But that was 30 years ago, back when they used to have a show

I was out at the transplant center for more tests earlier this week. I wish somebody would give me a list of all the tests, just so I could get some idea of how many more there are.

The thallium spect was frightening: they drip some stuff in your veins to dilate your blood vessels, and then they scan for that. It hurts quite a bit, but the pain wasn't exactly what I was expecting. It was overall, and intense, like a wild panic. I felt a little nauseous during the whole process, which lasted for the longest ten minutes of my life. The second phase of the that test involves a camera, I guess it's similar to an MRI. That part lasted for about half an hour and I took a nap.

I also had my first mammogram ever. Man, am I not looking forward to the next one, which I hope won't happen for several years. I can totally see why you'd want to avoid this test. It didn't hurt in the same way as the thallium spect, but it hurt nonetheless. By the time she took the fourth film I was crying. Remember getting your finger slammed in a car door? It's not that bad, but for me it was close.

The worst was yet to come.

I went up to see the social worker. Now, I have no opinion of institutional social workers. Most of the ones I've met have been too cheerful by half, but it's as if they've had their cheer drummed into them, meaning it's a little surreal. This one had a soothing voice straight out of a suicide hotline training class. By now it was 3:15 and I wanted to go home. I told her exactly that.

She asked a bunch of questions that I think I'd already answered on a form I'd filled out, but whatever. Then she asked about pets, and I said something about having a cat.

"Well, I guess you'll find a new home for her."

Stop right there, lady. I think my glare frightened her, at least I hope it did; that's exactly what I meant to do. Lola, I told her calmly, is like my child.

She started to talk about toxoplasmosis, which I know about, and I said I'd find a way to cope, but that Lola wouldn't be going anywhere.

Is it really going to be worth having no immune system at all? I've lived much of my life with a compromised immune system, but none at all? Deliberately knocked out so I can have a working kidney?

This is beyond having issues, it's a paradoxical mess that I can't begin to unravel. I tried to look at the situation from every angle; it just gave me a headache.

I am not yet at peace with the idea of having a transplant, and yet it could happen by Christmas.

I guess I'd better get rationializing.

before - after