +Nov. 5, 1985... I've neglected this journal; Dad made a frame for my +pointalism of the Grand Canyon. I have it behind the sofa on the south +wall; I really like it. Other events: Mom and Dad replaced Lynn's +stone at the cemetery with a large stone for our entire family; Lynn, +Norm, Mom, Dad, and me. They had not told me before, but I've been +wondering; when they talk with me about death it is so different for it +is spoken with love and deep caring. + +We made up a memorial service for me from my writings; I have to select +the poems I would like and then it will be complete. + + +Nov. 7, 1985... The "runs" again, but I was able to sit outside by +afternoon. I wore the "Tahoe" sweatshirt Jon had sent some time ago +plus my corduroy coat. It was about right. I wrote a poem while +sitting there. + +I wonder if I'll accomplish all that I truly wish to before I die. . . +My book is progressing; I keep writing poetry too, so I have a lot +done; a little at a time, and one day at a time! I'd love to finish +the quilt and also calligraph some of my poems. + + +Whispering Pines + + +I heard the pine trees gossip +To the passing northern winds, +Disclosing facts quite true, yet low, +In hurried gusts and whispered blows. +"The hardwoods lost their haughty glow. . . +Amazing how fast glamour goes! +Now they're merely sapless sticks +Bereft of life, 'twould seem... +They look so gnarled, so thin and sick +Beside our evergreen!" + +Lauren Isaacson +November 7, 1985 + + + +Nov. 22, 1985... The 17th I began to run a temp; it continued and by +Mon. eve was 103 degrees. Mom tried giving me a cool bath. It was a +"real thrill" trying to get down in the tub. (I fell in, and barely +made it getting out... I have no strength in my arms or legs). Mom has +been sleeping upstairs since I got sick. Food "sticks" so that I would +welcome losing it. Mom has been serving me gingerale; it helps. +I've lost weight. Noodles are the only food that appeals to me; +it's at least a start. + +I've not worked on my book since Nov. 7th. Many changes have taken +place; even with my weight loss I can no longer wear my beloved mink +coat; it's 2 and more like 3 inches from even touching right to left! +And to think I was once but 24 inches around the waist! Sharon looks +good with her disciplined weight loss. What emotional problems there +are to be reckoned with in this life! + + +Dec. 17, 1985... I didn't elaborate on my 24th birthday; I should fill +in the days. There were 30 birthday cards in all. I hadn't expected +it, since 24 is a rather "blah" age, and also, I keep thinking the +cancer situation will become old hat. I guess I was very wrong. +Thursday I walked with Mom to Bev's Xmas Coffee; just 4 houses away. +I got tired, then so hot; I could hardly walk home. Mom had wanted +to take the car, but I would have felt like a fool for such a short +trip. She was right; it was very tiring. + +Saturday Mom had a special dinner planned so all could see the new +addition to the Isaacson clan. It didn't work out so well; +the guest of honor left! + + +Dec. 23, 1985... We enjoyed a lovely dinner at Chet and Margaret's. +The nausea almost spoiled my evening, but it finally passed (whew!). +There were just the 3 of them, the 3 of us, and Les. It's better +without all the weird things that happen when too many are invited! + + +Dec. 24, 1985... CHRISTMAS EVE DAY. . . I felt good today. Jon came +over around 2:00 and stayed until 4:00. We stayed downstairs by the +Christmas tree. He wrapped up a 6-pack of orange-flavored mineral +water for me. I had ordered a boomerang for him; and so ended our +Christmas. + +The family Christmas was great, as usual. Les came, too. We had +Cornish Hens, potatoes, stuffing, bread and waldorf salad; excellent! + +Afterwards, we read the Xmas story and a few other readings; then we +had our exchange. + + +Dec. 25, 1985... Todd and Debra came for today. Our big meal was at +noon. Mom fixed a turkey breast with all the trimmings. We had our +gift exchange in the afternoon. Todd got a kick out of his "reality +mug" and a Far Side daily calendar. + + +Dec. 27, 1985... I'm getting sick again, temp of 101... arhythmia heart +action lasted 12 hours. This was an illness of long duration. +I stayed upstairs. . . I had to waken Mom, (she has been sleeping +up-stairs). We tried the deep breathing, plus a few other things. +I finally took a valium and tried to relax. Mom called the doctor as +early as she dared; he called in a prescription for a heart regulator. + + +Jan. 1, 1986... Mom made Cornish Hens again for just the 