It's the Final Countdown!

Ner ner ner neeeeer, ner ner ner ner neeeeer, ner ner ner ner, ner ner ner ner ner ner ner ner-ner-ner ner-ner-ner ner neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrr, ner ner ner neeeeerrrrrrrrr.... We're leaving together.... But still it's farewell... And maybe we'll come back to Earth, who can tell? I guess there's no one to blame, we're leeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaving groundddddddddddd, will this ever beeeeeeeee the saaaameeeeeeeeee agaaaaaiiiinnn?

IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!

And maybe it is true that I can recite a little too much of that wonderful 80s hit... But what is also true is that soon I shall be out of hospital. Michelle's leaving today, lucky bugger.

I went a bit mentals last night, it was really rather funny. Around 1am bordom set in, so I took my tub of grapes and melon and went on an explore which resulted in no less than 7 people asking me if "I was ok". Looking back, I can see why the sight of an inpatient rolling around on the floor throwing grapes around could have caused concern for medical staff, but meh. I danced my way around all of the floors and ate two Marks and Sparks snack packs of fruit... See? Going mental is good for your health. When I ran out of sugary delights, I ran out of energy and promptly returned to my bed to dream of sex toys, boats, Richard Branson and queueing for toilets. Good times.

All the doctors crowded round this morning, per usual. Nothing much is happening, couple of tests, they might jab another needle in my spine just for the lolz. My legs are bad this morning because of the above activities, when I got out of bed last night I realised my legs hurt exactly the same no matter what I was doing with them, so I figured walking was good. This morning I am figuring the opposite. Yes, I have a legular hangover... What you gonna do about it, mofo?

Andy the nurse and I have plans. We worked out we can solve all our weight problems pretty easily. His metabolism is too slow, creating his hug sized belly. My metabolism is too fast, making me lose 1.5 stone since I got ill (I weighed 9st 4 this morining... Soon you won't be able to see me sideways...). I have to create a maching that swaps out metabolisms for a week, and voila! Andy has a sexy, toned six pack and I get my arse back. He did however, point out the possible going wrong of this in the form of that fly movie, but I'm sure he'd love to have my trim figure! Why's he complaining?

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarg. Noooooooooothign is happening folks. I was let out yesterday afternoon, James had to push me around in a wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllchair. I don't like it, I hatttttttttteeeeeeeeesssss being looked after and beeeeiiing pushed around makes me feel bad. And he's so weak, bless him. I wasn't sure how to greet other wheelchair uses, is there a secret wave?

I have occasional moments when I know I'm really ill. I had one yesterday in KFC. I could not finish my KFC. I was only on my first one aswell! It was terrifying. That's never happened before, in 18 long years of life. Last time I got out I had two! It's at times like that you know there is a good deal of cancer floating around in your blood...

Speaking of food, when the weighed me this morning and I had that horrible 9st 4 shock, I ate steak, baked potatoes, chicken satay sticks and my usual fruit for breakfast. I have balanced diet related skills. I apologise, do I ever write about anything in this that isn't food or weight related? I'm sorry, but the horror of fitting in a size 10 skirt is too much for me to bear. NEXT WEEK I WILL BE FREE AND I WILL EAT EVERYTHINGGGGG. ALL. YOU FRIDGE WILL BE EMPTY. IT WILL BE ME. YOU MAY EVEN OPEN YOUR FRIDGE ONE DAY TO FIND ME NIBBLING AT YESTERDAY'S LEFTOVERS.... THEN YOU WILL DANCE WITH JOY. And, you can't throw me out because I have cancer. Ahaha.

One sec, nurse needs to steal blood... And it's been stolen. Four test tubes worth! And now I have some super sey cotton wool stuck to my arm... Hot. James is due any minute, I can seduce him wiith it...

Got to go...

Doctors....

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