I have a friend who's in the final downward spiral of Glioblastoma - pretty much the worst brain cancer you can possibly find. He's lasted over two years since his diagnosis, but at this point he's not going to see 2018, possibly not the autumn.
Last Saturday, I got asked if I want anything from his house, I rate as family, and they're having to clear the house to sell it to pay for his care, so it all has to go somewhere. In fact, this Saturday we're going over to do some of that.
The question is full of goddamned fucking sucktitude. Piled on top of the emotional acknowledgements that he's in that downward slide, that he's no longer able to live on his own, and already has his appointment to traverse the Desert booked.
Fuck.
--
"You know how parents tell you everything's going to fine, but you know they're lying to make you feel better? Everything's going to be fine." - The Doctor
Last Saturday, I got asked if I want anything from his house, I rate as family, and they're having to clear the house to sell it to pay for his care, so it all has to go somewhere. In fact, this Saturday we're going over to do some of that.
The question is full of goddamned fucking sucktitude. Piled on top of the emotional acknowledgements that he's in that downward slide, that he's no longer able to live on his own, and already has his appointment to traverse the Desert booked.
Fuck.
--
"You know how parents tell you everything's going to fine, but you know they're lying to make you feel better? Everything's going to be fine." - The Doctor