Running up that hill.

It's over. It's finally over. My three days of madness and treatment a plenty are over. As you all saw with yesterday's post, I was completely destroyed two days in, so you really can't imagine what I'm like now... Imagine what a person would look and feel like after being gone over with a concrete smoother. About that. Give or take a roll or two.

So, what's the news yer all duesss? Today I went for a dental check up. It's a bit of a walk to the dentists from the centre of town (well, it is to me, quit laughing) so I ambled on over and all was good then he noticed a filling needed redoing (I only have two, one radiotherapy related and one too much sherbet related). So, I go to the desk to make another appointment and she's like can you come back today and I'm like yeah ok then... Then I realise that probably wasn't the best thing to agree to. My feet are mashed already but there's nothing good near the dentist apart from the Polish food shop and I'm not allowed to eat anything because he's been painting my teeth with protecty stuff so I have to walk all the way back to town, sit about for an hour, then walk back for my filling and then walk to the bus stop. I am an idiot. I've said it before and I'll say is again, radiotherapy ate my brain.

I'm not even entirely sure it's worth telling you about my filling, I mean, compared to most of the stuff I have done it's quite boring and tame. I suppose it is a bit of a highlight because my dentist is really quite fit, even when he told me he likes Glee. *is a little bit sick in mouth at the thought of Glee*. It was the usual collection of needles and a bit of drilling (oh, the innuendo) that my life so often includes. Then, of course, the embarassment when I forget that my face is frozen, try to swill my mouth out with water and dribble it all down myself. I truely am the sexiest woman alive.

Yesterday was also a long but fairly boring day, the best moment of which was Dr Dalley accidentally stealing one of the nurse's half drunk cup of coffee. Yep, the fun never ends in the Hallamshire. My hormone doctor, Prof Ledger, is emigrating to Australia because he'd rather have a view of a beach than a brick wall for some reason (it's quite a nice wall as far as they go) so I saw his replacement instead. I've met her before, she's a nice lady. I should be able to remember her name, but I'm Constanze and names are difficult. I have enough on remembering my own for god's sake, it's both long and ridiculous. But anyway, the only thing I learnt is that me waking up looking like Jordan is a normal side effect of HRT (I say Jordan, it's more I've gone from being completely flat chested to filling an a cup) and no one's been slipping me in breast implants in my sleep. I'm not sure if I'm happier having bigger boobs or not. I mean, I wore a top the other day and I practically had a cleavage! I think as long as they don't get any bigger than an a cup I'll be content, it's the old rule, any more than a thimbleful is a waste... Something like that, anyway. Small boobs good, Constanze's boobs better.

If you're wondering what the photo is then that's me trying to distract myself from the fact I am shit at doing everything. I was trying to take a photo of my poorly eye to show to Dr Pepper (10/10 for being named after the sperm count lowering fizzy drink) in case it isn't all flared up when I see her, but instead I just flash blinded myself. The photo was scary, so I just cropped my iris out so you can all see my lovely confused blue slightly sunbursty eyes.

Away I go. More news when I'm back from the "Find your sense of tumour young person's cancer conference" which probably sounds more civilised than it is.

Merry Wednesday,
Constanze.
xXx