They're like the latest fashion, they're like a spreading disease...

Hello hello hello. Greetings to you on this Wednesday afternoon :)

Yesterday was a trip to see the almighty god of blood, Dr Snowdon. The appointment was somewhat brief as there really wasn't all that much to be said. No signs of graft versus host, no general unusual illness, no improvement in tiredness since being on the thyriod replacement drug, just general nothingness. Tumbleweed rolled around the room. The only new thing that was mentioned was that my last liver function test had been a bit dodgy... Oh great... Another organ's gone. It could have just been that metapneumovirus I had causing hassle or it might be that my thyriod has coaxed my liver into sleeping with it ;) and now they're both living it up in the land of dreams. Another 'place your bets now' moment. Is my liver dead or just pretending?

I also realised how much Snowdon reminds me of agent Gibbs off NCIS. Perhaps the similarities are just in my head as I try to glamourise up the haemotology ward (it probably is, I think I need to accept that the Royal Hallamshire hospital IS NOT a world famous party hotspot). They've both got the mysterious air and they're the best at their game and all the other doctors and nurses live in a slightly terrified awe of him. Yeah. This is all in my head. I love Snowdon. I can't believe I was ever grumpy at him. It take a while to realise how brilliant he is at his job, again, at first he comes across like Gibbs then you realise how wonderful he is on the inside (like creme eggs too). Shut up Stanze.

The hospital stairs were also extremely busy, I am confused to report. I caused a queue of no less than four people trying to walk down two flights of stairs while desperately holding onto the handrail lest I fall to my concretey doom. The blood tests room however was quite the opposite, with just 32 people ahead of me. 32 people??? There's never less that 60, NEVER. Where have all the funny blooded people gone? Has jesus been hanging around North East Derbyshire curing the ailed and no one told me? Madness, I say, it's all madness.

On Monday I had to do a bit of secret investigating myself as it became apparent an assassin was after me. Something like that anyway. Came home at around 4PM to the news from my neighbour that 'someone had been looking for me'. No one ever looks for me. I'm very bloody hard to miss (a quote from a friend 'we knew it was you because we could see the sequins on your hat from 100m away'). My friends never call round to my house unprompted and if it had been the postman they'd have just left the parcel. SHIT, I begin to think. It must be the mad axe man. That blog of yours, you've got yourself a crazy stalker seeking revenge for killing off all the leukaemia cells in your cancer genocide :S :S :S It's some lunatic trying to steal all of your sleeping organs for the black market, it's an escaped convict trying to get hidden in the Hallamshire... Then it dawned on me. Where do I often go on a Monday afternoon? Day ward. So I phone hospital. That's right, an unknown person has booked me in for a surprise appointment I didn't need and sent out a medicar for the appointment I didn't know I had and don't need to go to. The hospital hadn't phoned me or anything like...

...They know I'd never miss an appointment (and I'd try to strangle anyone who did) so where on earth did they think I was? So yeah. A collossal waste of resources. I went up to day ward to book in for some other appointments and tried to get to the bottom of who keeps booking me in for random appointments but didn't get very far. If it was you, can you please stop? Thanks.

Speaking of crimes I've been accused of but didn't commit, a girl in the canteen shouted at me for forgetting my staff card even though I'm not a member of staff. I AM NOT A MEMBER OF STAFF FOR GOD'S AND DIBNAH'S SAKE. Just innocently trying to buy my three fried eggs, two sausages, bacon and fried bread, next in the queue, make eye contact with till lady, she immediately asks me in an annoyed fashion DO I HAVE MY STAFF CARD. I say no. She says I MUST HAVE MY STAFF CARD TO GET DISCOUNT ALL I NEED TO DO IS CARRY MY STAFF CARD. But... But... I'm not staff I say. She says oh. Pay for food. Leave. You get your legs out and they think you run the place. That makes the hospital sound a lot like a brothel... I'm not sure where the red light district is, perhaps in the tropical diseases ward, it's always a bit suspicious around there...

Got to go now. Sleepy. Sour sweets and sleep for Stanze Panze. Just realised how much that sounds like Sancho Panza. I am not Sancho Panza. Deffo not illiterate, as you can see from all these words I haz written.

Constanze. xXx