Having never had either, I cannot speak with any authority, but Jimmy assures me that a bone marrow biopsy is not terribly dissimilar from a root canal. Tuesday he endured his sixth one (bone marrow biopsy, that is) in the last twelve months, and has become so blase about the process that he opted not to have any sedation this time. For one who has always been so hypersensitive that he often cuts the tags from the backs of his shirts because they irritate his neck, he has shown impressive fortitude.
With all the testing over, we wait until next week for the verdict. Jimmy looks and feels marvelous, so we'll be shocked if we don't get a good report.
It's been two months since we made the trek to Atlanta, and we were amazed this week at how light the traffic is on I-75. The upside of the horrendous gas prices is how lovely it is to get in the middle lane, turn on the cruise control, and blithely drift down the highway. And despite all my complaining about the blue Buick van, it made it to Atlanta and back on less than a tank (an $85 tank) of gas.
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