Lava Lamp

If there was ever a definition of mixed emotions then it's me and my life right now. I got caught up in the chaos that is sale week at the auction house I work in then ever more caught up in celebrating my five year cancerversary with cake, cake and more cake and gloating about my wonderful survival of terrible things. Suddenly I realised that I hadn't written a blog post in nearly three weeks so I sat down at my laptop on Monday and started typing away. I typed and typed and typed and all the cows came home and I had this big long post about all my celebrations and all my happy emotions towards being alive and what a damn lucky bitch I was and all that bla bla bla bullshit. HOWEVER disaster struck and I pressed a weird button and three quarters of my post got deleted and alphabetised and weird leaving only the first two paragraphs intact. As you can see they were very jolly and in the usual mental Constanze style and went a little something like this:


"""Good afternoon from a post-apocalyptical world. That's right, the five year cancerversary has been and gone and the OFFICIAL PARTY doth hath happened and now my flat is a bottle ridden sight for sore eyes. I mean, it usually looks pretty disgusting but I keep treading on bits of pizza crust I threw across the room in yesterday's drunken stupor and nearly falling out of the window. I believe I can flyyyyy. I believe I can touch the GROUND.

But yes, yesterday was yesterday and one of my friends arrived at my flat six hours early and the rest arrived one point five hours late, I'm pretty sure that probably averages out to a very punctual bunch. Because I'm such a lucky and lovable girl I'd been baked no less than three cakes for my special day so there was obvious mass consumption of cake and general obesity related behaviour (large quantities of my garlic crackers have gone walkabouts, I have my suspicions). Chef Constanze had also prepared skull shaped bright green elderberry vodka jellies for everyone and a whole bowl of vodka jelly for herself because she's a greedy cow. They were also consumed. Then out came the special Latvian liquid, hand carried from the Baltic by the green haired one herself. Legend has it that when Catherine the Great (who totes stole her name from me) visited Latvia she became gravely ill but was miraculously cured by a shot of Riga Black Balsam. Then she got back to expanding the empire and all the jazz. A metaphorical story which I'm hopeful will morph into reality; I'm in clinic next week so we can see if it's really as potent as the universe (wikipedia) claims. Also I want an empire. Constanze the Great's Majestic Empire Of lower Luton, upper Stockport and Westphalia-Chesterfield. Also also I want a stone encrusted sceptre except I want good stones like porphyritic granite and basalt. And a crown made of syringes and swabs (not used, no mrsa snot on my head thx). I'll look so pretty :)"""


Little did I know this accidental deletion was the Lord Bacon Cob's way of stopping me posting a load of rubbish about being alive just before one of my best friends died. My cancer soulmate passed away yesterday and I am utterly devastated. Words cannot describe it, it's like every one of my organs is being put through a meat grinder. I'm currently bumbling around frittering between smiling with happy memories of her and sobbing from the pain of her not being here. I will be writing a full post about her in the next few days but I just don't feel ready for it yet. I really can't and I'm sorry. Even writing these few short lines is making me sink into the ground. Soon, it'll happen soon, I'll be able to talk about it properly. Sorry for sounding like an over dramatic idiot but this is serious shit. Not even I can laugh it off like candy floss.

But anyway, moving swiftly on, as you can see from the beginnings of my original post my cancerversary went very well. I spent the actual day at work looking at stamps (oh yeah baby) then I went out for sexy Mexican food with my current associated male. I got lots of texts and loving messages and felt like a very special girl. Then at the weekend all my friends descended on my flat and a party was had, with crazy behaviour including gaffa tape everywhere and a random skeleton in my bed. It was good. Very good. I would recommend having friends to anyone. And cancerversaries. The more you have, the better. Hear that Lord Leukaemia? Every cancer patient should have a thousand cancerversaries. I demand it or I'll go on strike.

I also have a new dentist who is like the foreign version of Laurence Llewelyn Bowen and has an entire dentist's surgery in two small rooms. Like a dental practice for ants or Alice and dung beetles. I need some repairs on those couple of filling/generally broken cancer buggered teeth of mine but it's damned expensive so I'll get them done in a few months when I'm less "oh my god moving to Luton and living near London are so expensive what am I doing why does every sandwich here cost a fiver shoot me now". He told me all the prices to get them done privately too and I nearly fell off my chair laughing, that tickled me on so many levels. Firstly private healthcare is a joke and secondly I work in stamps for table leg's sake, how many philatelists do you know who live in Monaco and drive a Ferrari? Ahhh.

I think the other main point I made in my original super long post is how little I've changed over these five long years. I read my first posts back and I sound just like I sound now, this weird jolly mental pensioner child. I sort of feel like I've proved all the doubters wrong, the ones who said I was just immature and I didn't understand what was going on and it would all hit me soon and I'd get miserable. Five years and it still hasn't. The only thing that has hit me is the incredible importance of having fun while you're here. Don't plan for the future because you might not have one. Plan for the afternoon, take snacks and dance the night away. You lose sight of the present if you stare too far into the future. Stare only into the eyes of those you love and a tube of cream cheese and chive Pringles and your life will be perfect.

Only a few days until I'm in clinic. Whatever will they say. So much blood to blood, so much gossip to gossip. But yes. It is a mystery for now. Si si si. Ja ja ja. Da da da. Aieee... I should go to bed. I'm going to be knackered at work tomorrow. And I have the busiest weekend ever ahead of me. Please someone let me sleeeeeeeeeeeep, my mind is sick of whirling like a washing machine.

Au revoir my beauties,
Constanzistanzistan xXxXx

P.s For christ's sake I just tried to put my bin shoes on and there's a bloody tub of garlic and herb dip in there. This life is too wild for me.

P.p.s As a surprise present I was bought some flights so I could visit Transnistria because apparently I've talked about it so much that everyone wants me to fucking visit so I'll just shut up about the damn bloody place. So yeah, in a couple of weeks I'm going on a three day long adventure to Moldova and Transnistria, I really can't wait. I want to get away from this world for a little tiny bit and hide in my favorite breakaway state.

P.p.p.s Yesterday I farted so loudly that a pigeon got scared and flew away.

P.p.p.p.s Five years is a long time. Just 44% of people diagnosed live this long. This is such a bittersweet time, until yesterday I was spilling over with joy at my aliveness and now I'm just not sure what I feel. I'll be better once the shock wears off after the the funeral is over with. When it becomes real and not just a facebook message. Oh microwave chips how can cancer give me so much and take so much all at once?