3 of us. +I enjoyed the dinner so. We watched the Vienna concert at night. + + +Jan. 11, 1986... I stay upstairs now, coming down only to have Mom wash +my hair using the spray on the kitchen sink. The steps are such a drag, +and I like being near all the things I need. I'm so glad I have +the upstairs apartment. + +I decided to get a color T.V.; Dad picked a 13 in. Sylvania with +remote control. I love it. Dad installed an aerial today. + +I ordered a lambswool mattress cover; it will cushion these bones of +mine. I also ordered a book on decorating, 2 pillows, and a seat for +my toilet that will raise me up about 5 inches. (I'm aging fast!) + +Margaret came over with a lovely bouquet of 5 red roses interlaced with +baby's breath. I gave her 2 covered mugs for her birthday. It's fun +to order all these gifts for others. Scott wrote me a thank you letter +for his Far Side T-shirt. I was so glad to get the mail. + +I talked with Mom at night and blew out some more frustration. I get +so angry when I think about people who try to restrict me through their +high pressure persuasiveness. Just remembering past grievances evokes +terrific anger. I feel so vulnerable and have such a lack of control +anymore that anyone's pressure is a direct violation of my inner self. +I don't have the strength to fight; I get bent out of shape because if +I did what they did, it wouldn't be so easily forgiven. Why is it that +people feel sorry for those who continually screw up their lives. +"It just ain't fittin'!" + + +Jan. 24, 1986... I ordered a mini wash stand for outside of the +bathroom, a neat basket and also Mom and Dad are going to see what is +available in chairs and recliners as I'm having trouble getting out of +my old green velvet rocker. We have ordered an egg-crate mattress +for me; I hope it works. + + +Jan. 25, 1986... Mom and Dad went out and looked for a recliner; +they found a great one at Banworth and Udelhoven for about $400. They +brought home a photo and swatch to show me. I decided it would be fine +and they went back in the Chevy truck to pick it up. It looks great +in my room and is "Oh, so comfortable." It's a wall-away and won't +need to be "out" so far in the room. + +I wrote to Todd explaining why I have such a distaste for phones, and +do not wish to have one in my room, my desire to be alone more, and my +hope that he will not be so troubled over these things. Sharon does +come, I know, but we have been close now for many years; Todd did not +come home but once or twice a year after finding work in other areas. +He gets so upset about my illness (its incurable nature); he calls +doctors all over the country to inquire concerning various treatments. +I hope this will help him to accept my situation. + + +Jan. 26, 1986... I had another dream about Norm; I recall I sat in his +lap and was worried I'd be too heavy. I was so happy to see him. + +I went to sleep with the T.V. on; I wakened at 4:00 a.m. and turned +it off. I was down today; so tired and weak. This contributes +to depression. After crying a bit and talking to Mom I felt better. +More and more I need to be free of visitors. Dad came up later +and we talked, which was real nice. + + +Jan. 27, 1986...The egg-crate mattress and the high toilet seat came +today. + + +Feb. 4, 1986... I'm feeling pretty good these past few days. It's a +welcome change. My dreams are so horrible, though. I almost wondered +if I'd screamed aloud. One was about rodents that were attacking me +and biting my fingers. + +I sent for an oak T.V. swivel; it works great. I've chosen more of my +slides so Dad can take them in for more prints. + + +Mar. 5, 1986... I've written through my high school years and now I'm +in the anorexic stage and Black Hawk College. It's so hard to work. +I'm either too tired or so uncomfortable. My mid-section is huge. It +hangs below my bikini underwear. When I sit I must be so straight or +it's uncomfortable. Sleeping has become more difficult, also. I get +up twice or more most nights. . . sometimes to go the bathroom, other +times my hips hurt (I'm so thin), or my ears pound until I sit up and +swallow. Sometimes I can't breathe and have to get up and position my +pillows on an incline so I can breathe easier. + +Mom permed my hair again. It gives it body. I can use the curling +iron in the morning if it's needed. I feel better about my looks when +it's this way. + +I haven't written in my journal for so long. Valentines were abundant. + +The wall behind the sofa is complete; I've 4 photos ready to hang when +Dad gets the 9" x 