Jimmy's mother is one of the best people I have ever known. Blessed with a sunny disposition and a sweet nature, she loves people, and people love her. Never mean-spirited or petty or small-minded or critical, she sees the good in everyone. She doesn't have to work at being like that; it's just the way she is. As Jimmy has always said about her,"Mama doesn't think bad thoughts."

Jimmy made the decision early on not to tell his mother about the myeloma until he absolutely had to. He told her about the fractured vertebrae, but he omitted telling her what had caused them to fracture . She is ninety-one years old, and mentally sharp, but very frail physically, and confined to a wheelchair. Jimmy is her only child. He knows that this would devastate her, and he has been determined to try to spare her this pain and worry for as long as he possibly can. As he has not seen her since losing his hair, this has been a great concern for him. This afternoon he went to see her, with trepidation in his heart and a baseball cap on his head. She admired the cap, but never said anything else about it, so he didn't either. He'll probably have to tell her the whole truth before we go back to Atlanta, but he's glad that he could protect her for one more day.