I don’t know exactly why the calendar contest is being limited to US residents. It is something the legal department insisted on. Now, if it was me, and I lived in Canada or Finland or somewhere, I might just take a chance that they wouldn’t look too closely at the return address. Or maybe I’d ask Justin to be a cut-out for me. But that’s just me. I would never suggest that any of you do these things. No. Never. Wouldn’t be prudent.

RJ

Well guys, I’m back. I know you’d like to hear from me every week or even more frequently, but I’m afraid that once a month is going to be about it for a time. I am trying to put every spare moment into A Memory of Light. There aren’t too many of those spare moments right now. My meds induce fatigue, so it is hard to keep going. I’ll fight it through, though. Don’t worry. The book will be finished as soon as I can manage it. NOT in time for this Christmas, I fear. I don’t know where that rumor got started. Except that Tom Doherty, my publisher, wants to put out the Prologue if I can have it polished to my satisfaction by August. That isn’t easy. I always hate letting go. I have rewritten prologues almost from scratch after I finished the rest of the novel. I always think I can do better with another go around. Oh, well, I’ll give it a try.

The news from Mayo is mainly good. My Lambda Light Chain numbers are actually in the normal range for a second consecutive month. Yes! And the lambda/gamma ratio also is in the normal range for a second straight month. Again, yes! That’s the good news. The bad news is that Doctor Hayman hasn’t changed my prognosis. There hasn’t been any improvement in heart function, and while there may be some improvement, it may very well be that what I have is what I will have to live with. That is going strictly by the odds. Which she says if anyone can beat, she thinks it is me. I certainly intend to. Two years just isn’t enough to do what I need to do. And even five, which she isn’t willing to bet on, isn’t enough. Don’t talk to me about no stinking odds, gringo. I’ve got promises to keep. (With apologies to Eli Wallach.) As far as the heart function goes, I had one heart doctor put me on restrictions; no heavier that five pound dumbbells and so forth. That seems to me to just be holding on in place, and I can’t afford to do that. I have to fight back. I have to get back to marching for the horizon. So I am ditching the doctor’s advice. Very slowly (I don’t want to fall over from a heart attack) I will start building with again. I look forward to the day I can tell the Mayo people that I am benching 100-pound dumbbells again. I won’t push too hard, but I won’t stand still either. I can see the horizon. I want to see what’s on the other side.

Now, there is a gathering of Amyloidosis patients and care givers at the Mayo in Rochester in July. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to be there, as I would have to turn around a week later and make the trip back to Rochester for my three-month checkup. That is a tiring trip, frankly, and I don’t think I can face it twice in the space of ten days.

Here is the contact info:

www.amyloidosissupport.com

Amyloidosis patients care givers relatives and friends- Midwest-East- West-South – No Geographical Limit-Must RSVP

Amyloidosis Support Groups Meeting

Mayo/Rochester Minnesota

July 14th – Meeting

July 15th – Tour

Guest Speaker – Dr. Morie Gertz and others to be announced later (I hope)

RSVP: Sandy Williams s.williams@safetyspeedycut.com

Muriel Finkel muriel@finkelsupply.com

There are other meetings scheduled. I think the next after Rochester is in Atlanta. You can check at Amyloidosis.com to learn more.

Dr. Gertz is THE guru when it comes to amyloidosis research. He’s the man!

For Olivia, my prayers are with you. MS is a hard row to hoe. It sounds like you are hanging tough and giving it a good fight.

For Rion, any convention that wants my attendance should go through my publisher, Tor Books. I have to tell you, though, that at the moment I’m really not up to attending cons, not even cons that are very close to where I live. I hope that maybe by next year that will change. Right now, getting out to a restaurant is a big expedition, and we don’t do it very often. I was recently accepted for membership in the Carolina Yacht Club, and took Wilson and Janet to brunch. Sounds like a small thing, but it was enough to exhaust me. So until I manage to regain some strength, cons probably aren’t in the cards for me.

For Sumana, thanks for your good wishes and your advice. I have only intermittent pain so far, and I am managing that pretty well. I have some pills if it really gets down to it, but I usually can work it through without the pills.

