Merry Christmas Your Arse

Good evening to you ladies and gents and forks and knives on the day of Boxing. Contrary to the custom, I haven't done any fighting today unless my bone marrow has been doing secret spy missions in my spine. Christmas is now over and we can all look forward to the next celebration in the calendar- HAPPY NEW ADAM'S BIRTHDAY! I bet you're all excited, I know I am.

Since my last post my body has been extremely well behaved. I've only had a couple of short periods of feeling rotten and my cold has subsided to a 3/10. Santa got me a mini break from cancer :) He also got me a giant floating helium filled remote controlled flying swimming shark, so I must have been a fucking amazingly well behaved cancer patient this year. That's right, I took ALL of my tablets, every single one of the 2500 I had to swallow in 2011 went down without fuss. I didn't miss a single appointment (people who miss appointments should be shot in the face as a Christmas present) and I gave them all the blood they wanted and I let them swab my sexy bits and I took my clothes off willingly at anyone's command and I let at least three doctors feel my boobs. No coal for me bitches, although thinking about it getting coal is probably quite a good thing to get as we're running out and I could be really fucking naughty and steal road signs and cause confusion and stockpile the coal then in 50 years time when I'm sat in my solar powered house with my self grown carrots all the evil car driving non recycling losers can beg at me for bits of coal and I'll be like ha ha ha ha ha ha ha no coal for you and that'll teach them a lesson about responsibility. And I can use the coal instead of eyeliner and save a bob or two. I'm so stupid, why am I a good patient? I need to make some new year's resolutions, perhaps I should put CANCER REBELLION as number one?... Nah. We all know I'm boring as shit. My mum made me watch Seven Brides for Seven Brothers this afternoon and I spent the whole film moaning that it was too racy and it's got a U classification. The only time you should have anything less that 80% of your skin covered is shagging in the comfort of your own home and in the Hallamshire hospital. I need to move to the Victorian age.

But yeah, in all seriousness there is a new year about to happen. Which will mean I have had cancer in four different years! 2009, 2010, 2011 and 2012 (I think I mentioned this before)! Exciting or what. I also actually need to think of some resolutions because I like lists and I like ticking things off lists and I'm cool and need things to do. As I've mentioned before you don't really feel like you achieve much when you're ill for a long time aside from not dying (woohoo) and keeping control of your bowels (Cancers fine but if I'm ever incontinent then god's bloody getting it) so if I have a list of things I can tick off all will be good. I did this last year didn't I? Oh god. Dementia. LISTS. DEMENTIA. DEMENTIA LISTS. Help.

I have another busy few days ahead. No hospital though which is rather nice but I'll get bored of it soon as you all know. Just a chaotic journey to Swindon and back and a chaotic journey to London and back then a chaotic journey to OW MY FUCKING KNEES and back. I've attached a photo of me hygenically waving my legs around in a toilet to show you why they probably hurt so much. Toilets were not designed for leisure activities. Actually I won't add the picture because as usual this stupid blog thing won't let me. Just imagine me on the toilet, it's imagination time, alright?

My arm itches so I'd better be off now to scratch it. Not on the cheese grater though, that was one of the worst decisions of my life.

Constanzeliknifeistanistanze.

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