Living up to the title of Constanze the Great...

I can't actually think anymore. Henry the VIIIth is on the attack. I'm going mad. Loopy. Looney. Fuck tits crazy. I have this song going round and round in my head- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fadCAHjN-s and it's getting to the stage where the only sentences I can make are about Tudors... I mean, I had six sorry wives. Or cancer. I truely don't know. This is worse than the Kenya thing, just ask poor Perch about that...

So, I had some fun at the dentist. To protect me vomit lathered teeth I got some weird painty stuff put on them, a bit like hats. Not Men Without Hats. Disappointingly. You can't see them, you all know how much I like showing off all my owies and exciting procedures and whatnot... He also did some drilling into one of my teeth for a rather run of the mill radiotherapy induced filling. Rhyming sentence win there. Anyway, he did manage to numb my mouth to the level that I couldn't move my upper lip and it was stuck in an Elvis like pose... I went to Subway for a cup of tea and did some serious dribbling. Now chewing is not an option on the left hand side of my mouth, so I look even spazzier than usual while eating, twice as much food down the cardigan.

I must have another divorce.

I had a few days off hospital, but did that mean I was free? Oh no. Never ever give any medical professional your mobile number. Innocently browsing the tea section in tesco, eating a sandwich in the park, they even phone when I have no clothes on. Nick's bothering me on behalf of Snowdonia, trying to make me have the big gay stomach tube of horrible horridness, death, gay, rubbishness, poo, wee and gruesome evil. I have to see a specialist next week, but she'll have to do a lot of work to make me get one. More work than you'd have to do to get me to vote Cameron. So, impossible really.

Lucky Catherinstanze the last stayed alive.

My hair's getting so long that it peeks out the edges of my wigs, letting out the secret out that I'm not a natural luminous green. It's still a sexy mix of black and grey and most of the colours... Certainly nothing like it was before! Although to be fair my hair had been dyed so much before it fell out that it could have been any colour under the sun and I'd have been none the wiser.

Today was the day of my mini talky lecturey thing. IN THE HOTTEST ROOM IN THE UNIVERSE. I mean, I saw those new pictures of the sun today and I swear they looked cooler. But, yes, for 15 minutes I was asked many questions about my being a yoof and having el cancero. My trusty legs gave up halfway through, so I spent the last bit sitting down... It was very weird to see how all the important people talk about all us cancery 'Young Adults', about how we'd be feeling and all that jazz. I suppose it's pretty much true, but one of the worst things for me was people who thought they knew what I felt, that expectation I would be confused and depressed or whatever. Some people, albiet a minority, just hear what the textbook says they should. I saw a photo of some cancery young 'uns meeting Gok Wan. This caused jealousy in Constanze. I have the cancers and I never got no Gok Wans...

It also reminded me of how cut off P3 is from Weston Park. WP is the Sheffield specialist cancer hospital, all the cancers are treated there apart from the leukaemia and lymphoma bunch who get sent off to the Hallamshire. Full of lovely oldies and nurses, but it's often a lonely old place for a young person. Never really more than one person under 30 at one time, and without that same vibe and relaxing environment that the WP teenage cancer ward has. There they order pizzas in, have playstations in their rooms and a common room full of other young people. Even more envy on my behalf...

Rosie was there, the nurse with the epic tattoos. By this time, my jealousy levels were bubbling like a pot of stew.

And, tomorow the day ward. The usual stealing of blood, bothering by a specialist and needle in a limb. Maybe even a trip to the pharmacy too, if I'm feeling exciting...

Bedtime now. Being this amazing is a tiring job!

xXXxXXx

P.s I forgot to tell you about the Anal Woman. She was wandering down the clinic corridor wearing a jumper that said Canada- but she had a jacket on that covered the c and a and half the d so it just looked like anal. Ahahaha. Simple pleasures for simple minds.