For Douglas Scott, thanks your prayers. Prayers are always welcome.

For Piercy, I am Episcopalian, though rather High Church. I haven’t been up to attending services this last year, but either the rector or one of the deacons comes by to give me communion, so I feel that I’m not missing everything. There was a time I could have made the one block to the Cathedral of St.. Luke for communion, but before he died John Paul II put the kibosh on that. Oh, well.

For Joshua, Charleston is a wonderful place to raise a family. There are very good schools, and also some that are not so good, so you do have to watch that. But you’d need to do that anywhere, and the good ones are VERY good indeed. It is smaller than Denver, maybe half the population or a third, but it has more good restaurants. Not just my opinion. Folks coming down from New York are always astonished at the number and quality of restaurants they find. There is a lively arts scene, ranging from numerous painter-operated galleries to the Spoleto Festival (17 days each year of international ballet, modern dance, opera, plays etc). And there are other, smaller festivals during the year, ranging from ethnic (Greek, German, African etc) to international film festivals. And there is the Maritime Festival, of course, with its tall ships and the start of various ocean races. The Concert Association brings in national and international companies during the rest of the year. The Charleston Ballet Theater is first rate (and building a national reputation), as is the Charleston Symphony Orchestra. I won’t try to list the jazz clubs and the like. It is warmer than Denver, and if you want snow sports, you’ll have to drive upstate, but we have terrific beaches, abundant golf courses (we get a fair number of PGA and LPGA tournaments) and tennis courses (again, with a good many pro tournaments). They city is older, of course (founded 1670) and there are a great many historic buildings and gardens. There is fishing, offshore or inshore, for everything from redfish and sea trout to blue marlin, sailfish and king mackerel. Well, that’s kind of a thumbnail description. I didn’t cover everything, of course. Suffice it to say I have found few places in the world where I felt I could live as happily as I do in Charleston, and one reason I don’t live in London, Paris or Melbourne is that I would have to leave Charleston.

For Cheyenne, I’m glad I could help out. We always used to say that in my family all of the men were strong and fierce because the women killed and ate the weak ones. True. ‘Tis true, you know.

Well, guys, I have to hang it up for now. I’ll be back to you when I can, and I promise to keep you abreast of the medical news, whether from Mayo or elsewhere. But my main focus is going to be on A Memory of Light. I think that is how you would want it.

Take care, everybody.

RJ

Wilson has kept you pretty much up to date regarding my numbers, which continue good, so I won’t bother with them. I am hanging in there pretty good, over all. A few bumps, a few potholes, but I work my way around or over them and keep going. Hey, I’ve got commitments to keep, right?

I think I need to put a few things straight about this whole shooting down an rpg in flight thing. First off, it definitely comes under do not try this at home even if you ARE an expert. Expert is defined as anyone who has tried it once and is still breathing. You see, there aren’t many reasons to try such a thing. But when looking right shows certain death coming hotfoot, and looking left shows a crack in the wall that you couldn’t scrape though one time in a million…one in ten million…you instinctively make a dive for the crack. Now I was very lucky. Very lucky. I just happened to be laying down suppression not very far from Mr. NVA when he took his shot, so I only has a small arc to cover. Just a quick shift of the wrist. Still, a lot of luck involved. When the pilot asked what happened, I just said an rpg went off prematurely. I figured he wouldn’t believe what happened. Even some guys who saw it all from other choppers didn’t believe. I heard a lot of “You know, it almost looked like you shot that thing out of the air” and “You were really lucky that thing went off prematurely. I never heard of that happening before.”

Now there’s the matter of actually seeing the rpg in flight. That came from being in the Zone. An RPG is a rocket propelled grenade, and it is fast, fast, fast. I’ve heard a lot of athletes and sportscasters talk about being in the Zone, but I think most of them simply mean they played their A-game. But they weren’t in the Zone, because in the Zone, you don’t make mistakes. None. I discovered this playing baseball and basketball and later football. You can’t always get there, certainly not at will, but when you do…. What happens is that while you are moving at normal speed, everybody else, everything else, is moving in slow motion. Passes float like they were drifting through honey. You have all the time in the world to position yourself. And your vision improves, sharpens. The quarterback has carried out a perfect bootleg. Everybody thinks that fullback coming up the middle has the ball. But even if you didn’t catch the motion when the QB tucked the ball behind his leg, you spot that tiny sliver of ball that just barely shows, and you’re right there to meet him when he reaches the line. Maybe you drop him for a loss before he can get his pass off. In the Zone. That’s the only reason I could make this play.

