Pork Crackling

"Folks are usually about as happy as they make their minds up to be"

Lincoln said that. Probably. One of those quotes someone probably made up for a laugh in 1974 but the tomfooleryking was so good at spreading rumours that we've all been conned now. Tricked and trickeried. The wool has been pulled into a jumper in the shape of a bearded president... Oh lord. Late night blog posts are the best. And also the most likely to get me admitted to a psychiatric institution.

It's been another peculiar week in the world of Cancerstanze. Last Wednesday I was in the hospital for one of my uber sexy day trips. For once, all went WELL. Pretty much. Mostly. I went for an ultrasound of that worrisome lump on my rib and the man scanning it just looked completely perplexed and rotated his head around and around until he vanished out of the room and returned with another bearded man (so many bearded men in one post, mentalz) who also looked perplexed. They then both left the room (and me, lubed up and topless to the max. LOOK AT MY LUBRICATED BOOBIES aaaaaaaaaah. I got in trouble again for having no dignity, flashed a male nurse. Not like a proper flasher, just a subtle daydreamy mammary escape), did some paper shuffling and came to the conclusion that the lump was related to my dodgy broken rib. I must have broken it repeatedly over the years as I've been coughing away with all my viruses and now... It's deformed. HURRAY. YOU HAVEN'T GOT BONE CANCER YOU'RE JUST DEFORMED came the joyous words of the radiologist. So yeah, next time you see me ask to feel my extra bump. It's almost underneath my boob too so you get two sexy bumpy things for the price of one.

Then I went upstairs for my bone marrow extraction. To my surprise one of my fave nurses did it, I thought only doctors were allowed to but I was misinformed. And what a spiffing job he did. I did my usual mixture of hilarious breathing and Christmas carol humming and it was over in a flash. It did bleed a hell of a lot afterwards though. Like, loads, all over my lovely rather expensive flat. And then when it finally stopped I started it off again by having a bath (rule number one of bone marrow club: don't bath with bone marrow club) because I am silly. They also took a chimerism. Results in a couple of weeks. Will I be more cured? Will I be less cured? Place your bets now burritos!

But then Friday happened. Friday was not a good day in my life. I was poorly. I was exhausted. I became an arsehole. An utter cunt. An especially big cunt to my wonderful other half... Which just isn't like me and I actually found really scary. I was so tired and destroyed by the past few weeks that I was really snappy and it was horrible. It was a massive wake up call to the fact that I've been overdoing it and need to calm the fuck down. I am not a normal person. I cannot lead the life of a normal person. I keep forgetting this. I know it's frustrating but I really don't ever want to find myself in the mood I was in last week again. Up and down the country like a yo yo, this long distance relationship with a hospital hundreds of miles away, friends, family spread out across the universe. Going to bed too late, trying to be cool, trying to do and see it all. It's just because I can feel the clock of life ticking down on my shoulder much faster so I want to fit everything in before the Lord Bacon comes to take me to the Happy Hunting Ground. It's the combination of now having a job I give a shit about, having to travel up North to see my family most weekends and actually having friends who live near me. None of this was a problem up North. And now it's the depressing reality that I can't have it all. I nearly almost can with a careful balance but I've really abused and upset that balance over the past month or two. Like kicking some scales or feeding Yang too much pastry.

So this weekend my ill and exhausted self did nothing (which is annoying because I had an epic cancer weekend in Bournemouth planned). Nothing. For the first time since I moved down South I had space, time, calmness. I slept mainly. And ate inbetween, like, the most effort I exerted was shoving an onion bhaji into my mouth (phew). I felt a thousand times better today but I still have much work to do, I need to be a lot stricter with myself. Just simple things like:

*For fuck's sake Constanze don't go out for more than two evenings a week
*For fuck's sake Constanze why do you stay up after half nine/ten
*For fuck's sake Constanze have a lunchtime nap, don't get so fucking obsessed with the stamps
*For fuck's sake Constanze spend at least one weekend a month doing nothing to let your poor crippled body recuperate

You get the idea. Basically, I need to stop being a stupid stubborn cuntbag and accept my ribena-blooded state. They didn't build Rome in a day and I sure as hell aint gonna build Constanzistan if I keep staying up late playing Civilisations. MORAL OF THE STORY IS BEHAVE. Or not. I don't know, I give it about three days before I'm back to my old midnight wandering through the streets of Luton ways. I like to think I have some self control but there's just too much fun in the world to be had. But then I think about what a mean spirited person I became when I reached 100% tiredness and it was about as pretty as Angela Merkel's bottom. So yeah. Me. Constanze. Leukaemia. Party. Responsible Adult. Mysteries. Spot the odd one out :)

This evening I trekked to the doctors (yeah, I know, can't leave those medical professionals alone) to try and get myself a new prescription exemption certificate. The doctor was running epically late and of course I was the last patient of the day and he was super grumpy then I went for a wee in a mysterious disabled toilet just as they were locking up for the night and nearly got to have a free overnight stay in the illustrious Luton Medical Centre. But I have the form. It is in my possession. All I need to do it write the correct address on it and FREE DRUGS SHALL BE MINE. DRUGS FOR EVERYONE.

Sleep now. Sleep is important. Like the sun and the moon and brushing your teeth.

Constanze :) xXxXx

P.s Please can we never let me get so tired again? Seriously, if you catch me up past ten will you please give me an enthusiastic slap or a stern punch in the stomach.

P.p.s You know how all the cancer people and families do loads of fun runs and set up charities and shit? Well, I need one of those. For a legit cause, obvs. There is an impossibly expensive dress in the Torture Garden range that I need to own but don't have the finances (or indeed morals to spend such an extortionate amount on a mere dress) to obtain so I'm thinking of circulating a picture of me looking sad and leukaemia-tastic next to some happy kinky sex scene... Great idea Constanze, great idea. As if you haven't ruined cancer enough already.

P.p.p.s I really like narwhals. I really like animals. I'm going to the zoo for my birthday. I'm sleepy. One day I'll go to sleep and I'll be able to ride a narwhal forever.

P.p.p.p.s I just sneezed a lump of phlegm onto my mobile telephone. I don't even have a cold. I am the most attractive creation in the universe. Mucus machine seduction. Lock up your anti-virals.