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.