Mr. Manchild finally got an appointment for a surgical consult in the land of Cleve. He’s also scheduled to do about 50 tests, most of which he has already done. He’s scheduled for a CT angiogram even though he just had one two weeks ago. His poor kidneys. This also means I have the pleasure of spending Wednesday night and Thursday in its entirety with the in-laws. I can’t tell you how excited I am.
My Mom wanted to come with me to be my moral support. I offered to pay for a room that the two of us could share and it’d give her the opportunity to escape from my Dad for a bit while providing me with small infusions of grounding sanity when having to listen to Harpy run her mouth incessantly. I wanted to make sure MC was okay with her tagging along before I booked a room. He wasn’t a fan of the idea because a) He hasn’t seen me in 8 days and he misses me, and b) When Harpy and my Mom are together in the same room, they’re constantly trying to speak over one another until the volume is deafening.
I respected his wishes and told my human security blanket she’d have to stay home. She was a bit bummed. Probably because I also said we could check in at 4pm, then order a pizza and share a bottle of Moscato.
I was going to use this time away from home as an excuse to avoid doctors for my own purposes, yet here I am accumulating a to-do list one week in. First up: dentist. Honestly, I’d rather have a colonoscopy. Second: podiatrist to get a second opinion on my mangled ankle. Third: fucking GI doctor. And, uh, I’d rather get a haircut than see one of those asshole-assholes, but after spending all evening with what I can only assume was an SBO, the time to poison myself to reduce the inflammatory clusterfuck in my guts has arrived. Ideally, this will all be taken care of before humpty dumpty falls off of his wall in November, but that would be too optimistic of an estimation for me.