I’m off this afternoon to get my stupid foot injected with steroids. Yay! I’m getting myself through this horrific trauma by partially hoping that it is going to turn me into some manner of freaky footed superhero, probably one with one massive foot that is very good at kicking things but mainly spends the rest of the time running round in a small, tight circle. This is probably not going to happen.
I’m fairly certain that my tolerance for pain is quite high. I've sat and been tattooed for five hours straight, for Perlman’s sake, not to mention the fact that I wandered round with this agonising foot fiasco for a good eight months saying ‘it’ll be fine’ through gritted teeth before I finally relented and sought medical attention. However, medical pain is far different from fun tattoo pain or avoiding medical pain pain. I’m fairly certain that this hospital escapade is going to go one of two ways; either my inherent politeness gene will kick in and I’ll be lovely and acquiescent and merely deal with the pain by giving a slight, ladylike, grimace (much like how I’m sure women in the 50s dealt with childbirth, if cinema has taught me anything) or my crazy, mental gene will kick in and I’ll scream, yell and swear and probably stab the surgeon in the head with the hypodermic (in this instance I shall probably wind up either in custody at Her Majesty’s pleasure or sectioned so if I’m AWOL for a while you can probably guess I went with the latter option).
In the meantime, if you miss me, you can investigate my new Tumblr and plough through the ridiculous assortment of things I think about on a daily basis (confession: I have no clue what Tumblr is, does, or how you use it, I just saw other people had one and I wanted one too, I’m like a 35 year old brat).
Right, I’m off like a brave, little soldier to investigate this fresh new hell of alleged tumour reduction. Think kind thoughts of me. (I’m such a big, fat drama queen!!)