As usual, Mom strolled into my room and watched while I explored the contents on my breakfast tray; her appearance punctuated the beginning of another hospital day, and she made certain that I consumed a nourishing breakfast; without prompting I had done so, for I was delighted with the realization that I could have an egg and Rice Krispies and toast merely by so indicating that desire on the menu card. The array of choices seemed endless, no preference was greeted with questioning eyes or poorly concealed mirth as often can be the case in a restaurant. Some time after the breakfast tray had been whisked away, Dr. M. entered, saying that the test results had been analyzed and therefore wished to speak with Mom candidly about the indications which they had revealed. They departed, accompanied by a nurse, and entered a room which Mom later described as being very long and narrow, containing only a table of similar description, and covered completely with an ample thickness of cushion. The doctor and nurse placed themselves on the opposite side of the table from Mom, and he began to relate the fact that the barium X-ray showed a sizable mass in the stomach region, and though he could not be certain, it held the possibility of being cancerous. It was a hideous impact for my unsuspecting mother, and she felt that her body had been engulfed in a searing, internal fire; she placed her arms on the cushioned table before her and bent her head as one reacting to a heavy burden that must be endured and said, "Life can be so long." Dr. Murrell who knew quite well our family history and its motley assortment of dread diseases and dysfunctions, could empathize with my mom's sole comment of numb disappointment; the nurse, however, scanned Mom's face after each successive statement made by the doctor. Mom felt scrutinized under her persistent gaze, and it was now obvious that the cushions covering the room were so adhered for those who, after receiving bad news, literally bounced off the walls for a time until their energetic madness diminished to a state of mild panic. Feeling that my health problem was one which had risen beyond the hospital's capacity to manage properly, Dr. Murrell thought that it would behoove us to travel to one of the larger clinics in the region; without a moment of indecision Mom expressed her preference for Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, and the doctor gladly hastened from the room relieved by the knowledge that his subsequent phone call would at least be progress of a positive nature.