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.