My landlord showed up at my front door this morning to confront me about the housing commission not having paid their portion of the rent. I told him (again) that it had nothing to do with me and that he had to send in his copies of the paperwork. He still insisted that the unpaid rent is my responsibility (legally, it isn\’t) and that the housing commission has not returned his calls. Legal action by the end of the month.
Bring it on, fucker, bring it on.
My MRIs taken on Friday look really neat. Big black blobs signify masses that shouldn\’t be there. In my case, I\’ve got a big one in the lower middle that is my bone spur, and two smaller ones above it that are the cysts in my ovaries. All three have grown. It\’s like the Bermuda Triangle of Doom. Additionally, there\’s also a bunch of smaller black blobs above the previously identified coccyx growth. These look to be other growths along both sides of my spine, along the sacrum, but much smaller than the giant bone spur. The side angle shots also show where my coccyx is now digging into my body much more than it was before, essentially curling into my insides. That might explain why sex, menstruation, and shitting are so incredibly painful these days.
Honestly, I\’m getting nervous about my appointment with the neurosurgeon in twenty four hours. Less than half of people with chronic pain ever experience recovery to the point where they can return to work or other similar activities. I\’m going for a 49/51 crap shoot that involves having the lower portion of my spine completely removed. And until the details behind when that is happening are in stone, nothing else is certain. So pardon me for being antsy, gauche, forgetful, flighty, fairweather, and even an outright asshole. My priorities are straight: work out the cutting me open part first and figure out the rest later.
Matt\’s asleep, and he just very clearly called out \”fully automatic BB guns.\” Dealing with all ages battle of the bands festivals that require starting at 2:30 in the afternoon will do that to you, I guess. When it was me, I was calling out for IDs in my sleep. I wish the job was more interesting, if we get stuck bringing it home.