Seven months post transplant, ominous nosebleed, alienation

The summer before I was diagnosed (summer '11), Heather and I were walking down Mass Ave in Porter Square on our way to a friend's going away party when suddenly my nose started bleeding.  I don't remember exactly how I realized.   I think Heather might've pointed it out to me.  Once she told me and I saw the drops of blood on the ground, I noticed the cool sensation of blooding dripping onto my lips.  We stop and I try to clean myself up with some tissues.  I watch each tissue become soaked with blood until I was holding my nose close with my bare hand and Heather had to run across the street to some Indian market for some tissues.  

I am leaning against a cement wall watching the blood hit the ground while people walk by and wonder what the hell is up with this guy.  In the bright sun it was the most vivid color red I'd ever seen.  It was perhaps the ultimate Red.  I can't fully describe it -- this must be why many shades of red are compared to blood, but blood itself is compared to none.  
Bandits with planes and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black friars making blessings
kept coming fromthe sky to kill children
and through the streets the blood of the children  ran simply like children's blood. This nosebleed will always stand out in my memory because of the blood, but after I was diagnosed a few months later, it took on greater significance.  I began to look back at it a foreshadowing of the illness that was waiting for me (even thought it had already silently claimed me).  Maybe it was some Divine warning and I should thank God.  Or it was a symptom of the disease.  Or it was nothing. It also foretold the alienation I would feel.  Hard to feel normal standing on a busy street with a faucet for a nose.  When I got sick the my life became the busy street, and the bloody nose was me.  You can't join the cancer club quietly.  No matter how strong your support system is, you'll always have this distinction that draws invisible lines between you and the rest of the world.  In the year since my transplants, I've felt alienated even from other patients. The busy street is now the waiting room.  The mask and gloves I have to wear are my bloody nose.  At least there are a few other bloody noses there with me from time to time.   I'm just over 7 months since my transplant and my health is continuing to recover.  My immune system is getting much stronger and some of my restrictions have been lifted.  I can go to a restaurant ("Try to go at a time when it's not so busy").  Heather and I had dinner down the street and it felt amazing to be back in the world and eating food someone else prepared and interact with normal people again.  So everything is going good. These are the times when I look back at things and today that gave you all a post about a nosebleed. Thanks for reading.  Time to reheat some beef stew.