"No," the intern finally managed. "We can't accept your blood—"
I waved him off. "Isn't there some fund to take care of lukemia victims? Feed them, house them, send them to Florida to soak up the sun?"
"Certainly there is such a fund, and you may apply, Mr. Hagle."
"I'd certainly benefit a lot from that fund. Doctor, humor me. Test me again and see if I still have lukemia."
He did. I didn't.
"I don't understand this," the intern said, looking frightened. "Transitory lukemia? It must be a lab error."
"Will you buy my blood now?"
"I'm afraid as long as there is some doubt—this must be something new."
"I suppose it is," I told him. "I have all sorts of interesting symptoms."
"You do?" The intern was vitally interested. "Feel free to tell me all about them."