I sat beside Mom, my mouth poised in the shape of a horrendous yawn and began to see the humor in my predicament. Open mouthed, it was impossible to smile, but my eyes began to glisten and I let go of a gutteral "haw...haw...haw." I must look like "Surprise," impersonated, I thought, my amusement gaining momentum. Another nurse stuck her head inside the room. Mom glanced at her and she too, sped away. Mom grew angry; no one helped, they just came to see the spectacle. I was a side-show and could almost hear them talking excitedly among themselves... "Boy, that hit and run was sure gruesome, wasn't it?" "Yeh, but did you get a load of that kid in 2C?" "Ha Ha Ha Ha." So far most of the "peepers" only saw my profile. "Hey, Mom," I said, throwing the words carefully, "The next time someone comes to the door to look, how'bout if I give 'em a full frontal view?" She turned to look at me as my yawn slowly relaxed to facilitate yet another position. This time my mouth puckered to form a tight "O." I looked at Mom whose worry was finally overruled by humor, and she burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," she said, "but you look so funny..." I didn't mind, for I was laughing heartily now, issuing strange "hoo hoo hoos" into the room through my tunneled lips. "Here we are," I thought, "laughing like lunatics, when I might have Lockjaw!" The doctors, however, didn't appear to be concerned, for there was still no word or antidote, and an hour or more had elapsed. All I desired was an ounce of relief; my jaw was incredibly sore from the forced contractions, and a pain pill would have brought immense satisfaction, yet I could merely wait, and try to relax. Finally after countless repetitions of rights, lefts, ooohs and ahhhs, a doctor strolled in the room with a red liquid. I had, by then, given up my idea that I had contracted lockjaw and looked hopefully toward the man as he approached. The contractions had slowed in frequency as the hours passed, yet my mind still begged for relief. "Well, we finally figured out that your muscle spasms were the result of the anti-nausea drug that had been administered to you; drink this and I'm sure you will not have any more problems... just don't let them give you any more of those shots!" I took the red liquid and drank it down; it burned like fire. I thought of my stomach, hoping that my draught would not infuriate it to the point of plotting a revolt; I had been lucky through the afternoon, having experienced no symptoms of nausea during the facial contortions. Reflecting upon this favorable aspect, I realized the hours could have proven much worse, and was relieved that I had ignored my stomach's plea for breakfast. The following morning I departed for Curie with an aching jaw; it was minutely reminiscent of the feeling I would acquire after chewing a large wad of bubble gum.