Bob's platelets were too low to get chemo today. We'll pray, cross fingers, and try again Monday.
My daughter, as I'm tucking her in, asks, "Why Daddy? He didn't do anything wrong. Why did he get cancer?" I answer, "Because life isn't fair. Because cancer is bullshit. And I'm so sorry you have to learn this when you're eleven."
My son and I repeat the scene an hour later. "This isn't fair. It would be so much easier if your dad was an asshole," I tell him. "But, he's not. He's a good guy," my son says through tears streaming down his cheeks.
Cancer is not fair. It doesn't pick The people we wish it would pick.
I'll be honest. I walk around most days looking at people and thinking, "Why are you healthy and my husband isn't?" Trust me, there are some serious oxygen-wasters roaming around out there. Alas, I don't get to make the call.
And that's fucked up. It's why I spent tonight explaining to my kids that life isn't fair -- a lesson you shouldn't have to learn by having your father dying in the other room, but sometimes life decides to teach us lessons full-force.
Doing that to people before they're old enough for a shot of Don Julio is inhumane. Instead, we're forced to use other coping tools with children. In our house this means copious amounts of love, twisted humor, fresh air, furry pets, and gaming.