The oncologist says that my dad has six months (maximum) to live.
People have been coming over to visit. My grandma, my cousin, old family friends who we haven't seen in years. It's weird - the last time I saw my cousin was about ten years ago, when HER dad (my uncle) died of lung disease. And before that? A funeral for another distant relative. It's like we only see each other when someone is dead or dying. She's cool, though. She's from this tiny town, so she's amazed by the "big city" things like traffic lights (they only have a couple stop signs where she's from) and people who don't match their shoes (okay, so that was just me) and the fact that she can't find a country music station on the radio (ah, Lawd). At one point, she asks what we city people do for fun. My mom and I look at each other, shrug, turn back to her and say "We read books." She looks disappointed, like she was expecting us to say "Wild meth-fueled orgies."
Anyway, it's finals week. I just got done taking my Bio final - no sweat, there. Just four more days 'til freedom.