I hope you are all enjoying the festive season.
We're struggling to do so here, to be honest. You know the DH was in the hostpial this week? And that his mother has been in the hospital for the past two weeks? Well... Yesterday, the DH was summoned to the hospital by his mother's doctor. They told him (and his brother) that his mother has cancer.
They found a shadow on her lung and one on her spine. When the DH asked how big they were, the doctor told him it didn't matter. They're going to be performing more tests to see how bad it is and what can be done.
She has pretty much given up, according to the DH. "Gone to pieces" were his words. I know it's a terrible thing to say but I dread seeing her later this afternoon. I'm really not good at the emotional scenes.
The DH is stoic as ever. He made the phonecall to his dad to tell him. (They've been divorced a good fourteen years or so.) Really, I think he's just trying not to think about it - especially trying not to think about how, less than six months after being diagnosed with lung cancer, my big brother died this year.
It seems pretty crappy of life, if you ask me. Wasn't it bad enough for my father to die two months ago? And my brother the two months before that? And for my husband's dog and my dog to die on the same day? (four thousand miles apart) And for our favourite cat to run away? And for me to miss practically a whole month of work because of a sprained back? And for him to severe a tendon in his hand? And...
You get the point.
A few months ago, I said "How much bad stuff is one person suppose to live through in a year?" I guess I'm finding out now. Thank the gods there are only seven days left of this year.
