The Therapist, Pin Cushion & Igor (pronounced EYEgor)

Today I had three important appointments:
Uno: With social worker to discuss goals on how to deal with the stress and changes that may come with a transplant. No big deal. A meet and greet.
Number Two: Blood work drawn to define my MELD score, a number used to determine how sick I am and how desperately I need a new liver. I'll find out the results on Monday or Tuesday. I'm dehydrated so Lillie Phan had a hard time hitting a vein; it took her and two other philbotamist about 8 hits before they found what they were looking for.  Success was found after about an hour in the chair, making me late for my future appointments.
C: Vaccine from Nurse Ratchet and a talking to about tardiness. Odd lady, I guess she had every right to be bitter and what a better target than me to take it out on. She was well into her 60's, page boy haircut, the skin and complexion of curdling milk and she had a wondering eye and was hunched over like Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein. She came at me like a rabid dog with a lecture on how I had no right to reschedule and that I was throwing her whole system off. I relayed to her my earlier experience at the blood lab but she wasn't having it, our voices rising slightly as we talked over each other and her North Shore Boston accent turning into something more reminiscent of a Charlie Brown Adult meets the AFLAC duck. Eventually after I accused her of having attitude and wasn't sure if I was she was going to poke me with a syringe full of malaria, typhoid fever and a case of the willy's she calmed down. By the time I left, it felt like we were old chums as she schooled me on the best tattoo artist (her nephew) ever to come out of Revere was. I can’t wait for my next two visits with her and gave her a wink to her good eye as I walked away.