Unfamiliar Territory

I saw my transplant surgeon last month for a routine check up. It was boring. The only news to report was that nothing major was wrong.

"She's had a normal summer!'" Nikki, sounding triumphant, announced my boring news to Dr Wali when he walked in. He looked over lab work, ordered a biopsy, and checked in with the resident on what he thought about my status. The resident, new to me and transplant medicine, was most concerned about my Parvo virus titer, which most recently was 15.000. He suggests treating it immediately with IVIG and hospital admission.

I stifle my laughter. I don't want to insult him. My titer has been upwards of 130 million. 15,000, although much higher than normal(0) seem like the best results ever and I'd like to do nothing about this number.  Dr Wali  falls between our two opinions and decides to  keep an eye on it, retesting in a month and taking action based on the trend as opposed to the actual titer.

We go over the nook-and-cranny details, the recurring skin issues and pesky infections, the underlying need to remain on prophylactic antibiotics, the tangible side effects of the medications I'm taking. He makes fun of me for asking about the tenderness in my transplanted kidney, assuring me I've created it in my head..

I leave the hospital quietly, listening to the echo of my steps on the long, familiar corridors,  smiling, but a little disappointed. I'm at a loss. Some ridiculous part of me misses the challenge of having a battle to fight. I can not be a valiant, conquering hero without an ominous foe to defeat.

How will I define myself now?
The freedom is daunting.