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.
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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.