Moraxellent

Evening all!

This post comes with the shocking news that I went to hospital this week! I had my heart scan and the guy doing it had a strange technique that he'd invented to give the lady patients more dignity. It involves him kind of hugging you while lying down, just a general awkward kind of set up, all just so you don't flash your tits. It drove me a bit bonkers because I couldn't care less about being topless and you have to put your head on your arm at a stupid angle and it's sore and bla bla bla. Aside from that all went well, the guy was cool and slightly fit and I think my heart looks alright as per usual but we shall see what they say at clinic. MYSTERIES. Don't break my heart, my banana whale heart, I just don't think you'd rob a bank.

While I was there I also popped up to have my silly throat swabbed, swabbed and swabbed again. And cough up a load of phlegm to leave as a beautiful Christmas gift. And have an xray, just for the laughs. Well, not for the laughs, because I've either cracked a rib (coughing, again, jesuusuus) or done some form of damage to the left side of my ribcage (coughing equals serious ouch). Oh ribs, you are not matchsticks, you are ribs, made of strong and hard and solid. Although I do keep poking the sorest bit (there's a sort of lump) which probably isn't helping, WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO POKE THINGS?!? I like poking sore things argh so conflicted. Investigations. It's science. Does it hurt every time I poke it? If I keep poking it does it get better or worse? How many bars of poke before I'm poking my left lung?

But anyway, a couple of days later (by the powers of magic and science) the swab results came back and I got a phonecall from my joint fave doctor, King Yusef of the O Floor... I HAVE MORAXELLA CATARHALIS. AGAIN. That bloody awful virus that my body just can't fight off by itself and I always have for weeks on end that needs special awkward antibiotics to get rid of which means yet another trip to hospital. Ah well. At least I can get some of these weird potato skin things from a vending machine I've been meaning to visit since 2010. They have to get rid of it pretty quick though because this is one of those nast viruses that can very easily turn into pneunomia. Which I don't want. I want pneunomia even less than I want to listen to grime music. In fact, pneunomia is just grime for the lungs.

Sleeptimes now, another fun day of staring at stamps tomorow :)

Constanze :) xXXxXXXXxXXx