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.