On another note, I was riding an M-60 on a pintle mount, not a .50 cal. We only had a limited number of Ma-deuces, and we had to be careful not to let any IG inspectors see them because we weren’t authorized to have any at all. Don’t know whether I could have done it with a .50, frankly. A matter of just that much more weight to swing, that much more inertia to overcome. It was damned close even with a 60.

For Dr. J.W. Stubbe, I am on pulse therapy with the dexamethazone, lowering the exposure, and the docs here are watching everything. I have developed pregnazone (SP?) skin, where the skin becomes thin and fragile, easily bruised and easily torn, but I guess it can’t all be good beer and hot chili.

For Paracelsus, I had two nicknames in ‘Nam. First up was Ganesha, after the Hindu god called the Remover of Obstacles. He’s the one with the elephant head. That one stuck with me, but I gained another that I didn’t like so much. The Iceman. One day, we had what the Aussies called a bit of a brass-up. Just our ship alone, but we caught an NVA battalion crossing a river, and wonder of wonders, we got permission to fire before they finished. The gunner had a round explode in the chamber, jamming his 60, and the fool had left his barrel bag, with spares, back in the revetment. So while he was frantically rummaging under my seat for my barrel bag, it was over to me, young and crazy, standing on the skid, singing something by the Stones at the of my lungs with the mike keyed so the others could listen in, and Lord, Lord, I rode that 60. 3000 rounds, an empty ammo box, and a smoking barrel that I had burned out because I didn’t want to take the time to change. We got ordered out right after I went dry, so the artillery could open up, and of course, the arty took credit for every body recovered, but we could count how many bodies were floating in the river when we pulled out. The next day in the orderly room an officer with a literary bent announced my entrance with “Behold, the Iceman cometh.” For those of you unfamiliar with Eugene O’Neil, the Iceman was Death. I hated that name, but I couldn’t shake it. And, to tell you the truth, by that time maybe it fit. I have, or used to have, a photo of a young man sitting on a log eating C-rations with a pair of chopsticks. There are three dead NVA laid out in a line just beside him. He didn’t kill them. He didn’t chose to sit there because of the bodies. It was just the most convenient place to sit. The bodies don’t bother him. He doesn’t care. They’re just part of the landscape. The young man is glancing at the camera, and you know in one look that you aren’t going to take this guy home to meet your parents. Back in the world, you wouldn’t want him in your neighborhood, because he is cold, cold, cold. I strangled that SOB, drove a stake through his heart, and buried him face down under a crossroad outside Saigon before coming home, because I knew that guy wasn’t made to survive in a civilian environment. I think he’s gone. All of him. I hope so. I much prefer being remembered as Ganesha, the Remover of Obstacles.

For Carol S, no one has said word one about the disease stabilizing yet. It’s just too premature. For now, the fact that my numbers continue to be good is enough for me.

For Cody Griffin, thanks for your service, and congrats on the promotion. I’ll ride the Ma-deuce on your APC any time, Cody. Who ever said I was sane?

For Me, please let your father know he is in my prayers.

For Ransomedge,. you also are in my prayers. Keep fighting, man, and you can beat it.

For Doug Hall, thank you for your service. For Cindy Oberschlake, I know the area where you father was killed, but I never met him. I’m afraid that he died before I reached ‘Nam.

For Kathy, I’m afraid I didn’t know your father. Sorry.

For Lelon White, I’m amazed that you are still bothering with me, considering the problems you have in your own life. You take care of yourself.

For David, hang in there, man. You can beat it. You will beat it. The first step is refusing to give up. That’s the key.

