Yesterday was ok. Got up in the morning and headed back to my flat from the missuses place, unfortunately I got about 50 yards down the street before desperately needing a shit. It isn't a long walk to my flat but it seemed long yesterday. Lots of deep breaths and leg crossing ensued. Of course I couldn't just stop on the pavement with a pained expression as that would be too obvious to other people that I needed a shit. SO=o I pretended to have an urgent text to write, that for some reason required me to stop walking. the relief upon finally making it into the flat (having to turn off the alarm first was a pain) and to the shitter was incredible. A huge torrent of shit fell from my arse with such relief. I've said it before but I doubt there are many feelings as good as finally getting to unleash poo. Had a canny work out at the gym, felt very good in preparation for coming off the steroids.
Spent most of the day racing through a book called 'hardcore zen, punk rock and monster movies' or something like that. A very amusing read with his stories of how he came in to contact with zen and what it can teach us. I'm finally getting things falling in to place now on this front.
Had to go to the hospital for my appointment this morning. As I was waiting for the bus a man walked down the street with a guide dog, which dragged him in to the sausage and pie shop. I hope he wanted some sausages or pies and wasn't trying to get to the building society. A mental talked to me on the bus briefly, in the typical baseball cap and big glasses he asked me if I'd watched X-Factor, I just said 'yes' and he went on to tell me how someone or other lives in Croydon. Lucky them. He was getting off the bus at the next stop thankfully. Saw one of the giant dogs I see sometimes being walked round there, he was plodding along with a constant trickle of spit falling from his chops. He needs a teatowel in his collar, like the great dane in weymouth.
Consultant was nice, he's taking me off the steroids (which is a huge relief) but unfortunately my liver results on my past couple of blood tests have been shit. Which is concerning. He's sending me to Kings College in Denmark Hill to see a liver specialist as he focuses more on the bowel/gut side of things (whatever possesses someone to become a bowel specialist eh? Kidneys or whatever, fare enough, but why the shitbox? I had the same thought about chiropodists, why would you want to spend your career dealing with fucking manky feet?). I think it is just a blip and will go down of its own accord but I'll see the specialist anyway. I feel worse about the fact it has worried my girlfiend. But hey ho, I'll deal with it in my own way and I'm sure I'll be grand in no time, might lay off the majority of drink for a while, just to help in whatever small way I can. |
