Hospital days, the days i have to visit the hospital. I don't really like them because i am a very lazy person and to wake up and take a bath(optional) and have breakfast and wear proper clothes and to take the elevator to the ground floor and then to open the car door and then to sit in the car is a hell lot of work. Well, as soon as i am in the car, it is the best time of the day. I keep quiet and i look around. Even though we take the exact same rout every single time, i love to look out the window at the moving city, moving buildings, moving people as they go past me and luckily the hospital is 50 km away so we cross the complete city and of course listening to the radio which basically never plays songs but its nice to listen to people other than the ones i am with all the time.But then whenever a song is played on the radio, its a surprise, which is what i like about it. I don't choose my song so i don't know whats going to come next.
So today was my hospital day. Its been a year since transplant and i get to see all those who got their transplant done around the time i did. We don't talk much amongst ourselves. We don't have much to talk. Today the doctor told me about my liver enzymes rising and my haemoglobin slightly reducing. Though there is nothing to worry about but then they would like to run some tests to rule out a few things. So if I have to do anything different or extra it kind of puts me off. Basically they have asked me to come to the hospital empty stomach next time (i love my food ok). So then after meeting the doctor i was sitting in the waiting area, waiting for the HOD to call me in and tell me about the course of action(this is a weekly process, nothing serious), I met a boy. He must be a couple of years younger to me. He wore the 'white mask with red band', which is the identity of a BMT patient, he was sitting right next to me and looked pretty fine and i was constantly thinking about what the doctor has said and getting slightly annoyed (not just slightly) about things not going smoothly. So I started talking to him. He is from a family of farmers and his brother works as a carpenter in Bangalore. I asked him about how he is managing the expenses ,he said he was sponsored by TATA trust. Other than the sponsorship there are a lot of expenses which are extra and expensive. I took his brother's number in case i could get him some work.
As it is unavoidable while sitting with the bunch of people who had the transplant with you, I happen to notice that everyone had great hair. Every single one. My hair look like a badly kept lawn so i shave my head every now and then. Even this dude sitting next to me had great hair. So now i was annoyed and jealous. We spoke a little more. I told him about my blood reports and how it never seems to end and that i really want to get over with it. He agreed to me on every point and when i asked him how he was doing he told me, his transplant failed. It failed. He got a relapse after going through one year of hell. I know it was hell because i have been through it and he didn't have to say it. It gave me chills to even think about the fact that this boy will have to go through all of it again. Sigh... Now i realised that i was being a little cry baby all this while, cribbing about my slight change in blood counts. I looked at him and actually felt relieved that i wasn't him. Now i was a bit nervous to talk to him and i said "well, at least you have great hair" (yes i am stupid) ..followed by being even more stupid-"teri jaisi kismat meri kahan"...he said "meri jaisi kismat aapki na ho toh accha hai"...experienced a slightly different drive back home then.