Today so much has happened I am unsure of where to begin. I was at the hospital from 9am to 5pm today, cancer is oficially a full time job...

Eyes.

Eyes.

Eyes.

The eyes have it. After some more temporary blindness, flash photos (Of which I have a copy, look out for then on facebook!), and a nice little look at my visual field test, the nice lady doctor decided my eyes are getting better. The left one is still rather dodgy, but the right one's coming along a treat! At this rate I'll find Wally within days!

My name caused quite a commotion in the eye clinic. "Constanze Dennis!" cried the nurse, and as I walked down the corridor everyone turned to their nearest person to discuss this way out young lady and her even way outer name... I also swear to god a young male nurse fell in love with me at first sight today... He looked up from his records and just stopped and stared and took about a minute to say my name... I should really stop with this infernal beauty, it can be so impractical and cruel sometimes...

Where next? Why, the good old blood clinic. Here happened the dramatic high point of the day. The rather curvy nurse called me in to take my blood. I followed her down the corridor to one of the small examination rooms. She then proceeded to take my blood as usual... But then... The needle fell out! My precious blood trickled down my arm, onto the chair, the floor... No, this does not sound very dramatic, but when blood is as precious as mine... It was like severing an arm. And the damage to my beautiful off white folk dress could have been unrepairable! Luckily cotton wool saved the day again, and my life was in danger no more... Not that it ever was. I just feel bad for the monotony of this blog.

Killing time in a hospital is hard, particulally when you have my mental of a mother to cope with. Oh, my back hurts, Oh, I'm tired, Oh, it's hot. Yes, poor you mother. For over 3 hours I had to make monsters out of plastic cups. 3 long hours... 3 hours is a lot of life to have spent achieveing nothing. I quite value life. Although the amount of times I get recognised, Constanze! How are you? Etc... I saw Vivian today, she really is growing on me. At first I found her dfkjngfkdr, I do not know the word, she really let's you talk, never responds anything deep or meaningful... But now I understand her and understand why...

When I come complete with white hair and a beard, the doctor calls me in for my 'review'. In other words, 5 minutes of being told unexciting news and being asked unexciting questions. haemoglobin down, platelets up, white blood cells down, liver function up, bla bla bla... Are your ankles bloated? Can you breathe? Are you alive? I waited three hours to be told I need to come back in a week and be told the same thing... I mean, I know it's a check up, but it took you three hours to work nothing out?... I can't complain, I'm incredibly lucky to recieve any medical treatment at all, but I have cancer, so I'm going to anyway...

Then! Yes, then, they just love me so much at that hospital, they never want me to leave... Pharmacytime. Like Lunchtime, but with free drugs. I am greeted enthusiastically with the usual "HELLO Constanze, HOW ARE YOU?" by a woman who looks familiar for a reason I shall never know, and usshered into a backroom... Is my popularity getting me special treatment? Nah, there were just no seats left. And I am highly cancerous. Wait a bit. Get drugs. FINALLY SET OFF HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As you can see, by now hospital had lost all its charm and sophistication... If only I could spell that word. It was at this point my mum had one of her mental fits, but that's really too depressing to go into...

And there you go. A longer than average hospital day in the life of a sexy Leukaemia lady... Not even tired though. So much blood. Bloooooooooooooooooooooooooooood. I sent a thankyou card to the lady who took my blood at Ashover, her sample was the one that set alarm bells ringing. Remember the days when my haemoglobin was just 5, 38% of a normal human being's? If it wasn't for her I'd still be taking amoxicillin for a rumored chest infection... And hence would be dead and not writing this. And writing this is far preferable, as amazing as Little Nicky hell looks...

I had one of those "What did I do to deserve this?" moments earlier. Ten minutes in, you realise what a fucking stupid question that is. If I get Leukaemia, someone not as strong as me won't. I can't expect to be as clever and pretty and have such amazing friends that I do, AND have my health. That would be greedy. A lot of people forget that when they have cancer. Yes, you are in agony, your life might be pulled from under you at any second... But you still have all those wonderful things from before you ill. My friends haven't stopped caring. Marcy still isn't as pretty as me. I can still walk around Chesterfield like I own the place. I can still make far too much effort for your birthday (Look out Gorkem!). All those things that made you smile don't lose their effect all of a sudden. Cancer is a physical thing that can only be beaten with the mental... And I'm pretty mental, it has to be said...

I am missing a few people a lot today. Perch, Eleanor and Gorkem. The physicists shall not be reunited until at least October! Marcy. James. GayHelen. Oxford types. My Welshie Marc. Graham, D&D. Johnny. The latter's in heaven, ended his life young in the opposite situation to me... He had lost all hope in life.

Marcy says I have to talk more about him in this blog. He likes to feel popular, bless him. Maybe I should write about his illness. He has a rare lung disease, Alpha something or other. However, when we tested him at hospital he had 100% oxygen saturation, which makes me doubt him... Then again, he claims I'm just pretending about the cancer... Maybe we're all lying so we can die at the highest point of our lives... Maybe there's no such thing as illness... All of life's a dream, like the wind fish. That was probably the most distressing event in my life, waking the wind fish...

My period has still not come. I don't think it's because I'm anaemic, I mean, they've remained normal throughout my illnesstimes. I must be pregnant with the second Jesus, it's the only way to explain... Wait, that implies I have any faith in god. In every major religion I am going to hell. Yet I am nothing but a good person. I shall be up there fighting god if I die. Giving him a slap for all the horrendous things he's caused. Maybe I'm god. Then I'd look a bit silly.

Sorry, I am distracted with the thought of the look on all of your faces when you all die and are faced by a giant god me... Marc GP's would be the best...

I'm not sure there's much more to say today on this cancerous matter. Aside from Edwyn Collins did one very good song. And I like metal really, Edwyn Collins is actually in erm Machind head. And I was insulted by the man who came to inspect my gas fire.

Over and out!

P.s If you want a song to sing which is all Constanzeish, here you go-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBPcHubYNIY