Chapter 16 - When Recovery Refused the Plan

March 12–25, 2026

Recovery was not a straight line.

It was more like a wandering road with potholes, scenic overlooks, sudden detours, and the occasional:

“How did I end up on the floor?”

In March, a dormant virus stirred.

A rash appeared and was identified as graft-versus-host disease.

I developed mouth sores, blistered lips, exhaustion, and swelling in my throat.

The complications seemed determined to cover every possible location.

The front.

The back.

The undercarriage.

The inside.

The top of my head.

The bottom of my feet.

I had planned to go hiking.

Instead, after a very bad night, my voice sounded like James Earl Jones and my breathing sounded like Darth Vader.

The hospital told me to come in within the hour.

Graft-versus-Host Disease

The donor immune system helping protect me could also recognize parts of my body as foreign.

That is one of the tensions of transplant.

The new immune system needed to become active.

It also needed to learn restraint.

The rash was graft-versus-host disease. The swollen throat and lips appeared to involve an allergic reaction to something else.

I received buckets of steroid cream, stern instructions, and another reminder that the care team was thorough for good reason.

So much for the cottage week.

Tired of Character Building

I tried to keep my humour intact because humour is how I breathe when life becomes ridiculous.

Beneath the jokes was disappointment.

I wanted the cottage week.

I wanted normal.

I wanted my body to behave.

Instead, I received steroid cream, mouth sores, hospital food, and another reminder that recovery did not care about my preferred schedule.

I remained grateful.

I was also tired of character-building opportunities.

Better Is Still Better

The rash began to subside.

My mouth improved.

Urology brought more good news. The elevated PSA was not considered urgent, and the testing did not point toward prostate cancer.

One day I noticed more energy.

Untreated leukemia might have given me only weeks.

That knowledge changed the meaning of a day.

Recovery kept reminding me that better and easy are not the same.

But better is still better.

I would take it.