So, another day, another hospital visit. As Imran's off sunning it up on some beach in India, today's appointment was with good old Dr Snowdonia, King Of Haemotology and all the bone marrow he surveys. The good/bad news of the morning was that my chimerism is still 96%... Yep, it's still teasing me. Like a cake on a stick on a pole that's an inch taller than the outstreched arm of my stealing robot. Just one per cent away from not having cancer. So far, yet so close.
Started the morning driving around in circles somewhere near Pilsley. It turns out that not many people wander around Pilsley at half eight on a Tuesday morning, so finding anyone to direct the somewhat lost medicar was difficult and many minutes (almost running into the hours) were spent driving aimlessly around generic 60's terraces. The day was eventually saved by a marauding farmer who directed us to the house of our desires... Only to find the person wasn't in. And by the looks of things, what a person they were. "Mad Mike" scrawled on the bin. I can only imagine.
There was yet more general debate as to whether to bring me in with my myriad of viruses but yet again I somehow managed to talk my way out of it. If I'm not better (or at least improved) by Friday though... A gazillion nebulisers here I come. Cue the excessive use of olbas oil to avoid such a happening. They did a nice chest x-ray (the photo above is me changing into x-ray robes, don't ask why I'm pulling that face) and took some extra blood to have a look at the stuff inside the Constanze. Had a sneaky peek at my x-ray, and my, what a lovely bone structure I have, even if I do say so myself.
The blood queue was one of the worst I've ever seen. I somehow became the new information kiosk, giving directions and medical advice to the masses as I sat on a desk in the corridor outside the phlebotomy clinic (all the nurses were busy working their socks off stabbing people)... Yes, this is the blood taking bit. Do you have your clinic referal? Take a ticket, the wait is about two hours. If your sample is non-urgent you can go to your gp. And so on and so forth until I slowly became a part of the furniture... Do I really look like a medical professional? Do people really trust strange women sat on two foot high desks with bird cages around their necks? The Yorkshire public are most confused.
After all this running around hospital (They really did make me run. Well, a brisk walk- they wanted to get my lungs going to measure my oxygen sat. I don't really do brisk, the results weren't pretty) and advice giving and radiation zapping my medicar was finally able to take me home. Only three hours late, but better late than never. And better late than early actually, they were fitting new doors on my house today and making a lot of dust. And I mean a lot of dust. Not a massive fan of dust, me.
Had a massive coughing fit this evening (nearly coughed up an organ or seven, as well as what I'd had for tea) and I've damaged some muscles in my back and chest. Megaoops. Breathing in and out is not as fun as it used to be.
Must go and drool over hot women now. I don't want Dita Von Teese's body (too thin, mine's better), but I sure as hell want her wardrobe. Over and out me hearties.
xXx
P.s Forgot to mention- the radiologist says I have 'long lungs'. What does that even mean? Is it a compliment or what?
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