Well! Had you no shame, you miserable beast, to let such an affront get past your lips? Where you outdo me, I have no idea; for I'm as fit as you for any task, you poor, ill-fated, nonsense-talking oxling.
When will I cherish my hair again, the way my grandmother cherished it, when fascinated by its beauty, with hands carrying centuries-old secrets of adornment and craftswomanship, she plaited it, twisted it, cornrowed it, finger-curled it, olive-oiled it, on the growing moon cut and shaped it, and wove it like fine strands of gold inlaid with semiprecious stones, coral and ivory, telling with my hair a lost-found story of the people she carried inside her?
[…] Lance, after having made some shew of helping him to his horse, ran back to tell his master the joyful intelligence, that a lucky accident had abated Chiffinch's party to their own number.
Post-BMT, her body would show signs of GVHD, which is graft-versus-host disease; the new marrow tries to reject the body it occupies. Her mouth would be assaulted by radiation before the transplant.