I am with Mirabelle. She is in the garage looking around and complaining that Ellie has left the clothes in the washer and a mess all over. She says, "Can't she see what needs to be done?" I am annoyed at her and say, "No, that's the point, she can't see what needs to be done, so she is unaware of what she must do." I walk back into the house and now am experiencing some terrible gut pain. A personal assistant dark-haired woman is smiling at me and solicitous. She insists I get up and sit on the piano. I don't want to, but I do. I am crouched over my belly, kneading the painful spot and the woman is smiling and suggesting I relax and so on. I am angry at her and deep in the pain and I let the pain be there on my face; I don't hide the pain. I groan and say, "Yes, I'm in pain, terrible pain." I start to crawl off the piano and ask Mirabelle to give me an arm for balance. I step off onto the foot pedals of my old wheelchair and ease down off the piano. Mirabelle is being very helpful and lecturing me that I should tell that woman what I think and feel about her treatment of me. I'll feel better when I do. I am now angry at Mirabelle because it is her, not the other woman, that I want to say "back off." So I say angrily, "I am telling my feelings. I want you to leave me alone." She gets sarcastic and smiley like I'm mistaken. I say, "Let me get around you" (a narrow hall). I push my way around her.