Will you sign for this doctor?

That's right, I'm moving up in the world. I was just innocently stood in the day ward office trying to find someone, anyone to acknowledge my arrival and up comes a girl with a trolley of notes asking if I can "sign for this doctor". This kind of thing has happened many a time, people confusng patient Constanze for important medical professional Constanze but never have I been directly addressed as doctor before. If I look respectable enough to be a doctor then my bloody god has the medical world gone to pot. Tempting though it was to become the Hallamshire's latest and greatest fraudster I quickly declined to which the girl looked positvely angry, perhaps because there was no one else too sign or because she thought I was being some kind of snobby lazy doctor with better things to do than sign for shit. I clarified that I was a mere patient and all was happily resolved. Kind of regretting it though, everyone knows how much I want to take a blood sample.

My stomach is being weird. So weird. I have to talk to Snowdon about it, I think I might go mad if I don't. It's a specific spot, as it's always been, like a 10cm cube balancing on my belly button. My stomach... It's just not... Right. It's not really painful (it can be sometimes though), I just always know it's... There. So hard to explain when the dictionary did not make me a word. It's like your conscience. Just weirdness. ARGH WHY MUST LANGUAGE FAIL ME. This is the problem, I try to tell doctors about it and all I can manage is "Um, my stomach is faulty in a way I can't describe. It's just there more than it should be, OK???". I'm so bloody glad no one's accused me of any crimes, I'd just sit in the dock and be all like woohoo I have an alibi but it's so hard to describe confuse confuse confuse josfspojjpodspojds, oh bother I've gone down for 30 years.

No less than three medical based days next week, you can't say I'm a cancer slacker. And you can't fool owls.

I must dash, I have a ghost to eat.

Stanley Knife.

xXxXx

P.s I really can't make this post without mentioning Emmaliese, a friend from FYSOT who passed away recently. Rest in peace my dear :) You were damn cool. When yet another person from the young person cancer club dies it's always a slap round the face from reality. I can't help thinking though that when I die from wandering under a bus (I can't be this dozy and die of cancer, it's statisically impossible) I'll be resting in pieces. Ho ho ho. Probably shouldn't make jokes after writing a mini obituary but as you all know laughter is a good tool for distracting me from the cold harsh truth that I probably could keel over and die at any moment and how it would be BLOODY INCONVENIENT. So I'd better not. Can't fill in forms if I'm dead.