26... I did my first speech... got an A! Steve and I went out and ate ice cream afterwards. 30... After speech, Norm and I took the BMW to Galena. It was a terrific day. I loved it. July 3... Speech. Work. Mom and I went (shopping) Steve and I went to West Lake. 4... Work. Jon and I went to (a) nature trail and picnicked, then to the fireworks. July 6... Norm and I went sailing on the Mississippi. He lost my straw hat. After supper, we took off with the "kicker" (Motor for the canoe). 9.... (My boss) thought I was lying when I called in sick. 21... Worked on final speech. Topic: Stress. 29... Steve wished me well for Mayo trip. Norm and I took a long walk in Davenport. 30... Packed suitcase; spent 45 minutes in the bathroom... left for Rochester, MN 31...Took tests... shopped...Mom bought me a pair of jeans. Swam for 1-1/2 hours. Aug. 1... Saw Dr. E. and left. One might have thought I would have elaborated further on the results of my examination. After all, it had been five years since my stomach operation, and this was my last check-up, the famous "five years and cured" judgment used by cancer experts. However, the trips had almost elevated themselves to vacation status due to the scenic drive and the chance to swim, dine out and shop, for the tests were familiar and no worse than uncomfortable. Of more consequence, though, was the fact that I did not feel the joyous relief that should have come with E.'s clean bill of health; I happily acknowledged his statement, "You would be more apt to die on the highway driving up here than to get cancer again," but refused to revel in the news. It was too good, and accepting it as the irrefutable truth was too risky. Mom was delighted to hear of the test results, but she too, held elation in reserve. It did not seem credible that I was entirely healthy. I still grew nauseous after eating and experienced other stomach-related disorders such as food "Sticking" above my stomach and gastrointestinal disturbances. The doctor had no concern over these symptoms. My stomach was not what one could label as "normal"; it was reasonable to assume I would always encounter some problem with it. Shrugging off the nauseousness was convenient and logical. I wondered if skepticism was my excuse to undermine happiness; I hated to think it was an emotion of my own invention, a manufactured impediment used because I did not desire to be happy. No, that could not be! Emotional reservation was self-preservation at work. . . it was security, and the rejection of the thought that health and happiness were inseparable components of living.