Well that’s about enough for now. I have up days and down days, and today just hasn’t decided which way it’s going yet. I think I’m going to try to relax until I can figure it out.

Take care, everybody.

RJ

Well a bit rocky, but not too.

Janet, my ever-youthful bride of 32 years and I spent the weekend with RJ and Harriet in Charleston. They are both as fine as anyone could be in the middle of such an ordeal.

The weakness persists, an unwanted side affect of the medications. Claims that he could sleep 22 hours a day if Harriet were to allow it. She won’t. You’ll recall that we’ve both spoken cryptically of the nasty side affects of the drugs required to fight Amyloidosis. Prolonged exposure to both the Revlimid and Dexamethasone have left his skin thinned and fragile. As a result, he bruises and cuts pretty easily these days, so we passed on the opportunity to wrestle in the side yard. The cuts that are there are attended to daily by the best warder a person could wish for, Harriet. His hair is back in spades however, as is the beard. Not a gray strand on top, not one. The Lambda light chain number was up ever so slightly this month. No one, not even the Mayo, is concerned about that. Most likely this was due to the month of February being off the Revlimid and that in March they had cut the dosage by 40%. Besides, he told me he had an angel looking out for him. Really!

Though I’ve known him, well, all my life, he still hits me with a tid bit from time to time that I have either forgotten or never knew. Here’s one of those. When he was 2 to 3 years old, seems he would on occasion dart out into the street in front of their home. Looking for traffic was out of the question. Adults would scamper after him and tell him that he had to stay out of the street or a car would hit him. He told them not to worry, that he had an angel who looked out for him and wouldn’t let him be harmed. I asked him how he knew about the angel and he said he could sense that he was there. RJ somehow felt that the angel was a he even though angels are most often described as being without sexual definition. RJ even felt that were he to spin quickly around he would catch a fleeting glimpse of his angel as he vaporized to be unseen. RJ is feeling like, if not looking a bit like; one of those cars may have tagged him just a bit. But he knows that he has his angel looking out for him. I wonder if it’s the same angel from his early youth. Hope so.

For Janice. Prayers offered for your Peace Officer as he also fights this awful disease.

For Sherry, thanks for the praise. Undeserved. It’s easy to love someone who loves you as much as RJ loves this guy. Amazing how the ones seemingly in need of strength give it to those around them.

For Major Jim. First, thank you for your service. A correction however, RJ flew IN helicopters, he wasn’t the pilot. Volunteered he did, to be a door gunner on a huey. Freaking insane. Imagine if you can a rather large 19 year old tethered to the chopper, standing outside on the skid, laying suppressing machine gun fire on the landing zone in front of and below the helicopter. On one occasion, one of the times he knew he would be dead in seconds, an RPG (rocket propelled grenade) was fired at their ship as they were slowing to land. The business end of the grenade is smaller than a football and travels at blinding speed. RJ saw it approaching and knew they were all dead. The only thing he could do to defend his crew was to fire his machine gun at the rapidly approaching object. What are the chances of hitting it? With the luck of Ganesh, his bullets found the target and it exploded, close enough that shrapnel rained on the helicopter.

To Ryan Toy. Thank you for sharing about your fight. If a 14 year old can do it…. Inspirational you are. Thanks.

For Sgt Cody. Shook his hand, hugged his neck, kissed him on the cheek and told him I loved him. Hope that covers your request. From the heart, thanks for your service. Hooah!

Do keep the prayers coming. We’re a long way from not needing them.

Wilson
Brother / Cousin
4th of 3

[Webmaster's note: Due to a recent hard drive failure, all replies to this posting were lost. We sincerely apologize for the trouble. You are encouraged to re-post any message you had in reply to this blog post. Thanks]

The good news is that there has been no change since we last communicated guys. Harriet and RJ had to fight like hell to keep it there, but that goes with the territory these days.

