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.