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 Once the feat had been accomplished and the needle withdrawn, I did not stop to wash the red drug from my hand, but exited gratefully from the doctor's office to the summer day outside.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.
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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.