TB or not TB -- that is the question.

I've been battling against the forces of the Health Center for two weeks now, at least, trying to prove with ink-and-paper that the memories I have of getting my MMR update right before camp in elementary school and of bursting into tears and clutching the purple dinosaur pillow I'd just finished making in home ec after getting the last adult dose of Hep B vaccine, are real.

It's not the Health Center's fault; it's Massachusetts State Law that I show proof of my immunizations or else face over $700 in tests and shot fees.

I started my quest with the doctor whose office my only America-side adult physician used to practice at. (Confused yet?) He had gone on to his own private practice and, when that failed, then went to work at a hospital, and I'd never officially transferred my patientship to the other doctor in his former-former practice, so I wasn't very hopeful.

The girl at the counter, who was very nice (though curt when she learned what I wanted), said they would have to order the records out of storage. I didn't believe she'd actually do it.

But she called me back three days later, after the weekend, to say that she had, and she had the file in front of her, and...actually, no, there was nothing at all in it, except a sheet describing the one office visit I'd ever made to the place.

I turned next to my pediatrician's office. They had called me five years ago insisting that since I was 23, I needed to have my records forwarded to an adult GP, and I'd given them the name of the doctor whose former-former office I'd already visited.

"They say they don't have my file with my immunization records," I told the receptionist on the phone.

"Oh, yes they do!" the girl said in what can only be described as a scornful tone.

I said they'd ordered the files from storage and whatever happened, they said they didn't have them -- so did my pediatrician's office have them?

Yes, the girl said, and they were ready for me right now. Then she insisted that since I am almost 28, I need to have my records forwarded to an adult GP -- a different one.

I went and picked up the records.

Then I went back through my emails to look over the requirements. I had the MMR and Hep B proof I needed -- but I hadn't had a Tetanus shot within the last 10 years, and I hadn't had a TB test since I came back from China...and living there for "more than a month" was what qualified me for new TB testing.

I called the Health Center and left a half-coherent message asking someone to just, please, call me back because I had questions about the immunization records requirement.

Then I wrote an email detailing my questions, to the same people: Could I get the shots I needed done at the Health Center, since my insurance would run out tomorrow (yesterday)? Would I have to get all the shots updated before I could register? Could I just send the files I had without getting a physician (since I didn't have one) to sign the immunization record paper? Should I have my pediatric file sent up to the Health Center?

I got a call back almost immediately, and most of the news was relieving. Yes, I could get the shots at the Health Center, but there would be a huge crowd on Monday and my registration would be blocked until I was cleared. I could just send the files I had, but I probably shouldn't have my pediatric files sent to a university Health Center.

I decided to pay out of pocket (because hey, having Aetna insurance basically means paying out of pocket anyway -- on top of the monthly expense of the Aetna insurance policy) for a Tetanus booster and a TB test at the walk-in clinic. I drove straight there.

I explained my needs to the women at the clinic, and after much deliberation, they decided I should be allowed a Tetanus and TB test without a full physical -- though I would have to pay $75 for "a small doctor's visit."

The "small doctor's visit" meant, apparently, that a doctor would come in, stop right in front of me as I sat on the exam room table, and ask "when were you in China?" I told him 2003-2005.

"Oh, yes," he said, "you need a TB test. And don't be surprised if it's positive."

"I hope it's not positive," I said, "cause then I'll need a chest X-ray."

"And six months of medication," he added, and left.

Left me in a panic, that is.

I spent the next two days (which is how long it takes to have a TB test done) obsessing over whether I had TB. I dreamed about having it. I saw red splotches on my arm, over the bruise left by the injection, and tried to figure out if they'd let me register before I got a chest X-ray, or if I'd have to drive it up there next week and already be on antibiotics.

P.C. was very patient with my worrying, and if it hadn't been for his playing "GTA: San Andreas," it would have been only immunization worries invading my dreams, minus the random CGI drive-arounds and sporadic shoot-'em-up missions.

But this morning I still couldn't sleep. I got up and drove past the clinic and when it wasn't open, I went to the Ocean State Job Lot to get more Amish barbeque sauce and wait the hour until it was.

When I got there, I told the receptionist I only needed to have my TB test looked at and get my paperwork back. She said she'd call the doctor, and I sat down. Ten seconds later, she called me back up.

"Which arm was it?" a different doctor asked.

"This one," I said. "There's a bruise where --"

"No, that's negative," he interrupted, and signed the paper and walked away.

I made them sign every sheet of paper I had.

(This afternoon I faxed the records to the helpful nurse at the Health Center. Tuesday, P.C.'s agreed to come up with me [again] to hand the copies in, in person, just in case.)