It's a date

He's coming home.

She's coming home.

Our family is going to be together again.

Following a wonderful weekend out of the hospital, Trish and Dominic returned this morning to begin his fourth-to-last 36-hour dose of rituximab and get him checked up.

With Day 100 (post-bone marrow transplant) coming up next week, we knew there was a chance of a homecoming. But to hear those words, "You can go to Medicine Hat next Thursday," it almost seems like a dream.

For me it still is a dream, since I didn't actually hear anybody say it. Trish woke me with a text: "Hi. OMG OMG OMG. Best news ever!!"

After last week's rituximab we were sent on a night pass to Trish's parents' house. The next morning Dom was discharged, and on Saturday we made our first public excursion - albeit an extra safe one in a remote corner of a community park.

We grabbed some food, a blanket, even brought our dog Megan. He ate more than he had in weeks, clearly enjoying the warm, overcast weather. We handed him Megan's leash and, bless her soul, she waited patiently for him to catch up. Dog walking with a 19-month-old is really baby walking with a 12-year-old pooch.

He's still on tube feeds 12 hours a day, but that's down from 18 a week earlier. His weight is barely more than it was way back in September, but it's headed in the right direction too. His blood counts are starting to recover and doctors are confident he won't need any more transfusions or GCSF if he keeps it up.

Naturally, we have to keep in the back of our minds that this plan to come home can get sidetracked with the smallest fever or cough. He's got three more rituximab doses in June anyhow, so it's far from a permanent switch — more like a transition to being in the Hat again.

But let's face it, they haven't been here since February. They miss home and I miss them being at home.

We can't wait.