*Sigh*

Well, thanks to life in general, I haven't had the opportunity to write much or keep up on anything.  My work schedule has pretty much negated my ability to do much during the week.  1:00 to 10:00.  Like I'm going to be able to go out and do anything.  I'd have to pack and haul the kids with me, so that tacks at least an hour onto any endeavor.  

So, my mother-in-law (or step-mother-in-law if you want to be technical, but I don't) is in the hospital with no real chance in hell of seeing the other side of the walls she's behind again.  She was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after we moved out to the city we should have never left in the first place, and after a whole load of treatments and removal of some stuff, she was given a clean bill of health and allowed to return to work.  Her road afterward wasn't that smooth.  She ended up having her galbladder removed, she had her fair share of nasty colds, and her back has bothered her a lot more than it used to.  Honestly, the way the medical profession attacks cancer, it's surprising that people don't die from the "cure".  So I didn't expect her to be full of life and doing summersaults.  Don't think anyone did.  The gallbladder?  That was a freak thing though.

The second summer we were in the city we should have never left in the first place, my husband's brother and his twit were getting married (more on that later, just so you know), so that's when the two of us and the oldest drove across Canada.  My poor car had more kilometers put on her in 2 weeks than I put on her in the year that followed.  But after the rehearsal (which is another story altogether), we all went to the twit's parents place for diner.  And I was standing in the front yard having a cigarette, my MIL was talking to me about various things, and she told me that during her last set of tests before they gave her the all clear, her doctor stated that he may have spotted cancerous cells in the other side's lymph chain.  She said she wasn't going to tell my FIL until they knew for sure, but wouldn't it figure, they work on one side and the other's unchecked.  We talked about it for a few minutes, and then she moved the topic onto the outfit she got for the wedding, and the conversation was forgotten.  When no one mentioned any findings in the weeks and months that followed, I chalked it up to a false alarm.  I still don't know if it was or wasn't a false alarm.

Fast forward to just after "international present day" (xmas) this year.  My oldest's birthday is on the 20th, and my MIL was feeling a little sore then.  She had slipped and fell in the parking lot at work, and her back was achy.  At xmas, she was still only a tad sore.  Could get up and move around, but otherwise felt much better sitting or lying down.  Towards the new year though, her mobility was getting more and more restricted.  In early January before I started this shit job, the two of them stopped by between medical tests my MIL was scheduled for.  By this point she could only make it across the house with help and a 5 minute window.  Aside from a few stairs from the front entrance, I live in a bungelow, so getting to and from the bathroom, albeit a long trek for her, was much easier than it was at her place where bathrooms were located on the top floor or in the basement.  So they were out for about an hour and we talked while I did my best to keep the kids from bumping into her or the couch, or trying to sit on her lap.  She still seemed alright though, when stationary.  Lively, tired perhaps, and pained when she had to move, but alright otherwise.  Her doctor perscribed pain meds that didn't do much of anything, and given that his inital thought (pulled muscle) was wrong, and his second one (herniated disc) was too, they were sending her in for xrays and an MRI.  They left and I asked that they let me know what they say.

And so then the day my truck got busted into.  Little did I know that while I was swearing a blue streak and wrapping my legs in one of those shiny safety blankets while waiting for the cops to show up, my MIL was being rushed to the hospital.  Her mobility had degraded further since the last time I saw her, and they had diagnosed something we didn't expect - more cancer.  This time in her bones and liver.  What we found out the next morning when my husband's father called was the extent of things.  The chemo they did to try to slow things down was useless.  The pain in her back was caused by one of the vertibret shattering in the fall, most likely weakened by the cancer, and it would be a matter of days before she would be rendered paralized from the waist down as the shards worked their way into her spinal cavity (which is why she was getting less and less mobile to start with).  And then there was all the bullshit of because she had cancer before, she couldn't get this benefit, and so there goes worker's comp and other clauses of various levels of stupidity, like if you scratched your arse with your left hand on a Tuesday in June, you were not eligible for benefits.  So, despite my anger towards the dipshits who should find themselves a better hobby than breaking into vehicles in the south end of town, I felt like a total heel.  Sure, I didn't know that my MIL was being rushed to the hospital, but I could always replace my truck.  

And so, it's a matter of time.  I can be optimistic when necessary, and I'd like to believe that miracles can happen.  But I'm horribly realistic.  And so, we wait.

But this is not why I write, despite the fact that I wish the gods would stop taking the people I love away from me.  Yes, I love my MIL.  Took me years to get to that point - we clashed a lot in the beginning, but yes, I do love my MIL.  But something that was told to me just recently has got me a tad pissed off.

Let it be known that I love my husband, but I am not fond of the circumstances surrounding our marriage.  Cancer, again.  My Dad was terminally ill and so we pulled the whole thing off in a week from planning to the I do's.  But was I proposed to?  No.  Was there an engagement ring?  Nope.  Was it timely?  I had been with the man for 8 years at that point, what do you think?  Am I bitter?  A bit, yeah.  Although I am glad we're married and whatnot, I can't help but wish it was sooner so I could have had a proper wedding (instead of a BYOB, and chair, and potluck type thing in my parent's back yard, although I would have had the ceremony there regardless).

And it would have been nice to have been proposed to, to have proof that he wanted to marry me above and beyond him showing up for the ceremony, and that it was a plan of his, not something thrown together in order to ensure my Dad could be present.  And there's nothing that will fix that.

So when I heard about the bother-in-law (no, it's not a typo) and his bitch getting engaged, I was a tad surprised, until I heard how it went.  SHE asked HIM, and then he paid for the ring she picked out.  Yeah, far from traditional, but it just went to show that apparently this inability to propose is perhaps genetic.  And then I heard about what may be happening tomorrow.

My MIL was talking to a friend, and the FIL overheard that one thing she regrets she never did was get married to the FIL.  Honestly, I thought they were.  They had been together since my husband was still in his single digit years.  His mother and his step-asshole (I don't like the man) got married.  He even took her last name!  But my husband's dad and step mom never got hitched.  And so in an attempt to make up for things, my FIL was telling my husband how he was going to try to arrange for an in-room ceremony with the hospital chaplin on Valentine's Day. 

And when I hear that, I couldn't hide my anger.  So it was genetic.

I got married out of respect for my Father.  The bother in law got married out of pressure from his girlfriend.  And my FIL will be getting married to give a dying woman her wish.  What a fucked up family I'm a part of.