I don't wanna be buried in a Pet Sematary...

"Another blog post Constanze? Are you mad?!", I hear you all say. Oh yes, I'm churning them out like the old days. If I'm not careful your laptop will turn to butter.

So, there is medical news galore. I have been to the hospital no less than two times since I last wrote, partying in the p ward and ostentaciousising on the o floor. That is definitely a word, I have TWO GCSES in English. Anyway, it all started with a rather mad Monday. Or was it a turmoilly Tuesday (enough with the alliteration already, jesus...) Whatever day it was, it began with the Tragedy of the One Legged Man. The tragedy did not in fact lie in the fact he was missing half his legual equiptment, but in the incompetance of some middle aged NHS worker sat behind a computer being dozy. They'd sent a taxi to pick us all up, and of course his specialised wheelchair wouldn't fit in the boot of Mr Vaxhaull Astra. So, we had to leave him behind. Oh dear.

After all that palava I was late for all my appointments. Eyes first, and for once, good news! My right eye is back to normal and my left is only slightly swollen in the opticcy nervy area. Apparently I do still have massive blind spots, but they don't know why or when or how. Unsolved crime there. Go, Barnaby, go!

I later had an X ray or my chest. Or, rather, I had two as the first time Mr Radiographer managed to miss my lungs. I mean, they are rather big, lungs. Skills there. He made it up to me by taking me in the special room and letting me see the photos. :D was the look on Constanze's face.

And then Yusef forced some blood on me. ME NO WANT BLOOD. NO WANT GO HOSPITAL AGAIN. But, Yusef knows best. If Yusef can't cure it, it aint worth curing. So, yesterday I gots me some blood. They had to put it on double speed because it came late. Usain Bolt Blood. Not Usain Bolt's personal blood though, I imagine he needs that to run and stuff.

And then I was THREATENED. Nick, the dietician weighed me and discovered I'd managed to lose even more weight still, leaving me at 7 stones and 13 pounds... He says if I don't put weight on he'll make Dr Snowdon admit me and feed me through a tube for a fortnight... Which I do not want. I want that less than being spit roasted by Bart Stupak and Mr Go Compare. So, eat I shall. If it kills me. I started my bowl of soup at 12.30 today, and finished at 3.15. World record for slowest eating of soup ever? Soup-er. Ahahahahaha. Speaking of super, Nick is terrifyingly amazing. He's so camp it's vaguely ridiculous, but apparently he has an incredibly stunning girlfriend...

I also got owned by a six year old. I tried to compliment her, but something went very wrong along the way. She had a load of gymnastics badges sewn on her top. I was chubby and shit at sport at school and only got one.
Constanze- "You're doing well there, I only got one of those. I was rubbish and gave up"
Child- "You shouldn't give up, you know."
Constanze-"..."
Life coaching from the under tens.

Getting rather sick of coughing now. I cough, and I don't stop until I've been sick everywhere and can't breathe. Thankfully, you can be sick in heels though, so it isn't too bad. I mean be sick whilst in heels, Not in the heels themselves. That would be sacrilidge.

Now I must go and attempt my second meal of the day. Noodles maybe. I have to balance all my food on a hot water bottle or it goes cold before my third mouthful. Win.

Latersss.

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