A Parcel Worth Getting Cancer For?

JESUS. Nicky and Helen may possibly be this man. And everyone else involved in that huge, delightful, supermassive, superfun box of joy! You're all wonderful, thankyou very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very much!

The presence of the words "gay" and "bisexual" all over the box and one of the cards begginning "Dear Bisexual" did create some serious confusion, particulally for my gran, who didn't learn what a homosexual was until she was 40. Not feeling like giving them an explanation of my involvement in Magdalen's LGBT community to my ageing granparents and out of touch mother, I had to mumble something about a long story and distract them all with more shiney things from inside the box... Of which there were many...

My personal highlights were all those little stars people had written on. They are now stuck on the wall with all my photos and cards! And the photos of Perch... Phwoar! All the nurses want to look after me just to get another glimpse of his uber sexy model's face... And the sweets. Sugar=The cure for cancer. And it was VERY irresponsible to sed those indoor sparklers. YOU KNOW I WILL LIGHT THEM AND GET THROWN OUT OF HOSPITAL! Then what will happen, eh? No hospital=no treatment=certain death! Then again, it'll be worth it...

Anyway, this blog is supposed to be about my cancer, not my adoring fan club. (Balloons are amazing...) There has been good news galore. After numerous head scans and doctor's opinions they have ruled out any seious cause for my swollen optical nerves and high head pressure. They still don't have any clue what's causing that, but it's certainly nowt serious like some mental artery or bleeding or growths or gibbons or smarties from my youth. It's just all those brains I have, there's just too many. Dear James- This is what happens when I 'do some maths'!

I am going to put fake tattoos on all the nurses. Ahahaha!

And, my legs, the most painful things in the universe ever... They are switching my medication today, SO THEY WILL PROBABLY GO AWAY! Meaning I will regain that somewhat useful long lost function of being able to walk more than ten metres. And get to sleep without 60mg of codene, weird green tablets and two paracetemol! Although, I will not get a wheelchair. I could definitely have coped with having to put zero effort into moving. And racing down hills! And getting one of those granny scooters when I want to go shopping! But, right now, it would appear that being disabled just isn't for me...

I am responding very well to the tablets they're giving me. They're very low doses of chemo. This has also lead to the news this morning of certain infertility. Just a few days on these tablets means I can no longer freeze my eggs because of a massivley increased risk of my babies having deformities and such. Then when I have that massive dose of chemo after my transplant that'll fry my eggs to high heaven(I hope you lke your yolks hard....) I will be made infertile squared...

However, as well all know, this does not make Constanze sad. Remember that post last time? That was me having found out I would probably be infertile and deciding to not freeze me eggs. This is me soon to be made completely infertile and being told I can't freeze my eggs. And I am still not fussed, for all the same reasons. Adopting children is what I want to do. My genes are too amazing to be passed on anyway, I mean, the world has struggled to cope with the amazingness of this Constanze, imagine what a load of minature versions would do to it...

Sorry. The doctors just stole me for an hour and a half to perform a suprise pointless eye check up. They looked in my eyes twice, then said my eyes needed further tests. Duh. I could've told you that and saved the NHS a hundred quid...

The next part of my treatment plan is a serious dose of James, that starts tomorow, lasting until Wednesday. The doctors say this is almost 100% effective at curing the I-have-spent-too-long-in-hospital-blues. I'm staring at the card he sent me now, the soppy git.

I am also excited about seeing my favorite Sillett the Sunday after. His epic beard/amazing penis/deformed shoulder are just perfect for fighting off those damned cancer cells! Oh, and when I get out this place I can eat food! FOOD! No more gruel. My gran made me a lemon chicken salad and brought it in for me yesterday, I ate it within seconds... She's bringing me something again today! I still can't believe I weigh 9st 7, it's disgusting, I look like a pencil... I want my stone back... Why does anyone want to be thin? I could probably get my arse in a size 10 now. It's awful. Scraggy. I miss my size 14 bum... It was comfy and warm and bootylicious...

LUNCH. One sec.

I just ate what was described as mushroom and chicken lasangane. Jesus, I cannot spell that word. I ate around 62% of it before ralising the error of my ways and stopping. Then I had jelly, which was nice until I got to the bottom where it had gone all weird and lumpy... Yay! Hospital food!

Damnit, my legs are starting to misbehave. I am going to slap some hair removal cream on them later, seeing as I'm not supposed to use razors...

(EVERYTHING IN THIS BRACKET IS ONLY SUITABLE FOR PEOPLE IN DERBYSHIRE WHO ARE FEMALE AND KNOW ALL ABOUT MY LACK OF PUBES. Because of this razor ban, I haven't shaved down there for ages! I am almost becoming hairy! Obviously, because it's me, the hair is unimpressive, but I am surely on the way to winning Jane's heart...OVER NOW SAFE FOR EVERYONE!!!)

I thnk that is all I can think of for today, boy and girls... Now I am off to nap and watch daytime tv an generally behave like an unemployed person, but with a rather more dramtic and cancerous excuse...

xXXx