Jimmy's doing fairly well. He's as weak as a kitten, cold one minute, hot the next. It's just going to take some time for all of this stuff to work its way out of his system. He's lying around, reading a lot, and watching whatever sports he can find on TV. We've spent some time on our balcony which overlooks the pool. It makes us feel so old, all of the bikinis, and the loud music blasting our eardrums. We're the oldest people in this complex by thirty years at least. What on earth are we doing here?

Five months ago, Jimmy and I had ordinary lives, did ordinary things, had ordinary thoughts. Then one day, like Alice, we walked through the looking glass, not into Wonderland, but into the strange and disturbing world of Cancerland, a dark and frightening place that consumes all of our thoughts and time and energy. Sometimes it seems like a crazy bizarre dream, this waking up in a strange apartment in Atlanta, with a back brace on the sofa and hypodermic syringes in the refrigerator.

Still, we laugh a lot, and we cry a lot, and we find joy and happiness in the most unlikely places. C'est la vie.