I think I'm Cancernoid

Evening frogs and basins!

Today was another hospital day and my FIRST EVER visit to the late effects clinic. As I'm a numpty my appointment was at nine BUT in the small print it says you have to get there an hour early so they can prod you with stuff before you see the doctor. Obviously because I live in Stockport and no one wakes up before two in the afternoon there are no decent trains that early (I could either get up at quarter to five and be horrendously early or arrive half an hour late) so I ended up being shamefully late. HOWEVER it ended up that I wasn't a numpty after all because no one had written any requests for any tests so I couldn't get them done until well after nine anyway... So it was actually a damn good job I was late or I may not have been able to resist the occasional wafts of bacon coming from the D floor canteen. IT'S A WINFAIL.

Alpha beta gamma. Achtung achtung.

But anyway, eventually things happened and people arrived and Outpatients began to look like the human race hadn't in fact died out. I got my blood pressure measured (on the low side of normal, bangin') and my waist measured (not a chubster, result) and had a good few shots of blood removed. Oh, and mysteriously someone measured how tall I am but I'm pretty sure that doesn't change very often (contrary to what you may have heard I am not Stretch Armstrong). Still five foot six and three quarters. I was very proud of myself for not starting any hunger related fights (my body cannot handle skipping breakfast, how anyone does that is beyond me. I felt stupidly faint all morning like a bird migrating to Swaziland) as I was starting to lose the plot a little bit. I had to fill in a questionnaire about my mental health and how I'm coping with cancer and I really wasn't in the best state of mind to do it. Do you have any other concerns? YES I NEED SOME CALORIES BEFORE I DIE I AM HUNGRIER THAN ALL OF AFRICA DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THAT I DIE IF I AM NOT FED ON THE HOUR EVERY HOUR WAAAAAAAA EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE PLEASE HELP. I did still pass though. I am not a crazy. You had to circle a number between 0 and 5 (with 0 being not fussed and 5 being psychotic) about your level of distress about different aspects of cancer. Mine was all 0s apart from the one about weight because I was losing about three stone a minute to starvation. Ergh.

Soon enough though I was called in. I vaguely know the doctor who takes this clinic from various hospital related projects and of course she'd heard all about me and my various leukaemia based antics from all the other doctors. Her surname is Greenfield so I'd repeatedly called her Susan to the nurses because of the scientist... I'm such a spazz. She spent quite a while asking me lots of questions about my medical history and my lifestyle and all that kind of jazz. She thinks I'm AMAZING. I think I'm amazing too. Today I wore a pair of socks that matched!

Then she told me about all the things that could happen in the future. The main one is breast cancer. Apparently I am a breast cancer patient waiting to happen (well, nearly), all the HRT I take and all the radiotherapy I've had make me much much much more susceptible. I'll start having my breasts screened a whole 20 years early, sexy. All this seems pretty ironic seeing as I am a humble A cup, if anything I should be getting big booty cancer. But as you know, for every downside there's an upside; I get to grope myself loads and invite you to as well. GROPE AWAY KIDS. It can't be any worse than that man feeling my arse with a crutch the night before last.

That was followed by the revelation that my lungs are actually a lot worse than I realised... When they said they're a bit worse than average I though that mean they'd be working at maybe 80 or 90% of the expected amount. Turns out it's 65%. I mean jeeeeeez, that's closer to one lung than two, no wonder I'm so fucking tired. Taking on more exercise might help a little bit but I'm currently already so exhausted that I'm not sure if I can take on anything more. We'll see. Darned radiation ruining my organs. I LIKE MY ORGANS. GIVE THEM BACK.

Then after my appointment I had to sneak over to the haematology clinic in the vague hope someone would write me a prescription for my fake chemotherapy.... Ah, overly optimistic Constanze, no specialist doctors had arrived yet. Why must I have controlled drugs? Why can't I just have normal drugs like everyone else? Eventually someone did turn up though and I trotted off to the pharmacy... Via the canteen... Where something happened. Possibly COOKED BREAKFAST. Maybe EXTRA FRIED BREAD. But who knows, I can't go giving  all of my secrets away.

Then it was back to work. It was actually a bit pointless because I spent two hours getting to work to work for two hours then spend another two hours going home. Whoops. Still, the stamps talk to me like little spiders in webs and pot plants.

My week has been otherwise good. I've spent it looking like some weirdo hipster, my phone is broken (it'll be back in action on Thursday in case you think I hate you) and currently undergoing major surgery hence I've been carrying an alarm clock around to tell the time. Nothing makes you look more bananas than intermittently pulling an alarm clock out of your handbag. My love of Thai food was rediscovered and now I am pad thai delirious. If you have a spare moment feel free to turn up at my door with prawn related offerings. I do have cancer remember. Like on the adverts, I'm obviously really sad and need lots of seafood to cure my cancer or everyone will die.

...I should be off. This post is already too long and I need to take all the medical advice to live healthily very seriously by having another wham dipper. Sorted. Going to live to 100.... Or at least 24.

Concancistanzerrr xXxXx

P.s I fucking love butternut squash.

P.p.s I gave an elderly couple some directions to a place to get something to eat. The lady hugged me. Turns out I'm not the only one so reliant on food!

P.p.p.s If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever. That's you.