The last days in hospital before going home

It's been a while. I'm home and have been for almost two weeks, but quite frankly: I haven't been in the mood to write anything: life is happening.

The last days in hospital passed easily: my white blood cell production increased rapidly and I was out of the sterile room on 14th December. Two days later I was released. In the interim, I shared a room with a guy who was struggling, and whose mood was really low. He slept most of the day and watched TV from morning until night. Without headphones I couldn't practice my Swedish, watch videos or listen to music, which was frustrating, however I was able to write this little poem to Amy and Rosie. On the positive side: I could move around, use a flushing toilet (instead of washing from a bucket) and have a shower (instead of washing from a bowl).

I also met the lady who had been my neighbour whilst in the sterile room. I had only known her from her coughing and some muffled talking. She told me that it had made her happy when she had heard me whistling. That felt good to hear. I'd probably been whistling Monty Python's "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life". I'll never regret spending half of my waking hours as a teenager watching The Life of Brian with my best friend, Stuart. It seems to have embedded itself in my psyche, as I have usually had a positive outlook.

It turns out that the transplant really did go very well: my body reacted quickly, and I had had only very minor side effects. One nurse told me that the way I got through it was, "one in a hundred". Later I sent my discharge papers to my haematologist in Budapest, whose reply was very encouraging:

"the two main points are that you went into transplant MRD negatively and it went well, these two together are highly suggestive of a very good outcome."