William, Jimmy, Rosey and Jake

James Dewar and James Kerns, two peas in a pod

A bulldog named Georgia, and what a sweetie-pie she is

Jimmy, Anne and Joe Singletary, Brad and Ann Burnette, Bill and Jeannie Grow

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It turned out to be a very nice day, in spite of all my fretting over Jimmy's taking the cytoxan yesterday, and his frequent power naps didn't hurt. The two highlights were Rosey bringing the children over on their way to a Halloween party, and our having dinner out at Bill and Jeannie Grow's beautiful home in the country. Good food and good conversation and good friends are just good for what ails you.

The steroids Jimmy has to take on the days he has chemo give him more energy, so he wasn't as lethargic today as he has been. He went to a bank board meeting until three o'clock, and left there and went straight to the cancer center where he got his chemo infusion. He also took 300 mg. of cytoxin, in pill form this time, and so far has suffered no ill effects.

Maxwell (my younger son) and Elizabeth (Susan and Chuck Steel's daughter), masquerading as Vincent Vega and Ms Mia Wallace, stopped by our house on their way to a Halloween party.

It was almost dark by the time we got home from Atlanta today, and the trip wore Jimmy out. He read the mail, and I got him to eat a little supper, and he went straight to bed. It's only 10:30, and he's been asleep for ages. This fatigue frustrates him terribly; he has always been such an active, energetic person, and he finds the current state of affairs downright maddening. Patience is not Jimmy's strong suit.

Dr. Lonial called soon after we got home. He had gotten the new numbers from last week's tests, and he says they've stayed about the same. He wants Jimmy to have one more round of chemo (Tuesday, Friday, Tuesday, Friday of this week and next) while we're here, but this time he's going to add a little pop of cytoxan to the vel/dex. We hated to hear that. Cytoxan is what put Jimmy in the hospital the last time he took it, but this is a lower dose, so we'll see.

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We bought a Buick van last June, because it was the only thing we could find that Jimmy was comfortable in, with his bad back and all. We've gotten used to it: it's easy for me to drive, it gets great gas mileage, and it holds a lot of stuff. It's not particularly pretty or stylish looking. Rosey and Pat have appropriately named it "The Toaster", because that's what it looks like. The only complaint we have with it is when we're driving down I-75, and go through construction areas with all the uneven pavement, or through Atlanta, with its billions of potholes. Then it just about rattles your teeth out of your head.

Jimmy and I enjoy reading The Abaconian, the little bi-monthly Bahamian newspaper, online. An article in the September 15 issue addressed the problem of potholes, and the interesting approach the Bahamian authorities have taken to handle this widespread epidemic. They have employed Hole Spotters and Hole Outliners. The Hole Spotters drive around Marsh Harbour with a map and mark where the most glaring offenders are located. Then the Hole Outliners go out and spray paint bright red circles around the potholes. This helps unsuspecting motorists avoid them, thus preventing broken axles and cracked radiators. Maybe the Georgia Department of Transportation and the City of Atlanta should give some thought to this solution: if they're not going to fix them, at least they could warn us.

***** One of many of Julie's paintings that I covet - intensely.*****

*************************Jimmy and Frank********************

Me, Jimmy, Julie, Frank Haralson, Barbara Holder, Pat Holder, Janet Jared, (Easy)Ed Jared

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Unable to sleep tonight (maybe it's the full moon), I decided to get up and write. While trying to go to sleep, I had started thinking about Highlands, and then started thinking about the Haralsons.

Frank and Julie Ballard Haralson are longtime friends from Newnan, and are an unusually accomplished and interesting couple. Frank is retired, but was a big-time developer of resorts and vacation properties around the world. Julie's passions are raising world class thoroughbred horses, and collecting art, but for her day job, she still works as a surgeon. She does not look the part. Julie, who is a few years younger than I am, is a very pretty petite blond with a big personality and a lot of energy and enthusiasm. She looks a lot more like a head high school cheerleader than a trauma surgeon.

Last year Frank and Julie bought an unremarkable looking older home on a beautiful Cobb Road lot, overlooking the Highlands Country Club golf course. They have been renovating it, and have suffered through the full Highlands construction experience (get three bids, add them together and you'll get the final cost). It was a major headache getting it done, but it was well worth it. The house is fabulous, and I love everything about it.

Some structural improvements have been made: ceilings heights altered, walls moved, kitchen and bathrooms renovated, and the jewel in the crown, a spacious screened porch with a large stone fireplace overlooking the gardens and the golf course.

