Nothing major has happened physically in the past week - but I've been making a few subtle adjustments mentally. 
 
A couple of odd things from my conversation with Darren a couple of weeks ago stuck in my mind. He said that still when he presses a lift button in a public place he'll use a knuckle or a pen rather than a finger tip.  Pushing open a door he'll press a place above or below the 'sweet spot' where 90% of people push.  I understand that - I do similar things. Habits like that reduce the chances of picking up a random infection, and every little is worth while.  
 
But he's six years post-transplant, while I'm just over 6 months - why is he still worried? 
 
Towards the end of last year when I first got home after the transplant and weeks in the isolation room I was hyper-aware of bacteria, viruses, and potential contact with them.  If I touched a railing or door handle in public at times my awareness of it was almost like a big red buzzing cartoon sign ("unclean, unclean") - until I could do the ritual handwash, or wipe with an alcohol swab. But that mindset faded over the months as I grew stronger and found I can function without picking up every bug that passes me on the breeze.
 
Because I've had what the doctors call an 'uneventful course' in the months since September I had fallen into thinking of the leukaemia as something rather like a bad 'flu, or a broken leg. Sure it was serious, but I've had a mental image of a time in the future when I would be fully recovered.  Like a broken limb, or having your tonsils out, it would be done, dusted and completely in the past. 
 
Since that afternoon with Darren I've had time to reassess and remember what I read and learned when I was first finding out about transplants. The effects are permanent (thank goodness :) but so are some of the side effects. My immune system will never be 100% of what it was.  My sense of taste won't be as subtle. My teeth will be more brittle. My risks of other sorts of cancer are raised, etc., etc.
 
I need to build the habits that will allow me to live comfortably with this new reality. My body will never be something I can just rely on to the same extent as I did in the past (I suppose that's true for all of us as we get older, but in my case it's a little more solid, a little more sudden...)
 
So over the past weeks I've started paying more conscious attention to how I interact with the the world again. Walking to a ferry I note people who cough or sneeze on the path or in the queue, and I'll then consciously put distance between us when I pick a seat. I'll still buy a coffee - but if the milk's been refills in the same jug since this morning, I'll have it black thanks, or, better still, I'll change my mind and have a bottle of water.
 
It's not the near paranoia I had when I first came home, but I'm working on a heightened sense of awareness of my surroundings.  It may not actually save my life, or keep me out of hospital, but it can't hurt.