12" photo of the shack in the Smokies. I have +finished putting my other photos in an album; at least they are no +longer loose. + + +Mar 29, 1986... Dad and Mom installed the air conditioner in my room. +(It got up to 78 degrees!) They're putting the other one in my living +room window. For awhile, I was afraid Dad was against the idea and it +sort of choked me up because I began to think I'd be enclosed in one +room for the next five months. It wasn't a great thought. Last year I +could get outside and roam around. Now, it's being upstairs and that's +about all. I felt stupid; I cry about the least thing anymore. I'm so +weak, I lose control easily. + +I'm going to work on my quilt, so Mom set up the portable Singer on +Dad's high machine shop stool; I'll sit on the bed when I sew. + +I've been taking Lasix 4 times a day; it seems to work better that way. +I take the Aldactone in between. It's difficult to walk. When I sit, +the water drains into the current position; when I get up, it feels +like my skin will rip. + +I had problems sleeping until we put pillows under the egg-crate +mattress so I was propped up on a steep incline. +I couldn't breathe before. + + +Mar. 31, 1986... A great day, (AMAZlNGLY). I worked on my quilt for a +little while. + + +May 5, 1986... It's been a long while since I last wrote herein. +I guess I didn't find the energy and the will to do it before now. +Days are often so much the same. + +I had a few physical set-backs through the months; one "flu" episode +nearly had us digging my grave. I really wondered if that would be it +for me and this world. I had to get the elevated (frame-style) commode +from Bev Verstraete. They had purchased it for her father. + +It was awful. I was so weak; I couldn't get up from the toilet; even +with my raised seat. I tried and tried, but Mom had to help before I +made it. Even with her help, getting up was nearly impossible. I was +so scared. It had been getting progressively more difficult; I guess +I saw it coming, but it's still a blow when it finally happens to you. +It's so demeaning. I kept wondering what would've happened if I +couldn't get up and was alone; but then, of course, I'm not left alone +anymore. + +I lost a lot of weight; my face is just skeletal now. Every time I get +a "bug" I lose more strength and can never fully regain it. +The thought of total incapacitation is rather horrifying. +It's bad enough now. + +I have accidents in my undies, because sometimes I can't walk fast +enough to get there, and have no butt to pinch the rectum closed and +hold it back. It's never major; just a spot, but I hate it just the +same. I wear a pad for security now. + +The 4 Lasix and 2 Aldacton daily don't really do the job. By evening I +can hardly breathe, so I can no longer recline in my chair. Dad has +made a high platform and secured it with screws so I can just turn from +my bed and sit down. The porta-potty is across from it. My world is +slowly closing in. The water presses both my heart and lungs causing +my heart to flutter from the pressure. Sleep has been difficult of +late, I have to sit up on the edge of my bed for a time; then I lay +down again. It's better by morning. + +At least my foot is better; it was hurting like crazy... I must have +hurt it due to water retention (?). + +Every time I lose more health it's like some big milestone has been +crossed. First it was the overheating, then going to the bathroom +restricted the daily walks and other outings; then I had to remain +upstairs... then the toilet... and on and on. Each time was such a +defeat. I cried about having to stay upstairs because I wondered if I +was just "throwing in the towel." Then I cried about not being able +to get up from the toilet because it scared me so! + + +May 19, 1986... Last night Mom and Dad brought pizza upstairs. It was +nice. Sharon came for a Saturday bus excursion to a shopping area near +Chicago. Mom, Sharon and Rosalind all went. Mom brought me a towel +for my wash stand and a nifty wall basket with a lid. + +Sharon's going to be coming more often; I'm glad. In some respects, +she's like a second mother, yet different too. We share ideas and +interests and can talk well. + +I've been awfully fatigued lately. All day I can barely keep my eyes +open, and writing is an incredible chore. I find myself nodding in the +middle of thoughts; it's very distressing when I consider the time +limit imposed on my effort drawing closer as the days fold away... +naturally, my life has a hesitant grasp on time; I do wish to finish my +literary endeavor. + +Sleep at night is difficult, which does not sound logical after the +fact that I fight to stay awake during the day, but so be it. It's not +mine to ask "why."