One week before the next series of injections, I would begin to feel better. My appetite improved despite the lingering after-affects, and energy was on the rise. This period of time would have been thoroughly enjoyed had it not been for the upcoming event, after which my improvements would again run foul. The pretreatment week was also the time at which I felt most able to venture out of the house, and would accompany my aunt or my sister-in-law on small shopping sprees during the day. I began to feel human and part of society, yet as I licked my wounds, I could envision the battlements to which I would willingly march to surrender my waxing health. Despite frequent bouts of nausea and marked fatigue, the foremost reason for my absence from school was my body's severely depleted immune system. It was deemed more sensible to remain apart from the various germs circulated by the students than to place myself in possible jeopardy by direct contact. Should I have sustained a severe infection, the results could have proven fatal. The chemotherapy killed healthy cells as well as cancerous cells; it is a grave wonder that one can withstand such violent treatment. After several series of chemotherapy, I recalled my thought which viewed cancer as the enemy against which many wars were waged, and discovered that my analogy was not complete. Chemotherapy ravaged the body and tainted the mind just as the cancer against which its debilitating powers were supposedly aimed. I felt that the war did not exist only between cancer and the body, for there was also a constant struggle between the drugs and the body. As the body fought for life, cancer fought for death.... of this, there was little doubt. Yet as for the drugs, I became uncertain as to the side on which they actually adhered, and the voice murmuring "It's for your own good" became an indifferent noise at the base of my consciousness. Although I was unable to return to Jr. High throughout 8th grade, I soon acquired permission to study at home under the instruction of a tutor, and in this way, maintained my level of educational curriculum as well as my status as a "student." Receiving instruction on a one-to-one basis was definitely one of the more favorable aspects of my new life-style. I fully realized the impermanence of this enjoyment; upon my recovery, I would once again be hurled amid the mob and mainstream of society.