The house is now just so Frank and Julie: unique and exciting and very personal. Its wood floors and stone fireplaces and custom made wrought iron windows and doors give it a textural and organic feeling, and the dusky neutrals that wash the walls are the perfect backdrop for Julie's incredible collection of art and antiques. I share Julie's passion for old paintings, and I didn't see a single one that I didn't want to grab off the wall, and run with out the door, screaming," Mine! Mine!'

Top: UGA friends Comer Hobbs, Jimmy, Joe Spence and Kenny Youmans (Our friend Joe Sing has informed me that Comer Hobbs and Joe Spence are Phi Delts)

Bottom: 1961 KA pledge brothers Johnny Parramore, Jimmy, Griffin Bell and Kenny Youmans

One of the reasons for Jimmy's great love of Highlands is that so many of his old college friends congregate there. He says it's like being at the University of Georgia, back in the early sixties, before the war in Vietnam changed everything. It was a time of rules and civility, when the boys wore jackets and ties to football games, and their dates wore heels and corsages and their hair all teased and bouffant. Back then there were curfews and housemothers, even in the rowdier fraternity houses.

In 1961, along with thirty or so other young men, Jimmy pledged KA ,and thus began the many important and enduring lifelong friendships. And what a cast of characters they are: almost every member of this pledge class could be the star of his own Oscar-winning biographical movie. As entertaining as they can be one-on-one, when a group of them gets together, it's like watching a three ring circus. There are stories and legends surrounding each and every one of them, that are told over and over again, and that just get better and funnier with every telling.

This is the view from our back porch, leached of all its vibrant color by my phone camera; the reality is a fiery spectacle of gold and orange and red. The temperature was in the low forties and the air was crystal clear when we left Highlands this morning, and the leaves were at their vivid peak. As we drove back to Atlanta, we passed a steady stream of traffic, "leafers" headed north to the mountains for an afternoon's enjoyment of the display.

KNOWSHON!!! Three touchdowns!! 188 yards! A Freshman! Best running back since Herschel! The Bulldog Nation is estatic after a heart-stopping and unexpected 42-30 win over Florida. GO DOGS!!!!!

We're in Highlands. The weather can't decide what it wants to do: it's drizzly and foggy one minute, sparkling and sunny the next. But in any case, it's wonderfully cool, and the leaves are spectacular. Our plan is to go back to Atlanta on Sunday to regroup, then go to Valdosta on Monday.

Top: Dr. Lonial, Jimmy, and Dr. Saral

Bottom: Jimmy and Dr. Lonial

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We had a good meeting with Dr. Lonial today, and agreed on a plan that we're happy with. The new drug isn't in, so Dr. Lonial thinks one more round of chemo in Valdosta will hold us for a little longer, but after that, we're starting stem cell mobilization, new drug or not. Then transplant. Right now it looks like harvesting will take place in late November, transplant in December, which means we'll be here in Atlanta until late January or early February. All subject to change, of course.

It was still dark this morning when our sleep was interrupted by all the activity outside our window: car doors slamming, dogs barking, loud conversation, and the annoying rumble of suitcases being pulled across the bumpy pavement. We're back in the apartment, and all our young neighbors were headed to work. George, our likeable but lead-footed upstairs neighbor has a penchant for strange caterwauling music, and whoever built this complex skimped on the insulation.

I do believe we're the only residents here who don't have a dog. Early in the morning and again after work, you see them: beagles and bassets, dachshunds and dobermans, all sniffing busily on the little patches of grass, or frisking down the walkways, executives-to-be in tow. Trips to the dumpster to empty the trash require vigilance, and one watches where one steps. It's a little sad, thinking about all of these apartments, filled with lonely dogs, waiting all day for their owners to come home, and here I sit, dogless, and missing Andy. There must be some deeper meaning in that, but it escapes me at the moment.

Our first appointment at Emory tomorrow is at 12:30.

Pat and Jake at the air show

Mary and Jackie Oliver

Rosey and William at the Thunderbirds air show at Moody Air Force Base. (Rosey calls this a "Top Gun Moment"- remember the scene with Meg Ryan coming to visit her husband Goose?)

We're back in Atlanta, back in this dreary apartment. It's even drearier now that it's getting dark so much earlier. We're having to talk very hard to ourselves, trying to adopt a more positive attitude. Bah humbug.