He told you that he’d be visiting the Mayo on every 90 days and that last month’s visit was the first of those. Things don’t always go according to plan when you’re in a fight, you have to shift and adapt to the situation. Their visit last month lasted longer than expected. The medication regimen had to be changed due to some pretty nasty side affects. Testing required that RJ come off his blood thinner, the steroid and the miracle drug, revlimid. After months on this experimental drug got him into a near “normal” range, he was being pulled off for at least 30 days. We held our breath. The grand news is that the Lambda Light Chain number that was 2.7 a month ago was tested at on 2.74. FREAKING AMAZING! The polyps and the “mass” he described before are also gone. We joked that when they denied him food for over a day in preparation for further testing that his body looked for nourishment and there sat the aforementioned mass looking, well, pretty damned appetizing. Gone. So, back on the Revlimid. Pray that the numbers continue downward, that his body continues the slow march of shedding the beta amyloid deposits and that he regains his strength.

RJ had me laughing to the point of pain yesterday. You’ll recall his wish list included sky diving and that I promised you I wouldn’t let him throw himself from a perfectly good airplane. Seems he had a DREAM the other night that I’d gotten my way and we were at Lake Tahoe skiing. As he was negotiating the ski slope he was hit by a hot dogging snow mobile driver and had his leg broken in the collision. As they were hauling him off to be fixed up, he was shouting at me “you wouldn’t let me sky dive because it was too dangerous, brought me skiing instead and now look what happened.” Maybe I’ll rethink the parachuting, not.

Long road ahead of us gang. I’ve looked but can find no one of the yellow available. Recovery will take a lot of time. I’ve asked before, now I beg, patience please. NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS.

Peace be upon you all.

Wilson
Brother/Cousin
4th of 3

Hi, guys. Sorry this isn’t the usual health update, but I’ll get to that in another post shortly. A few days, but no more, I promise. This is about something else completely. In fact, it was inspired by a comment someone posted on the blog. I liked the idea and took it to my agent and my publisher. They like it, too.

We are going to run a contest to find the 15 best pieces of fan artwork out there. I know there is some really professional quality work because I have seen it. Submit your work to Jason Denzel ( those who read a version of this announcement on a few other sites will see somebody else to submit to; dinna fash yourself. That means don’t worry about it.). Jason and a few other webmasters will act are first judges as to which pieces to send on to me for final judging. The winning pieces will be gathered into a calendar, and here comes the important part. The normal royalties this calendar will earn, along part of the profits, will be donated to Amyloidosis Research at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. They are really home base for that in this country, quite aside from keeping me alive this far. Now that means that by submitting and having a piece chosen to send on to me, you will be signing away future publication rights for that piece. Winners will get a copy of the calendar, of course, with my autograph and a note of acknowledgement on the page containing your artwork. For monetary rewards, you’ll have to hope that some publisher sees and likes your work well enough to offer you a commission. Publishers are always on the lookout for new artists. Otherwise you must settle for the glory, such as it is, of being published in the calendar. Style doesn’t matter in this. Manga, hyper-realism, current cover-art. Whatever. Anything and everything is acceptable as a possibility. It will be the quality that counts, not the style. If you want to try it the way you think Rembrandt would have done it, go for it. Though I have a hard time picturing that. Rand as a member of “The Night Watch?” Well, maybe. Try whatever you like. I hope to keep this contest running year after year for a number of years. Possibly, in a few years, there will be enough winners to collect as an art book, perhaps fleshed out with a few artists who didn’t quite make the cut in their particular year. So go for it, guys. Let the farce be with you. Oh. Sorry. That’s another series, isn’t it?

Take care, everybody.

Back to you, soon.

RJ

Editor’s Note: The details of this contest (rules, timing, etc) are being worked out right now. Once everything is settled, we’ll post them up on Dragonmount, Wotmania, TarValon.net, and Encyclopedia WoT.

[From Wilson]

He reads your posts. I read them. All of them. You are all great for your caring and support. Thanks from the recesses of my soul. All of you WOT’ers are like extended family. But as family, I’ve got to ask that you allow RJ the time to heal. He’s been extremely forthcoming with his status, and will continue to be regardless the news. But unless you’ve seen someone in a similar fight, you really have no idea how much of a struggle he’s in. Thank God he’s a stubborn ole cuss. Without that he could have easily said this is too difficult long ago and the game would have been lost.