... + + +June 24, 1986... Such indignities. Dependency shouldn't have to be +one, yet it is. And the strange thing is that I feel I am losing +myself... slowly... as life trickles from my body, but still, with all +that has been and will be lost, every so often I catch a glimmer of +myself... in a gesture, a smile, and realize that the core is intact +despite the withering exterior. Perhaps the core is that undefinable +part of oneself that lives beyond earthly existence. + + +June 27, 1986... I'm beginning to understand the meaning of +intolerable. Sometimes, any more, I feel like a person tottering on +sanity's limits. As my weakness increases, my capabilities decrease; +I now not only have confined myself to my room, but to one small +quadrant thereof, in which I am surrounded by my bed, my chair, my T.V. +and (of course), my toilet. At least my mind is still free. Perhaps +it will remain so as long as I allow myself to cry and feel. +Last night was the first time I ever felt scared of life. + + +June 29, 1986... Tonight is loud with thunder... the deep, sharp +rumbling that shakes the house as if to remind the world that it is +alive. It is not subtle, but in it's brazen clap, I can find a reason +to rejoice; I live in the shadows of a wondrous and beautiful world, +yet thunder is one element of nature from which I have not been +excluded, for it penetrates walls. + + +July 9, 1986... It seems that I cry every day now. Overall, my life is +a discouraging mess. I'm just too tired to write. . . and scared to +try to sleep. Blast. + + +July 11, 1986... (Fri.) Yesterday Sharon sent me a carnation flower +arrangement. . . 2 pink carnations, greens and baby's breath. Real +pretty. + +It's been getting more and more difficult at home. Last night Mom and +Dad had to lift my legs into bed; Mom is sleeping in my queen-size bed +right with me so that she can help me get back in after using the +toilet. It's tough to sleep, and I'm afraid I won't be able to get out +of bed... my arms and legs are virtually useless. They're like sticks. +We had some tough conversation. + + +(Mother's note). . . Laurie wanted me to call Hospice and arrange for +someone to come to the home and explain the various programs available. +I did so. Laurel Anderson was willing to come on Saturday morning, +but I felt this was not within her scheduled working hours and deferred +the appointment to Monday morning at 11:00 A.M. + +Laurel Anderson came promptly on July 14 and we climbed the stairs to +Laurie's hide-a-way. There were many questions; if a contract was +signed, could the patient refuse food. . . would the "Concern for the +Dying" contract be respected in that no artificial means would be used +to keep the patient alive... would medication for pain be of the type +that would not sustain life. . . all of these must be answered before +Laurie would want to consider signing a contract with Hospice. In the +conversation, answers were given, but always with one addition; it +would be hoped that the patient could return to her home. HOPE was no +longer a part of Laurie's vocabulary. Just a few short weeks ago, it +had been there. She had not been wearing earrings for some time, and +noticed that one of the openings had begun to close. She had asked for +my assistance in piercing it again. Now she wanted an end to her +existence. There was not one position in which she could be +comfortable; her desire was to find comfort in the hospital bed's +maneuverability. + +Satisfied that her wishes could be fulfilled, Laurie signed the +contract. Her remaining fear was that Laurel Anderson and the hospital +staff would think her a wimp! + + +July 14, 1986... (her last entry)... I made the decision today... I am +going into Hospice. No more fun... no more nuthin' + + +The ambulance service came at two o'clock. Through all of this ordeal +it was a comfort to have Sharon, Laurie's older sister, with us. The +two young men who brought Laurie downstairs were cheerful and so very +careful. The stretcher had been fashioned into a chair position +because of the limited space going down the steps. Upon arriving +outside, they positioned her so that she could remain seated, but with +legs extended. Not having been outside since December, and not being +able to walk the distance to a window for many weeks, Laurie was +fascinated by the beauty of the warm summer day. + +As I rode in the