AT FIVE A.M. on a Wednesday morning in the middle of January, Jana and Lacey crawled out of their beds in an airport hotel and prepared to leave Toronto for San Diego. There was none of the excitement that goes with such a disruption of routine when it is associated with a plane ride to a resort or cruise. They moved woodenly through the airport procedures and dozed and read magazines on their journey.

They arrived at The Bay Club in San Diego before lunch, because of the time change. Their bus tour was scheduled for nine a.m. the next morning, so they went on a trolley tour of the beautiful southern city to pass the time.

When they returned, Lacey settled by the pool and ordered a white wine. Bad woman! Scott said no alcohol. But it's one of the few things that tastes like it is supposed to these days, and what does it matter anyway. Lacey's condition had deteriorated. She had a constant dull headache. Her balance was precarious. Sometimes she would suddenly lurch sideways and she would think her surroundings were moving in a grating up and down motion.

Jana set out to walk around the breathtaking marina and bay area near the hotel. She was too keyed up to appreciate the beauty all around her, but kept going anyway, in an effort to ease the tension gnawing at her stomach.

That evening they ordered room service but both women picked at their food and soon Lacey gave up and lay down on her bed.