Stories of the past week to wet your appetites...

So, I'm horrendously bruised, lightly coated in glitter and have a needle permantly living in my left arm. But, I hear you ask, how did I get to such a condition? Well, let me tell you, it was through a week of medical procedures, terrorising nurses and being visited by some of Great Britain's most wanted people. Here is a lovely collection of nostalgic stories, in no particular order (mainly because I have no fucking memory) for you to enjoy. Or just read because it makes you feel better about yourself. Either way, everyone's happy.

Ooo, before I start I'd just like to thank all you people that have nothing better to do than get on trains and buses and cars and come and visit me in my high altitude. That's my family, Marcy (Who's been three times, bless him. He asked me to not say that so he didn't look "soft". Ahahahahaha. I am such a good friend. That's revenge for moving my electric bed when I had terrible chest pains and nearly killing me, you gimp. Anal rape. And for not eating your sugar crystal.), Jane, Rach, David Downes, Lindsey, Pidge, Mrs Ladson, Mr Carter, Aimée, Richard, Andrew, and Richard's dad! That list was actually to make me look popular, it was nothing to do with being more personal. I just like looking at the list who would rather spend their afternoons listening to me ramble in my pajamas than have a life. Big tas for that folks. Bo yo, ya!

ALSO. I currently have 6 get well soon cards. I am aiming for thousands more. The Hall family, the Highfields school science department, Jane, Marc, Mrs Ladson and my uncle are the glorious people who have blessed me with those wonderful laminated pieces of wood pulp. If you would like to join this group of superior people, please send your card to-
*REMOVED IN CASE I GET MURDERED OR SOMETHING*

And now, from megalomania to storytelling time...

Sit down, get comfortable. Maybe enjoy a hot beverage. Send your sexual partner to the spare room. Pretend you're 6 and can't sleep. For this shall be an experience you will never* forget...

THE SPINNING CHAIR. There is a room. The 'teenage room'. As I have a disease that no teenagers get, I am the only teenager on the ward. This means that this room is ALL MINE. In the room is an office chair. I was bored. I sat in the chair. There was music playing. It was by the Bloodhound Gang. I spun around in the chair and waved my arms around. This contuned for 30 minutes. Te nurses had been watching. On the 31st minute they told me off. Said I would become ill. I stood up. I was ill. I had to lie down for 3 hours. The end.

Bone marrow sample. Painful, a bit. They had to do it three times instead of on as I have awkward bones. Also, there's nothing more unnerving than hearing "No! Don't do it like that" when there's two men with needles and a hammer behind you when you can't see what they're doing. The weird bit is when they crack through your bone, it feels like your knee feels when it crakcs but in a place where there's no joint...

I have had thousands of pounds spent on me on various fabulous gifts. Those being pounds of love. Rich got me Gingerbread Gentlemen and Barry Norman Pickled Onions. No ides where all those capitals came from. New Empire. Persian empire. Persian. I am learning. Yoda, yes sir. Marc got me some sunglasses, Asian sugar crystals and a scary erotic foction book. Next post I'll give you a taster of that literry wonder... Aims got me MILKSHAKE. Carter got me strawberries, but they is a banned food, which is sad. Oh and BLUE TAC! Generally, the things I get given are weird and wonderful. Just like me. Ahhahahhahahahahahha.

WIGS. I went to the wig shop today. I wanted a pale pink one, but apprntly they aren't requested ever so I can't have one. Meanies. I got one quite similar to my hair, but darker, which I can fill with all of the colours and brids and cats and sheeps and zappers and whatnot. I had so much hair under the wig my head looked like an alien's. That was the sexiestpoint of my cancer career so far! Wankbank is here.


I remember a day when I was in a different hospital. That day was last Wednesday, and that hospital was Chesterfield. The people creating the fun were Marc, Linz and Pidge. They were being very kind and telling me all the exciting things which were going on outside the window while I was stuck in bed on a blood machine not being able to move to see. Such kind people! Then then started fiddling with my heart monitor, with disastrous consequences. One of the oh so competent nurses had forgotten to plug the machine in, unknown to us at the time, so the machine has LOW battery. In the lack of presence of flashing battery symbols, we were unaware of this. Marc and Pidge continued playing, when all of a sudden a very loud, single note played. The exact same note of clinical death. In run three nurses, clipboards flailing, paniced faces... They look astounded at the sight of four perfectly jolly teenagers at on a bed.
Yeah. They should really change the low battery noises on those machines.

I like to rate the nurses. Some of them are really hot, but they're all really friendly and stuff. There's only two male nurses, Abdi and Andy. I have discovered the joys of teasing Andy, he has that quality. What a compliment. Abdi has a bigtime uberstrong accent that only I can't understand, the poor lad has to repeat everything 37 times to me. In an emergency situation I imagine this could go wrong, eg
(Imagine you are the perceptive part of Constanze's brain)
Abdi- "Confusing selection of sounds and noises"
Constanze- "Erm... Yes?"
*feeling of pain in left arm as Abdi removes it*
Oh dear.

Mouthwash. Turns out Oraldene is a cure for cancer. Here's how I was told I had Leukaemia-
"You have Leukaemia. Have some mouthwash. Use it four times a day."
I currently am only taking one tablet a day to prevent gout and swilling my mouth out on a regular basis. This treatment seems... Primitive. O might have to pass on the news of the discovery of chemotherapy.

Heels. Even in hospital everything must be done in heels.

I glittered the whole ward. It's spreading like a real disease. Rich had the clever idea of bringing me glitter and sequins and pva glue. Obviously, I spilt it in my bed and generally got it everywhere, so now whenever the nurses make my bed there's a beautiful shiny cloud which appears just above bed B in room 3, ward P3 of Sheffield Royal Hallamshire Hospital... It also turns up in the day room, wardrobes and showers down the corridor I've never even been in... I think glitter is like my spores... Mushroom goth... Now all I can think about is dancing....

I have massive bruises where they keep stealing my blood. They is not so hot. But curiously, they do not hurt when poked. Any ideas?

I have a leaflet. In it it talks about sex. It says I am allowed to have sex. However, it did say that "certain sexual practises are to be avoided". Naturally, I took it upon myself to ask my 50 year old, male Hungarian doctor just what these were. He looked rather uncomfortable, before the following conversation happened-
Moi-"My boyfriend and I thought it might mean oral sex on a woman..."
Dr Unprouncable Name-"Well... Er... Yes... It might be a good idea to avoid that..."
"Yeah"
"I theenk that... It might also mean the err... Rough sex, I don't know if you er.... Like... Things like biting maybe...."
"So no S and M dungeons"
"No"
END OF CONVERSATION. So, there you go. No rough sex for me. I'll have to put away all those horse and nine tails I have. James will be disappointed, he loves it when I sever one of his limbs. I suppose he's got lots of time to grow all those missing ones back...

And that's all I can think of for tonight. I might remember more as the days go by and the blogs get more plentiful... But now, it is time to sleep, and dream of glitter, floating cows, James and KFC, but most of all a morning where I don't get woken up at 6.30am to have my bloody blood pressure taken...

* Never might me a bit strong...