The lodging was plain, but serviceable and clean. My bed was commodious, compared to that which I had occupied for the past month; it boasted a built-in massage mechanism, which I tried immediately, and later regarded as a waste of both time and money. It was amusing, however, shaking vigorously, for about three minutes, like a belly of a rotund man engaged in hearty laughter. As I unloosed the bedspread from its clutch around the pillows, I noticed that the pillows rustled when touched; inspecting them further, I discovered they were encased protectively in plastic. My eyebrows arched quizzically at the sight, yet I said nothing; there must be a reason why the management was disposed to do this, but it mattered little to me at the moment. I wished to rest, and until it was time for supper, discarded all conscious thought and drifted into a peaceful repose. In keeping with my redesigned stomach, I ate a small meal at supper time. Before setting back to the motel for the evening, though, I decided that it might be fun to sample one of the famous pies that my dad had been enjoying throughout the month, so we turned into the cafe, and luckily, spied several pieces that still lurked in the pie cabinet. A slice of apple pie caught my fancy, and Dad selected another. He had not bent the truth; the pie was delicious, and I unhesitatingly devoured the entire piece. Once returned to our motel, I began to note the uneasy qualms of an upset stomach gradually gaining momentum. I decided to lay down, incubating the nauseousness until it had transformed into an unquenchable, relentless monster. Before I was able to run, or even think to run, the beast gave a mighty heave and unloosed its hold on the contents of my stomach. Apple pie. The reason was now quite evident for the necessity of the plastic pillow covers. Apple pie in reverse was a sight most gruesome. I looked once more at my pillow, a wrong move, and bolted for the toilet as the beast ventilated its frustrations a second time by bellowing vehemently into the porcelain bowl. I don't blame my stomach for its mammoth revolt; it had not needed to function at all for well over three weeks, and then, after a mere five days of work, it received an entire slice of rich apple pie. Not pleased, it decided to send it back. Thus my Big Day ended on a rather sour note; but perhaps sweetness, tempered, forms the groundwork of memories far stronger than those composed solely of sugar and honey. PAGE 70 Chapter 12 Chemotherapy "Uncertainty wielded mighty weapons and sharp words. What IF. . .was too persuasive to warrant refusal." CHAPTER TWELVE Chemotherapy With the new day, I was more cautious in my choices of food. We breakfasted, then lunched, milling about the city until it was time for our afternoon consultation.