Metabolic Chopsticks

Oh hospital, when will you ever stop interrupting my sleep... This morning I was joyously awoken by the beautiful sound of a six page long form thudding through the letterbox. I have an appointment at the metabolic bone tisk assessment clinic to have a neb at these here bones. It's in about two weeks which will be a lovely bit of nostaligia as I haven't been for about two years. The problem is that I've got to navigate myself around Northern General which will be interesting, this will only be about the 5th time I've been to that hospital and it seems that whoever designed it sneezed on a piece of paper and used that as a plan. I mean, I have amazing geography skills but it's like a maze of a Rubik's cube wearing camouflage that was recently hit by an earthquake. So wish me luck and pray to the Haemogoblin gods.

Highlights of my 'you're going to have a scan so write down your entire life history for the 455337th time' form included the question asking me what I did before I retired (I don't remember hitting 65 and retiring, does anyone else?) and my accurate diagram of a man doing a handstand on the scale of how active I am. In retrospect using a picture of a man doing a handstand do demonstrate I'm having trouble walking wasn't the best representation but it's done now. I'm sure they'll understand that all the chemo WENT T' ME 'EAD.

I'm off out now to eat even more expensive food. I seem to be eating all the food this week; I had Mount Fuji food yesterday and I went to the steakhouse (fuck you broken stomach)the other day. To be fair it's my only expensive pleasure, everything else I have cost about 50p. And even then posh food costs about a tenner, I know for a fact that clothes in normal shops and having haircuts cost more than that so actually I'm amazing and I have cancer and I can eat everything because cancer. Cancer cancer cancer WIN.

Constanze :) xXxXx