"The irony of it is that this is the same box of Kleenex that I bought for my grandfather's funeral," I sniffed.

"Oh yeah?" Forced chuckle. Miles left work early to be with me. I was not fit to be alone. Seated on the couch, one hand clutching a wad of used tissue and the other grasping the box of Kleenex, I let his arms surround me as he absorbed the tremors, the tears. I received bad news today.

"I know I should have been expecting this. This hasn't looked good from the very beginning...but I just couldn't accept it...not really. I'm a fool."

"Shh...no...it was right to have hope. It was right."

If the currency is time, then the world is destitute. My mother was told today that she has three months to live. This is a stark contrast to the 2 years that the doctors have been predicting. Numbers now appear everywhere...3 months, 30% growth, 40% of the liver. When do we get to wake up from this nightmare?