Wednesday, 17 April 2013


I'll be your bello bambino, your man on the moon. I'll be your little boy running with that egg on his spoon. I'll be your soul survivor, your worst wicked friend. I'll be your piggy in the middle, stick with you till the end. When you wake up with me, I'll be your glass of water
Italian Plastic - Crowded House

Day 41 : ... Haemoglobin 9.1 ... Neutrophils 1.02 ... Platelets 90 ...

First today, the medical bit. I see the doc and all's well. My scores are stable (my neutrophils are down, but he doesn't think we need to worry - it's been ages since they had any stimulation, so the current level is evidence of my marrow functioning independently). I book an appointment to have my line removed next week, and I don't need another blood test for a month! Hard to imagine, but true.

And Marisa and Lyndon finally make it home, so we get a family reunion, and he gets a birthday cake (much of which he smears in his hair). Feels like a massive reward, after a massive ordeal.

I've said before what a debt I owe Marisa, without whom I'd never have got through any of this. And I owe a debt also to Ben, Gyles and Lyndon, who are my continual inspiration. Today is a good day - when we've finally been able to let them escape to their own home - for Marisa and me to say thanks to my parents. I'm not sure how we'd have coped without you. And I'm well aware of what the last 9 months have cost you: numerous trips in and out of town, many nights in a flat you have rented solely in order to be near when we need you, lots of nappy changing, two cancelled holidays, endless cooking, hospital visiting, finding yourselves trapped in awkward moments while we've grappled with the shitty complexity and uncertainty of our lives... the list goes on. We may not have been able to acknowledge all of what you have done for us, but we have noticed.

Most of all, you have understood perfectly the cardinal rule of trauma support, and never once let us feel a moment of the stress and strain this experience has put on you. As a parent too, I understand that you wouldn't want anything more than to support us. As a parent too, I also understand that you have been on an emotional journey as well. Thank you, Mum and Dad, for dealing with everything so calmly, and for letting us be strong or weak, positive or negative, evasive or blunt, as we have needed to. Thanks also, to the people who have been there to support you, when you have needed to unload. I know some of those people will be reading this.


  1. Great you're all back together - and that you have such brilliant parents. Keep calm and carry on!

  2. dear alex,

    your parents must be such loving and devoted people; and they've most certainly raised a fine son. i am so touched by how you have expressed your compassion and gratitude to them. i hope they know how grateful we are to you - a breath of fresh candor, inspiration, and hope. so much can get lost in the numbers, the percentages, the prognostications of MM. important, no doubt - but we also need the down and dirty, the lofty and the raw, the good, the bad, and the ugly of what this beastly disease imposes upon us - patients, caregivers, family and friends. as you stated in a recent comment, why should we have to keep all this shit a secret. i hope it's helping you writing through it all as much as it's helped hugh and me, and legions of your readers.

    your fearless friend, ps - damn google acct. down again so anony
    karen, TC

  3. Bonjour Alex

    journée ensoleillée en Belgique.....finally

    For sure , Family is value number one in the world


  4. I know for a fact your PARENT's are the best, known for 40+ years!
    So glad the mending is happening and you are blessed with a great wife and 3 beautiful children! Be Blessed!