I think I'm finally at the point where if one more stupid thing happens with wedding stuff, health issues, or things involving specific people in my life, I'm going to just start screaming a string of obscenities while throttling the first person I come across.

The wedding? Oh God. We can't pick a date, now. At all. Until C. hears back from her doctor, or the surgeon she's supposed to speak to, over what's going on with her back at the moment? Pffft. We're basically in a state of engagement stasis.

She's got a bone chip on the fused spot of her spine, where the biggest, nastiest curve from her scoliosis is. I still am not certain I understand why they decided to fuse vertebrae together after the curve bent titanium rods, but there you go. So now everyone is shocked that there's a bone chip drifting around, which has been there for at least two years, giving her all kinds of issues. Nobody saw it on an x-ray until October, when a doctor down in Toronto peeked at it and went "How did people miss this?!". Ugh. This same doctor has also stated that he feels the curve is reasserting itself after years of not doing anything at all. Which is bad. Which is actually so bad he felt the need to tell her that if she doesn't get this looked in on, it's likely going to be a fatal health complication due to compression of internal organs.

This would, I'd think, label it as an urgent situation. It's now almost December, and she can't get her own doctor to take it seriously enough that he'll get off his ass and do anything. His answer to the bone chip was to suggest physical therapy. The surgeon? Bleh. Nobody ever answers the phone at his office, so it's either finding the voicemail totally full, or listening to the phone ring and ring until a message gets left, that never gets returned. The doctor in Toronto hasn't been in his office for the past week, so she can't even get ahold of him to let him know what's going on.

So, with this in mind, we're both eyeballing things and thinking it might be a good idea to continue to hassle the doctors every damn day, so we can find out when she'll at least get her consult with the surgeon, even if it pisses everyone off. If it's just the bone chip and nothing else that needs to be dealt with? Great, we can schedule the wedding, it won't be a big deal. If anything is happening with the curvature, as it still hasn't been totally confirmed, and this thing requires more extensive surgery? We're dicked until we know when the surgery itself is going to take place.

Then there's the issue that swung around earlier this afternoon. Because someone has to come out to take a look at the thermostat in the cabin, and refill the propane tank, her mom made this gigantic issue about getting the cabin cleaned. At 10am. While we were on the phone. And complained that C. was not doing anything to try to help, beyond get in the way. At the same time as stating she "didn't have the time for this". I sat here and choked down my urge to ask to have the phone passed over, so I could inform her mother that it's nice to knock and see what's going on before blowing a door to a different living space open to rush in and clean, especially given the fact that the propane guy is not going to give a flying fornication about whether or not there's a half empty bag of chips sitting on a desk as opposed to in a cabinet when he comes in there tomorrow. Boundaries, much? It's called privacy. Considering C. pays them rent, I'd like to think she can get some of this every so often OMG.

This also makes me wonder if we'll have her mother trying to come over once or twice a week to clean our apartment and complain that it isn't up to her personal standards. That ought to be fun. Two people with Fibro and other assorted ailments, in the same house, while one has to work a full time job to float most of the bills? Yeah, it's going to be a little messy. No, it's not going to ruin anyone to see some dust and cat hair drifting around. As long as stuff gets done, fine, whatever, it can happen on the weekends or in little spurts over the course of the week. A living area should not have to look like a museum anyway.

I think I'm also a little more pissy over the interruptions than I otherwise would be, since C. and I were starting to have a conversation that was veering quickly toward a potential round of phone sex. If there's ever a way to wreck a mood, it's having a parent walk into your dwelling space unannounced.

Everything else is pretty much standard. School is school, my health is still up and down as usual, etc. This contact dermatitis thing can hurry up and leave whenever it wants. Holy God, it itches. The only time it felt completely okay was while I was soaking in a hot bath before bed.