Twenty seven years ago today, I had my right kidney removed. Physically, it definitely weakened my immune system. I used to get sick twice a year, and now every sort of plague is visited upon me several times a year. Emotionally it was even more devastating. For those of you who don't know the story, here it is. (If you do or don't care, maybe this isn't the blog for you). I was in a very popular production of a rock and roll version of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" at the Bathhouse theatre in Seattle. It ran forever, and kept getting extended. One morning I woke up and was barely able to get out of bed before I was doubled over in excruciating pain. I spent most of that day on the floor of my apartment unable to move. My then wife (name omitted to protect the innocent) came home from work to find me there and took me to the ER. I was diagnosed with kidney stones (it wasn't) and passed what I thought were stones (that were actually blood clots). They