Collection yesterday was a bust; we got less than a million cells, which only put us at about three million for two days. Very disappointing. It was such a poor showing that they said there wasn't any point in doing another collection today. The good thing is that we got enough for one transplant, but we need more. We have an appointment with Dr. Lonial Tuesday to discuss our options.

Last night, Jimmy's fever was gone, his white blood count was normal and we were both having a fit to leave the hospital. At about 8:30PM they finally turned us loose. Jimmy came home and went straight to bed. He's completely physically and mentally exhausted and badly needs a break to build his strength back up before we start trying to slay the dragon again.

He hasn't lost his hair yet, although that's probably coming. He looks a little pale, a little tired, definitely a little shorter because of the collapsed vertebrae, but he looks good, amazingly like our same old Jimmy.

We have the doors to our balcony open this morning; it's so pleasant outside. There's a soft breeze, the cicadas are chirping, and there is the tiniest hint of fall in the air.

When I got back to the hospital yesterday at noon, Jimmy looked grim. Some of the early factors indicated that he was not producing many stem cells. Dr. Lonial came in, Dr. Flowers came in, hemepheresis personnel were in and out. Everyone was trying to be upbeat, saying things like " it's too early to tell yet" and "sometimes you get good results when you think you're not going to", but we could tell that they were worried. They finished up at about 2:30, and the little bag of fluid was taken to the lab to be analyzed. That would take two to three hours.

Jimmy and I were in an agony of suspense. What if we didn't get any stem cells? What if we COULDN'T get any stem cells? What would we do then? By 5 o'clock, Jimmy's jaw hurt from clenching his teeth, and I was in tears and my stomach hurt. When Dr. Flowers came in at 5:30 and told us that we had collected 2.3 million cells, we were weak with relief. That's enough (barely) to do one transplant, and we're collecting again today.

One of the hardest things about all of this has been how you live and die with every number, every test, every step forward and every step back. Every day is an emotional rollercoaster.

But to all of you who have been saying prayers for Jimmy and me: thanks, and keep it up. I think it's working.

11AM Hallelujah! We started stem cell collection this morning. And they brought the mountain to Mohammed; that is, they brought that big piece of equipment to our hospital room, and they're doing the procedure there. We were a little surprised when they started today, but it's a huge relief to get this show on the road.

It's really fascinating. There are all of these tubes coming out of the port in Jimmy's chest, connected to this machine that looks like it came out of a space ship. The blood comes out one tube and into the machine where centrifugal force separates it into different components. The stem cells are the lightest and are siphoned off and collected in a bag, and the rest goes out another tube and back into Jimmy. This goes on for 4-5 hours. Tonight they tell us how many cells we collected, and whether we will have to do it all over again, which we most certainly will have to do. It's unusual to get enough in just one try. They can do this process for up to four days, and the goal is to collect ten million stem cells.

The nurse stays with Jimmy the whole time, and Jimmy was napping when I took a break, but I'm anxious to get back. I don't want to miss anything.

Jimmy continues to have a temperature of 100-102 degrees. His blood counts remain very low. Dr. Waller (one of our outstanding doctors) decided this afternoon to have Jimmy given a blood transfusion. He hopes that by Friday the blood counts will have increased enough to start the stem cell collection. In the meantime, we will remain in the hospital in the bone marrow transplant wing, where Jimmy will receive intravenous antibiotics and the best possible care.

This morning, Jimmy spent several hours in radiology while they put in a port so that they won't have to keep looking for veins to stick the IVs into. While Jimmy was downstairs, Parker Grow (who is one of Valdosta's own, and a wonderful young physician at Emory, as is Parker's wife, Kelly) stopped by our room. Parker reassured me that, while seemingly very alarming, all of this was not particularly uncommon or unexpected. At least, that's the way I interpreted it.

I am, of course, staying with Jimmy in the hospital, sleeping on one of those lovely foldout chair things. I will only be able to write updates from the apartment. I have to get back to the hospital now, but hope that very soon will have good things to report.

Jimmy had an uncomfortable night, hurting all over, and this morning his temp was back to almost 102. His white blood count is down to .4 and we've been admitted back into the hospital. Stem cell collection is on hold.

Jimmy feels fairly well today. He is contentedly lying on the sofa watching the Barclays golf tournament, which he says seems a little dull without Tiger Woods' participation. His big fret lately is over whether the trip to the hospital this weekend has thrown off the schedule for the stem cell collection process this upcoming week. His biggest fear is that he'll be hooked up to that machine without a television when the Dogs kick off on Saturday. Georgia Bulldogs do have their priorities.

My biggie for the day has been a trip to Whole Foods, where I spent a blissful hour looking and admiring and sampling. The joys of a Whole Foods almost compensate for the frustrations of Atlanta traffic.

We were released from the hospital this morning. Jimmy feels much, much better and is in good spirits. He has finally shaved and bathed, and washed his hair, which has helped MY spirits. I told the attractive young nurse wheelchairing him to the car, "I wish you could see him when he doesn't look like a street person. Cleaned up, he's pretty cute."

Driving home from the hospital, all Jimmy could talk about was how much he wanted a big fat juicy cheeseburger from Houston's. We decided against it because he's not supposed to get in crowds, and at that point would have looked like a street person wearing a mask. When we got back to the apartment, Jamey brought him a good take-out cheeseburger, so he's happy.

The food in the hospital was BEYOND vile. Last night's entree was braised Italian shoeleather, finished with a delicate Elmer's glue reduction. For breakfast, there was cold scrambled silly putty on cardboard toast points. We survived by eating Snickers bars from the vending machine.