Relapse

Coming home meant starting over with a new team of strangers in white coats - consultants, nurses, social workers - none of whom knew me or my quirks. Laurel House quickly became my safe place, a rhythm of bloods, tea breaks, and steady reassurance.

It was supposed to be another routine check at Laurel House - bloods, a plaster, then home in time for dinner. Instead, I ended up sobbing in reception, clinging to my mum’s hand as Dr Aaron performed a bone marrow biopsy.

I thought it was just an anomaly, a blip in my blood results. Instead, it was the start of another fight - one that would depend on a stranger’s cells to save my life.