Third year in a row

That my dad spends his birthday in a hospital room with my mom.
23 June 2008 : mom in hospital for chemo
23 June 2009 : mom in hospital for surgery
23 June 2010 : mom in hospital because of bad reaction to chemo + infection
It seems that the beginning of summer is not such a happy time for our little family.
Today, for the first time in months, I also had the opportunity to hear what her doctor has to say. In other words: the real facts, instead of the embellished version I always get to hear through my mom or dad. The cancer is very aggressive. The chances of completely curing it are very small. We just have to find the right chemo that keeps it under control, and that doesn’t make her life too miserable. Right.
In the meantime, hair is falling out rapidly – and the disease is making itself very visible again. 6 kilo’s less in one week, probably completely bald by next week.
Why, why, why, why, why? I know: it’s useless to ask that question. But, damn it, it’s so unfair. I have a friend who will spend part of the summer in Spain. She’s pregnant, and she’s going to relax there in the beautiful summer house her parents have bought to enjoy the rest of their lives there. My parents will spend their summer in Belgium, with regular visits to the hospital – and I think that my child (if I ever have one) might never get to know his or her grandmother.
All the “focus on the positive” sounds like such empty “blah-blah” right now. Yes, I know, there are always people who are worse off. Yes, even the smallest chance is worth fighting for. Yes, my mom is still here – she’s not dead yet. And all that is supposed to make me feel better? Well…no. It doesn’t.
Tomorrow she can go home again. No hospital for one week. Normal food. Only one nurse, twice a day. Her own bed. The cats. Seeing how happy all that makes her, that makes me feel a bit better.