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.