It is honestly and truly a gift of the Lord that I am able to be back with you in print. I will make this as brief as possible: Last January, my lung cancer made it necessary for me to have surgery to remove a small portion of the upper lobe. Fortunately, the surgeon ordered chemotherapy…a series of four consisting of four days each spaced apart. Well, that was good and fine until my regular scope revealed that the cancer had returned. This called for more chemotherapy. The first series was Christmas week, the last day being Christmas Eve. The second series was the week of the Martin Luther King birthday, meaning Tuesday through Friday. My third series was last week. I’ll go this coming Wednesday (yesterday to you). At that time, I will get results from all tests, which can be devised by sadistic scientists…mostly involving the extraction of blood through unspeakable methods. Woe betide the helpless victim of something they call “rolling “ veins of which I happen to be the proud possessor.
For the first week or so, I was immobile on my bed unable to eat, drink, and speak or any way to act a human being. My dear sister, Evelyn Pickett, was so alarmed that she took off her job in Birmingham just to be with me, nurse me and generally wait on me hand and foot. My dear friend Tempie Maxwell was there as well, and I am thoroughly convinced that I would not be among the living had it not been for these Heaven sent angels. I must also include my dear niece, Coley Puckett, and my dear friend Jesse Black who kept my behavior acceptable during the night.
