Home From Home.

So Greybeard comes in this morning flanked by about five enthusiastic student doctors, all of whom are armed to the teeth with questions about my illness. Eager learners, they will go far. It made me feel like quite the celebrity, as the whole experience had a kinda press conference feel to it. One would ask something about my symptoms, then another would chirp in with a question about my Hickman line, and then Greybeard would sort of oversee the whole thing by making sure the information was sound and true. Their gazes were fixated on me, all it needed really was a camera crew and sound guy for it to be the real deal. It made me feel important and noticed, yet I suppose this is all part of the process for students. But to hell with it, I'm gonna revel in my sense of arrogance. GO ME.

It's fast approaching a month since my diagnosis. I'm not really sure how I feel about that. It also means I've spent nearly a month in hospital, deprived from fresh air and restricted to a ward that's no bigger than the shop floor of a Topman. Yet in spite of this arduous hospital stay, it means that I am in fact coming to the end of my first phase of chemo treatment. I am officially in the last week of induction. After that week, all I have to do is recover my blood counts and then I am allowed to return to the place that I've missed more than anything these past few weeks: home. Oh how one word can invoke such emotion just by thinking about it.

There's nothing overtly special about my home, except it is what it is. My bed is a single bed, not particularly great, but it's mine. My room is tiny, a bit of a box in fact, but it's mine. The shower is crap and it's a pain in the arse because it leaks, but it's mine. Home is truly where the heart is. You can pick out as many flaws as you want but deep down you know there's no other place in the world you would rather be. And knowing that I could be back in just two weeks (optimism is flowing through me) is already choking me up.

And I'm officially a pussy.

I'll keep it short and sweet for this evening. I'm desperately tired, but then you all know the drill with this chemo nonsense. Makes you knackered, down for the count, blah blah blah. One thing before I go, many thanks to all the people on twitter who have been ever so kind to retweet my blog today. And to anyone who's reading for the first time, big thanks for dropping by. I hope you enjoy your stay at The Deadly Rhythm.

Big love,

Ryan.