The Backstory

I basically have to get all this crap out there just so certain things in future post will (hopefully) make more sense.

On Halloween last year I was officially diagnosed with severe depression (most likely bipolar disorder), social anxiety disorder and OCD. I'm a mess, I know. This was a major contributing factor in my decision to withdraw from the University of Michigan and move back home.
Skipping forward to around New Year's: My dad breaks his arm at work. Doesn't sound too out of the ordinary; my dad works in a pretty hazardous place so things like this happen from time to time. The X-Ray and oodles of tests show that the arm break was a consequence of multiple myleloma. Even since then I have been helping my mum as best I can to care for him.
The thing to pay attention to in the link is the part where it gives an average lifespan of 2 years and only 3% survive past 10 years. My dad will be going to the Fred Hutchinson Center with my mum to receive a stem cell transplant which will hopefully give him 5 years. Beyond that the doctors are hoping the mighty FDA moves their bureaucratic ass fast enough to approve a few drugs that may give my dad life past year 5. This is a long shot.
It took two months for me to figure out that my dad will never be cured. When you're told a loved one has cancer, there is always the reassurance of a cure in your mind, but in this case we were told point-blank that a cure was completely beyond modern medicine.
So my dad might be dead in 5 years. That gives me enough time to graduate from college and perhaps get into grad school. Will I get married in 5 years? Will I even find Mr. Right? I've never been close to my dad, but I've always taken for granted the fact that he would be there to walk me down the aisle, spoil my children and forever treat me like I'm 10 years old.
Quite a backstory, right?