You probably had not noticed, but over the past few days my "mood" indicator listed me as 'apprehensive.' I just changed it to 'goofy.' Just got off the phone with my doctor, that in itself was thoughtful for the hour in my zone. I'm fine, probably pester my wife for another 30 years. But that's not my focus today. As you know, I'm 61 years old. I don't look it, I have good genes and a severe barbell habit. And at this age the world is losing ways to scare me. But a few days ago I noticed a sore throat. I was surprised to see white patches all over the entire surface of my palate and throat. Upon my doc's examination, he reported that it was 'thrush.' He defined that as an "opportunistic infection that may be related to immunity." He needed to draw blood. I might be a biker, but I did work for a few years at a dental clinic, and I did know what he was aiming at. Now, I have a healthy life style, no procedures of any kind dealing with needles, in fact, it's been months since I cut myself sharpening. Academically, I knew I was okay. Viscerally, I was more than 'concerned.' Coupled with this, my medical provider just recalled over 2,000 patients for possible blood contamination and was doing tests on them. I was told not to expect test results for a week or more. Clearly, my doctor pushed my results through. He saw to it that the good news got to me within 36 hours of the blood draw. Everyone fears something. I do not fear drunken townies and 'bangers because they fear the coroner. I must admit that outrunning a Kenworth to pass is quite thrilling. I broke my neck in a car accident in 1987 and was ticked off more for missing work-outs than over the injury. But you stick me with a tiny needle and make me wait for a few days, and nothing concoles me. In fact, I'm still not totally uplifted yet. I still feel a bit shaken from the experience. It will take the better part of day to shake the funk.