In fuck cancer news, mu brother's M-i-L died last night at his home in the Netherlands. They had been nursing her there for a couple of months, ever since they found out her cancer was inoperable. She raised seven children as a widow and was a lovely, kind woman who did endless volunteer work. She was the kind of devout Christian who totally welcomed my atheist American brother and my own Jewish husband into her life with open arms.

Toward the end, she was on a LOT of morphine for the pain, and her breathing was very loud and painful. Her brother was visiting her, and starting singing songs from their childhood to her. My brother said this very serious 80-year-old-man sat by her bed and sang children's songs for an hour. At the end, she opened her eyes, smiled at him, and then died.

I'm having a tough time of it in therapy. My psychiatrist wants me to talk in more detail about my childhood abuse. I know that my dad screamed at me a lot, but when pressed for details about the words he would use, specific instances when it happened, or even how often it would happen, I draw a blank. It's all a blur to me.

Tom, that sounds tough. I know I'd be hard pressed to explain much about my parents from childhood, and I don't have nearly the reasons you do to forget.

Boo cancer. Boo headaches.

Yay raises?

My psychiatrist wants me to talk in more detail about my childhood abuse.

Tom, I don't think I've ever heard you explicitly use the word "abuse."

Now, I believe that everyone gets to define their own experiences, and use whatever terms they want to, and can change those terms as they see fit. (I say that because I want to be clear I have no judgment on how you define your experiences.)

I guess I'm just pointing it out because it seems, to me, like using that word to define it is more proof of the progress that you've made in therapy. And maybe knowing that someone else sees that progress will help you a little bit while you're having such a tough time.

It's all a blur to me.

I can't remember a 4- to 5-year chunk of my childhood. At all. And I don't mean years 1-5.

he was shaken up enough to voluntarily tell her that he thought something bad would happen like it did in Africa, and he almost never volunteers up stuff from his past to anyone but family.

Awww, poor noodle. It sounds like a good things that he trusts her enough to tell her that.

I don't remember large swaths of my childhood, but I always assumed that meant I had a dull childhood, except for especially interesting vacations or seeing a deer a close range back in the hills and such. I've got a highlights reel, not a transcript.

Aw, Tom, why does the progress to health have to be so HARD? I continue to be amazed by your tenacity and courage.

YAY Suzi!

Interview-ma, Erin.

I'm sorry it's rough right now, Tom, but I agree with Steph about all the progress you are making.

Poor Noodle Mac.

I'm sorry for your family's loss, Scrappy. Fuck Cancer.

Cereal, since it seemed like it would be better to use a separate post:

I know this is very late to be doing this, but would anyone be interested in doing a quick and dirty Secret Goblin exchange for Halloween? My idea would be something like this: People send me an email saying they would be interested in the next couple of days, I'll assign secret goblin buddies and email people this weekend or early next week with their assigned buddies. People would then have a couple of weeks to buy or make a Halloween treat (let's say $10 limit) and get it in the mail by 10/25.

Huge hugs, Tom. And What Teppy Said.

Toward the end, she was on a LOT of morphine for the pain, and her breathing was very loud and painful. Her brother was visiting her, and starting singing songs from their childhood to her. My brother said this very serious 80-year-old-man sat by her bed and sang children's songs for an hour. At the end, she opened her eyes, smiled at him, and then died.

All dying is awful, there's no way around it, but that is so loving and lovely. I'm tearing up just seeing it in my mind. Blessings on all your brother's in-laws, on his MIL's memory, and on her brother for his loving presence.