Not that we shouldn’t still be concerned about his health, because we should. But he’s as fine as is possible. At the moment, he is very, very tired. Rehab is hard work. The medicines he is on can have dreadful side effects and have to monitored constantly. A slight imbalance causes all manner of issues. In his writing to you, he has glibbed over them as simply “rough patches”. Rough? As fans of his writing, you’ll not believe it, but he does have a talent for the understatement. Rough? I’d hate to see something Really Rough. Those who have been through something similar know what it does to you. It zaps all of your strength. That’s where he is right now. His words, “I’m as weak as a kitten”. The great news is that the LLC production is in check, not officially in remission, simply in check. But, his system still has to shed those that were deposited in his heart, which will take time, lots of it. Waiting is hard work too. Patience is not something that either he or I possess in great quantities. His doctors told him 6 months, maybe a year till he feels himself somewhat back to normal. We chat frequently and laugh through it as best we can. That’s a big part of my job in this journey, making him smile. I found myself doing the same with our beloved Harriet this past week. She’s one of the two strongest ladies I know, still the load gets heavy. Thank you for always including Harriet in your well wishes. (FYI: The other woman of strength is my other mother, aka mother in law, who is a real lady and a tiger. Wouldn’t want her in the other guy’s corner.) Janet and I will be with Harriet and my Brother/Cousin next weekend, and all involved can hardly wait. We haven’t seen them since Labor Day, too long.

Physically he’s a long way from being the man that many of you have met at events. But were you to speak to him via telephone, you’d not know that anything was going on. The voice on the phone is strong and resolute. Lord I love him for that, among many other things. But, he has to follow the advise of his doctors, do as Harriet says (we all answer to someone) and be patient, and careful to allow for his recovery to continue. Thus, we’ll need you to be patient too. Hang in there gang. The Dragon is tired and may be dragging, but he is winning.

Wilson
Brother/Cousin
4th of 3

Hi everyone,

Jason here. I received an email over the weekend from Wilson. He actually posted a little news in reply to another blog post. He asked that I bump it up to an actual posting. Here’s what he said, in reference to RJ and Harriet:

They’re at the Mayo for the 1st 90 day check as I type this. The number is now 2.7. You’ll have to get the rest from the big guy.

Wilson
Brother/Cousin
4th of 3

Dear Jason, something to post, to celebrate the season — and Jim’s WONDERFUL news. Love to you all, Harriet

A Genuine Wham-O

Lists for cards, lists for cookies,
lists for books and scarves and games
and candles. Maybe
a bell would fit in there.
Maybe I’ll give it up and be a witch.

My ersatz Frisbees –
cards and scarves –
are packed with love,
but never seem to hit the mark,
the tender lips, the gleaming fangs
of those I throw them to.
I’ll borrow a young terrier bitch
and lob a real one for her.

Frisbees of love? We live in one:
the Milky Way. Or are you going
to fob me off with dusty physics,
lumps of coal and willow switches?
Please! The world sends me huge bright disks
of love and light.
Although it’s hard to see them, hidden as they are
in books and scarves and games
and candles. And a bell.

– Harriet Popham Rigney

This is a very short post, I’m afraid. I know it’s been awhile since I posted last, but various things kept getting in the way. Still, here goes, with the best Christmas present I’ve ever received. Something I had to share without any delay.

As you all no doubt know by now, the marker for amyloids is something called Lambda Light Chains, which are found in the blood. The normal range is between 1 and 3. Five months ago, I was at 75. Four months ago, that had gone up to 96. The higher the LLC number, the worse for you. So I wasn’t doing so hot.

This morning the Mayo gave me my most recent LLC number. 3.14!!!! No, that isn’t a typo. 3.14!!! I’m on the brink of normal. Something I never thought I’d say about myself in any regard, frankly. I’ve got Liston the ropes, guys, and I really believe that your prayers and well-wishes have helped put him there. Now I just have to put him on the canvas. This isn’t a cure, and I’m not even sure whether it will count as remission, but it means I’m still on my feet and will be for a while yet. 3.14! Hot damn!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everybody.

I’ll talk to you again after the 1st.

RJ