We were at the cancer center bright and early this morning for Jimmy's 7:45 appointment with Eric Anderson. The blood test results from last week were in, and we were disappointed that Jimmy's protein level has risen from 1.2 to 1.9 in the month we've been at home. Eric said that, while this is worrisome, there can be discrepancies in testing from one lab to another. Jimmy will have further tests done when we get back to Atlanta next week, which should help to clarify matters; we don't want to see the cancer trending upward and causing more damage to the bone. We're resigned to the inevitability of a transplant, and we are just ready to be done with it.

While Jimmy and I were in the waiting room, we were joined by Susie Shingler, one of my childhood friends. She was there having some blood work done for a non-malignant hematological problem she's had. I've always loved Susie, and have not seen her nearly enough in recent years. Driving home from from the hospital, I started thinking, probably because of yesterday's preoccupation with kindergarten pictures, of an old photograph Mama used to have of Susie and me when we were in one of Mrs. Gerlock's dance recitals. It's an 8 x 10, taken by a professional photographer, probably Larry Bookman. I looked for it when I got home, but haven't found it yet.

I know Susie and I are in it, and I think it includes Mary Young Smotherman Manning and Kay Blanton Coleman and Sallie Smith Barnes, and six or eight other four-year-olds, all wearing pink tutus and our mothers' bright red lipstick. We were supposed to be candy canes. The camera had caught us on stage, standing in a ragged row, in utter disarray, and looking like a herd of tiny pink deer caught in the headlights.

These are our boys, starting with the top photo: Jamey Dewar (36), Jackie Oliver (31), Patrick Kerns (31)and Maxwell Oliver (28). Pictures of our youngest boys, William and Jake, are on the September 5 post. Aren't they all beautiful? Girls' pictures to follow.

Today was chemo day, and the infusion center was busier than it has been since we've been going - every chair was occupied. We were there about two hours, but the nurses are so pleasant and efficient that the time passed quickly.

Jamey told his dad today that he had been talking to his grandmother the night before, and she said, "Is there something wrong with Jimmy's hair? Every time he comes over here he's wearing a cap, and he never takes it off." Uh oh.

Yesterday afternoon Jimmy began to perk up a little so we packed our toothbrushes and a baggie of kibbles for Andy and drove to Amelia Island for the night. Jimmy sat on the balcony while I went for a walk on the beach. It was late afternoon by the time we got there, and the beach was deserted, so I let Andy off his leash. He can run like a greyhound, and he had a fine old time, streaking across the sand, terrorizing sandpipers, and pouncing at the incoming tide, daring it to dampen his little puppy paws.

Jimmy Dewar, aka Daddy Warbucks

We had a nice visit with Mrs. Dewar today. At ninety-one, she's still as pretty as a picture. Jimmy wore his baseball cap, of course, and always sits across the room from her in his father's old chair. We were having a good time, but had to cut it short when I remembered that I had accidentally left some peanuts boiling on the stove. They were fortunately on simmer, so calamity was averted. Although the peanuts are a little soggier than one would prefer, they'll get Jimmy through the Georgia-Vanderbilt game tonight.

This afternoon, Stuart Mullis, who is one of one of our favorite people in the whole world, came to see Jimmy and brought him two great presents. One was a red do-rag with a Georgia Bulldog on the front. The other was a football signed by Mark Richt and Matt Stafford and a lot of the other players. When Stuart handed the ball to him, Jimmy was overcome with emotion - he really teared up. It's something he'll always treasure.

Jimmy and Pat Holder hunting at Yustega

Jimmy at Winding Bay in the Abacos

Jimmy, Frank Haralson, and George Powell

I've discovered how to upload photographs to my blog. Four or five pictures have been added to previous posts, so you might want to scroll back and admire my little efforts.

I'm also posting several of my favorite photographs of Jimmy, taken a few months before he got sick.

We heard from Emory, and an appointment has been made with Dr. Lonial for October 23. We are still completely in the dark about what our schedule is going to be after that. I guess we'll go up to Atlanta prepared to stay, and take it from there. Do you remember the scene at the end of the movie Forrest Gump, where Forrest is sitting and waiting for the school bus to bring his little boy home, and the camera focuses on a feather that is being blown and tossed in every direction by the wind? That's the way we feel, just like that feather.