front with the driver he noted an unusual odor and +both men were quite concerned. It was decided they not turn on the +siren and proceed at a faster pace because Sharon and Dad were +following in the family car; they didn't want to cause further trauma! +The ambulance made it to the hospital; it was found to be in need of a +"mechanical doctor," but it had fulfilled its mission. + +The room was done in vivid color, not of the old vintage beige. As +Laurie was helped into bed, she caught sight of her reflection in the +mirror; she had not visibly known how she looked for some time. It +caused both disbelief and pain. Now came the true test. She was +manipulated into several positions; none seemed to help. As the nurse +left the room, Laurie finally gave vent to tears. During all of this, +she had been a true soldier. It was too much! She now felt she had +made a big mistake! Could we bring her back home? It was so little to +ask, and yet we knew we could not immediately ask to have her returned. +The hospital staff was in transition; the next shift was coming in. +This alone added to the confusion, but it also brought help. A veteran +of Hospice entered; with a multitude of pillows, plus more manipulating, +she was able to bring the comfort Laurie had longed for! + +Later in the evening, that same veteran came in to talk and to advise +Laurie that it would be best to accept liquids rather than no +nourishment at all. We asked concerning the Lazy Boy and the porta-pot +from home. Both would add to her comfort. Sharon had left for Dubuque +before knowing that "bed comfort" had come to her sister, so I called +her as soon as I knew she was in her home. It was very difficult to +leave the hospital that night, but I had grown so tired over the past +weeks; I selfishly did go home. + +Les and Dad placed the Lazy Boy in close proximity to Laurie's bed. +It was a welcome change. The staff informed me that Laurie had talked +most of the night. She had been given a bath in a portable tub; quite +a contraption! I had brought several photo albums as well as photo +files and a lovely volunteer was seated by Laurie as I left for my +11:00 appointment with the dentist. + +After lunch, Laurie remarked that a tray had been brought with eggs and +bacon, a roll and fruit, but she had refused it. It had looked so +tempting, but she was determined to follow her own plan. The day +passed uneventfully. That evening her cousin, Gary, stopped by for a +visit. Upon his leaving, she kidded with him. Later, I went to +another section of the hospital to fulfill her desire for frozen +bar-type fruit juice. Dad and I left around 11:30. + +July 16. . . Laurie was seated in the Lazy Boy when we arrived. Her +breakfast tray had her requested liquid diet, untouched. I wanted to +help her but she felt too nauseous. She wanted to sit on the edge of +the bed. We sat together for over twelve minutes; I, with my arm +around her back to brace her, she with her head leaning against mine. +She asked if I would help with just a sponge bath this time. We had +agreed. The nurse entered and wanted to begin preparing for her bath. +Laurie just shook her head and said that she felt too sick. She asked +to be seated in her chair; the nurse declined that wish. She wanted to +have Laurie lie down. We used the draw sheet and Dad and I lifted her +as far to the head of the bed as was possible. She asked to be raised +to a sitting position. Each time we pushed the controls she indicated +she wanted it higher. As she reached the highest level she looked at +Dad and me and said, "Hey, you guys, I'm going!" +Seconds later she was gone. It was what she wanted! +It was finally over! + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +EPILOGUE + +written by +Todd Alan Isaacson + +As a once beautiful young lady saw the torture of +her own body, and witnessed the relentless expansion +of a cruel weed that demanded to claim her life; +a new beauty could be seen through her determined spirit: + +Soft, gentle eyes fully accepted the losing battle +of life on earth, and glowed a tired eternal +sweetness that transcended time itself. + +The timeless beauty of Lauren, a spirit set free +to soar in the love of God forever; +this is the joyous gift that will bless us forever. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH THESE EYES*** + + +******* This file should be named 37060.txt or 37060.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/7/0/6/37060 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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