Not really actually. I feel more like a bum, and most of the bums I've seen aren't all that attractive. I am literally on lock-down. There was an upper-respiratory illness going around, and I think the flu was making rounds too. So the floor is pretty much closed off. It's sad, but it makes sense. Most of the people on my floor are immuno-suppressed, and even the smallest infection becomes a serious issue. My doctor told me that a similar respiratory infection went around, I'm not sure if it was this hospital or another, and people died. They're not taking any chances here, which is fine with me if it means I'm not going to die of the flu. Because that would be rather unfortunate.
In other news, it is three months to the day that I was diagnosed with leukemia. "A retrospective," you say? Well, I don't know... Maybe one in brief (remember that "brief" is a relative term). I can't believe it's already been three months. That's 1/4 of my year. (Yes, I excel in the higher mathematics.) It's still somewhat surreal for me. Everything happened so quickly. I was diagnosed, and then less than one week later I was admitted to the hospital here in Chicago to begin treatment. I haven't really had too many of the typical chemotherapy side effects. Strangely, I actually do still have some hair left, but it's quite thin. I don't even know what I've done with myself these past three months. I keep looking to my future, it's what gets me through this, but aside from that, I am mostly just living day-to-day. It's the only way to do it. I'm never certain how I'll feel on any given day, so all I can do is just take each day as it comes my way. It's important to look forward to the future, but if you don't live in the present, you'll miss something. I feel like it's more important than ever for me to live in the present right now, because my present actions and current thoughts are what will make me well again. I've also realized that it is terribly important not to dwell too much on the past. What happened, happened. We can't change that. We can just learn from it and move on. I have also never been so appreciative of what it means to be healthy. I know it's cliche, but the saying that we never really appreciate something until it's gone holds some truth. Just the ability to walk around without feeling tired, or being able to lift a heavy backpack without a second thought... Haha, standing up without blacking out. Those are small and seemingly insignificant parts of life, but to me, they mean a lot more now. I would kill to be able to run one mile again. Just one! I wish there was some way I could make everyone understand how lucky they are living their days. To be a college student, to become exhausted from staying up too late studying for exams, or staying up too late with friends, watching basketball or playing video games. And yet, they can get a few extra days of sleep over break, or on the weekends, and be back to whatever "normal" is these days. I never realized how dead I was in the month or two before my diagnosis. One of the things I am most looking forward to when all this is finished is to be making my own healthy blood again. Just to know that my body is working as it should be and that I'll feel "normal" again after some sleep, as opposed to after they transfuse a few packs of blood.
Otherwise, I don't know. I've written a lot of poetry, I've taken a lot of pictures. I'm going to try "arting," although I don't know how well that will go. I've realized how much my friends mean to me, how they can lift my spirits with a silly comment from far away. All that fun stuff. Well, I'll truncate my blathering for now. Don't worry, I'm sure more will come in the future. But otherwise, I don't know, happy anniversary? If I had a stein of beer and wasn't in the hospital, I'd make a toast or something. As it is, I raise my Ginger Ale. Pax.