After receiving my dissertation, my father needed time to think and sort out the information he had just heard, and decided to take a lengthy walk into town for the duel purpose of eating lunch and trying to digest the disturbing truth which cancer brought to the surface; mortality does not concern itself only with the aged. While he was gone, I replenished myself with both food and rest. My mother was to arrive in the afternoon, and I fully realized I would have to repeat my performance for her and Sharon, my older sister. I wished to appear as normal as possible. I had curled my hair and applied my usual dose of eye make-up to improve any pallor which might have been visible due to the operation; I did not want my appearance to evoke unnecessary amounts of gloom or despair. Satisfied that I had done my best to improve upon myself, I settled back in the bed, clad in the glorious hospital garb which resembled pillow ticking and decided that I coordinated rather nicely with the rest of the decor. When the entire group arrived it was already late in the afternoon. My father accompanied Sharon's family on a tour of the area, leaving only my mother and Sharon to visit with me directly. I noticed that my mother had lost weight, underlining the worry that was inscribed on her face; Sharon's face echoed that emotion, and I knew I must speak with care. It can be difficult to avoid mechanical speech when one is trying to maintain control of his emotions, yet to do so can prove to be less injurious to the listeners if they share one's feelings on the topic being discussed. Cold facts divulged without the benefit of a warm heart will only multiply the pain; there is no sense in hurting loved ones through callous explanations. It was with painful resignation that my family members then present at the hospital accepted the future which I so desperately needed to control. More than my resistance to treatment, (for they too had witnessed the drastic effects which are inherent characteristics of chemotherapy) the family was besieged by the inevitability of my death. There was now the real possibility that I would die long before my parents, and in this they felt little capacity for contentment. At the close of our discussions, I believe everyone derived a handful of solace through the hope that "miracles DO happen"; there were reports of complete remission and cases in which the cancer inexplicably vanished, leaving no trace of its former habitation in the individual's body. Continuing research in the realm of cancer treatment was also a source of emotional sunshine to my family, and allowed everyone to look toward the homeward journey with anticipation.