Healthy people like to think that us sick people don't mind all the tests and scans and hospital trips we take. I think it makes people feel better. But it's not true. Swallowing barium, getting injections of radiation, blowing into tubes connected to machines, these things don't become magically pleasant when you have to do them all the time. But you do learn to do it. You stop needing to read the print out from the radiologist on how to prepare. You develop reward systems (an iced coffee after PET scan or pizza on pulmonary function day) and you find crutches (Ativan for the MRI's or a Bailys for those unlike me whose medications still allow them to enjoy a drink once in a while). And you learn fight songs. You scream in your car as you cross the bridge that separates the life you love in CAmbridge and the things waiting for you in Boston. You listen to loud songs and grunt like Rocky, you mouth fuck off to every car that gets too near to you, you lean far back into your seat and sing every word over and over til you are ready to get out of your car, to climb the hill, to go inside and meet what waits for you inside. It turns out my lungs might not be good. I wasn't quite ready for this one.