Highlands flowers

The calender says that fall has arrived, but the last of the summer flowers are blooming all over Highlands.

New 'do

"My hair looks stupid," Jimmy complained, critically eyeing himself in the mirror.

"Who cares?" He was getting no sympathy from me. "Your hair is at the bottom of my list of priorities."

It IS a little odd looking. The white skunk stripe down the middle is back, and the top is so dark that in certain lighting, it looks like he's wearing a yarmulke.

Christening

Our wonderful minister, Tommy Mason, christened Caroline Rose this morning at First Methodist Church.

She looked like a little angel, wearing an exquisite christening gown that was worn by her mother and her grandmother and her great-grandmother when they were christened.

Hurricane memories

It's after midnight, and we've been glued to the television for hours, watching Hurricane Ike as it menaces the Texas coast, and our conversation has predictably segued into reminiscences of our hurricane experiences in the Bahamas. So far this year we've been spared any real damage, but the season is still young.

About eight years ago, Jimmy and I bought a small fifty-year-old cottage in the Abacos called Seagrape House. It had been ravaged in 1999 by what the locals called "da big breeze," otherwise known as the Category 4 Hurricane Floyd, but we had a lot of fun restoring it to a habitable condition.

It's our favorite place in the world: tiny and unprepossessing, and perched high on a peninsula of coral rock, practically IN the ocean: real hurricane bait. But it's surrounded by screened porches so that its five sets of French doors can be latched open to let the cool breezes and the sounds of the lapping waves flow through the house, and there are spectacular turquoise views of the Sea of Abaco from every room. The garden, with its quaint stone walkways, is filled with hibiscus, bougainvillea, oleander, seagrape and palms.

In 2005, Hurricane Frances scuffed us up a bit, but it was Hurricane Jeanne that really got us. She took out the dock and completely swept away the garage, with the car (a 1989 Ford Taurus stationwagon) still in it. The garage was erased, like it had never existed. The Taurus was later discovered where it had floated a couple of hundred yards down the road and parked itself in a neighbor's garage, demolishing the lowered garage door in the process.

This was our favorite car, a 1980 Toyota Corolla that came with the house. Twenty-five years of "big breezes" had left it so rusted out that one time the windshield wipers flew off as we rode along in a rainstorm, and a pair of my Reeboks fell onto the highway through a hole in the trunk.

We finally got so tired of patching up rust holes with Bondo that I just painted a reef scene on it, in an attempt to camouflage its multitude of sins. In the end, Jeanne was the last straw for our ancient Corolla and, alas, it's now in the Great Junkyard in the Sky.

Update

A few days after we received Jimmy's wonderful report, the phone rang and the caller ID said "Emory Medical." We stared at each other for a moment before I answered it. It was only about scheduling for a future appointment, and we later laughed because we had had the same reaction: that maybe they were calling to tell us that they had made a mistake, that they had given us another patient's diagnosis.

It has been a peculiar thing. As thrilled as we are, and as blessed as we feel that the last transplant was successful, we've had a hard time quite believing that it's really true. My friend Mary Young Manning, who has worked as a volunteer at Pearlman Cancer Center for years, assures me that this is a very common reaction. From now on though, we'll probably be looking over our shoulders for what may be sneaking up on us, but we'll also think of every day as a gift to be treasured, never to be taken for granted.

Jimmy's doing so well, but I'm sorry that I can't say the same for Mrs. Dewar. She's at home, is peaceful, and doesn't seem to be in any discomfort. She sleeps most of the time now, and we get very little response from her. Her body is still hanging on, but her mind seems to be gone.

Jimmy's new namesake: already a champion

Last month our friend Dr.Julie Ballard Haralson gave Jimmy a wonderful compliment: she named her new foal "Dewar," after Jimmy. The extraordinary Julie is not only a trauma surgeon, but also an avid art collector, a talented designer, AND she breeds world class horses: Thoroughbreds and Dutch Warmbloods.

"Dewar" recently went to his first show in Tennessee and made a clean sweep. He took first place in Colts of 2008, then went on to win first place over the winners of Colts of 2007, 2006 and 2005 to be Colt Champion. He beat the winner of the Filly Championship to be Young Horse Champion, then beat the Mare Champion and the Stallion Champion to win the Grand Championship of the whole show.

Julie named him well.

Shell shock

Wednesday night. We're still in Atlanta; Jimmy needed to attend to some bank related business, so here we are. (Last night we stayed at The Grand Hyatt in Buckhead for $75, thank you Priceline, and tonight we're at the Holiday Inn Express in McDonough for $89. What's wrong with this picture?)

We were so surprised by the phenomenal report Jimmy got yesterday, and we're thrilled about it, but...it feels so weird. When Jimmy was first diagnosed, we were in complete shock - life as we knew it was suddenly bizarrely something else. But like everything in life, eventually the unthinkable can become routine.

So now that the Cancer War has consumed us for eighteen months, and what we have prayed for every day has happened...I think we're in shock again. It doesn't seem real, and we've forgotten what "normal" feels like. But I'm sure we'll figure it out.

My sweet patootie

JIMMY'S IN REMISSION!!!

We had our appointment with Dr. Lonial at Emory late this afternoon, and got a wonderful report: all the tests done two weeks ago show no sign of the disease.

Jimmy will continue to be closely monitored with monthly tests to stay ahead of any recurrence, but for now, we're going to celebrate. And thank you for all the love and prayers and support that have kept us going for the last year and a half.