Bone marrow transplants are far more successful today, and
they can be carried out in a variety of places, including the Alfred
Hospital. So they have proven a more viable.
I lay back in bed, scared to move.
It was Autumn 1979.
The bulk of three pillows had created a pain at the base of
my skull, but I was more afraid of the injuries left by the bone
marrow harvest that I was awakening from.
"Could I please have a drink?"
The dryness of my throat made the request barely audible to
the Sister. She continued past.
I had to feel the tender regions that had been speared. The
tops of my pelvis, that had been used often before, and my
sternum, punctured for the first time. All were covered in adhesive
bandage. I saw the Sister through the corner of my eye, and
called through the doorway. This time she came towards me.
"You've finally woken up! How are you feeling?"
"A bit sore. Any chance of a cool drink?"
"Sure. I'll just be a minute."
I threw the spare pillows onto the side dresser, and rolled
onto one side.
This sort of hospital stay was one that I didn't really mind.
Instead of chemicals being injected into my body, I was there
to have marrow removed. There were no signs of cancerous cells
in my body, so I had had a large quantity of my bone marrow
taken out through many small insertions, to be frozen for future
use if required. It was such a worthy idea that I didn't mind
the pain and discomfort. To have a healthy supply of my own,
that could be transplanted back, was an encouraging thought.
University had been going well. The people were great and I
was finding the subjects I was doing, on the whole, really
interesting. A couple of days in hospital was not going to affect
my studies significantly.
It seemed that my future was in teaching; especially in the
biology area. I had not planned this to happen, but I didn't mind
at all.
