More Doctor Drama (Blog 140)

As I wait to visit the doctor to discuss how well my bum medicine is working, I don’t really know what to write about. I’m not sure when I come back from my appointment I’ll have something to say, either, so this is a somewhat risky blog. Part of me hopes there isn’t anything, because that would suggest everything has gone well - no news is good news. On the other hand, if I was told I’m pooing out more than I’m eating and drinking in a spectacular though horrific world first, I would have a lot to say. Mainly that laxatives aren’t worth it. In the preferred, more boring scenario, I suppose I could bend the truth a little to seem more interesting. Maybe I could say the doctor turned into a penguin for a few seconds then went back to normal. But then again, people are smart and would most likely not believe me. Maybe I could say he looked like a penguin, but that would be offensive.

On the subject of lookalikes, recently I thought I saw Donald Trump in the local Sainsbury’s which was surreal, but not as surreal as when I thought I saw king Henry VIII in London Bridge. What was he doing there? Why was he acting like everything was normal? How did he almost blend in with the environment? On another note, did I see him threatening to chop off the heads of those who opposed him? Nope. Not once, so maybe he has turned straight. Or maybe I imagined him. Let’s wrap this paragraph up with something positive: A really special laxative anecdote is coming up on the 1st of July. I’m adding it at the end of my 21st contest blog to add space/interest in that way I’ve been doing for a while, now. If you want a teaser, whales are involved. I know that sounds extremely random, but that’s just the way it is.

I’m back, and the doctor turned into a penguin for a short while. Then so did I. I didn’t know how to react to put it mildly. No, only joking. To cut a long story short, everything seems to be fine with me. But will I be ok when I stop taking my meds, or will I have to keep gulping them down for years or longer? That’s up to me apparently, so I’m kind of power-tripping right now. If I do choose to continue, I’m going to have to sacrifice £9 a month to keep everything in order. I could buy a new CD with that much money, 3 used ones or even 27 from my local charity shop. Ok, not all albums from such shops are good, many are absolutely terrible (boy band music?? Yuck), but you can feel my pain, I’m sure. Unless you’re part of a boy band, then you’re probably just pissed at me. I just want to make one more point: Don’t diagnose yourself on google. Even the most respected sites are full of s**t in at least one way or another, and they got me worrying. Either that, or my doctor is full of poo and has given me terrible advice not to trust their info, but I’m sure she’s not. And…. bye!