Bag lady

Jimmy took this photo after I went outside to make a phone call (poor cell service) looking like a bag lady. All of our cute young yuppie neighbors smiled sweetly at me as they swished past in their shorts and sundresses and sandals. I wonder what was going through THEIR minds,watching me talk on the phone, all bundled up for Siberia, swinging in that swing like I didn't have a care in the world.

We went to Emory this morning , where Jimmy waited patiently

and Dana looked apprehensive.

This crude graph attempts to show what my blood levels are doing every three weeks. I go into the hospital where they load me up with chemicals, then send me home. After about 10 days, most of the blood cells, good and bad , have been killed, and I'm helpless: white cells can't fight infection, red cells can't carry much energy, platelets can't clot. I'm in bad shape, but our remarkable bodies start to heal quickly, and in a few days I'm almost normal again - until I go back into the hospital and get whacked again.