Another Nightmare. Am very very nervous and anxious about impending date with sexy builder called Mark. My Irritable Bowel has flared up with all the stress. I feel like canceling. It is far simpler being single. I have the worst flatulence ever and violent pains in my stomach. I imagine they are like labour pains (this is why I do not plan to procreate.)
Went on Google and advised me to take deep breaths, ensuring I am breathing correctly from the diaphragm as shallow breathing is not the correct way to breathe. I have also took a cocktail of tablets including Mebeverine, Buscopan and Immodium. Ironic that I have been constipated for eight days and now I could shit through the eye of a needle. My arse is red raw (like one of those baboon documentaries). I have thickened bum hole with Sudocrem and pray that redness subsides by tomorrow night. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like the sexy builder will be viewing my bottom. Even if I was the type to “do it” on the first date I would insist on complete darkness and possibly even chloroform for the male participant. No man should have to suffer my body insecurities.
I have always had a huge hang up about my flat chest, and compensate by wearing push up bras but there is nowhere to hide when the bra comes off. I look like a pubescent boy when I am topless. Then there’s the dimples in my right butt cheek. I have always felt it necessary to explain that the dimples are just that and not cellulite. Mind only a female doctor has seen my bottom so far, as my longest relationship was eight months which was in the winter so managed to hide my flaws behind the dark evenings.
I have also decided not to start the antibiotics until Tuesday as I will have to have an alcoholic drink or ten on the date to loosen up. I feel my personality not sparkling without six halves of Woodpecker. Let’s be frank, not many men like talking about medical matters. It would be no good hooking up with a doctor either as it would be like a Busman’s Holiday going out with me.
An early night for me tonight as I need my beauty sleep. I have to be up extra early to exfoliate and shave entire body.
Nightmare, its raining outside. Well when I say raining it’s like a fine mist. I have got the type of hair that hates misty rain. It just goes like a frizz. I rarely go across the doors at Christmas because my hair resembles Noddy Holder from Slade when it frizzes up. The local kids always shout “It’s Christmas” really loud if I venture out. Its even the same strawberry blonde shade as Mr Holder’s. I have also been compared to Rod Hull (at least it’s not Emu) and John Pertwee from his Doctor Who days (could be worse, could be Sylvester Macoy.)
I have been on google countless times to research curly follicles and have been recommended various products to tame the beast but none have worked. I have tried having it cut into a gamine pixie crop but instead of looking elfin I just looked like a butch lesbian.
No offence to lesbians. One of my female friends is gay and even she agreed the crop did me no favours. My fringe also curls up and looks like a panty liner.
So as well as having a bad back I have got to go into work today with frizzy hair. Not even a hood or umbrella can save me. It’s like my hair senses the damp. Still I have to go in as I dare not take any more sick leave. I am close to going in the Guinness book of records for my low attendance.
I work in the offices for Macdonalds. Not the famous burger chain but a company who manufactures toilet fittings.
As it happens we are busy at the moment as we are supplying to George Wimpy for a new housing development. I have been having a telephone flirtation with one of the builders. He sounds really sexy. I can guarantee that he will be a total Quasimodo in real life.
I looked at google in my lunch break to look for cures for my slow bowel movements. I stumbled upon a site dedicated to piles. It said I may have them if I have painful and itchy bum hole. It advised to look for something which resembles a bunch of grapes hanging from rectum. Now I am a bit confused . Did it mean small seedless grapes or the larger ones with pips?
The lighting very poor in staff bogs so will have to look later at home. I will never get a boyfriend at this rate! I mean piles is a huge turn off. We wouldn’t be spoiling the moment by putting on a condom, we would be getting me comfortably positioned on my rubber ring to stop any chafing. I am sure Dr Ruth didn’t talk about having “org-ashims” in this fashion.
Back at home and still reeling. The sexy builder called by this afternoon to check on a delayed order of cistern parts. He is actually quite dishy. I would give him an eight out of ten and he is very muscly. I was mortified that he saw me in my alter ego of Noddy Holder but it didn’t deter him from asking me out for a drink on Monday night. Of course I accepted as at thirty four the clock is ticking. I am the only sibling left to remain unmarried. My sister Anita is married with three kids and my brother Julian has been married twice but is currently ‘playing the field’.
Must go back on line and check for a frizz cure again. I have 48 hours to find a cure. I need a miracle.
As I suspected, the throat swab showed an infection. I have to go to the surgery to collect a prescription for penicillin. Of course I am layed up with my back so have texted my sister Anita to ask if she could collect it fore me. She texted me back informing me that she is at her son Miles’s school assembly. Luckily I still have my dad’s walking stick so I will hobble down there later.
Had trouble getting dressed. Had to hook my knickers onto a coat hanger then wriggle into them. Bra out of the question so is a good job I am flat chested. Managed to slither into a velour jogging suit, apply some lipstick and shove a banana down before I left.
A ten minute walk took half an hour (not coz of my back, I bumped into Fred and Jean, my nosey neighbours). I got all their latest news. Fred’s piles have been terrible. He’s had to apply an ice pack hourly and the anusol is not working so he’s ordered some suppositories from the doctors. Jean has been floored by labyrinthitis. She told me she had been weeding for two hours and the doctor said all the bending down had brought it on. She was swaying as she spoke to me, said it was like being on a ferry crossing.
Back home.
