When my son got his unrelated cord blood transplant, I lived in the hospital with him for two long months. For those months the small room with a crib, a couch that unfolded into a bed, a bathroom, a small closet and thankfully a huge window that looked out onto the front entrance of the hospital was our “home.” The routine of the oncology floor became our routine: 4 a.m.
labs, 10 a.m. rounds with doctors, nurses and fellows, saving diapers to be weighed, calling three times a day for meals. We also embraced the hospital routines: bagels on the 8th floor at 10 a.m.
on Mondays, cookies on the 8th floor on Wednesday, spirituality group on Wednesdays that came with pizza and two times a month on Thursdays art therapy group.Read more on themighty.com