Today has been a long long day. Longer than my penis would be if I was a man or a porn star or a blue whale or all three combined. If I had sex with a male whale would I have to shove my arm up his urethra? Because things would definitely not work the other way around. ... ... WTF brain. I think I should delete that. NO. I MUST STAY TRUE. Everyone thinks about sex with whales. This is normal.
Anyway. Anyway anyway anyway. Seeing as we're on the subject of penises enjoy some urinating multicoloured human Tellytubby things I saw on holiday-
You can't call me weird anymore. Someone somewhere got paid to do that. Someone sat in a meeting and decided that the world needed more green penises. Reminds me of when my fanny went all colours when I got crotch shingles. Happy memories eh?
ANYWAY attempt two at moving on from penises. I have had an exciting few months with lots of travelling and lots of fannying around in weird countries (Belarus, Georgia again, Azerbaijan, etc). I argued with border guards and ate weird things and met a lot of cats, including this motherfucker who was the most adorable little cunt in the universe ever. He doesn't have a name, they just call him cat. Which for some reason makes me sad. EVERYONE DESERVES A NAME EVEN THE SCRATCHY LOVE CUNTS.
(bonus photo of me at an old church thing up a mountain in Kish village. A man sold me some mysterious crunchy balls that he said were super delicious. They were not super delicious and I now have no teeth left but it's a bit far to go for a refund)
(extra bonus photo of a mud volcano. Imagine squeezing a spot but on a HUGE SCALE yes they are just as satisfying to watch get in my fanny mmmmmmmm)
December has however now appeared and it's now time to stop looking at mud and get down to some SERIOUS MEDICAL BUSINESS. I have cataracts that need some choppy chop chopping. I had to do some hassling because amazingly enough they'd forgotten to book me in or some shit but essentially all is about ready to go.
I had a mega bonus day at hospital today where I managed to frequent not one not to but three different clinics all in one day. My day started in the canteen where I shovelled my usual cooked breakfast down (not sure if I go for the life saving treatment or the top notch fried bread) and doing about 27 wees as I'd had a large Starbucks tea on the train and my bladder is a piece of shit (well, technically not but shut up).
Then off I waddled downstairs to the haematology where I was weighed by a new fresh faced nurse. Turns out I weigh a fucking tonne. I can't say I'd noticed that I'd put much on, I'm really happy with my figure at the minute. But according to government guidelines I am now overweight. LOL. What a joke. My mum responded by whatsapping me the Fat Girl video by Steel Panther. So serious, this illness.
She then asked me if I'd been to the clinic before. I nearly fell over laughing. As I processed it in my brain I realised I'd been coming here since she had just started secondary school. 27 now, 18 then. The old cancer stalwart. Bless her.
I saw the Prof and he seemed happy with how everything was going. He isn't sure whether my extra fat arse is to do with my thyroid (extra blood taken) or just 'good living' AKA he knows I'm a greedy cunt. He thinks my new medications are doing the job but put me down for a x ray just to make sure that there's no fluid hanging around my lungs/heart again. Also excess fluid could be a weight gain thing. One of the nurses took my bloods and was asking me about my name. I did my usual it's a great name but a nightmare in real life because no one can remember it bullshit before it became apparent I'd been calling one of the doctors the wrong name for the past two years. I was mortified and hid behind my blood request form for quite some minutes. It's only like they save my life and shit.
Next it was off the the late effects clinic where you chat about the stuff that rears its ugly head years after your treatment. I haven't been for ages because I've thus far been very lucky. One of my fave doctors does it and she told me how she's been using some video footage of me for teaching at the weekend. GOOD LORD WHAT ARE THEY TEACHING PEOPLE. This is the girl with no dignity. We keep bringing in measures to protect patient dignity and she keeps walking around with her hospital outfit untied at the back. Prepare yourselves. Prepare yourselves for unwanted bum action.
CHRIST BRAIN. But yeah, basically it was just a lot of reminders to keep checking my boobs. I spend most of my day groping myself at the minute because my boobs have grown a lot over the past six months (probably because I'm a fat bitch now) and it's amazing. Then it was off for my x ray. Turns out I can still rock the little outfit. I didn't tie the bum up but I was wearing a skirt so didn't flash anyone. How disappointing.
(I was bored, don't judge me)
Results of that pending but the radiographer didn't look too horrified. He remembered me though. OOO I've scanned you before. Me and my memorable ribcage.
Next I went to pharmacy to try and get myself some delicious drugs. The computer said NO. Something somewhere was missing a signature. Shit off for a bit. Time for the EYEBALLS TO GET PRODDED EYEBALLS MMMMMMM EYEBALLS.
Well, I thought they'd get eyeball prodded anyway. Turns out my appointment was solely to find out if I can have surgery and whether I'll wake up if they knock me out. I had an ECG and my heart is beating which is apparently good. It was mainly a woman going down a list of about seven million illnesses and asking me if I'd had them. My thyroid problems seem to be a slight problem but I seem to have passed and am now AWAITING SURGERY.
It's pencilled in for the 18th of this month but could be a little sooner. Then my right eyeball gets sliced like a juicy tomato. I'll be at home recovering (and hiding in shame as I can't wear eye make up for a week WHY DO BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE ETC) so everyone has to come and visit me and help my boredom. No doggy style sex though, I'm not allowed to bend over. Also no heavy lifting so no dry stone walling. Also also no hot tubs or dust. But seriously, come to my house and play pirates with me. I can't remember how long I wear an eye patch for but hopefully forever so I can get a parrot and kill people with swords.
I must admit I am a little nervous about this one. Partially the general anaesthetic (I'm a nosey cunt and I like to see what's going on) and partially because of the fact it's my eyes. Also excited though. A little less human, a little more robot. Sort of. I don't know.
I'm also in need of ideas as to how to celebrate my 10 year cancerversary in 2019. It's going to be huge. And by huge I mean drunken and disgusting and probably quite cheap because I don't have a real job.
Anyhooooo tis sleepy time now. Last night I had a dream I was in Iran and a border guard ate all my medications and then threw me off the train and vomited all my drugs over my head. What does it mean? What does it meeeeeeaaaannnnn?
Love,
Constanzistan xXxXxXxXx
P.s I felt old today. But good old. I never thought I'd get old enough to feel old. Christ this whole illness is one big goody bag full of fucking contradictions.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Aha! You have a thought!