I am so happy to be home.

There is no better place for me to recover the next 100 days of my journey. I have my family in one place; can sleep in my own bed; and don’t have the constant interruptions of nurses and techs throughout the night. My taste buds are returning to normal, and although I am fatigued, I know that this too shall pass.

Like a fading memory, I recall being pushed in a wheelchair, through the double doors of the negative pressured BMT (bone marrow transplant) Unit and not looking back. It was the first time I’d been beyond those doors since Day -5 of my hospitalization.

So, for the next 100 days, I have the following marching orders: NO public transportation, restaurants, alcohol, sick people, and crowds.YES to covering my mouth with a mask; using hand washing/sanitizing; and to contacting the transplant help line if I develop one of any number of symptoms. (Kinda sounds like dealing with a toddler, more “NO, you can’t” than “YES, you cans”.)

It is a far cry from my early days in the hospital when I questioned my commitment to receiving the transplant. I am light years away from barely being able to raise my head from the pillow or eat solid food. I can get out of bed, everyday, with my own strength. And I go to bed knowing, that while I might not get uninterrupted sleep, at least I won’t be dragging around Cinnamon – my infusion pole.

I’m finally home, trying to shake the memory of the entire 22-day hospital stay. I assumed the past three weeks would be automatically erased at the sight of my family and being home. Instead, it’s a process, one that I expect will become easier with each passing day.

 

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