My lord that photo is so myspacey. The look of panic is due to the radiographer hearing me in the act of taking photos of myself and thinking I'm a freak. On the first attempt I took a picture of my left foot and on the second Mr Xray Man asked me what I was doing and what was that strange noise... Ahem. I also just realised how provocative that picture is, I wasn't aware I was showing quite so much... Is that my cleavage? Showing off my sexy sternum.

The first thing to tell you is about the glorious raffle I won. I entered a 'guess how many sweets there are in the box' competition to raise money for cancer, and quite aptly, Constanze the cancer patient won. Unfortunately however my prize was a massive tub of chocolates. Which I don't like. Still, you win some, you lose some. I went to collect my prize today and the girl who fetched them for me looked extremely angry that I was picking them up, she had all the charm of a spoon. But anyway, I have a lot of excess chocolate, who's my friend?

Yesterday was a long one at hospital. Even a short summary won't be long. I went in with no further appointments ever and came out having talked myself into an xray, ultrasound, three more appointments, extra blood tests and having my stomach very felt up. It all started with Mick picking me up nice and early which seemed all lovely and nice and simple. Little did I know the day that was about to follow, haha. We'd just entered Chesterfield when we got stuck in most of North Derbyshire's traffic, then we got lost somewhere in a bungalow filled estate and drove around a roundabout at least three times before finding someone with no less than two walking sticks and a man. Then I got to hospital and I was too late to get a cooked breakfast but it didn't matter anyway because my stomach has been really bad these past few days. Then I went to sit with the waiting haemotology crew and gossip soon spread that one of the consultants was away... And they were bringing down a registrar. Sound simple? Well, it isn't. They would be there 'in a minute'. There is no such thing as 'in a minute' at the Hallamshire, it roughly translates to 'in an hour if you're lucky'. Three hours later I finally saw Snowden, but the wait wasn't that bad actually as we all played a game of "Leukaemia's got talent" to pass the time. I also made a new cancer friend. Well, I'd already spoken to him before but not for quite so long at once. Never have I discussed swearwords in such detail. My medicar driver came to pick me up at about half eleven, he walked up to me and said "Are you ready to go" and the whole corridor burst out laughing. Loljkz.

In my appointment I rambled on about how my rib still hurts if you poke it (most things do if you poke them hard enough but I'm too stupid to realise that) and how my stomach has been a extra bad raging nightmare the past few days so everyone gave it a good feel and sent me for an xray and ultrasound. I forgot to pick my prescription up so I had to wait another 20 minutes while the next patient finished before one of the nurses could run in and grab it. I had a right pile to do, I became the cancer yo yo, take a ticket for the blood test, drop off prescription, wander over to try (and fail) to book ultrasound, have xray (see picture), nip up to O floor to book in, have blood (lots of extra to check my thyroid/marrow) taken, get prescription... Yeah, you get the idea. An angry woman shouted at me in a lift about how her xray had gone wrong and it was all my fault before suddenly stopping and saying you do work here don't you an I was like no. This is getting silly.The whole day was silly.

But I eventually got home safe and collapsed on the sofa feeling jolly that I'd done a good day's cancering. A lot had been sorted out and I was a happy soul. I celebrated with a sexy hot water bottle and a sexy fish.

Then today I went to the doctors for a HRT 'review'. The review pretty much consisted of me breaking his scales and failing to add four to seven. I didn't break them with my fat arse before you say anything, I got on them and they said that I was at least 6 pounds lighter than I had been yesterday. How's that for a fad diet? But no, the doctor decided they needed testing now because not even a model can lose six pounds overnight and that it was very silly indeed. I am overusing the word silly, it's quite silly really ARGH I AM SO TIRED and I am going to Oxford tomorow why oh why must my legs be like non-raspberry jelly why oh why oh whyyyyy.

Also got a phone call from Sue the bone marrow transplant nurse to say one of my hospital chums had seen me looking very tired and was worried about me and the fact they hadn't come with me to something and was I alright and she gave me his phone number to phone him and I say that I was. I AM. I am completely cool and ok and everything, just to clarify to all you readers of the blog I am just very tired and all is coooooool. I am now concerned that I look ill. Do I look ill? I'd better not look ill.

Better be off, need an early night. Too much fun and too much running around make Constanze a tired goth. Shut up, I am a goth, goths like colours!!!

Constanleyknife.

xXx

P.s You've all got to cross your fingers that there's nothing seriously wrong with my stomach, ok? 3... 2... 1... START CROSSING!

P.p.s What do you call a doctor who is always on the phone? An on-call-ogist. Ho ho ho, I have too much time on my hands!!! (Going a bit mad, tiredness delirium, sorry)