4 July 1999


Jeanie arrived home yesterday, a Block Island baseball cap hiding her staples. She looks terrific. Prior and since she has had some disturbing moments of confusion (looking me in the eye and asking urgently, Where's Bill? -- though she was subsequently able to remember and process that strange moment). The C.T. scan showed predictable swelling, but nothing untoward.

Actually she is more talkative now than she has been for weeks. One interesting change: Jeanie now likes jazz! She only used to listen to it when I was out of town, for associative comfort in my absence. Now she thinks it brilliant. The girls are up at camp with community friends. Lydia, by phone, laughs out loud at the jazz news saying: Put on the Celtic music and see if she thinks it's boring. We won't know the true outcome of surgery for a couple weeks.

Meanwhile, the medicos are rushing us toward radiation on the premise that the chemo wafers they left behind on the tumor bed have a synergistic effect with it. I'm still trying to find my breath and weigh the rock in my stomach.

Thanks to friends, we came home to the tall pine in front of our flat, lit thick with tiny white Christmas lights. One answer to "fill our home with light." Each sparkle summons for me the host of prayers who surround us. Please persevere, dear friends, as do we in thanks and love,