More fun with Constanze's stools

Evening to you all guys and gays :) This post will be almost entirely stool related, so for those of you with an embarassable nature, stop reading now. To be honest if you don't like talk of shit and embarassment then you really shouldn't be here, but each to their own and all that jazz! Here of course being the imaginary space where me and my cancer live that the blog readers sometimes enter on their voyage of haemotology based discovery. The blog readers being people like you who have decided that the most important thing to do with their life right now is read a post entitled 'More fun with Constanze's stools'. Hats off to you!

I keep finding jelly everywhere. Absolutely everwhere. It's remarkable stuff, ultrasound jelly. It's potency seems to have a half life of about a thousand years, I swear I'll still be finding lube in my bellybutton in 2023. I thought I'd done some amazing forward thinking and planning yesterday, day ward at one and ultrasound scan at three, perfecto, but no, as it's Constanze it had to go a bit wrong. It was half past two and nothing had happened, not even a blood sample and I was all of a fluster as my plan of amazing hospital appointment conglomeration fell to pieces. At quarter to three someone came to take my blood and I explained my situation to her and off she went to wonder what to do. I secretly wanted her to say go to your ultrasound then come back here (I was going to a concert in the evening and had 3 hours to kill after hospital) but NO, they had to go and MAKE ME NIP IN TO SEE YUSEF AND BE ALL EFFICIENT SO I DIDN'T HAVE TO GO BACK. I swear this is the only time in the history of my cancer that I've ever wanted to be delayed, it was very chilly, I wanted to stay in the nice warm ward, not be turfed out into the cold, harsh world!

So yeah, day ward and Yusef got rid of me nice and quickly because I was only really there to bump up numbers because as we all know my body is very boring and never does anything dramatic for the doctors to prod. So down to c floor radiology I went, via the post room where I smiled sweetly and made them let me use their large letter measurer. With some gentle squashing, my envelope got away with a normal first class stamp, victory! Easily excited, me.

My cockyness got the better of me in the ultrasound department, I went in and was like "Ooo, yeahhh, I'm so experienced baby, I don't need no instructions, just give me the hospital robes and leave me to it ;)" before getting in the cubicle and realising I couldn't remember if you only take the top half of your clothes off or all your clothes off for an ultrasound (bra and pants only if you're wondering). My feet were also exceptionally sweaty and a man told me to put my shoes back on before I killed anyone. In my examination I found out that my spleen is now 9cm across, which is pretty much normal (It was 14cm at one point, how's that for hardcore?) and that my aorta is 1.2cm across and NOT WEIRD LIKE ALL THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE SEEN MY BELLY BEAT SAY. Anything less than 2cm is completely reasonable. You can see my stomach beat because I'm so slim stomached and not because I'm a freak so there. But then again I do have a freakishly thin stomach so maybe I am? I don't know, too much thinking required. I had a bloke who I think was training, then a lady who seemed to be the lady in charge of the scanning and told the training guy off for being too jovial with me after presenting me with a whole roll of kitchen paper and saying IS THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU in a somewhat sarcastic tone (I'd complained that last time I was there they gave me one sheet to remove about seven bottles of lube from my stomach). She was very confused, in a hospital you can never be jovial enough! He'd warned me that she was "a lot less gentle" than him (which sounded really dirty to me, but that's just my brain) and he wasn't lying! Fairly sure my organs are a bit crushed. If they weren't broken before then they are now. It was all because they were having serious difficulties finding my left kidney, it had gone walkabout but it turned up eventually. To my uppermost relief!

And then in the evening (inbetween I spent no less than 3 hours eating no less than four different meats in a Chinese place and having a lot of wees as the pint of water you have to drink before the ultrasound worked its way through, fucking kidneys always working when I don't want them to) I went to see a band that I very much like, Royal Republic. I had to timidly ask the doorman if there was anywhere to sit inside because good old Constanzedodgylegs can't stand up for a whole concert so he radioed the manager guy or someone and he came down and found me a stool. Then sat me in a corner on my stool. As if I didn't look weird enough I started reading to pass the time before the bands came one. 101 ways to look out of place at a rock gig... Number one, sit on a stool in the corner reading Chekhov and spilling vodka in your crotch. As I'd been in hospital all day my legs were gone so I spent the whole thing sat down, managing to only see the head of the lead singer (which I'm not complaining about, he's the most gorgeous and charismatic man I've ever seen, move over Jimmy Carr). The support band came and stood next to me to watch the rest of the show and gave me a lot of confused looks. Should have probably clarified that I was a fan and not some stool fetished weirdo.

Then, one of the greatest oppotunities of my life happened and I missed it. It was the end of the gig and I had to return my stool (quite begrudgingly) so I picked it up (with difficulty) and walked the few steps to the bar to hand it back. I looked around my shoulder and THERE WERE THE ENTIRETY OF ROYAL REPUBLIC, all looking at the crazy girl stood holding a stool. As is always the case when Constanze enters a panic filled situation, I ran away, abandoning my stool and fleeing to the merchanside table. And I never saw my beloved Royal Republic singer again... *broken heart*

Oh, I nearly forgot to say that my chimerism was 97%, which means I'm technically cured again! But let's not forget it's been 97 before and gone down, and that they still have to stop the dasatinib to see if I still have my didgy chromosome. So I'm not really cured at all, BUT I TECHNICALLY +/- 3% AM, woohoo!

Must dash, cup of tea and murder time!

Constanzistan xXxXx

P.s My stomach looks pretty good, the peoples say. More examinations required, it looks like all my troubles are just tablet based, woohoo! :D