Managed to heat a tin of soup up and am now resting whilst watching an episode of ‘Maury’ titled “Only one of the Siamese twins is mine”. These people make my family seem tame and that’s saying something.
Keep thinking about my throat and can’t wait to phone for test results.
I rang for some results a couple of weeks ago. My periods had all but stopped and the doc sent me for blood tests to see if I was anaemic and she made me do a pregnancy test (even though I am not in a relationship. Well that’s putting it mildly as it’s been so long I think it may have healed up!) come to think of it that’s probably why period not coming. Its like there’s a cork up there.
Anyway I had rang for results at two o clock on the dot and results were normal. Felt gutted and robbed. I thought there may be some pills I could take to resume menstruation but narda!
As I have previously explained I am a bit of an oracle when it comes to medical matters. My mum (Peg) even gets her neighbours to ring me. There’s nothing I don’t know about the residents of Neil Kinnock Crescent.
I once got a phone call from mum’s best friend as she had awful blisters on the palms of her hands. I advised her it was probably an allergic reaction to a detergent she had been using but she insisted that she always, always wore rubber gloves (separate ones for the loo). To cut a long story short she had the medical profession bamboozled as no creams or ointments seemed to cure it. After I had slept on it for a few days I had a brainwave. It was stigmata. We all had our photos taken for the local paper. Mind all sorts came crawling out the woodwork. A man with a potato shaped like John The Baptist and a wooden toilet seat with mother Theresa’s face. All in the same street. Very spooky I thought.
I have felt a bit dizzy this afternoon. Probably the stress of waiting for the swab results. Also I haven’t had a movement for three days despite taking senokot religiously. Something not right.
I looked up constipation on Google and it said I probably wasn’t eating enough roughage or drinking enough water. The site advised I do some squats to massage the colon.
In bed in agony. Was doing my third squat and I put my back out. I am waiting for the physiotherapist to ring me at home. I rang NHS Direct and they advised to ring physio and apply heat and ice alternatively. Freezer empty save a tub of Ben and Jerry’s Phish food so am waiting for some ice cubes to set. It’s like watching paint dry.
Keep checking on them but not even slush yet.
Hayfever really bad. Looked it up on Google. I may even have mild asthma as I am wheezing a bit. Have took a non drowsy anti-histamane and some nasal spray. Am seeing nurse this afternoon.
Ate my lunch and have terrible heartburn. Is probably my sliding hiatus hernia. I actually self diagnosed myself but Dr Burns insisted I have an endoscope shoved down my throat to have a look inside my stomach. Turns out I was right and I do have a hiatus hernia.
I have to avoid spicy stuff like chilli and curry and also raw food aggravates it.
Am feeling tad embarrassed following my appointment with nurse.
Firstly the receptionist Morag asked me if I wanted to order anything out of the Avon book (she must be certain I will be available to collect order from, deliver goods to and collect payment.) Then I went in to see nurse and explained my symptoms (I may be being paranoid but I am sure she sighed when she saw me come into the room.)
The nurse took a swab from my throat using a long cotton bud and said she was sure it was viral but best to send a swab to be sure.
She assured me I was not asthmatic and that I should try and cut down on my dairy products as that may be causing the wheezing.
I decided not to tell her that I had a food allergy test done years ago at Holland and Barretts and it showed I was intolerant to anything that came from the cow. I thought it best not to mention that I smoke approx between five and fifteen ciggies a day. A lecture I do not need.
I get plenty of those from people in magazines and on the telly.
Bit the bullet and have made an appointment to see the nurse about my throat. In the meantime am gargling with oraldene and sucking strepsils like they’re going out of fashion.
Starting to get quite concerned about my throat as my gland feels a bit swollen.
Looked on Internet again and typed in all my symptoms into Google. The result showed that I might have something called quincey. I have never heard of this. I thought quincey was an American TV programme which was aired in the 1970s. Turns out quince throat is very nasty and I may need to be hospitalised with it.
I went into town and bought four bottles of anti bacterial hand gel (I am certain that I would catch MRSA as I am unlucky like that).
I also bought a new dressing gown and two new nighties. Stuck it all on my store card. They can come looking for the payment when I am six feet under. The thing is I can’t go into hospital looking a clip. There might even be an attractive male nurse I could flirt with. One has to make the most of every opportunity no matter what the circumstance.
Have had a really sore throat for two days now. Its just on the left hand side and when I have looked down my throat in a mirror there is a white streak.
I googled it this morning. Turns out I could have throat cancer which sent shivers down my spine as I am a secret smoker. Actually it hurts a lot when I try and take a puff of my ciggie.
Another site said it could be tonsillitis and I would need to visit my GP for anti biotics. The thing is I am never away from the bloody doctors. I am really embarrassed as all the receptionists know me by first name and even a few of the cleaners.
I suspect that I am a topic of discussion in the staffroom. “The women who is always ill”. I bet they think I’ve got that Munschausen Disease.
Hang on, maybe I have got munschausens. Lets look at the facts ;
I am at the doctors at least once a week.
I am at the nurse at least once a fortnight.
I have an NHS prescription season ticket because I am always needing prescriptions and it is cheaper to pay yearly.
I am able to diagnose most ailments amongst family and friends and recommend specific treatments (sometimes herbal remedies)!
Well that’s just feckin great isn’t it? As well as having lots genuinely wrong with me I have munschausens.
I am very short so munchkins disease would have been far more appropriate.