In spite of all this, we're loving being at home. Today is a spectacularly beautiful fall day, cool and clear, with that certain golden quality to the sunlight, peculiar to this time in October. And Jimmy continues to do so well, has gotten into a routine, and at times seems almost normal. We have more of an idea now of what he can and can't do, and we make allowances. We know that on chemo days, when he takes a lot of steroids, he gets hyper, and talks a lot, and talks faster than usual. Sometimes he's irritable. On the days after, he crashes, and is weak and shaky, and these effects are cumulative; at the end of a round of chemo, he's worse.

Initially, the purpose of this blog was to report on the progress of the myeloma. Lately though, while we are treading water, it seems to occasionally go off on tangents, completely irrelevant to Jimmy's medical condition. Writing it has become something of a habit. When the serious stuff starts back up, it will revert to its original format, but in the meantime, digressions may occur.

This morning Andy the Wonder Dog and I drove out to see Pam(Ferrell)Scruggs and her Boston terrier, Walker. Pam has a one woman art show coming up on October 29th at Smith Hospital, where she will be displaying about thirty of her paintings. Knowing that we will be unable to attend, I wanted to see all of her recent work. Pam is passionate about her art, and it shows. Her paintings are lovely. Although the subject matter varies, from a triptych of pointer puppies to a pastoral landscape painted from her mother's sunroom window, there are common threads that run throughout: dynamic brushwork and shimmering colors that dance across the canvas.

Having gone to many painting workshops over the years with Pam, it's fascinating to look at her work today and see how each one has influenced her unique style. Every teacher leaves his mark. If, one hundred years from now, there was an Antiques Roadshow, and if someone brought one of Pam's paintings in, the appraiser would solemnly pronounce it to be the work of the acclaimed artist from the famous south Georgia school of painters, and declare that, at auction, it would bring some astronomical figure that would make its owner swoon with happiness.

Since they still have not received the drug we've been waiting for at Emory, we're going to do another round of chemo here in Valdosta. That means that Tuesday and Friday of this week and next week, Jimmy will get an infusion at Pearlman. We have mixed emotions about this. On the positive side, we are much happier and more comfortable at home, and we have been dreading going back to all that we know lies ahead for us. But we're ready now to get this transplant behind us: it looms over us like a big dark thundercloud.

We're always aware, too, of the myeloma's lurking presence. Tomorrow they're going to do a complete workup with the blood tests, so when we get the results at the end of the week, we'll have a better idea of where we stand with the cancer. We expect the numbers to be good, but whatever they are, we are armed and ready to make an aggressive attack.

Being at home has been so good for Jimmy and me. Familiar faces and familiar surroundings are so healing, and we feel rested and restored, in mind, body and spirit.

Our plan had been to go back to Atlanta tomorrow, but Friday we were told that the hospital has not yet received the medicine they've been waiting for. It is a brand-new drug, still not approved by the FDA, but they've applied for it for "compassionate use" in Jimmy's case. So right now we're in a holding pattern. We don't know if we'll be going back on Tuesday or in two weeks. After we talk with Dr. Lonial on Monday, we'll have a better idea of what our schedule will be.

Jimmy is in a state about the Georgia-Tennessee game this afternoon. He said he felt like he'd been transported back to the Ray Goff era. Twice during the game he got so upset he turned off the television and stomped out of the house to walk around the neighborhood. In the fourth quarter, he turned it off again and got into bed and said he was going to take a nap. But that lasted about three minutes, just like the walks did. LSU squeaking by Florida was the only bright spot in an otherwise dismal day of football.

The last couple of days have been blissfully uneventful, just seeming to float by. The weather has been so beautiful and Jimmy and I have both wanted to be outside, taking walks and puttering around in the yard. I went to Macadoos today at lunchtime for takeout, and we had steakburgers on the porch. Jimmy got to have fries with his; I didn't.

One of our goals while we've been home has been to fatten Jimmy up. He lost a lot of weight over the summer, and will certainly lose more when we go back to Atlanta. After all these years of calorie counting and deprivation and self-denial, now this. We have been piling on the calories: fried chicken and macaroni and cheese and ice cream and real cokes and it's almost more that I can stand. It's just not fair. This morning Jimmy got on the scales and asked me if they were working properly because he'd only gained one pound since last week.

My children came over and had supper with us last night: my boys, Jackie and Maxwell, and Jackie's wife Mary (Jackie hit a home run when he married Mary), and Max's girlfriend, Elizabeth Steel, a delightful young woman. Jimmy had to call it a night as soon as he had eaten, but the rest of us stayed up, laughing and talking and telling old stories. Jimmy and I have been very blessed in the children department.